[ waking up floating is a... unique feeling. she can't say for sure it's the first time this has ever happened, but for the most part julie's just disoriented. she rolls, ends up facing the floor, which is great because that's exactly when she falls and hits the floor. ]

[ her mask protects her face from the glass and debris on the ground, but her arm lands in a pile of stuff and ends up cut up, something that gets folded into the general sense of ouch that she's feeling right now. she groans and pulls herself to her feet, hisses as she pulls a shard of glass out of her arm and decides that's not important right now. ]

[ it doesn't quite occur to her that this isn't the fog, it's not like it's unusual to be dumped somewhere new and expected to perform, but the combination of unfamiliar voices out not too far away and the lack of the ever-present weight of a hunger and expectation that isn't her own makes her take her mask off and she tucks it into her jacket. picks up a knife off the ground too since she seems to be missing her own. ]

[ god she hopes she doesn't get sucked into the sky or some shit. ]

[ julie walks along the walls of a hallway, the whole "being sideways" thing disorienting her a little, but she manages. unsure what she's looking for or why she even came in here. ]

[ her unease isn't helped any, by a body (or an amalgamation of bodies) slips out of a hole in the ceiling and falls wetly to the floor. a very real sense of panic rips through her — of course that thing's here, of course this must be the withered isle, of course, of course — but the way this thing moves isn't at all familiar. ]

[ she dives at it, knife out... and is immediately flung against another wall by three sets of arms. which is pretty rude, honestly. ]

[ any prompt, whatever you want, come at me. ]