When Heat prowls into the room, the shower is running. Gravity here seems even less decisive: water flows out from under the shower curtain and rains a crooked waterfall across the room. It puddles against one wall, seeping through old cracks in the plaster to whatever lies next door.
Something moves behind the shower curtain. There is a ripple of motion, a strange shadow that coils at its edges. There's a flicker of golden light.
Heat's prey is silent until he has crossed the band of water in the room. Then a coil of yellow something whips out under the shower curtain to seize his ankle and yank him flat.
John bursts out into that squall of steaming rain. He's all white carapace and black-to-yellow bioluminescence, tendrils coiling across the floor. The distortion in his voice has pitched deeper, echoing.
no subject
Something moves behind the shower curtain. There is a ripple of motion, a strange shadow that coils at its edges. There's a flicker of golden light.
Heat's prey is silent until he has crossed the band of water in the room. Then a coil of yellow something whips out under the shower curtain to seize his ankle and yank him flat.
John bursts out into that squall of steaming rain. He's all white carapace and black-to-yellow bioluminescence, tendrils coiling across the floor. The distortion in his voice has pitched deeper, echoing.
"Fuck off."