OK, I think I might need some help over here. Something's--rustling? Shifting? Look, there's something IN here with me and I can't SEE it and this is so not okay. Do any of you have weapons? Do you any of you have weapons that you could maybe give me? Immediately?
LIGHTS OUT;
[There is just nothing good about this situation. One minute, she was asleep on the caravan, idly dreaming about wealth and fanciful laser prototypes, and the next she was shivering--alone--in the snow of some foreign town. How did she get here? Where the hell was everyone else? Where was her sister? These thoughts run like a panicked marquee through her head as she gets her bearings, hugging herself, searching desperately for some respite from the frozen wind that whips around her face and arms. She's not dressed for this.
Finally, she finds what looks like a house, or what was once a house, anyway--it's intact, but the windows are webbed with cracks and the door looks like someone tried to kick it to death. Sasha knocks; hears no response. She tries the handle, and, finding it unlocked, lets herself in.
It's creepy, but it's something. And there's light--for about two seconds.]
Damn it. Damn it.
[She hears footsteps then, and turns angrily on her heel.]
sasha | tales from the borderlands
[@gunning4U]
OK, I think I might need some help over here. Something's--rustling? Shifting? Look, there's something IN here with me and I can't SEE it and this is so not okay. Do any of you have weapons? Do you any of you have weapons that you could maybe give me? Immediately?
LIGHTS OUT;
[There is just nothing good about this situation. One minute, she was asleep on the caravan, idly dreaming about wealth and fanciful laser prototypes, and the next she was shivering--alone--in the snow of some foreign town. How did she get here? Where the hell was everyone else? Where was her sister? These thoughts run like a panicked marquee through her head as she gets her bearings, hugging herself, searching desperately for some respite from the frozen wind that whips around her face and arms. She's not dressed for this.
Finally, she finds what looks like a house, or what was once a house, anyway--it's intact, but the windows are webbed with cracks and the door looks like someone tried to kick it to death. Sasha knocks; hears no response. She tries the handle, and, finding it unlocked, lets herself in.
It's creepy, but it's something. And there's light--for about two seconds.]
Damn it. Damn it.
[She hears footsteps then, and turns angrily on her heel.]
Who's there? Show yourself, right now!