Sorrow and the Door

[thirdreturned]

Who: Sorrow and those both interacting with the Door and helping him
What: Experiments on the Door
Where: Beneath the City.
When: During the month of October
Warnings: Insanity, torment, all that jazz

[The room that the Door is encased in is damp and cold, but large enough to echo if a sound rang out. From wall to wall, it's roughly fifty paces, sans where an opening is cut into the side, leading to an angled pathway that eventually takes someone back to the surface. The path is new, cut much more recently than the room itself- after all, the gods don't exactly need a walkway to get down there, but in the interest of being helped... well, there it is.

Under the colosseum like this, there's the inevitable feeling of claustrophobia and maybe even fear at the quiet darkness that awaits- but the thing at the end of the walkway, the thing inside of the room, is much more complex than a simple monster or beast out to get you.

Exactly what it is though, it's difficult to say. The thing is floating several inches off the ground and emitting a soft blue/purple sort of light, illuminating the otherwise-dark room. It appears to be some sort of spherical object, roughly fifteen feet in diameter. The sphere itself is comprised of dozens and dozens of small oddly-shapen panels that shift and move across the surface, held together by some sort of invisible force, and each panel is cut into and inscripted with strange mazelike divots, which make little sense as an actual language.

Every few seconds, streams of illuminated smoke ripple through individual divots and follow the pattern out through the end of the panel- when this happens, the panel shifts and changes position slightly on the sphere. Not all panels are complete, not all of them are so easily understood- many have artfully cut holes in them, ridges along their sides, or other odd structure that the smoke travels through all the same.

The air is heavy down here- it's difficult to hear yourself think, let alone to feel like you're getting enough breath. It's clearly an aburdly powerful and yet unstable force that has been kept inside of this room for years, and when Sorrow is near it, he treats it with obvious respect, giving it ample space and keeping his head down as he works around it.

Tellingly, he doesn't work around it for long. Many of his planning, discussion, and theorizing happen above ground, in Fear's temple- the closest temple to the location of the Door and so, where the downward path originates, openable through a wall and only when one of the gods is present. It's here that plans will be spoken of, but inside the dreadful room where they take place.

Even walking down to the location of the artifact proves difficult. When the Door cycles, it ripples out with an assault on the senses- blinding, shrieking in your ears, leaving the taste of blood in your mouth. There's shadows on the walls but nothing to cast them, whispers but nobody to say it and no language to understand. It's infectious and it remains for some time even after moving far, far away. Emotions can run high unprovoked- the gentlest of people can be stoked to violence, the happiest can fall into a deep depression.

Still, Sorrow tries to keep care of all those who would help- when not actively participating, he watches them, takes them back up and seals off the pathway for hours at the faintest hint of something going awry. It's better to be careful here than to lose everything, after all.]

Note: This log is open to everyone who wishes to participate- please DM this account or send raelet a plurk if you'd like to participate but haven't commented on the most recent NPC post and we can figure out your involvement. Thanks!

Comments

[dedikated]

— down below;

( Twenty four feet underground. It's something so familiar, but after months above ground, months of desert and oceans and air, the surroundings all but collapse in on her when she steps into the tunnel, and Kate automatically takes a too sharp breath before she continues on.

She never did like the city when it was underground. Never did like being underground in the first place, where darkness and the scent of earth held promises of battle, of the world shaking around them, of Creatures scared out of their wits and trying to protect themselves from the Agents attacking them.

But this is important. So she tightens her jaw and concentrates on the weight of the pouch strapped to her thigh as she walks, lets the familiar shape and texture of leather run under her fingers. It's another part of a life long since left behind, something kept on herself out of force of habit in a city where monster attacks and a sudden need to defend yourself has characterised so much of the years, though this time all it holds is a small notepad and a pencil.

When they get to the room where the Door is held, she remains at the edges, her hands gripping her arms until her knuckles turn white, the weight of the Door's power quickly seeming like nothing in comparison to the flood of colour which fills her vision when she brings her power up to her eyes. )

Shit— ( Her voice sounds like she's hearing it from under water, and she doesn't so much step back as stumble into the nearest person, grabbing for something to steady herself. ) Who's that?

( The Door's power never does stop being blinding, or causing a headache to prick at the edges of her eyes, and so she doesn't stare at it with her powers for more than a minute at a time, always asking someone if they can keep an eye on her before she does. )

— fear's temple;

( Who would have thought there would come a day where Fear's temple would feel preferable as a location? Kate certainly didn't, but here we are. She spends most of her time rewriting notes into something more coherent, putting shorthand into longhand, squinting at scribbles and trying to separate the things that were part of the Door's fever-dream effects from the actual analysis. In the corner of the temple, there's bottles of water she dragged along and stashed for anyone to take a drink while they recuperate, and she often does.

Still, at least once a session, she'll look around at the rest of the group, tapping the bottom of her pencil against her paper, stretching her legs out and curling them back underneath herself, and ask; )

What'd people find out?

( With all these skills here, they have to find something useful. She needs to believe that. )

— wildcard / ooc notes;

( Hit me with something else? Please note that I'm away from tomorrow (18th Oct) to Sunday (21st Oct)! I apologise for the delay in responding to tags. )

[toiletseat_girl]

[George is sitting halfway up--or halfway down, depending on how you look at it--the pathway, legs drawn up to her chest with her arms keeping them in place. usually prone to backtalk and sarcasm, she's eerily silent and still as she watches what's going on below her, eyes on the spherical object, switching idly between that and watching Sorrow.

fortunately for George, she doesn't need to breathe, so there's one hurdle cleared. the rest is a little more difficult to manage, but she's trying, years of repression of her emotions and sheer bloody-minded stubbornness, her allies. and of course, there's the fact that she can't exactly be called human, not anymore. she's something else, something different, immortal when outside of her own world and her body capable of healing wounds that would kill a mortal in an instant.

so she just watches, muttering to herself when the voices get too loud in an attempt to drown them out. she keeps telling herself that they're not real, not the whispers, not the shadows on the wall, not any of it. they're just tricks of the mind induced by whatever the fuck it is that's down there.

so far, she seems capable of handling herself, but she likely wouldn't react well to being startled from her concentration]

[completelycrazy]

open

[Newt is starting to think that this may have been a bad idea.

It's a comfortable feeling, at least. Familiar. The same brand of doubt crept through him just before he initiated the drift between himself and Mutavore's brain, and again before the drift with Hermann and Otachi's baby, and... many times while dealing with Hannibal Chau. During the Null invasion, too. Newt has had a lot of idiotic ideas in the past year and some change.

The idiotic ideas always lead to something worthwhile, though, is the thing. He's saved the world on idiotic ideas. There's no reason why getting involved with this Door stuff can't still work out in his favor, even if he's regretting it now.

He can only stand to be near the Door for a few minutes at a time. Hell, the tunnel down is bad enough. But what he lacks in strength against the Door's effects he makes up for in energy, spending his time flitting between the Door chamber and Fear's temple. When he's topside, he's hunkered in a corner scribbling down notes, or he's pacing through the temple, mumbling into his tape recorder and trying to shake off the ringing in his ears, the tremors in his hands, the terrible dread that clings to him after witnessing the Door. When he's down in the chamber, he's cautious in a way that's unlike him, sticking to the outer wall near the tunnel just in case he needs to make a quick exit. He's afraid of the Door, this much is obvious, though he watches in awe as it shifts and shimmers.

Regardless of where you find him, he doesn't notice your approach until you've surprised him. He jerks away, snarling.]

Get the hell away from me!


closed to sorrow

[When he's down in the Door room, Newt finds himself paying more attention to Sorrow than the Door itself. What's this guy doing? He spends a lot of time watching, chaperoning everyone as they come and go from the tunnel. If he's doing any of his own work on the thing, it's not when Newt is underground with him... Though, that's not surprising. Newt can only stomach the Door in short bursts. He's never down there for more than a few minutes at a time.

Newt waits until Sorrow has emerged from the tunnel to approach him. The relative safety of Fear's temple is a better backdrop for a chat than anywhere in proximity to the Door. It's difficult to think straight when he's near it, let alone carry a conversation.]

Hey, uh, so what exactly are you doing? I thought you said you had experiments you wanted to conduct.

[completelycrazy]

[Newt runs into George as he's mustered the strength to head down again. It's tiring, this work, both having to make the trek up and down so frequently and mentally having to fight off the Door's effects. He's exhausted, but this is an opportunity he can't pass up. He's running on nervous energy, and thankfully that will keep him going for quite a while.

He doesn't notice her until she's nearly underfoot, and he trips over himself a little as he sidesteps running into her.]

Oh my god, you have got to pick a better place to camp out. I thought you were one of those freaky shadows.

[He gestures to the wall of the tunnel. Whatever tricks the Door had been playing on his eyes are gone by now, though. He's not sure if she could've seen them, anyway.]

What are you doing here?

down below;

[hasitsthorns]

Just me, [ Rose's voice is calm, collected. Despite her own curiosity, she's there to steady Kate as she stumbles. While her knowledge of the other woman's powers it limited, there's clearly something going on here. Interesting. ]

You gonna' be alright there?

rosie-dear | ota

[hasitsthorns]

underground;

[ It's powerful. Of course, it is, but to actually be in its presence and feel it thrum with magical energy is something else.

She doesn't expect it, the way The Door hits her with emotion. There's a copper tinge on her tongue and voices in her ears, her head. They mutter in an intelligible language but it doesn't sound like anything good.

Rose keeps her feelings so carefully guarded for the most part that it might not be a surprise she tries even now still to keep some level of control over them despite herself. Her expression is placid like nothing is actually wrong, but without even realizing it tears being to leak down from her waterline and down her face in steady streams. There's a harsh sniffle as her sinuses drain too. Her breath hitches, wet and strained, when she next breathes in.

How long has it been since she actually cried? Too long, likely. And this isn't a cry of relief like that night by the fireplace with Rey at being healed. This a painful, aching swell of sorrow that takes her by surprise. She remembers Haven, she remembers that she's nothing for her but death after all this if she isn't able to stay- Suddenly, it's as if everything terrible thing that's happened comes to the forefront of her mind.

She can't- ]

fear's temple;

[ Despite her, uh, outburst earlier, she's back and seemingly gearing up to try to figure out what information has been gleaned thus far. ]

We find the key to this thing yet?

wildcard/other;

(( ooc: got any other ideas? hit me up at puddingandpie for plotting! ))

[toiletseat_girl]

[it's fucking exhausting is what it is. so far, she was right in that she seems to be able to resist slightly better than most, but she's no physicist. her contribution seems to mostly be taking notes for others who know more about this thing than she does.

sometimes, the notes turn into gibberish and she's not entirely sure if it was because she was overcome or the person she was taking notes for was.

she hears Newt's footsteps falter and she jerks her head around to look at him, eyes wide]

Sorry 'bout that. I was taking a break. For [she's not wearing a watch and she's not even sure if she was, it would work in here] a while.

[she looks at the wall he gestures to and sees nothing. fortunately]

I've been taking notes for other people. Fuck if I can figure this thing out. Can you?

[dedikated]

( The worst part of all of this, she finds, is how everything lingers. The whispers. The lights. The coppery tang of blood which isn't her own — and that's the worst of all, that metallic, nauseating taste which leaves her whole self off-kilter, heart beating too fast, breath heavy and sharp when she inhales. Up in the temple, those bottles of water she dragged in come in handy when the taste floods her mouth and Kate clings to one almost religiously, swilling water around and spitting it into a mug with a cartoonish sketch of an elephant on the side - something she's had since her first time here, the only truly great gift from Hope's drives to get the community helping out - in hopes of getting the taste out of her mouth.

(Of course, there's no actual blood to wash out, only the impression of it, but it makes the taste back down, if only for a second.)

But she's not the only person who looks like they need a drink, so sometimes, when the taste has receded and her brain feels like it's in three pieces instead of twenty, she offers bottles to the others.

One very jumpy scientist included. The snarl of his words sounds more like a screech through all the ringing in her ears, and Kate's jaw immediately tightens, hairs standing on end as she holds out a fresh bottle of water and forces a word out. )

Drink.

( Do you want a drink? Have a drink. There were so many better options, but no. She'll just go for the single word offer. )

[dedikated]

( It's a known effect; how could it not be? The Door's power has all but consumed her vision from above in the Colosseum, all those feet above them. This is another level of proximity entirely.

She's glad that the voice is a familiar one, at least, and Kate squeezes Rose's arm as she straightens up, eyes closed and her vision still spinning with light. )

Have to be.

( That's all there is to it, isn't there? Which is why she takes a sharp breath, tries to push the whispers away into some small part of her mind, and focuses on the way the light moves as she opens her eyes again, blindly grabbing for her pouch (sorry if she starts grabbing you, Rosie. Not intentional) and shoving the notepad and pencil at the other woman. )

Improvement in fluctuations. ( Who does such primitive things as tell someone to write things down in this day and age? ) Signs of — Ow.

( Who decided giant interdimensional doors had to be so fucking painful to be around? )

[thirdreturned]

[He keeps to himself mostly- watches them as he needs to and makes his own considerations and observations in the background. Sorrow neither offers a conversation, nor is he ever incredibly receptive to one, but he's polite enough when addressed, as Newt is doing now.

He considers the other man for a moment before nodding, turning his gaze back toward the hallway.]

I do.

[There's a pause- a long one, and for a moment it feels like that's all he's going to say. But he speaks up again after that, his voice careful and measured.]

The tests I want to perform are incredibly dangerous to myself. I want to see what you can learn before I make an attempt.

[thirdreturned]

[Sorrow's Experiments]

[It's a long week of observing and testing before Sorrow finally steps forward while they're down there, his shoulders set and resolute. They'd planned this upstairs, but he suspects that none of them are quite prepared for what could possibly happen when he begins to interact with the Door.

Nevertheless, he glances back toward the small group nearby before taking another step closer to the Door, refocusing on the impressive object and slowly lifting a hand, as if to touch it. He doesn't quite make contact, exactly- when it's a few inches away, the skin of his hand dissolves, melting into a thin blue smoke. The smoke curls in midair centimeters before actually making contact, seemingly apprehensive of the structure, but he didn't come here to stop now.

When contact is finally made, several things happen at once. Sorrow's eyes roll back into his skull, his head and his other arm going limp while more of his hand dissolves, up into his wrist, to his elbow- the smoke spirals forward faster and faster, tucking itself into the rivets of the fragment before him and mixing with the wisps of substance that had run through the Door previously.

An aching wave of suffering, loss, melancholy slams through the room, like a physical force punching into the chest of everyone around, not unlike what had happened when Sorrow died that short year ago. More of him floats away, fragments of his other arm, his torso, his face, all wisping away to join the rest of him in mingling with the Door. What's left is lifeless, something that would seem dead if he were human, just fragments of a body standing where Sorrow stood while the despairing energy pulsates again, and again.

Voices scream out as the sorrow gives way to anger, hatred, disorganized and unpredictable. Energy shuffles faster through the room, too much all at once, a piece of the Door shifts into a new place, and-

-suddenly, everything is quiet again. The suspense lasts for the span of a single heartbeat, with Sorrow's body still standing but lifeless and in pieces, holes pierced through the parts of him that had floated away.

Wisps of blue smoke slowly spill out of the Door like water, pooling onto the floor, and the rest of Sorrow's body breaks apart, cloudlike as he joins the rest of himself on the floor. There's silence from the Door now, less activity than there had been before, and the cloud shuffles in over itself before inching out of the door and back into the hallway, toward Fear's temple.

Once there, it reforms, building back up on itself until it resembles the body of a man. Features begin to take shape- a nose, a wisp of hair, a wrinkle in clothing- until Sorrow is standing there again, looking somewhat shellshocked but ultimately whole.

He's quiet for a moment, fingers flexing contemplatively.]

...that- could have gone worse.

[completelycrazy]

[It's what Newt's been waiting for, Sorrow firing up his own experiments on the Door. He was right, after all—there's not much Newt and the others can actually do with the thing. The gods are the only ones who have any hope of making sense of it.

But, this? Newt was not expecting this. He's not even sure what this was, but it can't have been good. There was a long moment where Newt was genuinely concerned that they'd just gotten Sorrow killed all over again.

He comes back quickly enough at least, and Newt follows him back up the tunnel when he does, glad to be away from the Door again. And out of that pit of sadness, too. Man, why can't it be Hope or Love who's heading up these Door experiments? No offense, dude.

If Sorrow wanted a chance to rest after the experiment, he's not getting it. Newt has never been a patient man.]

So, uh, are you okay? What did you even do just now?

[His brain will sort itself into more coherent questions in a minute.]

[dedikated]

( She watches through eyes which, while not fully alight, are clouded in white, as though a curtain has fallen over them, washing out the deep browns and flecks of amber into something softer, like milk poured into coffee. It won't stop the headache that staring at The Door's power gives her, but it does, at least, save some energy for later.

She needs every scrap of stamina she can spare, after all.

As a result? Kate doesn't see the details of Sorrow's human form dissolving away, just a mess of light as power shifts and reforms and reaches out— just a little bit further, just—

Her teeth grind against one another painfully, the ache of sorrow like a brick wall to the chest, as a battering ram of emotion slams against her ribs, one wave of energy after another. The usual, far more subtle, machinations of the gods a distant memory, something which seems delicate and kind in comparison to this.

It isn't hard to know the gods aren't human, and it's been made clear a thousand times over that this is something far more than she — and probably any of them — have ever dealt with, but seeing it, feeling that puts a certain perspective on it which all the hours of talking and planning haven't managed so far. How small and insignificant they must be in comparison to things like this. How easily something like this sphere has dragged them all through the multiverse and dropped them here.

She follows the cloud back out with her eyes once again normal and her mind too busy racing through everything that was just seen to try to talk to anyone, silent until Sorrow finally speaks. )

Worse how?

( She doesn't doubt him, but it's best to know, isn't it? )

[hasitsthorns]

[ It isn't the first time since she's started poking around The Door with everyone, nor does she suspect it will be the last, that she's awash with sorrow. This time though it feels too similar to when he died, to when she thought she might have lost yet another person she'd somehow allowed herself to care for. It twists and tangles up her heartstrings in all the most unpleasant of ways.

And she worries when he begins to dissipate like that, that losing him might be a possibility again and who's to say it will be as temporary as the last. Rationally, she knows as long as Hope exists that they can come back but- She's too sad and scared all in the same breath to think with any sort of clarity. ]

What the absolute fuck was that!

[ She doesn't mean to snap. Really. Not really. The blond inhales deeply and exhales a slow, shuddering breath to try to stop the pounding of her heart that both the onslaught of his influence and fear combined brought on. ] Dude, don't do that to me. Just, like. It could have been worse, sure, but- Be careful.

[ She recognizes that he likely doesn't care. That the cost of himself is perhaps something he's willing to pay if it means answers. It was one he was willing to pay before to save Hope, after all. And it's infuriating, honestly, because it makes her think of herself and the grief she's so hypocritically put others through. With that in mind, she speaks softer and calmer finally by ending with just a simple, ] Please.

[toiletseat_girl]

[George has gambled on her Reaper metabolism and body as being able to resist the worst of the Door. so far, she's been right, but whether it's a matter of her Reaper metabolism or simple undiagnosed depression dulling her senses is up for debate. by people who aren't her. she'd deny that she's depressed until her dying (ha-ha) breath.

so while she's slammed by the waves of emotions, she's still able to keep a sense of self throughout it. though it does cause her to double over, clutching at herself for a sense of stability in the midst of everything.

Sorrow's momentary transformation doesn't startle her one bit. she's assumed that all of the stupid gods are truly closer to Love's appearance than the human face they present to the crowds. in fact, she'd prefer that they all showed themselves in such a way. it would prevent the crowds from thinking that they're harmless, from bonding with them too closely. but no one asks her about these kinds of things, so she'll just shut up for now. if you ask, she'll have plenty of opinions.

ask her. go on. she dares you.

when Sorrow returns in his usual human form, she gives him a Look. a "duh" Look]

Yeah, you think?

[thirdreturned]

[He doesn't really have a human body- as evidenced just recently- but he clears his throat anyway, buying a little time before his response. He's clearly still processing things, not quite making eye contact or acknowledging the conversation much, but after a few moments he nods in confirmation.]

I'm alright.

[A little startled, but not dead. After a quick self assessment, he turns to face Newt, quickly regaining his composure.]

I wanted to see if I could communicate further with it. To go deeper than I have in the past, so that I could redirect its energy.

[thirdreturned]

It could have driven me mad, for one.

[He's still getting his bearings- there's wisps of smoke floating from his clothes, his skin, reabsorbing into his form before breaking apart again. Whatever this is, it's rattled him, but they've all come out of it in one piece- so that's something.

Kate herself looks a little shaken, like she's just felt part of it too, and while Sorrow would generally extend some form of polite sympathy, his thoughts are racing too much to offer her comfort. He'll thank her in a moment. For now-]

It could have consumed me. It nearly did. But-

[Sorrow returns to their diagrams and plans that they'd spread over the altar of Fear's temple, studying them carefully for a moment with his lips pursed.]

-it was worth the risk.

[thirdreturned]

Hm.

[He doesn't offer up much more than that, visibly shaken, mentally assessing what he's learned, what he may have lost in the process. There's a downturn at the corner of his mouth as he thinks, while smoke sloughs off of his body, gathering in the floor around his feet. He's still solid for now, but his outline is maybe a little fainter as he pulls back in on himself and considers his options.

The please is what gets his attention finally, and he tilts his head toward her, expressionless- either he's forgotten to move his face in a way that those around him can interpret, or he's feeling particularly cold today.]

Please control yourself, Hanako.

[The admonishment is clipped, but his mouth doesn't move at quite the right speed to have made that noise- it just comes out of his body instead, resonating quietly against the walls.]

It's affecting you. If you can't control yourself then I won't allow you back down there.

[thirdreturned]

Was that a rhetorical question?

[He lifts an eyebrow toward her, but it's clear that he's not quite himself yet- still feeling out the body as he's trying to create it, brushing his fingers against the altar as if to regain the sensation of it.

Tensions are high, he knows. It's the Door, it's the relationships between everyone, it's... all of this. It was a good idea to have the others help him with it, but he wonders if it wasn't hasty to have them all down there when he began experimenting. Still, he relents after a moment, glancing back toward George.]

Are you alright?

[toiletseat_girl]

Not really.

[she's straightened up and looks a little worn out, but good luck getting her to admit to that. she's determined to see this through and if there's one strength George has, it's her ability to out-stubborn anyone or anything. and that includes the Door, the fragments, and the sphere. though, speaking of, she really ought to ask what exactly the sphere is

she's focusing on feeling Chill as hard as she can. she's been so good at controlling her temper since she came here, no one's really pissed her off that badly, and she doesn't want this situation to break her record of 999 Days Without a Temper Tantrum. as for George, the way she helps best is by taking notes on behalf of other people. like they speak out loud their theories and observations and she writes them down so they don't have to. it's not much, but it's better than nothing]

Ehh. I've been worse. How 'bout you, hanging in there?

[hasitsthorns]

[ Hanko, he says, and it strikes her in an unexpected way. More than the sorrow, the fear that had just rattled her even- Only he ever called her that and it takes her a moment to process her tumutulous emotions.

Her lips thin. He doesn't know. How could he? No one does. It's not a dead name, exactly, but... It makes her feel like a child again, small and uncertain. Scared. She doesn't want to lose him too like she'd lost her birth pack, her Haven pack. She doesn't want to keep losing things when the common factor is her. ]

Fine. I know it's affecting me, [ she finally says. Her voice is decidedly more level and calm from conscious effort. ] But can't I still just be worried about you too? I know you guys can come back, but. Just, like. What if, y'know.

[ There's a moment where it seems like that might be all. But she promised them - Hiruma, Jesse, Sakamoto, Dylas, Newt, Hermann, Wade, and others - that she'd be more honest. She's trying. She wants to be. ]

I'm not gonna' get all mushy about it or anything but I care about you, dude. Of course I'm gonna' flip out when you break apart unexpectedly.

[hasitsthorns]

[ Well, that's that. If she says she's fine, Rose knows Kate better than to try and contest it immediately. ]

I- What. [ It takes her a moment to catch up with what's happening. There's suddenly a notepad in one hand and pencil in the other and- Is she supposed to be writing this down??? Gods, when the last time she actually wrote anything that wasn't sheet music. Uhm. Uh.

[INSERT FRANTIC SCRIBBLING HERE]

Despite everything, the blond knows that this is important work. She doesn't want to flub up notes. ]

Signs of ow, got it, [ she says, sarcasically. ] You sure you don't wanna' take a break?

[dedikated]

( Signs of ow is perfectly legitimate way to describe things, is it not?

(Okay, so maybe it isn't.)

Kate exhales and lets her eyes fade, colour shifting from the clouds of a milky latte to a reflective abyss of espresso, and it's like a weight has liften from her shoulders in the blink of an eye. The chamber returns to an eerie glow, the people around her return to shapes and faces. The whispers, the way the Door burrows into the spaces in her mind and pull it apart, all of that still remains, but with one less assault on her senses, things hurt a little less.

She blinks, once, twice, like clearing her vision of dancing ghosts of light, and stares at Rosie like she's seeing her for the first time.

(Or like she's grown a second head, it's hard to tell.) )

Prob'ly should. ( As galling as the thought is. )

[dedikated]

( Who isn't a little shaken? Everything since The Door's fragments have come back to the island, all the experiments, have done nothing but shake them. They all knew, or should have known, what they were signing up for here. The effects of the fragments were nothing but a taste of what being down there would be like.

Add the presence of Sorrow to it, the natural effects of... that response, of course she's fucking shaken.

(And that niggling thought in the back of her mind that she'll have to touch that thing, soon. Eventually. That's more than enough to make a chill pass over her body, only made worse by their presence in Fear's temple, where the light pressure of his emotion is more than enough to tip the scales towards full-blown knots of dread.) )

Consumed you.

( It's not a question, not even a flat what of disbelief because fuck knows she just saw the whole thing play out. The way it seemed to be reaching for him.

No, it's more the echo of someone who's just had a puzzle piece slide into place. The light of course which hides in her words as she follows his attention towards the diagrams. So powerful, and so close, she has trouble distinguishing much more than oppressively bright light, but even light moves. Even powers do. Of course they do. They're flowing, existing things. )

It looked that way. ( She admits, now that she's finally got an idea of what she saw. Like a river swallowing up more water from other sources. ) What if it had?

( She doesn't say anything about it being worth the risk, no matter how much that phrase sticks in her mind, concentrating instead on what's in front of them. Or, perhaps more accurately, recently behind them.

What does happen if The Door consumes a god? )

[completelycrazy]

[He lets out a slow breath, tugs his glasses off briefly to rub a hand over his eyes. He keeps them closed for a moment or two longer. It's a nice break from all the light tricks.]

No.

[It's not something he would admit to just anyone, at least not so flatly. He'd pepper it with excuses or explanations or a list of what he does know. It doesn't seem worth the effort at the moment.]

It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Shit, nothing I've even heard of. The Breach didn't work like this. And Sorrow said it's not even a thing, it's a... I don't know. A creature. It's alive.

[Which had made him all the more confident at the start. He's a biologist, not a physicist. He thought he'd have a better shot at understanding something organic and living.]

You're not going to get much of a break sitting in this tunnel, though. Come on.

[He holds out a hand to help her up.]