When you step through the rip, you're lost. You don't know where you are, and you don't know where the others are, and you don't know where all the parts of you are in relation to each other (is there a 'where' for them to be?) All there is here is an endless bowl of white sky, over an endless field of white, leaping fire (is there room for a 'you' here? ah--)
This only lasts a moment, and you find yourself again; perhaps shaken, but whole, and somewhere more solid.
It's very hot. You're at one end of a stone hallway, the carpet red, plush and faded. If you've ever asked to stay in her realm before, you'll recognize it – mostly.
On the left are three solid wooden doors, tightly closed. On the right is a bank of floor-to-ceiling glass windows . . . all you can see outside them is white fire and the colours of the rip, fighting each other.
A huge, empty copper frame lies on the ground before you. It's broken in half; it must have fallen from the wall you're standing by. There are words etched into the exposed back: THE CASTLE DID NOT BELONG TO HER.
At the other end of the hallway is a stairwell leading down.
[not unfamiliar, but looks away after a short while, rubbing his temples. heads over to the frame to see if he can tell whether it held a mirror or canvas]
The rip you came through has disappeared. You are standing in a round room of shining obsidian, with torches in sconces on the walls. The floor is carpeted in ash.
There's a circle of thirteen life-sized statues here, identical: young women in heavy-looking gowns with their arms outstretched. Their faces have only rudimentary features. In the middle of the circle is a statue of a rearing serpent, ten feet high. All the statues are made of rough, dull black basalt except for the serpent's fangs, which are copper.
You're on a plane of slick glass tiles; the tear you came through is gone. There's open sky here, but it's flickering rapidly through day to night to day again, twenty-four hours in a matter of minutes over and over, the sun and moon and stars blinking in and out. If you keep looking at it you'll feel sick, and start seeing the colours of the rip behind your eyes.
You appear to be in the middle of a flock of pure white seagulls. They turn their heads in unison to stare at you. They have red eyes. You can also see through the glass that below you is a room full of giant cobras made of fire.
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This only lasts a moment, and you find yourself again; perhaps shaken, but whole, and somewhere more solid.
It's very hot. You're at one end of a stone hallway, the carpet red, plush and faded. If you've ever asked to stay in her realm before, you'll recognize it – mostly.
On the left are three solid wooden doors, tightly closed. On the right is a bank of floor-to-ceiling glass windows . . . all you can see outside them is white fire and the colours of the rip, fighting each other.
A huge, empty copper frame lies on the ground before you. It's broken in half; it must have fallen from the wall you're standing by. There are words etched into the exposed back: THE CASTLE DID NOT BELONG TO HER.
At the other end of the hallway is a stairwell leading down.
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[...trying to fit the frame pieces back together, just cause]
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What—?
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Mikage.
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Ah....
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THROUGH THE BEDROOM TEAR
There's a circle of thirteen life-sized statues here, identical: young women in heavy-looking gowns with their arms outstretched. Their faces have only rudimentary features. In the middle of the circle is a statue of a rearing serpent, ten feet high. All the statues are made of rough, dull black basalt except for the serpent's fangs, which are copper.
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[kneeling to brush away some of the ash, trying to get to the floor]
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THROUGH THE KITCHEN TEAR
You appear to be in the middle of a flock of pure white seagulls. They turn their heads in unison to stare at you. They have red eyes. You can also see through the glass that below you is a room full of giant cobras made of fire.
This seems perfectly safe.
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Maybe I should have gone with Mikage.
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"Mine?" it says.
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