Not too far away in the grand scheme of things, the dead worm stirs.
Thunder rolls, a low and distant rumble muted by closed doors and sturdy walls, as small glowing-winged insects creep along walls and ceilings to where two battered men sleep. They're quiet, unnaturally so, their focus so absolute it has nothing to do with instinct alone, tracing the path Livio and Wolfwood took to their safe little space to sleep, the scent of their blood and sweat followed with quiet, relentless accuracy.
And outside, the walls creak as something heavy leans against them, the dim light through the windows on one side going dark before being replaced by pale glowing lines of electric blue in a slowly passing wave, whatever shape they're attached to too vast to be seen clearly through the glass. There's only darkness, and the lines, and a growing heaviness to the air.
The windows on the other side show the same lines, but these flow in a graceful curve like the edge of jaws or teeth scaled to monumental proportions. The eyes that appear, slitted like a cat's or worm's and the same sizzling blue as the lines, wink in and out as they pass one window at a time, casting their own pale, weak glow across abandoned children's beds. Searching, the black pupils widen and narrow in twitches and jerks before finding their targets and going still, three different windows framing a half dozen eyes between them, each nearly the size of a grown human and all fixed upon the two men within the building.
A small set of dice gently begin lifting off the floor, so slowly as to be easily missed at first.
Socks follow.
A discarded toy. Nothing bigger, nothing more than a tug on clothing and hair and the tingle of static for objects the size of the people.
A tiny arc of electricity jumps from one metal bedpost to another in a brief flash and crackle of ozone, and thunder reverberates through the ground and walls again, felt resonating in the chest more than heard with the ears as the scattering of worms through the building take to the air in a buzzing of wings, disappearing through any opening they can find back to freedom outside. The eyes sink downward, and the ground shakes again, the steady quiver of a burrowing thing passing by.
Dim natural light returns, the small floating objects clattering to the ground as gravity reasserts itself and the weight of atmospheric pressure lessens.
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Thunder rolls, a low and distant rumble muted by closed doors and sturdy walls, as small glowing-winged insects creep along walls and ceilings to where two battered men sleep. They're quiet, unnaturally so, their focus so absolute it has nothing to do with instinct alone, tracing the path Livio and Wolfwood took to their safe little space to sleep, the scent of their blood and sweat followed with quiet, relentless accuracy.
And outside, the walls creak as something heavy leans against them, the dim light through the windows on one side going dark before being replaced by pale glowing lines of electric blue in a slowly passing wave, whatever shape they're attached to too vast to be seen clearly through the glass. There's only darkness, and the lines, and a growing heaviness to the air.
The windows on the other side show the same lines, but these flow in a graceful curve like the edge of jaws or teeth scaled to monumental proportions. The eyes that appear, slitted like a cat's or worm's and the same sizzling blue as the lines, wink in and out as they pass one window at a time, casting their own pale, weak glow across abandoned children's beds. Searching, the black pupils widen and narrow in twitches and jerks before finding their targets and going still, three different windows framing a half dozen eyes between them, each nearly the size of a grown human and all fixed upon the two men within the building.
A small set of dice gently begin lifting off the floor, so slowly as to be easily missed at first.
Socks follow.
A discarded toy. Nothing bigger, nothing more than a tug on clothing and hair and the tingle of static for objects the size of the people.
A tiny arc of electricity jumps from one metal bedpost to another in a brief flash and crackle of ozone, and thunder reverberates through the ground and walls again, felt resonating in the chest more than heard with the ears as the scattering of worms through the building take to the air in a buzzing of wings, disappearing through any opening they can find back to freedom outside. The eyes sink downward, and the ground shakes again, the steady quiver of a burrowing thing passing by.
Dim natural light returns, the small floating objects clattering to the ground as gravity reasserts itself and the weight of atmospheric pressure lessens.