do not stand at my grave and weep;
i am not there. i do not sleep
Loren boarded up the door? Charming. If only he'd listened; creatures in the night that left no trace, no bodies in their wake, who'd yet to be killed by the grounders? And he thought a few nails and boards would do the trick?
Positively adorable.
Against the Rathskeller door there came a horrific thundering shove. The hinges rattled, boards splintered, dust fell away from the ceiling. Wine spiders scurried hurriedly away. Again and again the door was struck, until all suddenly stopped. And then, just as Loren had used telekinesis to hammer the nails in, so they were similarly pushed back out.
"Don't let them in! It—I'm still alive, but don't let them in." The professors voice rang out. It was edged with fear, but also a metal so strong that had the door been made out of the stuff Cera was, it likely would have held.
A conversation, muted and in harsh tones, took place, ending with the healer yelling: "No! I won't say it! I won't tell you!" The monster laughed a dark and patient sound. Fine. It didn't need the man's voice. Only his heartbeat. With one last garbled scream, Cera's throat was torn out, blood splashing against the door. As his heart furiously pumped, so was his hand placed on the panel.
Click. Thunk.
The door swung open.
In fell Cera, the monster's claws carving him from top to bottom. Behind the healers eyes however were thoughts of blood-red sands, an island surrounded by the sea, magic and fire. There was laughter and light, creation born by magical flames, and of course, so very much love.
But there was nothing behind the fallen man save for endless darkness and softly falling snow.
Positively adorable.
Against the Rathskeller door there came a horrific thundering shove. The hinges rattled, boards splintered, dust fell away from the ceiling. Wine spiders scurried hurriedly away. Again and again the door was struck, until all suddenly stopped. And then, just as Loren had used telekinesis to hammer the nails in, so they were similarly pushed back out.
"Don't let them in! It—I'm still alive, but don't let them in." The professors voice rang out. It was edged with fear, but also a metal so strong that had the door been made out of the stuff Cera was, it likely would have held.
A conversation, muted and in harsh tones, took place, ending with the healer yelling: "No! I won't say it! I won't tell you!" The monster laughed a dark and patient sound. Fine. It didn't need the man's voice. Only his heartbeat. With one last garbled scream, Cera's throat was torn out, blood splashing against the door. As his heart furiously pumped, so was his hand placed on the panel.
Click. Thunk.
The door swung open.
In fell Cera, the monster's claws carving him from top to bottom. Behind the healers eyes however were thoughts of blood-red sands, an island surrounded by the sea, magic and fire. There was laughter and light, creation born by magical flames, and of course, so very much love.
But there was nothing behind the fallen man save for endless darkness and softly falling snow.
do not stand at my grave and cry;
i am not there, i did not die
LONGNiGht
