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[In front of 1248 Williams Road]
[Well, that plan hadn’t worked. Somewhere along the line Utsuho had fused Virginia’s “find Caesar or Balin or these other people” ideas, to the news breaking around the carnival that there were rifts opening to strange places accessible by those trinkets people were carting with them, to the fact that she didn’t have one of said trinkets. So she stole one.
It disappeared after she went across, and then—then there was nothing but fog, suffocating and dissolving at once. Like each particle of her body had broken loose from the bonds that held them in place and scattered in every painful direction.
Okuu did not exactly think her clever plan all the way through. But then again, she never really did. Thinking was bad!
And thus there’s now a pile of an…ash-like substance in the front yard, and has been for several days. Minus the blood everywhere aspect, it could be assumed that that was similar to what the hellraven looked like just before she revived. The ash is smoldering, very warm to the touch, and seems as much liquid as powder whenever it’s disturbed. It also stays heaped up over something in the center, no matter what breeze kicks up or when the drones try and sweep the mess away. The pile either stubbornly resists extraction or flows all around the broom or rake like some bizarre liquid. Other than that, it doesn’t do very much.
Utsuho hadn’t reappeared, so her precise location was probably easy enough to guess by now.
Today, though, was a bit different.
A blue jay, emboldened by the usual blue jay hating inhabitant’s absence, fluttered down to investigate and peck at this ash pile.
—but as soon as it does, the inert heap of powder comes alive, forming into a spit of molten, red-orange slag that surges up and out and consumes the bird completely, before it can do much more than a single alarm squawk. The pile returns to being properly ashy in a moment, though it seems to…ripple, like something liquid, even as it does so. The smoldering light has grown brighter, shining through all the cracks and crevices.
Though, aside from hating bluejays from beyond the grave, the ash-pile-that-was-probably-Okuu does little else.
For the moment.]
[Well, that plan hadn’t worked. Somewhere along the line Utsuho had fused Virginia’s “find Caesar or Balin or these other people” ideas, to the news breaking around the carnival that there were rifts opening to strange places accessible by those trinkets people were carting with them, to the fact that she didn’t have one of said trinkets. So she stole one.
It disappeared after she went across, and then—then there was nothing but fog, suffocating and dissolving at once. Like each particle of her body had broken loose from the bonds that held them in place and scattered in every painful direction.
Okuu did not exactly think her clever plan all the way through. But then again, she never really did. Thinking was bad!
And thus there’s now a pile of an…ash-like substance in the front yard, and has been for several days. Minus the blood everywhere aspect, it could be assumed that that was similar to what the hellraven looked like just before she revived. The ash is smoldering, very warm to the touch, and seems as much liquid as powder whenever it’s disturbed. It also stays heaped up over something in the center, no matter what breeze kicks up or when the drones try and sweep the mess away. The pile either stubbornly resists extraction or flows all around the broom or rake like some bizarre liquid. Other than that, it doesn’t do very much.
Utsuho hadn’t reappeared, so her precise location was probably easy enough to guess by now.
Today, though, was a bit different.
A blue jay, emboldened by the usual blue jay hating inhabitant’s absence, fluttered down to investigate and peck at this ash pile.
—but as soon as it does, the inert heap of powder comes alive, forming into a spit of molten, red-orange slag that surges up and out and consumes the bird completely, before it can do much more than a single alarm squawk. The pile returns to being properly ashy in a moment, though it seems to…ripple, like something liquid, even as it does so. The smoldering light has grown brighter, shining through all the cracks and crevices.
Though, aside from hating bluejays from beyond the grave, the ash-pile-that-was-probably-Okuu does little else.
For the moment.]
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