Maybe it's his phrasing that quickens Sariel's stride. Maybe it's the continued wailing of the red alert claxon.
Somebody's scratched a circle and X symbol into the comm panel she heads towards. "Here," she says, and raises a hand to the terminal. "we'll go this way."
One second. Two. Something beeps. Something else chirps. "I can't remember how to enter the coordinates," she says, sounding somewhere between sheepish and a sort of let's-get-it-over-with candor.
And if that's not history repeating itself, what is?
A shape looms a short distance down the corridor, ghosting out of the doorway to a set of quarters. The wide open, yawning doorway to a set of quarters.
The shape is tall and thin, and wreathed in branches.
no subject
Somebody's scratched a circle and X symbol into the comm panel she heads towards. "Here," she says, and raises a hand to the terminal. "we'll go this way."
One second. Two. Something beeps. Something else chirps. "I can't remember how to enter the coordinates," she says, sounding somewhere between sheepish and a sort of let's-get-it-over-with candor.
And if that's not history repeating itself, what is?
A shape looms a short distance down the corridor, ghosting out of the doorway to a set of quarters. The wide open, yawning doorway to a set of quarters.
The shape is tall and thin, and wreathed in branches.
Wreathed in tentacles.