Jellyfriend follows him, obviously. It seems not to know what to do with the transformation at first — this is kind of out of its realm of expertise — but after some time it seems to get the picture, flashing the water-blurred picture of the group of Reclaimers, then an echo of Wash's own wave. Hi!
This is nice. Now it knows what he really looks like and will be able to recognize him even outside of octopus shape. It seems pleased.
(No DC; 20.)
Its bell darkens.
Then it shows an office, beautifully furnished, tastefully decorated, with the debatable exception of a large portrait of the Director on the wall behind the desk. There are little bells hung around the edges of it in what seems like a wistful nod to cheer.
Almost immediately, the Director herself stumbles into view, leaning heavily on her staff. The stone set at its peak looks off, somehow — clouded. Lights shine off and on in its interior. Lucretia doesn't seem to notice. She staggers over to her desk, leans on it with both hands, staff tucked under her arm. Deeply reluctant to part with it. She's perspiring. She's panicked.
Her hands look as though she's stuck them into a vat of black and shining ink. From her wrists up, something dark climbs, slow enough that it's only gotten an inch or so yet, but stubbornly persistent.
The bell flashes, shining black for a moment, then a blinding white that makes Wash's eyes ache in the dim light of the cavern. When it clears, he sees the Voidfish's chamber and Lucretia again, her hands like black gloves pressed against the glass, eyes staring at the Voidfish but also not. Her staff is still tucked under her arm. The growing blackness on her wrists has climbed just a touch more.
The light in the room changes, a long gold rectangle of light opening up — the door. Someone's coming. She whips around. Two figures stand in the doorway, both of a height and significantly shorter than Lucretia. One crosses the space between them at a stumbling jog, eyes wide; this is Davenport, who stops at her side. The other figure is still hidden against the light of the open door, but there's something tucked under their arm, too. Something rectangular and thick.
Lucretia begins to shout. The figure shakes their head; its outline trembles, but it doesn't falter.
no subject
This is nice. Now it knows what he really looks like and will be able to recognize him even outside of octopus shape. It seems pleased.
(No DC; 20.)
Its bell darkens.
Then it shows an office, beautifully furnished, tastefully decorated, with the debatable exception of a large portrait of the Director on the wall behind the desk. There are little bells hung around the edges of it in what seems like a wistful nod to cheer.
Almost immediately, the Director herself stumbles into view, leaning heavily on her staff. The stone set at its peak looks off, somehow — clouded. Lights shine off and on in its interior. Lucretia doesn't seem to notice. She staggers over to her desk, leans on it with both hands, staff tucked under her arm. Deeply reluctant to part with it. She's perspiring. She's panicked.
Her hands look as though she's stuck them into a vat of black and shining ink. From her wrists up, something dark climbs, slow enough that it's only gotten an inch or so yet, but stubbornly persistent.
The bell flashes, shining black for a moment, then a blinding white that makes Wash's eyes ache in the dim light of the cavern. When it clears, he sees the Voidfish's chamber and Lucretia again, her hands like black gloves pressed against the glass, eyes staring at the Voidfish but also not. Her staff is still tucked under her arm. The growing blackness on her wrists has climbed just a touch more.
The light in the room changes, a long gold rectangle of light opening up — the door. Someone's coming. She whips around. Two figures stand in the doorway, both of a height and significantly shorter than Lucretia. One crosses the space between them at a stumbling jog, eyes wide; this is Davenport, who stops at her side. The other figure is still hidden against the light of the open door, but there's something tucked under their arm, too. Something rectangular and thick.
Lucretia begins to shout. The figure shakes their head; its outline trembles, but it doesn't falter.
The memory ends abruptly.