(no subject)
The night is calm, and things are quiet on the M.S. Elegante.
Until a clap of thunder loud enough to rattle the teeth in every passenger's head booms overhead, following a sharp flash of light from the direction of the sky. It sounds as if the dear ship Elegante had come across the mother of all typhoons-
Except that if the passengers were to glance out their windows, they'll see nothing but calm, quiet night sky, an expanse of blue and black dotted by stars. Nothing to indicate what had disturbed their rest.
If a passenger is brave, daring or just plain curious enough to travel to the top deck for a better view they won't find the journey an easy one. It begins as a twinge, as a feeling of wrongness, but as they near the top deck they'll find their heads throbbing as vertigo overtakes them and threatens to throw them to the ground. Passengers with stomachs will feel them churn, and those without will feel as if there were something inherently wrong inside of them.
Those brave, daring, curious passengers that manage to fight their discomfort away long enough will be rewarded with a vision of...nothing. The sky is as crystal clear as ever, and the gentle breeze brushes against their faces, tasting lightly of salt. Everything appears the same; the golf course, the slide leading to deck three. The deck chairs, the structures, nothing is out of order.
Save for a single, plump little red cardinal perched atop the railing.
Once upon the top deck characters will hear whispers, but not from without; no, quiet, hateful voices hiss directly into the mind of violence, of anger and grief, of destruction. The voices may try to guilt -"I KNOW WHAT YOU DID"- or may try to threaten -"HE'LL KILL ALL OF YOU"- or perhaps even bribe -"BRING HIM TO ME AND I WILL GRANT YOUR WISH"- but the tone is always the same. Quiet. Furious. Close.
After only moments, the cardinal cocks its tiny head before taking flight. It soars to the stars, up and up, wings beating furiously until it is far beyond sight.
The thunder sounds again and the power of it rattles the ship; it will be difficult to keep one's feet, and the flash of light is nearly blinding, and when it once again is safe to look a section of the sky is bereft of stars.
Until a clap of thunder loud enough to rattle the teeth in every passenger's head booms overhead, following a sharp flash of light from the direction of the sky. It sounds as if the dear ship Elegante had come across the mother of all typhoons-
Except that if the passengers were to glance out their windows, they'll see nothing but calm, quiet night sky, an expanse of blue and black dotted by stars. Nothing to indicate what had disturbed their rest.
If a passenger is brave, daring or just plain curious enough to travel to the top deck for a better view they won't find the journey an easy one. It begins as a twinge, as a feeling of wrongness, but as they near the top deck they'll find their heads throbbing as vertigo overtakes them and threatens to throw them to the ground. Passengers with stomachs will feel them churn, and those without will feel as if there were something inherently wrong inside of them.
Those brave, daring, curious passengers that manage to fight their discomfort away long enough will be rewarded with a vision of...nothing. The sky is as crystal clear as ever, and the gentle breeze brushes against their faces, tasting lightly of salt. Everything appears the same; the golf course, the slide leading to deck three. The deck chairs, the structures, nothing is out of order.
Save for a single, plump little red cardinal perched atop the railing.
Once upon the top deck characters will hear whispers, but not from without; no, quiet, hateful voices hiss directly into the mind of violence, of anger and grief, of destruction. The voices may try to guilt -"I KNOW WHAT YOU DID"- or may try to threaten -"HE'LL KILL ALL OF YOU"- or perhaps even bribe -"BRING HIM TO ME AND I WILL GRANT YOUR WISH"- but the tone is always the same. Quiet. Furious. Close.
After only moments, the cardinal cocks its tiny head before taking flight. It soars to the stars, up and up, wings beating furiously until it is far beyond sight.
The thunder sounds again and the power of it rattles the ship; it will be difficult to keep one's feet, and the flash of light is nearly blinding, and when it once again is safe to look a section of the sky is bereft of stars.