ɴᴇʀɪᴀ sᴜʀᴀɴᴀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unabatedly) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
synopsychic2015-01-27 10:25 pm
unabatedly) wrote in synopsychic2015-01-27 10:25 pm
Entry tags:
may 27th, night
Something's going on here by the lake.
[An understatement, to be certain, considering the events that transpired at the seance.]
I can't get close enough to get a clear idea but... It was just like in that room, with the spirit and the board. Something isn't right. I'm trying to get close enough to the moors to see what's out here.
[The King in Yellow. Prepare your allegiance. It could very well be connected to the play and she doesn't doubt it. But Ambrose had mentioned the lake. She has to know.]
It smells out here just like the other night. Minerals... Sulfur? [She sighs.] There has to be something here. I just can't see it.
[But then her voice quickly goes silent for several moments, as if she's stopped broadcasting entirely. But then, there's a quiet thought: Someone's here. Over there. And whoever is there, whatever is there, is enough to apparently stop her from thinking or broadcasting, much less concentrating on what might be going on.]
Oh, Maker. What is--
[And that thought is interrupted by a single, almost deafening, shout from Neria, one of utter panic and terror, and then there is truly silence and nothing else.
... At least, there is for a moment. then, abruptly, all-too-loudly in the Investigators' ears, there's the blare of a trumpet - a sound echoes only moments later by an audible clarion-call over the moors. A rustling, gurgling sound follows rapidly, cloth and friction and running water... and then silence again. In that silence, the sensory feed from the telepathic network comes on, and for a moment it is still and black.
Then it is not.
And then, in a sulfurous burst of fire that the Investigators can feel on their skin and a noise like the clanging of gates and chains, the familiar presence of the network is gone from their minds altogether.]
[An understatement, to be certain, considering the events that transpired at the seance.]
I can't get close enough to get a clear idea but... It was just like in that room, with the spirit and the board. Something isn't right. I'm trying to get close enough to the moors to see what's out here.
[The King in Yellow. Prepare your allegiance. It could very well be connected to the play and she doesn't doubt it. But Ambrose had mentioned the lake. She has to know.]
It smells out here just like the other night. Minerals... Sulfur? [She sighs.] There has to be something here. I just can't see it.
[But then her voice quickly goes silent for several moments, as if she's stopped broadcasting entirely. But then, there's a quiet thought: Someone's here. Over there. And whoever is there, whatever is there, is enough to apparently stop her from thinking or broadcasting, much less concentrating on what might be going on.]
Oh, Maker. What is--
[And that thought is interrupted by a single, almost deafening, shout from Neria, one of utter panic and terror, and then there is truly silence and nothing else.
... At least, there is for a moment. then, abruptly, all-too-loudly in the Investigators' ears, there's the blare of a trumpet - a sound echoes only moments later by an audible clarion-call over the moors. A rustling, gurgling sound follows rapidly, cloth and friction and running water... and then silence again. In that silence, the sensory feed from the telepathic network comes on, and for a moment it is still and black.
Then it is not.
And then, in a sulfurous burst of fire that the Investigators can feel on their skin and a noise like the clanging of gates and chains, the familiar presence of the network is gone from their minds altogether.]
no subject
[He must take the message. Must bear the news. The King is come. Douse the heat, revere the perfected. The King is come.]