Foxglove hesitated, fluttering over the dark, murky waters, and stared as the Mirror was snared by vines. "Wonderful."
The wyrmpeck paused, darted from the mossy branch it was perched on, and came back up with a silver knife. Thanks, Bells. Foxglove couldn't afford to think about which tribute the knife had come from - she knew that they were likely dead.
She turned to smirk at the wyrmpeck, brushing aside all of her regrets and worries. There was no room for second chances here.
"Bells, the leviathan was worse. Don't fret." Then, she arced in midair and dived into the murky pond. The water hit her like the leviathan himself; her breath was taken from her body as paralysis crawled up her spine, and her bones were racked with utterly impenetrable cold. She twisted helplessly and snarled to herself, You survived the primeval, omniscient leviathan. Why can't you survive this?
Shivering with cold, she dived for the depths of the pond, and knew that it was much deeper than she had anticipated. She could hold her breath for a couple of minutes, but not more. Already, her time had started to tick. She pushed herself forward.
Then came the hostile flytraps and sundews, the vines that lashed out to curl around her ankles and hold her until she drowned. She snarled - bubbles slipped from her lips - and ferociously sliced the silver dagger into the vines. Desperation for her life, and Belladonna's, and, to her surprise, the lives of every survivor she had grown to respect - even Eternity, if only to the slightest degree - desperation pushed her to dive deeper.
But as darkness obscured her vision, and she could not see the jaws and teeth that snapped at her anymore, she knew this could be hopeless. She could not fight blind, in the shadows. It was the very opposite of her element. She could only pray to not drown as she blindly slashed.
I can't fight in the dark, I can't fight in the dark. Terror folded its dark wings around her as the vines started to win, and yet she couldn't see the teeth that stabbed through her scales or the tendrils that were dragging her into shadows. Is this what it is like to be blind? Her mind was spinning from lack of oxygen, and her lungs felt as if they might implode, and she knew she was about to die, even as she saw the glimmer of light - glowing shrooms, illuminating something bright scarlet -
No! She fought the vines, slashing and hacking with all her might, and abandoning the flowers, she fought to reach the surface. Her head broke into air and she gasped for breath, spluttering water from her lungs, while flailing to escape the reaching vines. Only then did she realize that she had forgotten the bombs. She hesitated.
The wyrmpeck was still standing on the branch, twittering in alarm. I'm sorry, Bells. You can't help us now, Foxglove thought wearily. It shrieked at her in fury, but she only shook her head. I can't stop. If I do, we will all die in here.
She calmed herself, regaining her breath, before diving back in.
@Unterrestrial
The wyrmpeck paused, darted from the mossy branch it was perched on, and came back up with a silver knife. Thanks, Bells. Foxglove couldn't afford to think about which tribute the knife had come from - she knew that they were likely dead.
She turned to smirk at the wyrmpeck, brushing aside all of her regrets and worries. There was no room for second chances here.
"Bells, the leviathan was worse. Don't fret." Then, she arced in midair and dived into the murky pond. The water hit her like the leviathan himself; her breath was taken from her body as paralysis crawled up her spine, and her bones were racked with utterly impenetrable cold. She twisted helplessly and snarled to herself, You survived the primeval, omniscient leviathan. Why can't you survive this?
Shivering with cold, she dived for the depths of the pond, and knew that it was much deeper than she had anticipated. She could hold her breath for a couple of minutes, but not more. Already, her time had started to tick. She pushed herself forward.
Then came the hostile flytraps and sundews, the vines that lashed out to curl around her ankles and hold her until she drowned. She snarled - bubbles slipped from her lips - and ferociously sliced the silver dagger into the vines. Desperation for her life, and Belladonna's, and, to her surprise, the lives of every survivor she had grown to respect - even Eternity, if only to the slightest degree - desperation pushed her to dive deeper.
But as darkness obscured her vision, and she could not see the jaws and teeth that snapped at her anymore, she knew this could be hopeless. She could not fight blind, in the shadows. It was the very opposite of her element. She could only pray to not drown as she blindly slashed.
I can't fight in the dark, I can't fight in the dark. Terror folded its dark wings around her as the vines started to win, and yet she couldn't see the teeth that stabbed through her scales or the tendrils that were dragging her into shadows. Is this what it is like to be blind? Her mind was spinning from lack of oxygen, and her lungs felt as if they might implode, and she knew she was about to die, even as she saw the glimmer of light - glowing shrooms, illuminating something bright scarlet -
No! She fought the vines, slashing and hacking with all her might, and abandoning the flowers, she fought to reach the surface. Her head broke into air and she gasped for breath, spluttering water from her lungs, while flailing to escape the reaching vines. Only then did she realize that she had forgotten the bombs. She hesitated.
The wyrmpeck was still standing on the branch, twittering in alarm. I'm sorry, Bells. You can't help us now, Foxglove thought wearily. It shrieked at her in fury, but she only shook her head. I can't stop. If I do, we will all die in here.
She calmed herself, regaining her breath, before diving back in.
@Unterrestrial