Pre-Intro Threads
Sep. 17th, 2012 10:09 pmAt first, there is nothing but the memory of your death. Hours pass.
The first new thing you feel is the lapping of water against your sides, the wet drag of it on your clothes. You try to open your eyes, but something weighs heavy on them, round and metallic. You think you might have gone under, a couple of times, but well, it isn't as though you still need to breathe.
Abruptly, the current stops. You stop. A soft, delicate hand brushes your face, and when it does, you can see again. You are inside a cavern made of black rock - volcanic, perhaps? - and polished smooth. Silvery stalactites adorn the ceiling, their glow glinting off the walls.
With you in this room is a woman. You can't tell how old she is - some of your senses say she's not a woman at all, but a young girl in her teens. Others insist that she must be in her thirties. Her skin is pale, like it hasn't seen sunlight in a very long time. Her long dark hair blends into the black chiton and himation she wears.
The first new thing you feel is the lapping of water against your sides, the wet drag of it on your clothes. You try to open your eyes, but something weighs heavy on them, round and metallic. You think you might have gone under, a couple of times, but well, it isn't as though you still need to breathe.
Abruptly, the current stops. You stop. A soft, delicate hand brushes your face, and when it does, you can see again. You are inside a cavern made of black rock - volcanic, perhaps? - and polished smooth. Silvery stalactites adorn the ceiling, their glow glinting off the walls.
With you in this room is a woman. You can't tell how old she is - some of your senses say she's not a woman at all, but a young girl in her teens. Others insist that she must be in her thirties. Her skin is pale, like it hasn't seen sunlight in a very long time. Her long dark hair blends into the black chiton and himation she wears.