[An image swims up out of the dark cloud. She might recognize the place; she's seen it before, in a dream.]
[There's a small window, and the gleaming surfaces of a kitchen, beyond it. On the other side, where the viewer is, there's nothing. Nothing that goes on and on and on, forever. Nothing that can't be escaped.]
[Nemesis is standing in the kitchen. There's cake in the fridge, and she's in the process of leaning down to pull the plate out. She doesn't look toward the opening into the nothing-place, even though the viewer is screaming.]
[The cries are not quite comprehensible. Maybe that's because they're broken up by sobs - or maybe it's because they're a feeling of intent than words themselves, as is so often the case with dream dialogue. But the intent is crushingly, painfully clear: please, please, please, just look. Please just hear me.]
[...the Braviary makes a distressed sound, somewhere in its throat. It has no moves that will help with this.]
no subject
[There's a small window, and the gleaming surfaces of a kitchen, beyond it. On the other side, where the viewer is, there's nothing. Nothing that goes on and on and on, forever. Nothing that can't be escaped.]
[Nemesis is standing in the kitchen. There's cake in the fridge, and she's in the process of leaning down to pull the plate out. She doesn't look toward the opening into the nothing-place, even though the viewer is screaming.]
[The cries are not quite comprehensible. Maybe that's because they're broken up by sobs - or maybe it's because they're a feeling of intent than words themselves, as is so often the case with dream dialogue. But the intent is crushingly, painfully clear: please, please, please, just look. Please just hear me.]
[...the Braviary makes a distressed sound, somewhere in its throat. It has no moves that will help with this.]