[there's no answer, and Fever feels a certainty creep over the back of her neck. the last time she felt like this, it was gazing into a bloodied, broken pod, and a vision was on the edges of her mind.
the lock gives, jostled into working. she turns the door handle, and opens it.
silence. she doesn't want to cross the threshold, but she will if he can't make himself go.]
no subject
the lock gives, jostled into working. she turns the door handle, and opens it.
silence. she doesn't want to cross the threshold, but she will if he can't make himself go.]