The seemingly enchanted pair of boots had run off,
as if were, leaving the small group behind. Ash looked after them before turning to the people around her.
we follow them?
think we have to, right?
And so it was decided. As a group and together, they all moved towards the doorway.
Quentin, resplendent in the suit he'd chosen for the adventure, stepped up and opened the large door. It creaked as one might expect such an old door to do, but beyond the hallway was empty as far as they could see. The mist rolled around as it had been, obscuring
what little visibility that was there, but the man in front of them seemed to squint as if looking at something. They filed into the hall.
No sooner had they, when the sound of a loud band reverberated through the very hall in which they stood. Ash's eyes had finally adjusted to the dark mist and could see enough to notice the outline of not one, but
two pairs of boots now. Her eyebrows rose upwards. No sooner had they than another pair landed heavily. Then another, and another. Slowly, boots seemed to pile upwards and a strange panic began to rise up in her chest.
Yet, the house would have none of that. There would be no overwhelming of boots that day for the floor gave way and suddenly Ash felt the sensation of falling. There was a strange calm to it, a peace to the weightlessness
of the feel, which she was used to having often sought out such things where possible on ships and installations where astrometrics or holodecks allowed for it. In this case, however, the sudden stop at the end was most unpleasant, save for the fact that Quentin
himself broke all of their falls.
((Interior. The Crypt.))
The mist from above seemed to be replaced by cobwebs and dust as it was sent shooting
into the air by their sudden arrival and then drifting about them as gravity slowly pulled it all back downwards. Ash scurried upwards as to free her friend from the weight of all those who had fallen on him, and in doing so she allowed them all to get a good
look at where they were.
Coffins were everywhere, lining the walls in neat and straight rows, in alcoves and
in just about every possible available space.
I am loving THIS less...
The shadows felt like home in a way she couldn't quite explain. The stillness of the
room, especially as the dust began to silently settle around them, felt as close to peace as she was used to in recent days. Space, distance, the compartmentalization of thoughts, and of wrapping ones self up in the solitude presented by ones own demons. That
was what this presented to her. And as disconcerting as that was, it felt all too close to a reality she didn't want to admit to. A reality she would fight to change, but feared pushing the change of, and didn't know in which direction to go.
Perhaps that was the scariest part of it all.
Her soft voice carried back to the group
as she moved along the rows, inspecting the ornate decorations on each.
Then, out of the darkness, the distinct
sound of stone grinding against stone. Ash whirled around, barely able to see Quentin and the others in the dark, but still catching his look.
The sound of clacking as if hooved feet,
or some kind of otherworldly heels were stepping out onto the stone crypt floor joined the sound of their heavy breathing, and what she could imagine was the speeding beats of their hearts. Ash kept her eyes on the group but did not move, nor did she turn
back around to look at what was coming. Instead, she leaned her head slightly to the side in a most questioning manner.
MacKenna: And perhaps not all dead.
Then, there was a voice from the dark...
Chief Intelligence Officer