Test Drive #2

[powersthatbe]

Welcome to the Synodiporia Test Drive Meme! Below the cut there are twofour new prompts, here and here are the prompts from previous testdrives, which you’re still welcome to use here. When you comment, be sure you specify what prompt you want to play with, and please put up your own threadstarter - it makes for a much more friendly environment that a forest of bare toplevels!

Prompt #9 gives a look at what it's like for everyone to be stuck in Liminal Space, & Prompt #10 is a chance to try your hand at being an infiltrator in our upcoming Noir plot.

Before you start, we’d like you to please take a quick look at the game’s Concept, its Rules, and the Liminal Space, Previous Universes, & Noir Plot pages, just to give you the background info you’ll need for some of these prompts. And if you’re looking for more information, the Directory is here and the Application page is here.

Prompts:



Prompt #9: Liminal Space

Today, if it's a day, Liminal Space has shifted again. It's twilight, and a moldering New Orleans graveyard, full of ornate gothic sepulchers, stretches in every direction, gray stone and wrought iron barriers sectioning it into smaller plots. Some of these mausoleums have been opened, and their insides don't match their outsides. Inside are well-appointed train compartments, dinner cars and sleeper cars and such, richly appointed and well lit, as if they come straight from the Orient Express. Out the windows, you can see the landspace whizzing by, although it's not the same landscape from one window to the next. You can feel the vibration of the train, the acceleration - but step out of the car and you're in a graveyard again, and inside the cars you can hear crickets and nightbirds singing and smell the rich aroma of flowering trees.

Also in the graveyard are a few scattered train-cars, but nobody's going into those - inside they're all dank spaces packed with decomposing bodies. There are small animals here and there outside - rabbits, birds, that kind of thing -- all of them dead, but none of them letting it keep them from their nightly routines. The crickets and nightjars are making train noises. Bemused travelers are finding comfortable spaces wherever they can.




Prompt #10: The Midnight Rose

It's half past nine and the joint is jumping. The shutters on the front window are down, the front door is locked, but there's a big mook with a shrewd look in his eye letting anybody with a black enameled rose pin on their lapel in through the delivery entrance, and the back room they're shown into doesn't look anything like a candy store. There's a small, dark bar in one corner, and in another corner six guys with strings and brass are making like they're the Duke Ellington orchestra. The floors are tiled parquet and a few couples are dancing, but most of the action's at the smoke-shrouded card tables where a dozen little private meetings are happening, gents and dames in pinstripes and fancy hats or beaded dresses and heels, but rarely both. There are card games and conversations going on, and who can say what's more high stakes? Tonight, this is the place to be, Bensonhurst outfit or Gravesend mob or anybody else who can pay the cover charge.

Comments

Prompt #3/ #7

[neverfeltthatway]

Armin had woken slowly to the feeling of cement beneath him, and it had taken a moment to adjust to what was going on. He didn't remember where he was or how he got there - although he hurt, badly. What was going on - were they in the middle of a Titan attack?

No... he holds a vague memory of waking up in a place that made even less sense, of receiving an explanation that left him with more questions than answers. He was a bit vague on the answers he'd gotten too - the memory was pretty hazy.

He looks around for people he knew. Maybe someone had a better idea of what was going on.

[willyousee]

Alcuin looks almost ghoulish, climbing lithely, and a little too quickly, out of his own cubby, pale skin splashed with blood and forearms seamed with a new set of thin scars. In a completely undignified and ungraceful motion, he scrambles out, dark eyes wide and devoid of his usual serenity as he looks about and absently presses a hand to his stomach.

In a moment, though, he catches sight of Armin and hastens over to offer his help. "Are you all right?" he asks softly, concern overcoming the evident alarm of waking up.

10

[wantedittobeagame]

Adachi almost screamed in absolute glee when he ended up on this world. He had read books, watched movies all about this era of United States history, and now here he was right in the middle of it. Now here he was, right in the middle of it, complete with the look of the jaded detective. He almost missed the whole point of the mission he was so excited, but he picked up on it quickly enough.

After all, how often did he get the chance to try and sneak up on a mook?

He grinned broadly as he slipped behind him, gun in hand... before he brought it crashing down on the mook's head, letting out a satisfied noise as the big guy crumpled to the ground.

He could totally get used to this.

hi i come to ruin your fun

[purseownerisme]

Unlike him, she wasn't well versed in the era and more than likely a fish out of water with her unnatural hair color and form of dress (the beads never worked on her personally) but she was wondering about the weird guy who just decided to knock the big guy out. Honestly Adachi? Really?

In other words: there's a Fool who isn't amused.

"Did you have to do that?"

9

[300cycles]

[A dead world.

That is what Faora could call this place. What she should call this place. Little she may know of the humans and their ways compared to the Son of El, but some things do not change from place to place.

Her Kryptonian armor shines in the dying sun of the day, her edge of her cape grazing the grass and the corpses. The insides of the mausoleums are curious to her, but she moves from one to the next, investigating.

Faora's expression is stoic, almost cold, as she observes her surroundings. This is not a place she would consider passable to call a new Krypton, or even an outpost.]

Re: 9

[detectivewonder]

You get used to it. Even though it changes.

[Travelers are supposed to work together and trust one another. That's the idea. Tim is working on it - he's fine with the first half, but the second... there are people here who don't inspire him with faith in the common good. Actually, not many people do.

But, well. Some people investigate Liminal Space. And he investigates... people. This is like a friendly overture, if made more formal by the fact that he's got his working clothes on.]

prompt #5

[ex_nullification431]

Fear coiled like an oily serpent deep within Darling's gut - writhing and twisting - as the blood in her veins turned to ice. A chill ran down her spine, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She could not hear the noise of the crowd - the breaking of windows and furniture and vehicles, the screams and howls of the populace as it surged forth against those that were decidedly other - but even so, she could feel the vibration of the earth as hundreds of feet stamped in unison. Could smell the smoke coming from fires lit and Molotov cocktails thrown, and see it arching up overtop the buildings ahead of her.

A riot was brewing. A storm of untold fury about to be unleashed.

Part of her hesitated, the part that was still uncertain about these Jaunts and walking between strange worlds, but the part of her that had survived that village from so long ago, that had survived the loss of Raven (and his return), survived to become the White Rose, to lead an band of misfit mercenaries against the Lady and her empire, that part of her stood firm. Resolute. Fear would not break her. Not this time.

Still, standing stock still in the middle of a street was just begging to get caught up in this tempest. Her mouth drew into a thin line, brows knit in a frown over her wash-out blue eyes. She took a step backwards, one hand reaching up to tuck an errant lock of hair behind one ear as she felt the earth tremble. Another step. Another. The crowds were drawing closer, headed in her direction or so she thought. A backwards glance was cast over one shoulder; she could see the hotel behind her. Was that their goal? Or was there some other motive? She hadn't been in the city long enough to get a feel for the populace or the political environ.

A projectile sailed past her then, shattering upon the ground to her left and erupting in an explosion of fire and glass. The forerunners of the mob had caught up to her, a pair of them waving their arms defiantly and screaming curses. None of which she heard, but she understood the hostile gestures well enough. Nevertheless, while she didn't swear or outwardly make any sound of surprise, Darling flinched and pulled away from the direction of the impact. She needed to get going. Now. The magical null barrier that surrounded her wouldn't do a damn thing to stop mundane weapons or brawlers. Or those explosive weapons she'd seen people use upon other worlds.

Without another thought, she ran, sprinting full tilt towards the hotel and her belongings. She needed to get to them and get out. Everything else could wait. She could only hope that she'd reach the hotel before the crowd did and hopefully not mow someone down on her way there.

[ As a note, Darling is a deaf/mute so please be prepared for a fun game of charades (or the use of sign language if your character is proficient). Additionally, she's surrounded by a barrier of sorts that invalidates the magic native to her world, whether it affects anyone else is up to you. That said, even non-magical characters from the Black Company were able to feel its presence and remarked that it felt oppressive. ]

Re: prompt #5

[reachforthekey]

A shadow flitted overhead, towards the mob - Eren, using his maneuver gear to stay out of reach as he monitored their advance. If he had flares, he'd be launching them, tracking progress for everyone at the hotel... but he didn't. he onyl had one way to stop this mob, and he wasn't ready to do it yet - so amidst the turmoil, seeing a running figure was actually a relief, one that made him laugh. He didn't need to fight against other humans yet. There was something else he could do to help.

Reversing direction, he caught up swiftly and then dropped down onto the pavement beside her. He could have just picked her up as he swooped overhead, but sometimes they fought against surprise rescues.

Not that dropping out of the sky into a run beside her isn't still alarming.

[hakodate]

The hotel was an obvious target, but for those already there when the rumblings of the mob started to approach, there wasn't a great deal of time to think about where else to go. Hijikata was used to making tough decisions on the fly, with having to live with the consequences later no matter how bad they were. It wasn't difficult for him to weigh the options, consider the relative risk elsewhere versus the possibility of fortifying the hotel versus whether going out rather than holing up might invite more aggressive action from whoever did catch up to him first.

Making decisions was almost always easier than living with the results.

There was enough furniture in the lobby and enough hands around to start moving it, at least, and he'd gone into command mode quickly, getting the others who were close at hand to start pushing the couches up to the door and pulling anything else from the other rooms that might help them block off the windows. But the possibility of leaving anyone else stuck out there didn't sit well, and so he'd held off on having the last of the furniture slid into place - not until he'd opened the door, stepped outside, yelled at anyone close by to get the hell in there before it was too late.

And when he saw the woman sprinting towards the door, he knew that keeping it open long enough for her to get inside was going to be risky.

(But when had "risky" ever been enough to make a Wolf of Mibu back down?)

"Get the hell in here!" he bellowed, waving his arm in a motion as vehement as it was inviting. There was time. She could make it, if she was fast.

But if she wasn't, there were a lot of people inside that he couldn't afford to keep the door open on, either.

#10!

[sparkstriker]

[Midnight Rose meet Midnight Mauve. Lightning doesn't know a thing about the fashions of this world and honestly? She doesn't give a damn. This gown is her go-to outfit for every classy joint, and everybody tends to say that the Midnight Rose is exactly that. Besides, she might as well get more use out of this thing, since she did win the gown in a tournament.

Though wearing the gown has the unfortunate side effect of attracting attention-- including the unwanted male kind. After all, Lightning's all dolled up, and the guys want a piece of that.

She's not having any of it though.]

No means no. Don't make me say it again, [is what she tells a particularly big guy who looks like he's in the mob, but she's honestly unimpressed at everything right now.]

[protect_and_serve]

[In a flash, there's a long-haired blond man in an immaculate grey suit and a grim scowl stepping between the two of them. He lays one hand, fingers splayed, on the man's chest, and meets his eyes.]

Non.

[blackhand]

[It's somewhere off in the back of the Midnight Rose, in between the haze of smoke and liquor, that Lightning's quip and her presence have been noticed. A certain pair of eyes- or rather, one eye, in his case- have been watching since she entered. And, well. He's intrigued, to say the least.

Garrett is one of the ones in the pinstripes in the back, but the way the fedora sits on his head, it covers his right eye in a nonchalant slant, echoing the relaxed way he sits with his back to the wall. There's several other members with him, discussing things around him in low voices, turning to him for answers, to which he gives.

As for the little interruption going on up front, the mobster sits up a little, raising his voice just enough for them to hear.]

Alfonso.

[The man who's been giving Lightning a bit of trouble freezes slightly, before turning back to him. Garrett raises his right hand and shoos him, and Alfonso nods stiffly, stepping back and moving aside.

It's rather obvious Garrett's one of the high-ups in this place, and the people around him know it. He doesn't want trouble, and the way he settles back down makes it apparent that he's just content watching Lightning from this distance rather than talking with her face to face.]

#10

[quoted]

[ This is so archaic, but surprisingly familiar considering she had been to similar parties in her youth according to the memories her father had returned to her. She hadn't dolled up in some time, so this was a first. Even still she had managed to keep from bringing too much attention to herself. At least she hadn't blurted out something that would cause a stir. She had been an Errorist for so long she had relaxed into being stealthy, being invisible in a crowd.

Keep calm, Nilin, keep calm, she almost whispered to herself, relaxing against the bar.

She had to keep the mission in mind. Her fingers drifted to her hip, splaying across the white intricately designed material of her dress. It matched the time period, well enough, and she was sure she could run in it if need be. It wouldn't get in the way of her fighting, she hopped. If it got to that point she could slip away and quickly put on her combat skin, her hunt glove if needed. That had already been planned out. Her other hand toyed with the ribbon at her throat which did well enough to camouflage her Sensen implant. She was waiting on contact with someone else who was to help her with this little mission. ]

Re: #10

[reachforthekey]

[Eren wasn't the most subtle or the best at teamwork, but this Investigation had them down to just a fraction of their usual numbers, and everyone more skilled or experienced was busy, so he was it. Leaning against the wall at the corner of the bar, stool rocked up on two legs without a second through, he was fidgety, glowering around the room, with no idea just how obvious and non-covert he was being... or just how bad an idea it was to be an unsubtle covert contact in the middle of a mob-run speakeasy.]

#10

[getseven]

[With a sharp suit and an easy smile, Kol considers speakeasies practically home. Sure, this one may not be on their ground, but that's no skin off his back. He still moves like he owns the place - and everywhere. It's easy enough to figure out he's with the Bensonhurst family, and no leap in logic to see they're literally brothers if you've ever seen them both. With his easy-going attitude and his friendliness it doesn't seem to make much sense why he's also called the lunatic, though, mostly behind his back and well out of earshot. Like that means enough to spell with capital letters. Well, maybe it does.

For right now he's played enough cards and talked enough business, he figures - so now he's sitting at the bar, taking stock of who is and isn't there and who's talking to whom. And, frankly, enjoying music and a drink. He'll chat up about anyone who comes close and doesn't seem to have anything to do.]

So what brings you here tonight?

#9

[protect_and_serve]

Joscelin feels safer in the flower-redolent dark than the morbid enclosed spaces of the mausoleum-train cars. Jaw clenched, he's pacing a perimeter around those areas where most of the Travelers have gathered, ranging the stone walls and standing guard against any implausible threat.

In over a year of this, he remembers very few troubles in liminal space, almost none of them the sort that any vigilant patrol could have forewarned against. But he has a second purpose - at each of the corpse-packed train cars, he pauses, walking through to place a hand on each body and murmur a terse but heartfelt rote benediction. There is almost no chance these bodies were ever truly living people. They're figments, like everything here. But he can't be sure, and that uncertainty imposes a duty.

[canbebrave]

Sansa had spent long enough inside the train cars, where most of her fellow Travelers had packed themselves into, enjoying the commodities they offered. Sansa had sat with the for a while- but only for the light that the cars offered. Things always seemed so dark, she had to bask in it while it lasted. But after a few hours, it began to feel unnatural, and she had to get out.

So she slides out of her seat without excusing herself from the conversations that were going on, and steps out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. She wishes she could stand here forever- eyes closed, breathing in the nights cool air and listening to the bugs. But she had other matters to attend to. Were the Gods watching her here too? Regardless, it seemed wrong not to pay her respects to them. They died for something.

Joscelin can probably hear her coming- she's a no better sneak than a liar, and her dress drags through the grass. But she still gets close enough to catch him reaching in to touch the bodies. Cue the pointed stare.

Prompt #9 & #10

[conjecture_this]

#9
"I don't like the feel of this place."
"I'm not sure many would."

Nagi can't help but share the opinions of the little Pixie fluttering by her side. In a land of gray stones and dark wrought iron, the Pixie herself is a small bit of brightness and color next to her green-clad comrade.

It may be twilight but frankly she feels like she's been wandering for hours. Stumbling into the mausoleums doesn't help the sensation, the jarring effect of going from a static outside to the rush of a train car almost dizzying.

It's the first dead body the young summoner manages to stumble over that makes her first shout and then clap her hands quickly over her mouth to silence her own noise.

#10
If you don't count the place being a touch seedy, it's really almost like being back home for Nagi. ... Well, in a sense anyhow. It's the right time period but not the right setting, not for a country bumpkin like her.

"Oh oh, look at her hat, Nagi! Look, look!" The Pixie darts around the room, flittering around the woman in question as Nagi herself tries not to feel awkward. And more importantly tries not to react to her Pixie.

... Maybe she should have sealed her up for once.

#9

[detectivewonder]

The shout brings Tim at a run. He's still adjusting to Liminal Space, and this particular setting doesn't overwhelm him with confidence that it's all really harmless, so the moment he hears a cry of alarm, he's in motion, vaulting walls and sprinting - and wishing that, in his brief moments of altitude, he hadn't gotten a glimpse outside.

Still, in only a few seconds, he's zeroed in on the source, skidding to a halt near the dark-haired young woman in a flash of red and black.

"What is it?!"

(9)

[troublemancy]

He'd picked up the habit of scavenging from the worlds they visited. He kept his pickpocketing skills sharp; some of the spires in the cities they had been to rivalled even that of Kredik Shaw, and the people were quicker on their feet, yet they didn't smile even without being Soothed. Most frequently, he found rectangular shapes, lighter than coins, made of an unknown material. The sky was nearly always blue. It was a better reward than gold and jewels, but he wouldn't have felt quite like himself if he wasn't busy planning the next heist, even if it was rarely carried out.

When Liminal Space changes, he clambers on the gates, and finds his way into one of the spaces in top of the empty cars (the one that smells most strongly of flowers). There, he sits, cross-legged, hanging up the mistcloak on a nearby hook, and plays with a collection of stainless steel spoons. One is bent out of shape, and he Pushes and Pulls it around idly. The waiting room, as he'd heard others politely call it, was usually a place of minimal comfort, but the Trumps have decided to be kind to their pets - this pet, perhaps - and given him metal.

A few minutes later he starts playing with the other objects on the tables, sending them hurtling around the room, dangerously quick, laughing all the while. Good luck trying to get into this car.

Re: (9)

[mindoirsurvivor]

For a big man, Shepard moves quietly, the dark ceramic of his armor and his own natural caution at corners and intersections generally keeping him undetected as he sweeps through the area. In a darker space, the orange glow of his implants leaking through half-switched scars and thinned skin grafts might give him away, but in the eternal dusk outside. the illumination doesn't go far. He's conscious of it as he explores, the way he's been conscious of his body to an alarming degree since it was pieced back together. He imagines a cow would feel similarly if it knew it was made of beef jerky.

The flying silverware slows his exploration down, that's for sure. Shepard pauses by the spoons, debating for a moment - is this a natural phenomenon here, or is someone - yeah, okay, he sees him, and calls in without attempting the sterling obstacle course.

"Having a dinner party?"

10...ish?

[evolv]

So how's a fella supposed to get to a speakeasy like the Midnight Rose? In a cab, that's how. And the cab driver you've got this evening is one good looking guy named Armando.

So hop in, tell him where you're headed, and don't forget to tip.

[sklent]

The tip gets paid before the meter even has a chance to run, the redheaded woman in the back raising her eyebrows at him slightly, ignoring the $20 she just put down on the front passenger's seat.

"I'm looking for the Midnight Rose. Do you know it?"

Prompt #9

[pathofwisdom]

The mausoleums were devoid of bodies, instead, they were portals to the inside of some strange vehicle. The bodies that should have been in them were inside odd metal and glass containers. Malthael was more interested in those, and the animals, dead, but still behaving as they did in life. Angel, Demon, and Mortal, all had the power to make the dead rise, but none of them in a manner such as this.

The magic that animated them was not his, nor was it demonic or mortal. Quite interesting. The other travelers were left to their own devices. They were of far less interest to him than the dead that lingered in this place.

[eldruin]

Although he was no stranger to the dead and dying nor the magically compelled movements of corpses (both fresh and those long since buried), Tyrael still found his tongue curling with obvious distaste at the sight of the animated animals, the sickly-sweet scent of decomposition that filled the air around them just as repugnant as their (somewhat) skeletal appearance. His expression was one of thinly veiled disgust – his stomach rolling unpleasantly the closer he came to the peculiar contraptions that littered the graveyard. He gagged more than once, his mortal senses overwhelmed by the stink of rotting flesh, but curiosity drove him further into the graveyard – he'd seen Malthael disappear into it sometime earlier and the strange noises from various animals were unlike anything he'd ever heard.

Not to mention any time the dead started walking (never mind skittering around as though they were still alive) it generally meant trouble.

With a barely suppressed cough heralding his arrival, Tyrael stopped some distance behind Malthael, the angel's form difficult to pick out amidst the growing shadows. It'd taken some time to find him, the graveyard far larger than he had expected (and nausea forcing him to pause a number of times until his senses calmed).

"Malthael," he called unnecessarily (for undoubtedly his brother was well aware of his arrival already). The obvious question of 'What are you doing here?' was left unstated, the former archangel instead asked, "Have you found the source of this?" He gestured towards the grisly wildlife.

liminal space; prose or spam welcome

[sklent]

No one is investigating the trains full of bodies so of course that is what Natasha does first, a sweep to ensure that there's no one alive suffocating under all of that, and then a slower, closer examination of the bodies to sort out just how they died.

The animals making train noises are just as strange, but strange seems to be the way things are done here. Natasha moves a body aside just to find that same corpse has wiggled it's way further into the pile. Without any literal wiggling that Natasha notices. At this point that might be preferable over what seems to be going on; the bodies were moved to make room for the train cars in the mausoleums, and while there is nothing directly pointing to anything more than poor judgement and other bizarre circumstances, Natasha keeps on edge.

Even when she finally chooses a train compartment to settle herself into, feet on the cushioned seat across from her. Natasha alternates between watching the various scenes roll by in the windows and glancing at the doorway in the direction of whomever you are, yes, you may as well come in.

[gitanes]

[Lila would prefer to stay in the graveyard. Even she can't say why; it's foul and macabre and frankly tasteless, but in its way death is a comfort to her. She watches the panorama with a dispassionate eye, wondering who this place belongs to and why they've decorated it the way they did.]

[Eventually she steps into the mausoleum nearest her and seems utterly unsurprised to end up in a train car, her eyes darting back and forth once or twice before she acquiesces to the strange glamour of it all. She pushes her way into the train car and settles next to Natasha's feet on the opposite seat, giving her a steady, almost challenging look.]

#9

[willyousee]

Twilight turns Alcuin's white hair to a vision of lavender and periwinkle, where he's standing in the grass, head cocked to listen to the clattering of the crickets. Quiet and pensive, he stares thoughtfully into one of the train car mass-graves, wondering if any of the bodies bear the faces of those in Travelers' memories. If he were to enter, would he find Phèdre among them?

Shivering, he drifts down the verdant stretch between fences and absently pausing near the mausoleums to listen to others' conversations. But he can't bring himself to linger or focus for long without companionship.

[neverfeltthatway]

"Alcuin!" Armin wanders quietly over, making his way toward his new friend. Though his initial shout is cheerful, he slows, becoming more somber upon seeing the change. Though few of them have the dignity of actual graves, he's had far to many friends die before him for a graveyard to be idle, or hypothetical. And he doesn't want to know what Liminal Space would make of the people eaten by Titans.

"...this is even more dismal than usual, huh?" Alcuin hasn't talked too much about home, but... well, he doesn't need to. He's not seen the same things, certainly, but by the looks of it those graves don't look hypothetical for him either.

#9

[thenewzero]

[ Graveyards are places he is more than familiar with, though he has rarely been in one that seems so old. The mask filters out much of the smells of a humid, flower-strewn place, but within minutes, his clothing is starting to stick to him at his upper arms and thighs, and sweat trickles down the side of his face. Not limiting, just slightly uncomfortable. He adjusts the gloves that are molding to his hands, and begins to walk the perimeter of the yard.

Suzaku keeps himself apart from the travelers settling on the grass but watches to make sure no one's in danger. After a while, he's drawn to the darkened train cars, and he approaches with caution.

Death and mayhem are far from unfamiliar things, but he startles badly at seeing the piles of bodies inside the train. His voice, more or less unused for the better part of a year, sounds harsh, even through the mask. ]

Anyone! Is anyone alive in here?

[ He doesn't expect an answer, but the silence is still horrible. ]

[afterthefirst]

You know, if that's who you're looking for -- [dryly, as Faith saunters out from behind a train car] then, really not the best place for that.

[she sounds far less uneasy than she should be, for good reason. dead bodies and graveyards are like a second home away from home, kind of. even if she's used to livelier dead people]

#9

[highsteaks]

Chie steps off the train she didn't remember boarding into a graveyard. "What the--?" She so hadn't seen anything like this from the train window! It had been Okina station, she'd been sure of it.

She turns to board the train again, but there's no train at all, just-- "A mausoleum?"

Oh ew. Ew, ew, ew. She doesn't want to go into a grave. But she doesn't want to stay in the rest of the graveyard either! Steeling herself, Chie pokes her head into the mausoleum and prepares to run away shrieking.

It was the train again.

"Okay, but none of this makes any sense!"

[tobegood]

There's a small child watching her from a little ways away, slightly gaunt but unearthly beautiful. He takes a step toward her, trying not to seem as hesitant as he is.

"That's just how things are here. Liminal space never makes any sense."