[center][h1]Brown Cheeseman[/h1][/center]
Anyone watching Brown's face would've seen him shift rapidly from looks of contentment, to quickly mounting horror as Freyja was engulfed by the lake. Transformed once again into a look of shock as he heard the voice, and watched the little Odaya be ferried off.

As Weasel broke the stunned stillness, Brown rapidly followed suit. He thoughtlessly hauled his flannel shirt and undershirt, revealing his lean pale torso to the cold night air. He turned around to his companions and attempted to utter something, only to find he was too stunned to speak. To them no doubt it appeared he glanced back and mouthed an imperceptibility towards them. He continued without realising he had not uttered a peep. He sprinted to the shore after his friends, then floundered through the low water as he attempted to reach Zeke and Odaya's last location.

Instead of being absorbed into the column like the previous three, the water seemed to be gripping at his legs as Brown stumbled through, the extra weight throwing him off balance. The lake climbed up his body, eventually weighing him down and dragging him into the shallow water. He was stunningly and somewhat horrifically pulled under the thick silt bed by whatever was drawing the group into the lake. The last to be seen was a single pianist's hand reaching up desperately grasping at the air as it flails. He was rapidly drawn under the surface of the lake bed.

[center][h1]Yo'Bikur[/h1][/center]
Brown wakes up, appearing a few moments after Weasel. He is awoken with a heavy gasp, his sense overwhelmed by the purest air, the most visual sights, the border of incomprehensibility rapidly pole-vaulted by his mind as he views what a human should not be able to view.
He stumbles up, trying to take stock, absorbing his surroundings. He is drawn by Odaya's innocent voice. Seeing she is safe, and noticeably herself, if slightly more [i]avian[/i] than usual. He glances at Freyja, largely unchanged, and breathing at least, but seemingly unconscious.

Still half submerged in the pool, Brown glances at what appears to be Weasel ensuring the little bird isn't swept away. Brown attempted to stumble up, feeling rather weakened as the adrenaline of his previous state wore off. He shuddered as he recalled the feeling of being dragged under the thick silt. Even if momentary, it was still deeply unpleasant. He tried to pull himself up, almost getting to his feet.

Something was off, his balance was hindered and he went back down onto his knees. He looked at his bare arms. They were even thinner than normal. His skin was smooth and softer than it usually was, the colour and texture of old vellum. He squinted as misshapen black lines writhed uniformly across his forearms, almost like a tattoo, extending all the way up. He did a double take, his skin was covered in a shifting sea writing. Some legible, some in English, some smudge beyond visibility, and some in a myriad of different languages and scripts. He could only identify some of it, as it floated by in passing, the symbols mellowly rearranging themselves into different texts as he stared transfixed.

He attempted to stand back up, and this time he succeeded. He was overtaken by a strange sensation of wobbliness and off-ness like he was higher up than usual. Taller somehow, possibly. Like he was stretched out. He was overtaken by nausea, so he un-gracefully placed himself back on the ground, this time sitting upright, out of the pool of water. The grass seemed more healthy and more springy than the liveliest lawn he'd ever seen.

Finally, he gathered the energy to speak, chiming up behind Weasel, "H- H-hey Zeke, you seem to be the only one of us unchanged." He let out a short chuckle, a friendly jab to his childhood friend. "What the f- what was that?" He glanced to the side, smiling at little Odaya, who seemed entranced by their ornate surroundings. He was incredibly shaken up by the experience but was trying his best to calm himself.
[right][@Fading Memory][/right]