Divine Darkness
Captain Uni
Mao Mao
Antlers
Pirouette
GreenGrenade
shylarah
Eddie Brock
Supermaxx
Location: The House
#2.05
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Featuring Special Guest @Stormyx as Emma Frost๐ฎ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐...๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐? ๐ฎ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ด ๐๐?
๐๐๐...๐๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐? ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐...
๐ด'๐ ๐๐๐๐...๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐.
๐ฌ๐๐ ๐ด'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐! ๐ญ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐;
๐ด'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐! ๐ญ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐,
๐ด๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐.
๐๐๐...๐๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐? ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐...
๐ด'๐ ๐๐๐๐...๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐.
๐ฌ๐๐ ๐ด'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐! ๐ญ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐;
๐ด'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐! ๐ญ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐,
๐ด๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐.
New York was a sprawl in Emma Frostโs eyeline from the window of her apartment. A long and electric horizon of towers rising like teeth to a bright sky; angles of grey shattering the blue of it as steel bit into clouds. It was not the natural haven of Krakoa, but was still familiar. It was a home of another kind and in all of the shapes and patterns of the buildings, Emma could feel energetic frequencies and pulses of life from all around. Her trip had been useful, in more ways than one. There were the plans for the gala of course, but her rendezvous with Jessica Jones had proven to have been useful too; even if the information sat poorly.
She reached outward with her mind. Careful. Precise. Pressing not to see, but to feel whatever was out there; skimming through the psychic weather to trace the echoes of whatever hand had stirred the water. The skyline wavered and shimmered in response. Was it fatigue? She thought, a momentary lapse? But the glass that her hand pressed to softened and the skyscrapers began to run upwards like wet paint and smoke flowing against gravity. Blue and grey and shades in between unravelling to nothing as walls began to rise around her.
They were dark, old, and bore the slow scars of time. Where she had been looking out upon avenues, corridors unfolded and a ceiling arched overhead with a thrum; ribbed like the inside of a cathedral or the belly of some long dead beast. Emma drew in a sharp breath, โwhatโฆ?โ. Her voice sounded thin and different in here, as if already swallowed. It wasnโt a projection or an illusion and she hadnโt been pulled sideways into some astral half-place. The pressure that was around her was total and enclosing; bruising up her spine and reverberating in her teeth and behind her eyes. Sheโd been taken.
It wasnโt falling. She felt no vertigo, no rush, but the pull of a steady and merciless insistence. Back, back, back, as if she were being rewound and in response the White Queen planted her will like iron and pushed. From such a push, followed a painful resonance so immensely cosmic, that it pulled her frozen into place as if she were held by a great and invisible hand. Every attempt to fight back against it with her mind only caused it to become heavier and louder until it screamed a pulsing cacophony in her skull. Emma released.
This was not a trap, she realised. No, traps were crude and easily bent to her will. This was something else entirely. This was a theft that had been performed exquisitely. Without the pressure, she straightened herself into something cold and composed and let her mind close in on itself, layer upon layer as a fortress. Whatever had brought her here would find no easy purchase to her thoughts and memories. As she walked, the rooms unfolded in sequence and she passed through three of them; each were almost identical in their shape and size. Furnished with antiques chosen not for comfort but for witness. Oil paintings watched from the walls. The furniture was something between living and dead, still and undisturbed. For how long? It was unclear. Yes, each room was different. A changed hour on the clock, a chair positioned differently, a change of colour on the walls. Emma noticed all of the differences, memorising them as if they may be clues to an exit from this place, this House. This strange and heavy House, the foreign current of its energy made her nervous and by the time she had reached the fourth door, her irritation had sharpened into something cold and purposeful. Whatever this game was, it was interfering with her work and Emma Frost did not tolerate interference. She opened the door.
Inside of this room stood a young man, alone and positioned near the centre. He was neither restrained nor cowering. Between the walls of room four the vague hum of energy deepened and she stopped, her gaze fixing on the man already, memorising the set of his shoulders and his stance, the way in which his hair sat, even the visual weight of the his clothing, searching for any tension in his posture and cataloging a psychic absence around him. He was not the source of the pressure.โWell now,โ she began; her voice level as her eyes moved over him once more with a clinical interest. โFor what purpose have I found you?โ
The woman was new. John had experienced nearly all he thought he could experience within the walls of this never-ending House, the House that could be anything except an exit; but the woman was new.
She stood tall and proud and strong, and cast a shadow over John. He wasnโt sure how heโd ended up in this room - the last thing he could remember was fleeing from that invisible writhing bulk in the darkness below, unseen yet burnt into his memory forever, a lingering anti-image of nothing that he knew would never leave his mind and haunt his nightmares - and then he was here, and she had opened the door and stepped through and regarded him with suspicion and superiority and demanded answers, answers he knew he could not provide. Was this the House? Was this some kind of honeytrap? In any other situation John thought heโd happily let this woman, in her statuesque physique and intelligent eyes and domineering presence, run rings around him and drain his meagre wallet dry in hollow pursuit, but in the House, all John could think was all the horrible ways her maw and flesh might split and tear and swallow him entirely, to become another absence like the hungry mouths of the black things had left behind. What purpose? What purpose indeed - what purpose had any of this? What purpose had the House in its continual torment, of all the fresh ways it sought to poke holes in his soul and his psyche? For what purpose have I found you? John was sure he didnโt know, and he didnโt want to find out. He didnโt answer - he just turned on his heels and fled through a door, quite happy to reject utterly whatever this new horror could be before it had chance to reveal itself.
He could flee at whatever speed he desired. He could take himself rooms away and sheโd still reach him. Emma was not about to chase after him. Not in Manolo custom slingbacks. Not on this carpet. No, instead she peered forward in other ways; catching the static of his stray thoughts as they left a trail like breadcrumbs to wherever he thought he was going. All questions and no answers; shades and colours of a horrible and cloying darkness.
Her words travelled freely until she found him again. In that moment of eyeing him up and down she hadnโt expected him to be so eager to get away from someone and all that did was add a growing suspicion that he might be the cause of her being here - whether by malice or accident was what she sought to learn.
John thought it was good she refused to chase him but incredibly unsettling that he could know her intent and her words without hearing her voice or even being in the same room as her; though the latter point was quickly made moot, as despite crashing through living rooms and dining halls and studies in a thoroughly straight line, he soon found himself pushing through a doorway and coming face-to-face with the woman once again. She looked over him with one eyebrow cocked and a distinct look of unimpressed impatience, dressing him down without a word. John merely bent over, resting against his own knees as he caught his breath and held up one hand to seize just a moment before he answered.
โIf youโre not just another trick, then yes, youโre stuck.โ He said, taking one last deep breath and standing upright, though still cowed somewhat by her demeanour. โJohn,โ he offered, holding out a grubby hand to shake; she looked at it but did not take it, and John cleared his throat, pulling it back to his side. โWhoโre you? And whatโs with the, uhโฆโ he trailed off, waggling a finger near his temple to try and indicate the voice heโd heard in his head without actually having to say such silly things as โpsychicโ and โtelepathyโ, though he fumbled for any other explanation, and in the grand scheme of things, why did that seem an order of ridiculous above everything else heโd experienced?
โEmma. Emma Frost,โ she said in response; watching him still, partway in her own thoughts and partway listening; present all the same. โCurious that you fell back through here. Has this happened to you so far?โ she asked as she moved to the doorway that he had come back through and placed a hand against it as if searching for any pulse of life. It was evident to her that John may have been here for some time. โYes, Iโm a telepath,โ she began as her hand ran slowly up the wall and found nothing. โYour instinct was correct with that. Unfortunatelyโโ she sighed and brought her hand closer to herself and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in slow circles, โwhile there is energy here and lots of it, it is not a kind Iโve ever experienced.โ
Once again her eyes traced slowly over the room to take in each detail as if to seek for a clue amidst it. โI am no trick of the light, but certainly suspicious of how I could have been summoned here from my New York apartment.โ She met John again and stared deep at him. โHow did you come to be here, John? Better still, do you want to get out?โ
โThe House puts you where it wants you.โ John answered, shrugging, and left it at that. He didnโt have any better explanation to offer. He raised his eyebrows when Emma confirmed she was, indeed, psychic, but he caught himself before he managed to utter a word in protest or disbelief; who was he to deny the unusual, especially here? Still, it felt like another layer peeled back from the world. Sure, Hell and demons and sinister ancestral spirits of long-dead magicians was one thing, but that all seemedโฆcongruent with itself. Telepaths? Emma Frost had waltzed in from a different genre entirely.
His wandering eyes shot up as she addressed him directly, commanding attention and meeting his gaze with intensity that made him uncomfortable.
โUuhโฆnot sure. Think I walked in, truth be told? Canโt remember quite right. House has a way of stealing time from you. Obviously Iโd like to leave but itโs trickier than all that.โ
He walked over to the front door, carefully brushing past Emma and then wrapping a hand around the doorknob. He rattled it, the sound of the wood and brass knocking back and forth in the frame now a very familiar tune to his ears. The door did not open.
โYouโre welcome to try but the damn thing is shut fast and has been ever since I arrived. As for other ways out - Iโve been all over, and through some places a house has no business containing. The one thing the House doesnโt seem to have is an exit.โ
โThen we have to make one, John,โ Emma said as her irritability increased beneath the surface at the manโs efforts to open the door, and his inability to speak with clarity. โTell me everything you remember so far,โ she added with a curt breath. She would get her information either way, perhaps it was some kind of spell of the House that was causing him confusion. Emma let her arm flash with transformation into a clean and merciless form; her previously soft musculature enhanced then with the cruel brilliance of her diamond mutation and she swung and drove a clenched fist forward in a single and decisive motion. It was less of an act of rage than punishment, her impatience ran through the impact. The door shuddered under the cold and unyielding force, but it didnโt break. It bent; the wood at the point of impact folded around Emmaโs fist, a small divot forming before bouncing back, snapping into place like rubber. If John was shocked or astounded by either the doorโs strange properties or the marvel of Emmaโs sparkling diamond skin, he didnโt show it. Instead, he enjoyed his own small moment of smugness.
โWe could go upstairs? I havenโt gone upstairs yet.โ He offered. Emma just looked at him. He shrugged. โI donโt remember much. The House takes things away. I woke up in my flat this morning, had some brekky, and then by all memory walked out of my front door and in through this one, not a single step between. I had a book with me, not sure where that came from. Or where itโs gone, come to think of itโฆโ he trailed off, peeling away from the door to investigate the rest of the antechamber in search of the book that heโd seen under his doubleโs arm before being pushed down the hole. He spoke as he wandered, in a bored tone like he was recounting the dayโs errands, tapping each of his fingers in sequence as he ran back through the course of events thusfar. โExplored for a bit, looking for a way out. Found a monster, and a girl. Monster disappeared, girl came with me, came back here only it was a hole now, another me appeared, pushed us in the hole, woke up without the girl, found the girl again but she didnโt recognize me, more monsters ate her then started eating everything else, ran away, ended up back here and found you. Say, the name โAstraโ mean anything to you?โ He gave up looking for the book and crept close again, squinting through his eyes at Emmaโs expression, trying to make her striking features and crisp blonde hair match Astraโs mousey face and wild dirty waves, to no avail. โNo, I suppose not.โ
โAstra,โ Emma repeated slowly. No, this name did not hold personal resonance to her but the thought of a girl being eaten by monsters twisted unpleasantly in her mind as if it was that which struck something personal. He was correct to keep moving in directions they had not and still impatience and frustration was gnawing at her. Johnโs half-remembered and fragmented thoughts. There had to be something he had not seen and something beneath the surface. As he squinted at her she seized her opportunity to let her own consciousness reach for him, a tendril of her own mind brushing against the edges of his memories of the House and she did so with a precision that was delicate and unwilling to tear away at the fabric of him. Flickers came first in visions of the strange, and of the image of Astra and shifting shadows from within the walls of the House that then became windows and let some slivers of things creep through before that were buried but made up the core of him.
Behind the fragments of the House and from beyond the shifting glass panes was another place from a deeper journey where there was a reek of mud and despair. A landscape of complexity and a desperate choice made to save another that lingered at the fringes, but screamed through him too. The temptation to dig deeper rang through Emma; made up from the desire to escape first and then a curiosity second. Moving through the current of his mind it was clear to her that he was in fact the key to this mystery and the centre of which it all moved. John was a survivor, she was gentler still as she withdrew from him. โNot bad, John Constantine,โ she said - his whole name said with respect. โMost would have lost themselves by now, youโre holding together.โ
Johnโs face creased together as he furrowed his brows. Heโd felt that same lingering brush against the forefront of his mind again, but suspected Emma had peered deeper this time; he hoped, bitter and sarcastic, that sheโd enjoyed whatever sheโd found lurking in there. He certainly didnโt, and he wasnโt overly keen on the pity either.
โSure. Donโt really have time for another meltdown at the mo.โ He answered, and then moved to go upstairs, only half-caring if she followed.
Upstairs was neither different nor identical to the rest of the House John had trekked through thusfar; truly, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Bedrooms were the word of the day up here, with airing cupboards bigger than the rooms they were attached to and bathrooms that stretched into pipe-lined depths with the echoing sound of trickling water down unseen drains. One bedroom was utterly literal, the floor itself a stretched-out mattress and the opposite wall a headboard that splayed up to the ceiling, chesterfield pleating laid out all the way up to the coving; the adjoining en-suite was simply a shower cubicle of ten metres square, a hundred nozzles and knobs lining the walls, and a stately ceramic sink for a central supporting pillar. None of it fazed John, but Emma was on-guard; the impossibilities of the architecture never ceased.
The entire repeated architecture was a lesson in bad taste. A vulgar devotion to symmetry that continued to insist. Emma did not feel the need to explain herself for what she did least of all to apologise for what she saw; that didnโt mean that her actions didnโt also leave room for further bad taste in her mouth. She didnโt know this man, only now she knew him all too well from the corners that were his and his alone and sheโd peered into them. His sacrifice and what he did in the depths of an elsewhere and below; his Katabasis. Gods, sheโd have done the same given the chance. The bad taste felt like copper in its permeating sharpness and it was the colour of a bitter kind of jealousy; the truth sheโd bitten down too hard on and hadnโt intended to claim. That was truly the worst of it. It wasnโt a small or mean jealousy, but reverent and aching with a bitter admiration.
โThis place,โ Emma said at last in her deliberate and pedagogical calmness. โIt's indulgent. This House is a living thing. I know that much,โ Her gaze traced the walls again without her needing to touch them, only half-caring if John listened. โIt has a mind, but does it have a conscience? I donโt want to romanticise it but I know it remembers things and I know that it knows what hurts.โ Then, she moved forward with the muscle memory that brought her closer to John in the same way sheโd stand in front of any of her students in such a wretched and unknown place. Feet firmly planted, heels and all and she closed her eyes to let that well constructed wall start to move away and make room for all that she was holding to keep out; and all of her power she was holding in. Brick by brick it moved and the pressure changed in the room as if the House was inhaling with anticipation. โIโm not interested in more tricks,โ she said, her eyes still shut. โIโm not interested in whatever narrative it thinks itโs telling. Like I said, John Constantine, we have to make an exit.โ
And then she reached.
โ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ฌ ๐๐ช๐ช๐
แด ๊ฑษชแดษชสแดสสส แด แดแดแด สส ษชษดแดษชแด แดษดแด แดแดแดแดสสแดแด แดษด แดสแด แดกสแด แดษดสแดษดแดแดแด แดสแดแด แด แดสแดแดษชแดส แดxแดสแดสแดส, แด ๊ฑแดสแดษดษขแด ๊ฑสแดแดแด แดกษชแดสษชษด แด แดกแดสส-แดษดแดแดกษด ษดแดสแดสแด, แด แดสแดแดแด แด๊ฐ ษชสแดษด แดแดแดแด๊ฑ. ษชแด แดกแด๊ฑ แด แดแดแดขแดขสษชษดษข ๊ฑแดสแดแดแดแดสแด. ษช'แด แด ษขแดแด แดแด ๊ฐษชษดษช๊ฑส แดส แดแดแด แด๊ฐ แดแดแด แดแด สแดแด๊ฑแด, แดส แดแดแดแด แดสแด๊ฑแด ๊ฑแดแดแดแด๊ฑ แดแดกแดส แดแด แดสษดษชษขสแด - ษชษด ๊ฐแดส แดสแด ๊ฐษชษขสแด แด๊ฐ สษช๊ฑ สษช๊ฐแด - แดสแดส'สแด แดสแด สแด๊ฑแด สแดแดแดษชษดษข แดษดแด๊ฑ! แดสแด ษชษดแด แด๊ฑแดษชษขแดแดษชแด แด สแดแดแดสแด สสแดแดแดแด สแดแดแดษด แดสสแดส แด๊ฑ แดกแดสส แด๊ฑ แดกสแดแด แดส๊ฑแด สแดแด'แด ๊ฑแดษดแด แดแด, แดษดแด แด๊ฐ แดส ๊ฐแดแด แดแดสษชแดแด แดแดษชษดแดษชษดษข๊ฑ แดษด แด แดส๊ฑ แด๊ฐ สแดแดแด ส สแดษชษด - สแดแดแดษด แดสแดษชแดแด๊ฑ ษชษด สแดแด แดส๊ฑแด, สแดแด'แด สแด แดกษช๊ฑแด แดแด แด แด แดสแด ๊ฑแดแดแด!
๐๐ฏ๐ข ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐จ๐ข๐ข๐ซ ๐ฑ๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ข ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ ๐ข๐ซ๐ก? ๐๐๐จ๐ข ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฑ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ซ๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ถ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ฑ๐ฏ๐ถ?
๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ธ, ๐๐ป๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ด๐๐น๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐น๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ฎ ๐ป๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ ๐ฒ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ฒ. ๐๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ฒ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ-๐ฝ๐ผ๐ถ๐ป๐-๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ป-๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐น๐น๐ถ๐ผ๐ป ๐บ๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐. ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฑ. ๐ฃ๐ฎ๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐น ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ฒ๐ณ ๐๐ ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ก๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป๐ฎ๐น ๐๐ป๐๐ถ๐๐๐๐ฒ. ๐ง๐๐ผ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ผ๐ฟ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐น๐น๐ ๐ถ๐น๐น ๐ณ๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ ๐๐๐ฒ๐น๐น๐ฎ๐ฟ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐บ๐ป๐ฎ๐ป๐๐, ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ฒ๐ถ๐ป๐ ๐ธ๐ป๐ผ๐๐ป ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐๐๐ผ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฒ๐ด๐ด ๐ต๐๐ป๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐๐น๐. ๐๐ป ๐ฎ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐๐บ๐ฒ๐ป๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ป๐ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐๐ฝ๐น๐ฎ๐๐ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ๐บ๐๐ป๐ถ๐๐, ๐ถ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป๐๐ถ๐๐, ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ฎ๐น ๐๐๐ฝ๐ฝ๐ผ๐ฟ๐; ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฑ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ด๐ผ๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ๐ผ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ด๐ต๐น๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐๐ฟ-๐๐ต๐ผ๐๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ ๐ฎ๐ด๐ผ.
๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐.
โ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ถ ๐ ๐ฌ๐ช๐ข!
All of the noise collapsed inside of her mind, asyndetic layers of words stacked together; glued into sentences. Conjunctions in conjunction with nothing left to connect, ๐๐ฏ๐ข ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ and and until the meaning wore ๐ฐ๐ฌ thin. Somewhere inside the words, something ๐จ๐ข๐ข๐ซ waited. Syntax, interrupted. Thickened and slowed; pressed inward until the words were no longer saying and were only occupying space. And and and, but but but, joining what had already joined binding noise ๐ฑ๐ฌ noise. Voices. Pressure. Heat. Words. Sound without sound. Colour without light. Names, numbers, fragments, echoes, wrong. The inside of her mind splintered with it as thoughts tore loose from sequence and the words collapsed before they could finish themselves; six and seven and eight voices all of them in the dark and all turning her minds eye to ๐ฐ๐ข๐ข into colours and pull her down with them but! Think think think think stop ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ thinking listen think burning through her and dragging. She latched to the one that spoke to her. The growling thrum behind the door that lived within the layers at the ๐ข๐ซ๐ก?.
Outside of the mindscape and back in the House Emma's body turned slowly to diamond as her mutation responded to her distress. A thin and elongated rasp from her lips and wide and glass-bright eyes. Pupils pinpricked tight from strain. The reverberation did not stay contained and instead swept her as an agonising, encompassing resonance burning through her limbs like a curse; forcing her body to harden against what her mind could no longer hold. The sheen crept her skin as she hardened to diamond and when it was completed Emma stood sculpted in full luminous perfection. She was left half-maddened at the feeling of defeat it brought her and half-shaken still even then at the severity. She turned her head slowly to John.
Behind him now was ๐ธ๐ ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐๐ something that stood too close to the wall as if it had grown from it, or, out of it. It was occupying a corner and bent where there should have been no bend. Thin and tall. A body of narrow black stone and all featureless save for a single unblinking and reflective eye that appeared like polished obsidian offset against the matte of its skin. A mouth yawned open; a horizontal rupture that extended far beyond where it should have and it revealed nothing inside of itself but an absence shaped like hunger. No noise came, only the feeling of a heavy pressure that dimmed the light of the room. If such a thing frightened her, she did not, and would not show it. Not yet. Not now.
It was not the only one. Another appeared in the centre of the room and it seemed as if the room could no longer agree on its shape and form. From one angle it appeared squat and compact yet from another it was impossibly tall and the head of it pressed to the ceiling at an uncomfortable angle. It had that same awful mouth that did not stretch the body; the body simply failed to account for it as if it were a miscalculation. "If you have a weapon, John, then it is time to get that ready. I will not ask twice and you should know I will not protect you if you act recklessly."
John saw Emma looking past him and knew there was another thing behind him but he could not tear his gaze from the one in front. He tried to control his breathing and calm his heart rate but it was of no use; having seen what the last pack had reduced the House to with their hungry, all-devouring appetites, he had discovered a new fear within himself, a fear of an oblivion so complete it could not be named or reckoned with. The House had removed the memories it deemed unnecessary from him; he had no doubt that these creatures would similarly remove him from the memory of the world, an absence so definitive that there would be no trace of him ever having presence at all. Weapon? No, not by half - but he wasnโt going to go without a fight. Heโd smash and demolish and tear the place down plank by plank, brick by brick, raze it to the ground before he let it subsume him into the living absence that lurked beneath the House, or was the House, or hid within it, or a hundred other terrible secrets. As if on cue the House rumbled so subtly as to be near-imperceptible, and there was suddenly a door to Johnโs side that hadnโt been there before, a closet that creaked open and revealed a large fire-axe leaning against the frame. There was a vague sense of daring, mocking, like the House was making fun of his internal rage. John swept the axe up in both hands, liking the feel of the heft of it in his grasp, and decided not to care about the intention behind its sudden appearance.
โReady when you are, love.โ He growled, bracing himself to meet the monsters head-on.
The monsters made the first move; the one John was facing moved without moving, its form snapping into an agreed-upon shape as it seemed to impart itself on the dubious โrealityโ of the House; it slid through the air across the carpet and stretched gnarled fingers with too many joints out toward him, softly slowly creeping across the space between them until John, suddenly unrooted from his fixating fear, ducked out of the way of the grasping limbs and brought the fire axe up above his head and down in a singular motion; the blade of the axe-head chopped cleanly through the forearm of the monster like a knife through smoke. Black spattered out from the severed hand, the fingers embedded in the wall behind where John had been stood mere moments ago and already transforming back into simply part of the House, the spackled paint crawling out and up the digits as the hand melted into the architecture; spawned from and returned hence. The monster reeled back, its mannerisms made in slow-motion, the cut limb folding in on itself at the stump. It seemed to stumble, as if surprised by the resistance. The eye swivelled in its socket, looking at everything except John, looking like a child seeking reassurance. There was none. John raised the axe again and advanced forward, emboldened by the discovery that these creatures could be felled.
Satisfied that John could handle himself, Emma didnโt swing or throw a punch, but braced. As the Gentry drew back a limb, or whatever it was from its shape that pretended to be a limb, Emma waited until it was flung forwards and then stepped into the attack. Upon impact a great peal rang out, sharp enough to bite the air itself and cathedral-loud. Stone on diamond. She shifted against her heel under the weight with a disdainful countenance; as if this kind of mindless brute force was vulgar and exploiting the weakness of it was what she did best. Emma did not yield to the weight of the attack. The force was returned straight back to the sender; a shockwave that sheared at the surface of the Gentry while cracks spiderwebbed it.
The thing recoiled and staggered as the limb crumbled away, the loss pulling it immediately off balance; inertia carrying and dragging its bulk forward into Emmaโs path where she finally deigned to move. She turned at the shoulder and let her hips follow as she sent a clean and surgical blow into the exposed fault line of the Gentry. It staggered again โ backwards this time, enough of an opening for Emma to look back over her shoulder. She observed John then, in his fight against his own Gentry and she understood it was no match for the will the man possessed. It was traced in the hell-corridors of his mind and the memories of his battles survived not by strength, but the simple and ferocious decision to keep going. That spark that was relentlessly human.
The duoโs shared success against their opponents renewed the flicker of hope within John, and in response he drew the axe up again, down again, hacking and hacking and advancing on the creature as it thrashed back at him but felt the blows of the blade nonetheless, the reaching arms and gnashing mouth never finding purchase against John as the axe tore its form to ribbons. Every fragment absorbed back into the House, bloodless carnage until there simply wasnโt enough left of the thing to act under its own power, and the scraps left simply melted away. John didnโt stop there; lungs screaming, arms aching, he turned the axe on the House itself, chopping away at the floors and walls and furniture, reducing the dรฉcor to firewood and splinters. When he finally reached the end of his rage, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for air, the room was a wreck, shards and slivers littering the floor, holes torn in the walls, the axe itself lodged in the floor at a sharp angle.
Exactly the kind of recklessness she advised against, and exactly the kind of recklessness she couldnโt help but enjoy. As her own Gentry staggered and dragged to find a balance centre again, Emma swung her fist forward at the point of motion its bulk held the most weight. Once again as it met her diamond-fist straight on it crumbled and let out a soundless shriek; a gasping from its abyssal maw that trembled in silence. Emma didnโt hesitate then; already moving fast with the intent to end it. She leapt and raised her leg high to bring down a swift kick โ brutal and efficient, that stopped it dead. There wasnโt enough time to celebrate or find a breath; in her head, the voice of the House boomed loud enough and force-hit her hard enough to bring her to her knees, her hands clutching to her temples as it penetrated past her diamond form and the pain detonated behind her eyes.
An impossible trespass in her reality that hurt precisely because it should not, and could not exist and in it all the House opened itself to her. A stream of images, sounds, voices and stretching lines of flourishing binary all at once existing and dying. Emmaโs eyes shut tight as she curled further into herself, the agonising volume of words and symbols and feelings of something other; an invader in every corner of her own mind. Behind her eyes she watched as every door opened and every corridor lengthened and every room stacked itself on another and another all inside of itself. A merciless sequence that kept her rooted to the floor as past, present, and future all tangled within.
Too much. Far too much. This House fed and she felt its hunger. A seismic tremor inside of her own chest. It was a starving and endless and ancient thing. Finally, she forced up her head through the agony and drew air deep into her lungs that felt crushed by a gravity unknown and her gaze found John. โJohn,โ she wheezed out, her voice splintered but steady. โKeep that book. Keep it close.โ The house tightened its grip. โIt hasnโtโฆโ she broke midway to draw both hands to the ground and clench them against the floorboards, โconsumed enough. This House is not yet finished with you. It will keep you here until-โ Amidst the ringing pain she felt a deep shame that the House had brought her down so easily, and a fear at its cosmic strength. She also knew that were she a lesser thing it would have killed her outright and if it was consuming her then she would be sure to choke it and be the last word that would die in its throat. The defeat burned hot in her chest as the pressure surged until another door opened in her mind's eye and beyond it was her own apartment. Her window, her view of New York at night glittering like the light you were told never to run toward. โNo.โ The pull returned, that same violent thing that had brought her here was dragging her back and separating her from itself. โNot now.โ
She didnโt want to leave; not to leave John alone in his wreckage, not after seeing the bones of the house and not after seeing its every dimension. Joohhhnnnn she tried to call for him again. Reaching a hand up toward him with everything she had to reach with, even as she felt herself dragging and tearing away. Even broken and even shamed, she had something remaining for the man and as she was torn and sundered through this plane to the next and back to her own, with every focus she had, she gave to John. For that one moment of quiet to reach back to his mind; as she dissolved away from him, words echoed out and echoed out in sequence and broken and through the dissolve until they were no more.
โGoddamn fucking right I am.โ John said, wrenching the axe out of the ground; and then he was alone again.
She reached outward with her mind. Careful. Precise. Pressing not to see, but to feel whatever was out there; skimming through the psychic weather to trace the echoes of whatever hand had stirred the water. The skyline wavered and shimmered in response. Was it fatigue? She thought, a momentary lapse? But the glass that her hand pressed to softened and the skyscrapers began to run upwards like wet paint and smoke flowing against gravity. Blue and grey and shades in between unravelling to nothing as walls began to rise around her.
They were dark, old, and bore the slow scars of time. Where she had been looking out upon avenues, corridors unfolded and a ceiling arched overhead with a thrum; ribbed like the inside of a cathedral or the belly of some long dead beast. Emma drew in a sharp breath, โwhatโฆ?โ. Her voice sounded thin and different in here, as if already swallowed. It wasnโt a projection or an illusion and she hadnโt been pulled sideways into some astral half-place. The pressure that was around her was total and enclosing; bruising up her spine and reverberating in her teeth and behind her eyes. Sheโd been taken.
It wasnโt falling. She felt no vertigo, no rush, but the pull of a steady and merciless insistence. Back, back, back, as if she were being rewound and in response the White Queen planted her will like iron and pushed. From such a push, followed a painful resonance so immensely cosmic, that it pulled her frozen into place as if she were held by a great and invisible hand. Every attempt to fight back against it with her mind only caused it to become heavier and louder until it screamed a pulsing cacophony in her skull. Emma released.
This was not a trap, she realised. No, traps were crude and easily bent to her will. This was something else entirely. This was a theft that had been performed exquisitely. Without the pressure, she straightened herself into something cold and composed and let her mind close in on itself, layer upon layer as a fortress. Whatever had brought her here would find no easy purchase to her thoughts and memories. As she walked, the rooms unfolded in sequence and she passed through three of them; each were almost identical in their shape and size. Furnished with antiques chosen not for comfort but for witness. Oil paintings watched from the walls. The furniture was something between living and dead, still and undisturbed. For how long? It was unclear. Yes, each room was different. A changed hour on the clock, a chair positioned differently, a change of colour on the walls. Emma noticed all of the differences, memorising them as if they may be clues to an exit from this place, this House. This strange and heavy House, the foreign current of its energy made her nervous and by the time she had reached the fourth door, her irritation had sharpened into something cold and purposeful. Whatever this game was, it was interfering with her work and Emma Frost did not tolerate interference. She opened the door.
Inside of this room stood a young man, alone and positioned near the centre. He was neither restrained nor cowering. Between the walls of room four the vague hum of energy deepened and she stopped, her gaze fixing on the man already, memorising the set of his shoulders and his stance, the way in which his hair sat, even the visual weight of the his clothing, searching for any tension in his posture and cataloging a psychic absence around him. He was not the source of the pressure.โWell now,โ she began; her voice level as her eyes moved over him once more with a clinical interest. โFor what purpose have I found you?โ
The woman was new. John had experienced nearly all he thought he could experience within the walls of this never-ending House, the House that could be anything except an exit; but the woman was new.
She stood tall and proud and strong, and cast a shadow over John. He wasnโt sure how heโd ended up in this room - the last thing he could remember was fleeing from that invisible writhing bulk in the darkness below, unseen yet burnt into his memory forever, a lingering anti-image of nothing that he knew would never leave his mind and haunt his nightmares - and then he was here, and she had opened the door and stepped through and regarded him with suspicion and superiority and demanded answers, answers he knew he could not provide. Was this the House? Was this some kind of honeytrap? In any other situation John thought heโd happily let this woman, in her statuesque physique and intelligent eyes and domineering presence, run rings around him and drain his meagre wallet dry in hollow pursuit, but in the House, all John could think was all the horrible ways her maw and flesh might split and tear and swallow him entirely, to become another absence like the hungry mouths of the black things had left behind. What purpose? What purpose indeed - what purpose had any of this? What purpose had the House in its continual torment, of all the fresh ways it sought to poke holes in his soul and his psyche? For what purpose have I found you? John was sure he didnโt know, and he didnโt want to find out. He didnโt answer - he just turned on his heels and fled through a door, quite happy to reject utterly whatever this new horror could be before it had chance to reveal itself.
He could flee at whatever speed he desired. He could take himself rooms away and sheโd still reach him. Emma was not about to chase after him. Not in Manolo custom slingbacks. Not on this carpet. No, instead she peered forward in other ways; catching the static of his stray thoughts as they left a trail like breadcrumbs to wherever he thought he was going. All questions and no answers; shades and colours of a horrible and cloying darkness.
๐'๐ ๐๐ ๐ฅ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐๐๐ค๐ ๐ช๐ ๐ฆ. ๐'๐ ๐ฅ๐ฃ๐๐ก๐ก๐๐ ๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฅ๐ ๐ , ๐๐ฅ ๐ค๐๐๐๐ค.
Her words travelled freely until she found him again. In that moment of eyeing him up and down she hadnโt expected him to be so eager to get away from someone and all that did was add a growing suspicion that he might be the cause of her being here - whether by malice or accident was what she sought to learn.
John thought it was good she refused to chase him but incredibly unsettling that he could know her intent and her words without hearing her voice or even being in the same room as her; though the latter point was quickly made moot, as despite crashing through living rooms and dining halls and studies in a thoroughly straight line, he soon found himself pushing through a doorway and coming face-to-face with the woman once again. She looked over him with one eyebrow cocked and a distinct look of unimpressed impatience, dressing him down without a word. John merely bent over, resting against his own knees as he caught his breath and held up one hand to seize just a moment before he answered.
โIf youโre not just another trick, then yes, youโre stuck.โ He said, taking one last deep breath and standing upright, though still cowed somewhat by her demeanour. โJohn,โ he offered, holding out a grubby hand to shake; she looked at it but did not take it, and John cleared his throat, pulling it back to his side. โWhoโre you? And whatโs with the, uhโฆโ he trailed off, waggling a finger near his temple to try and indicate the voice heโd heard in his head without actually having to say such silly things as โpsychicโ and โtelepathyโ, though he fumbled for any other explanation, and in the grand scheme of things, why did that seem an order of ridiculous above everything else heโd experienced?
โEmma. Emma Frost,โ she said in response; watching him still, partway in her own thoughts and partway listening; present all the same. โCurious that you fell back through here. Has this happened to you so far?โ she asked as she moved to the doorway that he had come back through and placed a hand against it as if searching for any pulse of life. It was evident to her that John may have been here for some time. โYes, Iโm a telepath,โ she began as her hand ran slowly up the wall and found nothing. โYour instinct was correct with that. Unfortunatelyโโ she sighed and brought her hand closer to herself and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in slow circles, โwhile there is energy here and lots of it, it is not a kind Iโve ever experienced.โ
Once again her eyes traced slowly over the room to take in each detail as if to seek for a clue amidst it. โI am no trick of the light, but certainly suspicious of how I could have been summoned here from my New York apartment.โ She met John again and stared deep at him. โHow did you come to be here, John? Better still, do you want to get out?โ
โThe House puts you where it wants you.โ John answered, shrugging, and left it at that. He didnโt have any better explanation to offer. He raised his eyebrows when Emma confirmed she was, indeed, psychic, but he caught himself before he managed to utter a word in protest or disbelief; who was he to deny the unusual, especially here? Still, it felt like another layer peeled back from the world. Sure, Hell and demons and sinister ancestral spirits of long-dead magicians was one thing, but that all seemedโฆcongruent with itself. Telepaths? Emma Frost had waltzed in from a different genre entirely.
His wandering eyes shot up as she addressed him directly, commanding attention and meeting his gaze with intensity that made him uncomfortable.
โUuhโฆnot sure. Think I walked in, truth be told? Canโt remember quite right. House has a way of stealing time from you. Obviously Iโd like to leave but itโs trickier than all that.โ
He walked over to the front door, carefully brushing past Emma and then wrapping a hand around the doorknob. He rattled it, the sound of the wood and brass knocking back and forth in the frame now a very familiar tune to his ears. The door did not open.
โYouโre welcome to try but the damn thing is shut fast and has been ever since I arrived. As for other ways out - Iโve been all over, and through some places a house has no business containing. The one thing the House doesnโt seem to have is an exit.โ
โThen we have to make one, John,โ Emma said as her irritability increased beneath the surface at the manโs efforts to open the door, and his inability to speak with clarity. โTell me everything you remember so far,โ she added with a curt breath. She would get her information either way, perhaps it was some kind of spell of the House that was causing him confusion. Emma let her arm flash with transformation into a clean and merciless form; her previously soft musculature enhanced then with the cruel brilliance of her diamond mutation and she swung and drove a clenched fist forward in a single and decisive motion. It was less of an act of rage than punishment, her impatience ran through the impact. The door shuddered under the cold and unyielding force, but it didnโt break. It bent; the wood at the point of impact folded around Emmaโs fist, a small divot forming before bouncing back, snapping into place like rubber. If John was shocked or astounded by either the doorโs strange properties or the marvel of Emmaโs sparkling diamond skin, he didnโt show it. Instead, he enjoyed his own small moment of smugness.
โWe could go upstairs? I havenโt gone upstairs yet.โ He offered. Emma just looked at him. He shrugged. โI donโt remember much. The House takes things away. I woke up in my flat this morning, had some brekky, and then by all memory walked out of my front door and in through this one, not a single step between. I had a book with me, not sure where that came from. Or where itโs gone, come to think of itโฆโ he trailed off, peeling away from the door to investigate the rest of the antechamber in search of the book that heโd seen under his doubleโs arm before being pushed down the hole. He spoke as he wandered, in a bored tone like he was recounting the dayโs errands, tapping each of his fingers in sequence as he ran back through the course of events thusfar. โExplored for a bit, looking for a way out. Found a monster, and a girl. Monster disappeared, girl came with me, came back here only it was a hole now, another me appeared, pushed us in the hole, woke up without the girl, found the girl again but she didnโt recognize me, more monsters ate her then started eating everything else, ran away, ended up back here and found you. Say, the name โAstraโ mean anything to you?โ He gave up looking for the book and crept close again, squinting through his eyes at Emmaโs expression, trying to make her striking features and crisp blonde hair match Astraโs mousey face and wild dirty waves, to no avail. โNo, I suppose not.โ
โAstra,โ Emma repeated slowly. No, this name did not hold personal resonance to her but the thought of a girl being eaten by monsters twisted unpleasantly in her mind as if it was that which struck something personal. He was correct to keep moving in directions they had not and still impatience and frustration was gnawing at her. Johnโs half-remembered and fragmented thoughts. There had to be something he had not seen and something beneath the surface. As he squinted at her she seized her opportunity to let her own consciousness reach for him, a tendril of her own mind brushing against the edges of his memories of the House and she did so with a precision that was delicate and unwilling to tear away at the fabric of him. Flickers came first in visions of the strange, and of the image of Astra and shifting shadows from within the walls of the House that then became windows and let some slivers of things creep through before that were buried but made up the core of him.
Behind the fragments of the House and from beyond the shifting glass panes was another place from a deeper journey where there was a reek of mud and despair. A landscape of complexity and a desperate choice made to save another that lingered at the fringes, but screamed through him too. The temptation to dig deeper rang through Emma; made up from the desire to escape first and then a curiosity second. Moving through the current of his mind it was clear to her that he was in fact the key to this mystery and the centre of which it all moved. John was a survivor, she was gentler still as she withdrew from him. โNot bad, John Constantine,โ she said - his whole name said with respect. โMost would have lost themselves by now, youโre holding together.โ
Johnโs face creased together as he furrowed his brows. Heโd felt that same lingering brush against the forefront of his mind again, but suspected Emma had peered deeper this time; he hoped, bitter and sarcastic, that sheโd enjoyed whatever sheโd found lurking in there. He certainly didnโt, and he wasnโt overly keen on the pity either.
โSure. Donโt really have time for another meltdown at the mo.โ He answered, and then moved to go upstairs, only half-caring if she followed.
Upstairs was neither different nor identical to the rest of the House John had trekked through thusfar; truly, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Bedrooms were the word of the day up here, with airing cupboards bigger than the rooms they were attached to and bathrooms that stretched into pipe-lined depths with the echoing sound of trickling water down unseen drains. One bedroom was utterly literal, the floor itself a stretched-out mattress and the opposite wall a headboard that splayed up to the ceiling, chesterfield pleating laid out all the way up to the coving; the adjoining en-suite was simply a shower cubicle of ten metres square, a hundred nozzles and knobs lining the walls, and a stately ceramic sink for a central supporting pillar. None of it fazed John, but Emma was on-guard; the impossibilities of the architecture never ceased.
The entire repeated architecture was a lesson in bad taste. A vulgar devotion to symmetry that continued to insist. Emma did not feel the need to explain herself for what she did least of all to apologise for what she saw; that didnโt mean that her actions didnโt also leave room for further bad taste in her mouth. She didnโt know this man, only now she knew him all too well from the corners that were his and his alone and sheโd peered into them. His sacrifice and what he did in the depths of an elsewhere and below; his Katabasis. Gods, sheโd have done the same given the chance. The bad taste felt like copper in its permeating sharpness and it was the colour of a bitter kind of jealousy; the truth sheโd bitten down too hard on and hadnโt intended to claim. That was truly the worst of it. It wasnโt a small or mean jealousy, but reverent and aching with a bitter admiration.
โThis place,โ Emma said at last in her deliberate and pedagogical calmness. โIt's indulgent. This House is a living thing. I know that much,โ Her gaze traced the walls again without her needing to touch them, only half-caring if John listened. โIt has a mind, but does it have a conscience? I donโt want to romanticise it but I know it remembers things and I know that it knows what hurts.โ Then, she moved forward with the muscle memory that brought her closer to John in the same way sheโd stand in front of any of her students in such a wretched and unknown place. Feet firmly planted, heels and all and she closed her eyes to let that well constructed wall start to move away and make room for all that she was holding to keep out; and all of her power she was holding in. Brick by brick it moved and the pressure changed in the room as if the House was inhaling with anticipation. โIโm not interested in more tricks,โ she said, her eyes still shut. โIโm not interested in whatever narrative it thinks itโs telling. Like I said, John Constantine, we have to make an exit.โ
And then she reached.
โcโ dโcแตขโแตขแตฅโโy โโd โโโโโแตฃ; โโโ โcโdโโy โf โโdแตขcโโ แตฃโyโโ Cโโโโgโโ fโแตฃgโโ โโโ โโแตคcโ. โโโy โโแตฅโ โโ โโแตขโ แตขโโโแตฃโโโแตขโโโโโy โโd แตคโdโแตฃgโ โ โโโcแตขโโแตขโโd bแตฃโแตขโ โcโโ. โโโ แตขโโโแตฃโโโ แตขโ โ โแตขfโโแตขโโ cโโโแตขโg โโ โโโ โแตฃแตขโโ โแตขโแตขโโโแตฃ โโ "dโ โโโ แตฃแตขgโโ โโแตขโg" โ โแตคโ โโโโ โโgโโโโแตฃ โโd โโโy โโโโ โ โcโโโ. โ โโโโแตฃ dแตขโโโโy โโโโโ โโโwโ โโโ bโgแตขโโแตขโg โf โ โแตคbโแตขc โโโโโโ โโโแตฃgโโcy โ cโโโโโแตฃ, โcโโโbโโ, โโแตฃโ โccโโโแตขbโโ โ โโโ โแตฃแตขโโ แตขโ โโโโcโโd โโ โโd, โโd โโโโ dแตขแตฃโ โโ โโโ โแตขdโ, โโโโโโ.
โ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ฌ ๐๐ช๐ช๐
๐๐ ๐๐๐ถ๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ซ ๐
๐๐๐
๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ถ๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐น. ๐ผ๐'๐ ๐๐พ๐๐น ๐๐ป ๐ถ๐๐
๐พ๐๐ถ๐๐พ๐๐๐ถ๐ - ๐ถ๐ ๐พ๐๐๐พ๐๐ฝ๐ ๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฝ๐ ๐ป๐ถ๐๐ ๐๐ป ๐๐ฝ๐ ๐ธ๐ถ๐๐๐ฝ. ๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐๐ฝ-๐๐
๐๐๐น ๐๐๐ถ๐พ๐ ๐ธ๐๐๐๐พ๐น๐พ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐ฝ ๐ถ ๐ท๐๐พ๐น๐๐: ๐พ๐น๐๐ถ๐ ๐ธ๐๐๐น๐พ๐๐พ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐๐๐. ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐พ๐ ๐พ๐ ๐๐๐พ๐๐น, ๐ป๐๐ถ๐๐๐๐, ๐ถ๐๐น ๐๐ฝ๐๐๐'๐ ๐ถ ๐๐๐๐๐๐น๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ป ๐ธ๐๐๐ธ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐
๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐พ๐๐ฝ ๐๐๐ธ๐๐๐ถ๐ ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐พ๐ ๐พ๐๐ ๐ธ๐๐๐. ๐ธ๐๐๐ ๐ถ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ป๐ถ๐๐พ๐๐พ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ท๐ฟ๐๐ธ๐ ๐ธ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฝ๐๐๐ ๐๐
๐ถ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐๐พ๐๐.
แด ๊ฑษชแดษชสแดสสส แด แดแดแด สส ษชษดแดษชแด แดษดแด แดแดแดแดสสแดแด แดษด แดสแด แดกสแด แดษดสแดษดแดแดแด แดสแดแด แด แดสแดแดษชแดส แดxแดสแดสแดส, แด ๊ฑแดสแดษดษขแด ๊ฑสแดแดแด แดกษชแดสษชษด แด แดกแดสส-แดษดแดแดกษด ษดแดสแดสแด, แด แดสแดแดแด แด๊ฐ ษชสแดษด แดแดแดแด๊ฑ. ษชแด แดกแด๊ฑ แด แดแดแดขแดขสษชษดษข ๊ฑแดสแดแดแดแดสแด. ษช'แด แด ษขแดแด แดแด ๊ฐษชษดษช๊ฑส แดส แดแดแด แด๊ฐ แดแดแด แดแด สแดแด๊ฑแด, แดส แดแดแดแด แดสแด๊ฑแด ๊ฑแดแดแดแด๊ฑ แดแดกแดส แดแด แดสษดษชษขสแด - ษชษด ๊ฐแดส แดสแด ๊ฐษชษขสแด แด๊ฐ สษช๊ฑ สษช๊ฐแด - แดสแดส'สแด แดสแด สแด๊ฑแด สแดแดแดษชษดษข แดษดแด๊ฑ! แดสแด ษชษดแด แด๊ฑแดษชษขแดแดษชแด แด สแดแดแดสแด สสแดแดแดแด สแดแดแดษด แดสสแดส แด๊ฑ แดกแดสส แด๊ฑ แดกสแดแด แดส๊ฑแด สแดแด'แด ๊ฑแดษดแด แดแด, แดษดแด แด๊ฐ แดส ๊ฐแดแด แดแดสษชแดแด แดแดษชษดแดษชษดษข๊ฑ แดษด แด แดส๊ฑ แด๊ฐ สแดแดแด ส สแดษชษด - สแดแดแดษด แดสแดษชแดแด๊ฑ ษชษด สแดแด แดส๊ฑแด, สแดแด'แด สแด แดกษช๊ฑแด แดแด แด แด แดสแด ๊ฑแดแดแด!
๐๐ฏ๐ข ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐จ๐ข๐ข๐ซ ๐ฑ๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ข ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ ๐ข๐ซ๐ก? ๐๐๐จ๐ข ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฑ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ซ๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ถ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ฑ๐ฏ๐ถ?
แดณแตแตแตสณโฟแตแตโฟแต แตสณแตแตแตสณแตหข แตแต แตโฟโฟแตแตโฟแถแต แตหกแตโฟหข; สธแตหขแตแตสณแตแตสธ แตแตแตแต สฐโฑแต แตสฐแตแต แถสฐแตโฟแถแต, แตแตแต หกแตแต แตแต แตโฟแตสท โฑแถ แดต แถแตโฟ สฐแตหกแต สทโฑแตสฐ แตโฟสธแตสฐโฑโฟแต. แดตแตแตแตโฑโฟแต แตแตโฑโฟแต แตแตแตแตโปหขแตแต แตโฟ แตแตโฑแตแต! แดณสณแตสทโฑโฟแต แตแตโฑแตแตโฟแถแต แตแถ "สฐแตแตหกแตสฐ สฐแตสณแตหข" แถ สณแตแต แตแตแถสฐ แตโฟแต แตแตแตโฑแถแตหข สณแตแตแตแตหก หขแตแถแถแตหขหขโฑแตแต หขสฐแตสณแตแถแตแตโฑโฟแตหข แตแถ แดนแตหขหขโฑแตสณ โตโท. แดตแต'หข โฟแตแต แตแตแตโฟ แตหกหก หขสฐแตสณแตหข สฐแต สฐแตแตแตหข, แต แตหกแตโฟแต สณแตหขแตแตโฟหขแต แตสฐแตแต แถ แตโฑหกหข แตแต แตแตแตสณแตหขหข แตแตแตแตหกแต สทโฑแตสฐ โฟแต แถแตแตโฟโฑแตโฑแตแต โฑหขหขแตแตหข. แดต แตแตหกแต แตสธหขแตหกแถ สธแตหขแตแตสณแตแตสธ แดต สทแตแตหกแต แตโฟแต แตสฐแต สณแตหขแตหกแตหข สทโฑหกหก แตแต แถแตแตแตแตสณแตแต; แตสฐแต แตโฟหกสธ แตแตแตโฑแตโฟ แตแตแตโฑหกแตแตหกแต แตแต แตหข โฑหข แตสฐแต แตแตแตแตสณโฑหขแตแตโฑแตโฟ แตแถ แต แตหกแตโฟแตแต โฝแตสฐแต หขแตโฟ แตแตแตหข แตสฐสณแตแตแตสฐ แต หขโฑแตโฑหกแตสณ แตสณแตแถแตหขหขโพ, แต แตโฑโฟโฑแตแตหกหกสธ โฑโฟแตแตหขโฑแตแต, แถแตหขแตโปแตแถ แถ แตแถแตโฑแตแต แตแตแตสฐแตแต, แตแตแต แตสฐแตสณแต แตสณแต สฐโฑแตแตแตโฟ สณโฑหขแตหข แตแถ แตโฟสณแตหขแตสณโฑแถแตแตแต แถแตโฟแตแตโฟแต สทโฑแตสฐ หกโฑแตโฑแตแตแต โฑโฟแตแตสณแตแตโฟแตโฑแตโฟหข. แตแต สฐแตแตแต โฟแต สณแตแตแตสธ แตหฃแตหกแตโฟแตแตโฑแตโฟ แถ แตสณ โฑแต สธแตแต.
๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ธ, ๐๐ป๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ด๐๐น๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐น๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ฎ ๐ป๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ ๐ฒ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ฒ. ๐๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ฒ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ-๐ฝ๐ผ๐ถ๐ป๐-๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ป-๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐น๐น๐ถ๐ผ๐ป ๐บ๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐. ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฑ. ๐ฃ๐ฎ๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐น ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ฒ๐ณ ๐๐ ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ก๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป๐ฎ๐น ๐๐ป๐๐ถ๐๐๐๐ฒ. ๐ง๐๐ผ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ผ๐ฟ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐น๐น๐ ๐ถ๐น๐น ๐ณ๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ ๐๐๐ฒ๐น๐น๐ฎ๐ฟ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐บ๐ป๐ฎ๐ป๐๐, ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ฒ๐ถ๐ป๐ ๐ธ๐ป๐ผ๐๐ป ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐๐๐ผ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฒ๐ด๐ด ๐ต๐๐ป๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐๐น๐. ๐๐ป ๐ฎ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐๐บ๐ฒ๐ป๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ป๐ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐๐ฝ๐น๐ฎ๐๐ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ๐บ๐๐ป๐ถ๐๐, ๐ถ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป๐๐ถ๐๐, ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ฎ๐น ๐๐๐ฝ๐ฝ๐ผ๐ฟ๐; ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฑ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ด๐ผ๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ๐ผ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ด๐ต๐น๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐๐ฟ-๐๐ต๐ผ๐๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ ๐ฎ๐ด๐ผ.
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ฑ๐ถ ๐ฅ๐๐ซ๐ก ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ก๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ญ๐ข๐ซ.
๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ฃ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐จ๐ญ๐ก ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐ฌ, ๐ ๐๐จ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐ ๐ข๐ฆ๐๐ ๐๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฅ๐จ๐จ๐ค ๐๐ญ - ๐๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐๐ก ๐ง๐๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐ซ๐ ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐ฐ๐ง. ๐๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐๐ฒ ๐ซ๐๐ฉ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฒ-๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐ข๐๐๐ฅ ๐ซ๐จ๐ฒ๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ๐ข๐๐ฌ. ๐๐ฒ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ ๐๐ง ๐๐ง๐ ๐ก๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ: ๐ฐ๐'๐ซ๐ ๐ฉ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐๐ง๐ญ๐๐ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ ๐๐ข๐ง๐๐ซ๐ฒ, ๐๐ฌ ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐๐๐ฅ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ ๐ ๐จ๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฉ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ก๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฌ๐จ ๐ฅ๐๐ฎ๐ง๐๐ก๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ง๐ - ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐ข๐๐ฌ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐๐ ๐ก๐๐ฅ๐ ๐๐๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ญ๐๐๐ฅ๐! ๐๐๐ฌ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ก ๐ฐ๐๐ฌ ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ฌ๐ก๐๐ ๐ข๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฃ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ง๐๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐จ๐ง๐-๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฉ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ซ๐ ๐ง๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ง๐๐ฐ ๐๐ข๐จ-๐๐๐ซ๐ฆ๐๐ฌ-๐๐๐ ๐ญ๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฅ; ๐ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ ๐ญ๐๐ฌ๐ค, ๐ซ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ.
๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐.
๏ผง๏ฝ๏ฝใ๏ฝใ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ผ
โ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ถ ๐ ๐ฌ๐ช๐ข!
All of the noise collapsed inside of her mind, asyndetic layers of words stacked together; glued into sentences. Conjunctions in conjunction with nothing left to connect, ๐๐ฏ๐ข ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ and and until the meaning wore ๐ฐ๐ฌ thin. Somewhere inside the words, something ๐จ๐ข๐ข๐ซ waited. Syntax, interrupted. Thickened and slowed; pressed inward until the words were no longer saying and were only occupying space. And and and, but but but, joining what had already joined binding noise ๐ฑ๐ฌ noise. Voices. Pressure. Heat. Words. Sound without sound. Colour without light. Names, numbers, fragments, echoes, wrong. The inside of her mind splintered with it as thoughts tore loose from sequence and the words collapsed before they could finish themselves; six and seven and eight voices all of them in the dark and all turning her minds eye to ๐ฐ๐ข๐ข into colours and pull her down with them but! Think think think think stop ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ thinking listen think burning through her and dragging. She latched to the one that spoke to her. The growling thrum behind the door that lived within the layers at the ๐ข๐ซ๐ก?.
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ฑ๐ถ ๐ฅ๐๐ซ๐ก ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ก๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ญ๐ข๐ซ.
Outside of the mindscape and back in the House Emma's body turned slowly to diamond as her mutation responded to her distress. A thin and elongated rasp from her lips and wide and glass-bright eyes. Pupils pinpricked tight from strain. The reverberation did not stay contained and instead swept her as an agonising, encompassing resonance burning through her limbs like a curse; forcing her body to harden against what her mind could no longer hold. The sheen crept her skin as she hardened to diamond and when it was completed Emma stood sculpted in full luminous perfection. She was left half-maddened at the feeling of defeat it brought her and half-shaken still even then at the severity. She turned her head slowly to John.
Behind him now was ๐ธ๐ ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐๐ something that stood too close to the wall as if it had grown from it, or, out of it. It was occupying a corner and bent where there should have been no bend. Thin and tall. A body of narrow black stone and all featureless save for a single unblinking and reflective eye that appeared like polished obsidian offset against the matte of its skin. A mouth yawned open; a horizontal rupture that extended far beyond where it should have and it revealed nothing inside of itself but an absence shaped like hunger. No noise came, only the feeling of a heavy pressure that dimmed the light of the room. If such a thing frightened her, she did not, and would not show it. Not yet. Not now.
It was not the only one. Another appeared in the centre of the room and it seemed as if the room could no longer agree on its shape and form. From one angle it appeared squat and compact yet from another it was impossibly tall and the head of it pressed to the ceiling at an uncomfortable angle. It had that same awful mouth that did not stretch the body; the body simply failed to account for it as if it were a miscalculation. "If you have a weapon, John, then it is time to get that ready. I will not ask twice and you should know I will not protect you if you act recklessly."
John saw Emma looking past him and knew there was another thing behind him but he could not tear his gaze from the one in front. He tried to control his breathing and calm his heart rate but it was of no use; having seen what the last pack had reduced the House to with their hungry, all-devouring appetites, he had discovered a new fear within himself, a fear of an oblivion so complete it could not be named or reckoned with. The House had removed the memories it deemed unnecessary from him; he had no doubt that these creatures would similarly remove him from the memory of the world, an absence so definitive that there would be no trace of him ever having presence at all. Weapon? No, not by half - but he wasnโt going to go without a fight. Heโd smash and demolish and tear the place down plank by plank, brick by brick, raze it to the ground before he let it subsume him into the living absence that lurked beneath the House, or was the House, or hid within it, or a hundred other terrible secrets. As if on cue the House rumbled so subtly as to be near-imperceptible, and there was suddenly a door to Johnโs side that hadnโt been there before, a closet that creaked open and revealed a large fire-axe leaning against the frame. There was a vague sense of daring, mocking, like the House was making fun of his internal rage. John swept the axe up in both hands, liking the feel of the heft of it in his grasp, and decided not to care about the intention behind its sudden appearance.
โReady when you are, love.โ He growled, bracing himself to meet the monsters head-on.
The monsters made the first move; the one John was facing moved without moving, its form snapping into an agreed-upon shape as it seemed to impart itself on the dubious โrealityโ of the House; it slid through the air across the carpet and stretched gnarled fingers with too many joints out toward him, softly slowly creeping across the space between them until John, suddenly unrooted from his fixating fear, ducked out of the way of the grasping limbs and brought the fire axe up above his head and down in a singular motion; the blade of the axe-head chopped cleanly through the forearm of the monster like a knife through smoke. Black spattered out from the severed hand, the fingers embedded in the wall behind where John had been stood mere moments ago and already transforming back into simply part of the House, the spackled paint crawling out and up the digits as the hand melted into the architecture; spawned from and returned hence. The monster reeled back, its mannerisms made in slow-motion, the cut limb folding in on itself at the stump. It seemed to stumble, as if surprised by the resistance. The eye swivelled in its socket, looking at everything except John, looking like a child seeking reassurance. There was none. John raised the axe again and advanced forward, emboldened by the discovery that these creatures could be felled.
Satisfied that John could handle himself, Emma didnโt swing or throw a punch, but braced. As the Gentry drew back a limb, or whatever it was from its shape that pretended to be a limb, Emma waited until it was flung forwards and then stepped into the attack. Upon impact a great peal rang out, sharp enough to bite the air itself and cathedral-loud. Stone on diamond. She shifted against her heel under the weight with a disdainful countenance; as if this kind of mindless brute force was vulgar and exploiting the weakness of it was what she did best. Emma did not yield to the weight of the attack. The force was returned straight back to the sender; a shockwave that sheared at the surface of the Gentry while cracks spiderwebbed it.
The thing recoiled and staggered as the limb crumbled away, the loss pulling it immediately off balance; inertia carrying and dragging its bulk forward into Emmaโs path where she finally deigned to move. She turned at the shoulder and let her hips follow as she sent a clean and surgical blow into the exposed fault line of the Gentry. It staggered again โ backwards this time, enough of an opening for Emma to look back over her shoulder. She observed John then, in his fight against his own Gentry and she understood it was no match for the will the man possessed. It was traced in the hell-corridors of his mind and the memories of his battles survived not by strength, but the simple and ferocious decision to keep going. That spark that was relentlessly human.
The duoโs shared success against their opponents renewed the flicker of hope within John, and in response he drew the axe up again, down again, hacking and hacking and advancing on the creature as it thrashed back at him but felt the blows of the blade nonetheless, the reaching arms and gnashing mouth never finding purchase against John as the axe tore its form to ribbons. Every fragment absorbed back into the House, bloodless carnage until there simply wasnโt enough left of the thing to act under its own power, and the scraps left simply melted away. John didnโt stop there; lungs screaming, arms aching, he turned the axe on the House itself, chopping away at the floors and walls and furniture, reducing the dรฉcor to firewood and splinters. When he finally reached the end of his rage, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for air, the room was a wreck, shards and slivers littering the floor, holes torn in the walls, the axe itself lodged in the floor at a sharp angle.
Exactly the kind of recklessness she advised against, and exactly the kind of recklessness she couldnโt help but enjoy. As her own Gentry staggered and dragged to find a balance centre again, Emma swung her fist forward at the point of motion its bulk held the most weight. Once again as it met her diamond-fist straight on it crumbled and let out a soundless shriek; a gasping from its abyssal maw that trembled in silence. Emma didnโt hesitate then; already moving fast with the intent to end it. She leapt and raised her leg high to bring down a swift kick โ brutal and efficient, that stopped it dead. There wasnโt enough time to celebrate or find a breath; in her head, the voice of the House boomed loud enough and force-hit her hard enough to bring her to her knees, her hands clutching to her temples as it penetrated past her diamond form and the pain detonated behind her eyes.
An impossible trespass in her reality that hurt precisely because it should not, and could not exist and in it all the House opened itself to her. A stream of images, sounds, voices and stretching lines of flourishing binary all at once existing and dying. Emmaโs eyes shut tight as she curled further into herself, the agonising volume of words and symbols and feelings of something other; an invader in every corner of her own mind. Behind her eyes she watched as every door opened and every corridor lengthened and every room stacked itself on another and another all inside of itself. A merciless sequence that kept her rooted to the floor as past, present, and future all tangled within.
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ฑ๐ถ ๐ฅ๐๐ซ๐ก ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ก๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ญ๐ข๐ซ.
Too much. Far too much. This House fed and she felt its hunger. A seismic tremor inside of her own chest. It was a starving and endless and ancient thing. Finally, she forced up her head through the agony and drew air deep into her lungs that felt crushed by a gravity unknown and her gaze found John. โJohn,โ she wheezed out, her voice splintered but steady. โKeep that book. Keep it close.โ The house tightened its grip. โIt hasnโtโฆโ she broke midway to draw both hands to the ground and clench them against the floorboards, โconsumed enough. This House is not yet finished with you. It will keep you here until-โ Amidst the ringing pain she felt a deep shame that the House had brought her down so easily, and a fear at its cosmic strength. She also knew that were she a lesser thing it would have killed her outright and if it was consuming her then she would be sure to choke it and be the last word that would die in its throat. The defeat burned hot in her chest as the pressure surged until another door opened in her mind's eye and beyond it was her own apartment. Her window, her view of New York at night glittering like the light you were told never to run toward. โNo.โ The pull returned, that same violent thing that had brought her here was dragging her back and separating her from itself. โNot now.โ
She didnโt want to leave; not to leave John alone in his wreckage, not after seeing the bones of the house and not after seeing its every dimension. Joohhhnnnn she tried to call for him again. Reaching a hand up toward him with everything she had to reach with, even as she felt herself dragging and tearing away. Even broken and even shamed, she had something remaining for the man and as she was torn and sundered through this plane to the next and back to her own, with every focus she had, she gave to John. For that one moment of quiet to reach back to his mind; as she dissolved away from him, words echoed out and echoed out in sequence and broken and through the dissolve until they were no more.
๐๐๐๐ช ๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐. โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ . ๐๐ ๐ฆ'๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ช, ๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐,
๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐พ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ โฆ. ๐๐๐๐ช, ๐ช๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐, ๐๐.
๐๐ ๐๐, ๐ช๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ช ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐
โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐, ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐. ๐๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐ช. ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐, ๐ ๐๐๐ช ๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐.
๐พ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ช, ๐ช๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐.
๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐พ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ โฆ. ๐๐๐๐ช, ๐ช๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐, ๐๐.
๐๐ ๐๐, ๐ช๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ช ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐
โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐, ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐. ๐๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐ช. ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐, ๐ ๐๐๐ช ๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐.
๐พ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ช, ๐ช๐ ๐ฆโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐.
โGoddamn fucking right I am.โ John said, wrenching the axe out of the ground; and then he was alone again.