The Day My Dream Died

62 - Lapse (Although Benignant)

— 62 —

Lapse (Although Benignant)

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Lise shoves one of the men into motion, meeting his wild eyes for a moment, 'We need help! Go!' She runs on past heedless now to all but imminent death.

The fiend's protuberant body spills from the gap, spindly limbs prying, pulling. All at once, its body shifts properties; like an insubstantial water skin, it pours itself from the narrow opening, rolling down the dome and landing with a contained splash and she almost thinks it will break and splatter before it bounces back up a few feet and lands again. Its body jiggles, shedding haze, thin limbs flailing in the air as it rolls around to find its bearing. Extruding a formless head, its eyeless aspect tears wide and sends a mute howl to the sky.

Lise recalls the pane of crystal in its place, resealing the dome behind it. She slows her approach as the fiend rises on its tangled limbs, tripping over itself; the axe haft is smooth in her hands. The fiend, form turning weightless, startles and flees...

It is absurd to see. A big bag of wind sprinting westward on wheeling arms.

Following her bafflement, she has an odd pang of pity for the strange being—watching it run toward the only end. It will starve out there if it doesn't reach undefined land first and simply come apart. The feeling is brief, however, and she turns back to the other dwellers, breathing relief.

'I think this is maybe too obvious to say but the dome won't hold here on its own.' She says to the silent group, still in shock at the fiend.

Her axe, she realizes as she hangs it over her shoulder, has been on her back since she's been in the undermind; her cloak as well, though her satchel is missing. The feeling so familiar she hadn't noticed its weight. There is significance to this realization, but she dreads what it demands. I can't keep on like this. She knows and yet strains against her meager limits.

She turns to the remaining man, 'You wouldn't happen to know a man with pale skin and inset blue eyes, would you? He's a dweller.'

He looks at her and blinks, 'Uh... You'd have to be more specific.'

'He's a bit eccentric—you would know it if you'd seen him. No? Then nevermind. Do you know who's organizing any kind of effort regarding... all of this?'

He shrugs, eyes hollowing. 'I'm not too sure. It's all happened so fast and it was a struggle just to get this many to help.'

She nods understanding, 'If no one else will it's going to be an easy feast.'

His gaze curls inward and resentment crosses his expression. 'Yes, it will.' He shakes his head. 'Had that fiend not just run the massacre might have begun with us.'

'Maybe...'

Akota, please be safe...