Genevive would find herself, still, on the ground floor, somewhere in the supposed confinements of the 'Living Room', complete with chair, table, book, and spilled tea set. She had been separated from her former companions in a rather quick and unfortunate matter, and though she had no real emotional attachments to speak of concerning the lot, it did come as a hindrance to a concerted effort to... well, do
something. Prior attempts at escape had failed. An attempt to explore further only seemed to result in scrambling the contents of the surrounding house further. And those who had forged ahead had not returned. She could only presume the worst.
Now that she was left alone, she was free to contemplate further action...
Or she was, until...
There came a noise, and then came a being. From a heretofore unseen pile of dirty soldier's clothes came a... figure, a man?... of some sort. The 'man' was almost absurdly tall. Its body type was one of almost excruciating thinness; the spinal cord of the being, or rather its indention in the 'man''s choice of attire, was prominent from the front. Its choice of attire was that of a blood-stained robe of some sort. Its face was hidden by a shroud of some sort, tied around the neck tightly enough to dig into the flesh and produce a series of dried blood trails.
As the 'man' stood, the sounds of bones cracking here and there could be heared, all emnating from various spots on the Man's form. The legs and arms jerked here and there almost randomly as it stood and glanced down at her. The hands, emaciatingly thin hands carved into the form of claws, jerked spasmodically, in sync with the rest of the 'Man''s form.
A pause came, and then it approached, slowly, but surely. It betrayed no weapons of any sort. Only the one pair of pale, clawed hands...
Edited by: Crawling Reshiki at: 12/4/06 3:00