And I guess we will be making history
A red rubber ball bounces through the Rift.
For a moment, that's all. One rubber ball, falling through of apparently its own accord. It rolls across the floor, coming to rest against the wall and looking perfectly innocuous. Which it is.
It's not until a bit later that a woman strides through, a triumphant look on her face that's utterly wiped within three seconds of looking around and seeing where she is.
"Fuck!"
She scans the room for familiar faces, lunges to the wall, scoops up the ball and tosses it back toward the Rift without explanation - where it's promptly torn up and spit back out in a hail of red rubber shards.
"Fucking - pogo - Jesus shit on a hot tin shingle!" she spits, because no one ever accused her of cursing uninterestingly. "Eight geniuses in a room and you can't figure the damn thing out! You just watch, you Rift, scientific inquiry will - "
She trails off, looking around, taking in the conspicuous lack of equipment, the scorch marks, and the clock which reads nowhere near the time she left.
"Oh, set me on fire and douse me with vodka," she mutters, pulling out her journal and scribbling a quick note. "Set fire to the Basement, why don't you."
They probably already know it didn't work, if they cleared stuff out. Still, she should probably hunt people down and let them know exactly how it didn't, and probably that she's still alive.
The wanders out of the Rift Room and in the direction of the lobby, scribbling down notes as she goes.
For a moment, that's all. One rubber ball, falling through of apparently its own accord. It rolls across the floor, coming to rest against the wall and looking perfectly innocuous. Which it is.
It's not until a bit later that a woman strides through, a triumphant look on her face that's utterly wiped within three seconds of looking around and seeing where she is.
"Fuck!"
She scans the room for familiar faces, lunges to the wall, scoops up the ball and tosses it back toward the Rift without explanation - where it's promptly torn up and spit back out in a hail of red rubber shards.
"Fucking - pogo - Jesus shit on a hot tin shingle!" she spits, because no one ever accused her of cursing uninterestingly. "Eight geniuses in a room and you can't figure the damn thing out! You just watch, you Rift, scientific inquiry will - "
She trails off, looking around, taking in the conspicuous lack of equipment, the scorch marks, and the clock which reads nowhere near the time she left.
"Oh, set me on fire and douse me with vodka," she mutters, pulling out her journal and scribbling a quick note. "Set fire to the Basement, why don't you."
They probably already know it didn't work, if they cleared stuff out. Still, she should probably hunt people down and let them know exactly how it didn't, and probably that she's still alive.
The wanders out of the Rift Room and in the direction of the lobby, scribbling down notes as she goes.