The Beach, Wednesday Afternoon
Once upon a time, Kerrigan might've joked something about the beach being nice and quiet - something approaching a joke, anyway.
She didn't have such inclinations now. The beach was the most silent place on the island, at the best of days; while she could shield now, unlike she once did, the back chatter was always there, a worse limitation than the ocean that surrounded her.
It wasn't that the signal was any stronger here, but that ocean was just the slightest inch further away, making it easier for her to get a clear listen.
Not that it still amounted to much. Fire and death and storm, that she could make out.
Her face set with a frown, and she yanked her mind out of the direct path of the signal. "This is getting tiresome," she murmured, and raked her foot through the sand. Human bodies. So fragile. It was starting to itch.
[[ open! ]]
She didn't have such inclinations now. The beach was the most silent place on the island, at the best of days; while she could shield now, unlike she once did, the back chatter was always there, a worse limitation than the ocean that surrounded her.
It wasn't that the signal was any stronger here, but that ocean was just the slightest inch further away, making it easier for her to get a clear listen.
Not that it still amounted to much. Fire and death and storm, that she could make out.
Her face set with a frown, and she yanked her mind out of the direct path of the signal. "This is getting tiresome," she murmured, and raked her foot through the sand. Human bodies. So fragile. It was starting to itch.
[[ open! ]]