( locked private to teresa )

[It isn't the ruins that's the backdrop this time, it's Dismas. And the Forge switches on as they often do when fixed to a belt. So many people pushing past, pressing close - some hurried, some not ( Read more... )

[Mist swirls along the edges of rock, thick and almost tangible through the screen (Perhaps it is. It's mist after all). The Forge is at an awkward angle, propped against something, possibly so that it can be turned on in a moment.

It's impatient. So have a view.

Irene sits on the edge of that rock, a silver helmet in her lap. The rock itself is ( Read more... )

[Rapid breathing and a click, before a wide hazel eye fills the screen. The flash of a cheek and a smear of dirt upon it as the face turns and now the viewer can see mostly hair. It's copper in the last of the sinking light, and as she moves again, one can see trees ( Read more... )

[Several bursts of static and in between them - growling - howling - the tearing of flesh and the thud of something heavy striking the ground. Breath and the scrape of something sharp against stone (or ground?) - static, static and more static---

---snarl and splash and static and---]

▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒

[Video now, and the Forge shows only ( Read more... )

[In the distance Irene can be seen, moving, moving not moving and deflecting ribbon after ribbon at a pace that steadily increases ( Read more... )

( locked to team Teresa )

[It's the strike against the ground that causes the Forge to turn on, affording the view of a long leg sheathed in thin leather, buckles wrapping at the hip, strands of pale hair swaying as an offscreen head bows ( Read more... )

[One arm holds a very tired looking, bedraggled kitty that is staring into the Forge screen. Irene's fingers are wet with red shadows, (or maybe a trick of the light) but her voice is even.]

I've located ...this one.

[A quiet sigh.]

But not Priscilla.

Rafaela? I will bring the cat to you before I resume. Have you found the others?

[Another swarm of flies. The carcasses of dead beasts in the distance indicate that this is merely feet from where Sophia made her last broadcast. Those that had been strung up sway gently in the misty light, a grisly backdrop to the centerpiece below.]

There's been another. It's fresh.

[A woman alone, this time. Mouth open, brown hair spilling ( Read more... )