(no subject)
[There’s a crackle and the feed flickers on, showing Bela crouched in the ruins of her cabin, shuddering. From this angle--skewed, like the device has been knocked sideways--it’s impossible to see her face.
An overhead light explodes in a shower of sparks and glass; white smoke rolls down her walls, leaving thick black streaks in its wake. From somewhere in the cabin there’s an angry feline hiss. Bela gives a little hiss of her own, though hers sounds labored and painful.]
No. This isn’t-- possible.
[An empty glass on the desk behind her explodes, the ceramic shooting in all directions, embedding into walls and cracking the screen of her communicator. The scene flickers; a shallow cut, slashed through her arm by the glass, heals itself and leaves only a faint line of blood behind.
She looks up. Her eyes film over white and the feed goes out in a burst of static and the sound of crunching machinery.]
An overhead light explodes in a shower of sparks and glass; white smoke rolls down her walls, leaving thick black streaks in its wake. From somewhere in the cabin there’s an angry feline hiss. Bela gives a little hiss of her own, though hers sounds labored and painful.]
No. This isn’t-- possible.
[An empty glass on the desk behind her explodes, the ceramic shooting in all directions, embedding into walls and cracking the screen of her communicator. The scene flickers; a shallow cut, slashed through her arm by the glass, heals itself and leaves only a faint line of blood behind.
She looks up. Her eyes film over white and the feed goes out in a burst of static and the sound of crunching machinery.]