[the screen flickers on, and you see... broken rocks, and shattered trees. Snowdrifts, and the remnants of a fallen building. You see them for the space of a breath, and no longer, as the forge, and whoever carries it, stumbles through the ruins. Their step is jarred, and jarring, and you can hear their breath - shaky and shallow.]
[...can you sense energy? Then perhaps you can feel it - that familiar power welling up like the tide, drowning the ruins, and half the city, too. Priscilla's yoki, unsteady and wild for the first time in months - perhaps the first time ever, for you, if you have not been in Anatole long. It sends the ground to rumbling, and if you look closely, you may even see cracks forming in the stone walls as the Forge passes by ruined building after ruined building.]
[Finally, after perhaps two or three seconds of silence and motion, Priscilla speaks, and her face is... distressed. Broken.]
There's... something in the ruins. I don't know what it--
[She falls, landing on her knees, and the Forge clatters to the ground, slides over broken cobblestones and brush, landing face up in the snow. From here, you can see Priscilla herself. It isn't a pleasant sight. The left half of her body is... missing. Her arm, half of her torso. Her face streaked with blood. As for the rest of her... there are what appears to be multiple stab wounds through her abdomen, through her chest... and slashes over the majority of her otherwise intact flesh.]
[Disturbing, perhaps... like the red rivers that quickly spread their way through the snow. Still, her attention remains elsewhere - off-camera, and it isn't clear what she is staring at until she says...]
...Teresa?
[Her intact hand reaches forward, and when she draws it back, she is holding a fistful of golden, blood-streaked hair, and...]
[...is that a head?]
...no, I can't... what could have... [Her breath shakes... and wind shakes the bare trees, too. Priscilla stares at the severed head for a long moment.... and then tries to stand again. Instead, all she does is bleed. And collapse.]
Someone. I can't-- Teresa is--
[She looks confused - torn between calling for help and warning people away. In the end, she can only manage one word.]
--please.
[OOC: What's going on?
Click for details.]