[ Natasha spares a single glance over her shoulder. Okay. That's happening. She hadn't expected much, and there's a part of her mind portioned over to it that thinks it's a good sign— it means recovery, even if it's painful. Horror means you remember how awful it was. How destructive.
Her expression is a mask of neutrality. It's not because of impatience but because these things, they're fast and bloody and she doesn't know what they— What they are. Natasha bends to take out a glock from its holster, blindly offering it backwards, hand around the barrel rather than the grip. ]
Tell me now if you're going to shoot or drive.
[ The scream continues. It's a long howl of something inhuman, but there's pain in it— unsevered to anything, all raw and flayed alive. The ones coming in from an angle get closer and closer; its not spit that flies off their faces and dead, fat tongues, but teeth. Molars and sinew and blood filling their gaping maws. ]
no subject
Her expression is a mask of neutrality. It's not because of impatience but because these things, they're fast and bloody and she doesn't know what they— What they are. Natasha bends to take out a glock from its holster, blindly offering it backwards, hand around the barrel rather than the grip. ]
Tell me now if you're going to shoot or drive.
[ The scream continues. It's a long howl of something inhuman, but there's pain in it— unsevered to anything, all raw and flayed alive. The ones coming in from an angle get closer and closer; its not spit that flies off their faces and dead, fat tongues, but teeth. Molars and sinew and blood filling their gaping maws. ]