[ The root in Rosaria’s gut twists deeper, curling through her like it’s growing. It curls against her back and spreads out like a macabre embrace, and briefly, she’ll feel it pulling her in and closer to its center, closer to the skull and glittering crystals surrounding it. Her Shard is still burning, but it reaches a fever pitch where it might feel like it’s searing the skin where it lays, but she’ll feel the connection of another Harbinger reaching out to her mind. It comes with the paradoxical sensation of both being impaled and being the doing the impaling. There’s horror and fear, because it’s clear that they don’t want to do this, but the words come out again for them both, broken and incomplete: ]
SORRY. Run. Shard, or,
[ It apologizes even as Barnaby kicks at the creature’s legs hard enough for one of them to splinter and crack, flying off with the force. It too immediately rots away, but losing its balance, it topples forward onto Rosaria and Barnaby both if he doesn’t move away quick enough. But under all three of them, the ground cracks as roots quickly emerge to catch all three. ]
no subject
SORRY. Run. Shard, or,
[ It apologizes even as Barnaby kicks at the creature’s legs hard enough for one of them to splinter and crack, flying off with the force. It too immediately rots away, but losing its balance, it topples forward onto Rosaria and Barnaby both if he doesn’t move away quick enough. But under all three of them, the ground cracks as roots quickly emerge to catch all three. ]