White light, green light, blue light, breadlight. This caused a moment's hesitation. Was bread a color? And yet, the light had already started fading, along with the numbness. Spinning through a whirlwind of whispers, jumping from word to word, large holes reaching down, ripping pages from the book.... ------------------ Mithias stood in a long hallway, carved from ornate wood. The walls were lined with runes drawn in blood, still fresh, dripping slowly downwards. From the corner of his eye, he could see corpses, intimately familiar and yet ultimately unrecognizable. And yet, they never seemed to leave his peripheral vision, never existing when he looked at them straight. There were only two doors, one behind him, which stood slightly open, and the other one at the end of the corridor. In the middle was a singly window, a thick velvet curtain covering it. Steady pulses of warmth seemed to move through the room, a heartbeat in the back of his mind, as if the entire archaic mansion was alive. Standing a while ahead of him was Bug, looking around with a clear expression of confusion on his face. And yet, was it really Bug? The creature certainly looked like him, but more... insectlike, large mandibled extending from it's mouth, and a pair of antennae on it's head. Hanging from his shoulders was a chain of heads, each of them quietly whispering, almost all of them human. On the back Mia's head was visible, glaring at Mithias with an appearance similar to a pouting cat. In his right hand the Bug-creature grasped the head of a man by the hair, and his face stuck out in particular. For in stark contrast to all the others, it was still breathing raspily, as if clasping on to life. ------------------------------------------------ Bug stood in a long hallway, it's walls and floor plated steel, rust encroaching around the edges. Flickering neon lights illuminated the area, creating sharp, drawn shadows. The scent of blood and fear assaults your nose, mingled with the subtle touch of rusting metal. Chains hang down from the ceiling in pairs, the rusted cuffs broken open. Screams echo through the hallway on regular intervals, the chains rattling as they do. There are two mechanised doors, one behind you, and one in front of you. The floor seems to pulse regularly with a strange heat, as if the entire lab complex were alive. The sound of feet on metal caused Bug to turn his head. Behind him stood Mithias, or at least something that resembled Mithias. It had the face of an old man, worn by age. It was covered in what seemed to be an ancient suit of armor, rusted, battered and torn, well beyond use. In his hand he held a spear, from which hung a set of rags, which might, at some point, have been a flag. As Bug looks upon this creature, he sees that it has no eyes, simply empty holes, through which he can see nothing but emptiness.