[She enters, and for a moment, it's like the world stills. His tendril is only a few inches away from the Darkling's creation, but it never reaches it. It's interrupted, as he witnesses Ilde's entrance with multiple beady eyes.]
[He, like the Darkling, is off-guard. He means to shout, to yell, but it's already too late, and he knows it. There's that really familiar lurch, like he's been knocked off balance, and he watches as the room shifts and warps into something ugly around him.]
[He's been through something like this before, when he discovered Ilde after the bomb, but this is different, this is new, and the alien who calls himself Nathaniel Horn is not at all sure he likes new. He straightens back up to his full enormous height, brushing up against the pulsating meat of the newly transformed ceiling. Ever inch of him is begging to panic, to throw everything aside and save himself from this hell, but the Darkling's hand is on him, and it strangely grounds him. His mind feels pulled in a million directions, his body wants to rebel, but focusing on the Darkling is helping.]
[He twists himself, staring down Ilde without a discernible face for her to recognize. His flesh trembles, teeth and bone shifting in and out as he tries to hold himself together in the searing heat of the room.]
(Ilde, Ilde, it's okay, you...we don't mean you any harm, Ilde! S-stop it!)
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[He, like the Darkling, is off-guard. He means to shout, to yell, but it's already too late, and he knows it. There's that really familiar lurch, like he's been knocked off balance, and he watches as the room shifts and warps into something ugly around him.]
[He's been through something like this before, when he discovered Ilde after the bomb, but this is different, this is new, and the alien who calls himself Nathaniel Horn is not at all sure he likes new. He straightens back up to his full enormous height, brushing up against the pulsating meat of the newly transformed ceiling. Ever inch of him is begging to panic, to throw everything aside and save himself from this hell, but the Darkling's hand is on him, and it strangely grounds him. His mind feels pulled in a million directions, his body wants to rebel, but focusing on the Darkling is helping.]
[He twists himself, staring down Ilde without a discernible face for her to recognize. His flesh trembles, teeth and bone shifting in and out as he tries to hold himself together in the searing heat of the room.]
(Ilde, Ilde, it's okay, you...we don't mean you any harm, Ilde! S-stop it!)