[ Simon rounds the corner, staying close to the wall. To his credit, he is pretty quiet. But he feels far more exposed down here than he did the last time, breathing fast through his nose. He looks back at Hank, to make sure he’s doing the same thing, and staying close.
Looking at her from the side reveals that an incandescent pipe anchors her severed head back to her body, like a skull on a pike in some bad slasher movie about cannibals. It shines bluish-white through her empty remaining eye socket and open mouth — the same as the glowing metal barnacles scattered all over her body, the same as the ones on Simon’s suit. It’s supported by a mass of cords and tentacles, pipes and struts, feeding into the back of her head, the hunk of machinery that’s replaced the left half of her face.
The blue light is stark against the purple-red mottle of livor mortis. Every metal prosthesis is surrounded by torn skin, blood, necrosis. On this side, the wristwatch and bracelet on her human hand, the PATHOS-II logo on her bloody shirt, the sophisticated-looking brand of where she used to work, look extra ghoulish.
Her sobbing has degenerated into tired, weepy sounds in a voice that rattles with strange digital vibrations. She raises her head, breathing raggedly. Simon freezes.
He had to get closer to her, last time. To get the battery pack. He survived that, albeit barely. She shouldn’t notice them like this, but he goes still all the same. ]
body horror cw
Looking at her from the side reveals that an incandescent pipe anchors her severed head back to her body, like a skull on a pike in some bad slasher movie about cannibals. It shines bluish-white through her empty remaining eye socket and open mouth — the same as the glowing metal barnacles scattered all over her body, the same as the ones on Simon’s suit. It’s supported by a mass of cords and tentacles, pipes and struts, feeding into the back of her head, the hunk of machinery that’s replaced the left half of her face.
The blue light is stark against the purple-red mottle of livor mortis. Every metal prosthesis is surrounded by torn skin, blood, necrosis. On this side, the wristwatch and bracelet on her human hand, the PATHOS-II logo on her bloody shirt, the sophisticated-looking brand of where she used to work, look extra ghoulish.
Her sobbing has degenerated into tired, weepy sounds in a voice that rattles with strange digital vibrations. She raises her head, breathing raggedly. Simon freezes.
He had to get closer to her, last time. To get the battery pack. He survived that, albeit barely. She shouldn’t notice them like this, but he goes still all the same. ]