[ She follows the beam of light with the sweep of her gaze even though that she knows turning to look, to see, isn't going to provide her with anything she actually wants or needs to look at. Maybe physically, to know where to step, when to avoid something or shift her weight to step elsewhere, but she doesn't need to look into faces, catch the familiar print of the jumpsuit, to know that they're in the middle of something very bad.
Still, Claire doesn't look away, finds herself unable to. One of the figures gets right up in her face, and she instinctively hops away from it on one foot, leaning, not wanting to repeat the strange experience of a moment ago and not sure of the depth of reality these things are able to submerge themselves into. So she doesn't lose him, Claire fists the back of Severus's shirt into her curled fingers, pushing him away from outstretched hands as she moves to dodge them as well, like stepping over a puddle of oil. She feels heat skim through her ankle at the last minute. ]
What is this?
[ Rhetorical question, maybe, but it's better to hear her own voice dominate the area rather than the insistent tapping. ]
no subject
Still, Claire doesn't look away, finds herself unable to. One of the figures gets right up in her face, and she instinctively hops away from it on one foot, leaning, not wanting to repeat the strange experience of a moment ago and not sure of the depth of reality these things are able to submerge themselves into. So she doesn't lose him, Claire fists the back of Severus's shirt into her curled fingers, pushing him away from outstretched hands as she moves to dodge them as well, like stepping over a puddle of oil. She feels heat skim through her ankle at the last minute. ]
What is this?
[ Rhetorical question, maybe, but it's better to hear her own voice dominate the area rather than the insistent tapping. ]