Quoted By:
Waking up, stretching, rolling to their feet, in some cases suddenly, the Subjects gradually fan out. Eat cans. Check terminals. Try to locate missing members of a hunting pack.
The environment sings with a soft vibration of pulsating life. Little crunches underfoot from things that could be leaves. Wood and roots poke through the sterile corridor walls, panels displaced, light fixtures cracked by the pressure of nature. Sometimes, the hardened and resilient facility interior remains triumphant against the encroachment of life. Sometimes, life wins.
Everett and Acolyte scamper down a side-path and push open a heavy bit of wall which swings easily enough. Roots and other things have conspired to hang it at an angle, and with a little bit of pushing, it works like a clever, concealed door.
The area beyond is strange. Clearly, some kind of corridor, once, but now it hums with the activity of a million mishapen insects, a vending machine has spilled its delectable innards all over the ground and a thick, soupy mass of miscoloured liquid seeps slowly across the ground. Bushes rustle. More plants here than the usual decoration. Most of them seem untended.
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Chimera spots a OH NO OH GODS OH NO OH FUCK OH SHIT OH NO NOT THAT NOT THAT ANYTHING BUT THAT somewhere beyond the fronds and verdant bits of life falling from the ceilling.
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Samantha can just about see a placid looking clearing, beyond a section of wall that looks a little more wooden than most. It might be possible for someone very flexible to squeeze through.
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Wildeer concentrates and tries to draw moisture from the air and the earth and condense it into a cool, refreshing drink, and soft mist swirls around their limbs. This place is so *dry*. The air fairly sparks with lack of humidity. But still, he manages. Look: Cool, clear ice-crystals...
> STAND BY FOR YAWNING PHASE
