These other worlds, they aren't supposed to exist, thought to be nothing more than the musings of madmen, myth and legend, fairytales and folklore. Not your average alternate timeline or parallel universe, mind you. The nemeton is active, blurring the lines between Beacon Hills and other worlds. Or: Derek and Stiles fall through a portal and get lost in the world of little nightmares. Stiles likes the lanterns, likes the way they bathe the walls in a soft golden glow, at odds with the hazy grays and twilit blues of the gloomy depths, igniting a little spark of hope inside him that somehow, some way, they'll find their way back home. They spend what feels like days there, scavenging for scraps of bread and cheese (though Derek warns them against eating the meat, says it doesn't smell right.) They find a flashlight and a little silver cigarette lighter tucked inside of an over-large suitcase filled to the brim with old newspaper clippings and mildewed clothing stretched far too tall and thin, and use it to coax flames to life in quaint little lanterns scattered across the landscape, warding off the chill from the constant drip drip drip of the pipes threatening to burst and flood the lower levels with saltwater. They wake in a nightmare world filled with all manner of horrifying monsters far more menacing than any they've ever encountered before, navigating their way through the depths of a creaking old vessel at the bottom of the ocean.
0 kommentar(er)
