So she'd finally noticed. Unfortunate, that it had taken this long -- thousands of strands of hair had already wound their way into her clothes, easing downward to curl around her legs. The hold of the hair wasn't tight initially, but Taura would find that the more that she struggled to try and pull away from its clutches, the tighter the stuff bound around her body, the more rapidly it seemed to try to wrap her fully in its masses.

Still, perhaps there was an end in sight: the hair had stopped issuing forth from the ceiling, what was left on the wall instead either heading towards Taura's body or piling onto the floor, seemingly harmless. But what was that faint sound that seemed to be coming from with the growing coils of hair? Something a little guttural, but not quite loud or clear enough to be distinguished just yet ...