http://should-be-dead.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] should-be-dead.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] damned_institute2009-10-07 07:50 pm

Night 44: Main Hall, 2-West

[To here]

After reaching the top of the stairs, Tenzen slipped into the next hallway. This time, the hallway consisted out of a normal floor, ceiling and walls, as opposed to the pulsing flesh from last night.

Sliding his hand along the wall, the ninja kept his flashlight switched off as he headed East.

[To here]
diamondstorm: (surprise)

[personal profile] diamondstorm 2009-10-31 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[=D ♥]

It had been a waste, especially since she would have headed them up here anyway. She shifted back towards the stairs, keeping a necessary watch if something did decide to take her up on her misguided longing. Nothing, however, seemed to be the basis of this night. Her gaze slid to the stairs at the same time unease filtered through her. Renamon carefully ceased her movements, keeping her head straight as her eyes searched out the shadows.

Nothing. Of course there was nothing. Ill-founded hopes, these, and circumstantial at best--ridiculous at worst. She made to move forward again when something slid down the back of her neck, something that felt like human hair. A hand reached up to her head, feeling her thin short hair first. As she moved down, however, the texture differed, and moreso, lengthened. Touching the strands gave the impression of a chill, and the Digimon stopped there, fingers moving away but hovering close-by. She blinked. And this meant? Spontaneous hair growth to horrify the passer-byers? That... Was really the only thing logic could put forth, but Renamon's unease remained. There was something unnatural about this--more than this place already was.

[identity profile] deathrattling.livejournal.com 2009-11-01 10:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Spontaneous hair growth indeed, though any passerby would be unlikely to be horrified: it wouldn't be visible to them. At the moment, it was barely visible to Renamon herself, though that was more a matter of simple physical positioning. As soon as she reached back to touch her hair, strands of it started to wind rapidly around her fingers, grip tight enough to hold her hand in place, but not enough to hurt.

Yet. The rest of the hair continued to grow at a faster pace, but instead of simply falling down her back it began to twist and turn in the same way it had around her hand: a thick section of it crept around her neck, criss-crossing at the front and doubling back around. More hair grew, tracing down and over her body as if to wrap her in a giant cocoon of it.