[ Geralt stops at the edge of what appears to be a forest wrapped in an eerie colourless shroud. The heavy stench of decay and stifling air hits him first. Then lightning flashing across the sky. Normally, he is not one to wander into others' homes. Especially not one that's been...fucked with. But he's been searching for Julie to no avail. This is merely yet another stop amongst many.
There's a road, at least. Empty, full of trees shed of their leaves. He rides his bike through, slow and cautious. (He's been reluctant to test what might become of his horse if he tried to ride her in his current state; he does not want to see her rotting away beneath him, real or not.) The engine rumbles through the dead silence in between claps of thunder. Slithering vines squelch. The place feels wet. Sticky. Like being swallowed whole by a river troll. What catches his attention, though, is not the oddity of the entire place. It's that, as he rides, he can see edges of something that once thrived underneath: a shop with deadened lights, a vast clearing filled with cars overgrown with twisting, pulsing tendrils.
It's here that he stops, uncertain if anyone's here. If he should keep going or if perhaps it may be worth turning back. He doesn't want to waste time digging where Julie will not be found. And the last thing he needs is to linger too long and trap himself in another unknown landscape.
After a moment, he starts to reverse out of the drive-in theater—though he's not aware of what a drive-in theater even is. Or, at least he means to leave. A sharp trilling roar cuts sharply through before he can. He spins around, just in time to see heavy footfalls charging from a distance. ]
steve harrington.
There's a road, at least. Empty, full of trees shed of their leaves. He rides his bike through, slow and cautious. (He's been reluctant to test what might become of his horse if he tried to ride her in his current state; he does not want to see her rotting away beneath him, real or not.) The engine rumbles through the dead silence in between claps of thunder. Slithering vines squelch. The place feels wet. Sticky. Like being swallowed whole by a river troll. What catches his attention, though, is not the oddity of the entire place. It's that, as he rides, he can see edges of something that once thrived underneath: a shop with deadened lights, a vast clearing filled with cars overgrown with twisting, pulsing tendrils.
It's here that he stops, uncertain if anyone's here. If he should keep going or if perhaps it may be worth turning back. He doesn't want to waste time digging where Julie will not be found. And the last thing he needs is to linger too long and trap himself in another unknown landscape.
After a moment, he starts to reverse out of the drive-in theater—though he's not aware of what a drive-in theater even is. Or, at least he means to leave. A sharp trilling roar cuts sharply through before he can. He spins around, just in time to see heavy footfalls charging from a distance. ]