[At the door, he gets a better look at Nikolai — at the king, a concept still mystically foreign enough to feel unreal, some storybook fantasy told to little boys and girls in a childhood long since behind him. Tall and handsome, Nikolai's appearance calls to mind the genetically modified navigators from Earth, only it's clear to see that these good looks are natural. Clean and golden. He is attractive in a way so far out of Cain's league that it is laughable; it doesn't stop him from looking.]
Didn't say I was gonna let you die, [bitten between teeth,] maybe just a scratch, they can fix that easy— fuck, hold on a minute!
[The door swings open. Beyond it, the room is dark, and cold, and cavernous. After a few moments of eerie silence, Cain takes a tentative step over the threshold, gun drawn, head turning to check all corners of the seemingly limitless black space.]
Do you see the orb thing, or whatever it is we're supposed to get? 'Cause I don't.
[A few more precarious steps inside and Cain finds himself standing at the shore of a dark, innocuous pool of water. Brow furrowed, frowning, he glances back to Nikolai for confirmation of what he's seeing. As soon as he turns, the water ripples — and in a flash, something long, wet, and tentacled has latched onto Cain's ankle. It happens almost too quickly to track.
He's dragged off his feet and down into the pool. Water closes cold over his head; he'd managed to get in one shocked swallow of air beforehand, eyes staring dizzily up at the glassy surface of the pool above him as it fades further and further away, as he's dragged deeper and deeper under. In panic, Cain pries the knife strapped to his calf and begins stabbing the leg of whatever creature has hold of him — he hears a faraway screech, inky blood like oil gushing from the wound — he's released, kicking furiously upward, breaking the surface of the water, gasping.
And then sinking again. As becomes clear by the disordered thrashing that follows, Cain does not know how to swim.]
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Didn't say I was gonna let you die, [bitten between teeth,] maybe just a scratch, they can fix that easy— fuck, hold on a minute!
[The door swings open. Beyond it, the room is dark, and cold, and cavernous. After a few moments of eerie silence, Cain takes a tentative step over the threshold, gun drawn, head turning to check all corners of the seemingly limitless black space.]
Do you see the orb thing, or whatever it is we're supposed to get? 'Cause I don't.
[A few more precarious steps inside and Cain finds himself standing at the shore of a dark, innocuous pool of water. Brow furrowed, frowning, he glances back to Nikolai for confirmation of what he's seeing. As soon as he turns, the water ripples — and in a flash, something long, wet, and tentacled has latched onto Cain's ankle. It happens almost too quickly to track.
He's dragged off his feet and down into the pool. Water closes cold over his head; he'd managed to get in one shocked swallow of air beforehand, eyes staring dizzily up at the glassy surface of the pool above him as it fades further and further away, as he's dragged deeper and deeper under. In panic, Cain pries the knife strapped to his calf and begins stabbing the leg of whatever creature has hold of him — he hears a faraway screech, inky blood like oil gushing from the wound — he's released, kicking furiously upward, breaking the surface of the water, gasping.
And then sinking again. As becomes clear by the disordered thrashing that follows, Cain does not know how to swim.]