Round 242

The walls' breathing stopped completely now, every surface gone rigid and attentive. The low pulsing hum intensified into something like a heartbeat counting down seconds until whatever's next begins. Hera grits her teeth, the fluid already lapping at her navel, cold and invasive in ways that make her skin crawl. Every inch it climbs feels like violation—cold tendrils of liquid working their way between her thighs, soaking into her underwear, making her whole body tense with disgust and something else she refuses to name.

She can feel Abby pressed against her back now, both of them trapped between the rising fluid and the walls that are definitely watching. The other woman's breath comes in short pants, fear making her tremble despite trying to hide it. Hera wants to tell her to run, to get away before this shit touches her too, but running splits the party and leaves them vulnerable to whatever's downstairs picking them off one by one. So she stays put, taking shallow breaths through her nose while the fluid climbs higher.

It's at her breasts now, soaking into her bra, making her nipples harden from the cold instead of arousal which would be fucking mortifying under normal circumstances. But these aren't normal circumstances and she's too busy trying not to panic to give a shit about her own body's traitorous reactions. The walls pulse again, brighter this time, and she knows they're close to whatever comes next.

"Stay close," she manages, voice strained but steady. "Don't let go of my hand." Because if this fluid has some kind of... effect... she needs to warn Abby before it's too late. Needs to maintain distance somehow even while maintaining contact because the paradox is killing her brain cells but it's the only way to keep them both safe-ish in this fucking hellscape.

The liquid hits her collarbone and starts pooling at the base of her throat, and she has to fight not to gag. This is bad. This is really fucking bad. But there's still ground to cover and a Starheart to retrieve and she's not dying down here like some kind of perverted sacrifice to whatever sick entity runs this place. So she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, dragging Abby with her whether the other woman likes it or not.

"Almost there," she lies through clenched teeth as the fluid reaches her chin. "Just a few more steps." And maybe if she says it enough times, she'll actually believe it herself instead of feeling like she's drowning in cold, invasive liquid that's about to short-circuit her nervous system entirely.