Round 46

Jeane surfaces from the thick liquid with a sputtering gasp, wings beating frantically to stay afloat in whatever this shit is. "What the FUCK was that?!" She spits out a mouthful of the stuff—it tastes like old blood and decay. The fall had been terrifying, but the landing is even worse. She's up to her waist in some kind of thick, dark fluid filling the bottom chamber. Looking around frantically through the gloom, Jeane spots movement near the surface across the room—a pale hand breaks free from the liquid, then another. "Seraphine? Shit—hold on!"