šš šššš ššššš, more than she ever remembered in the galaxy. Too long had her vision been washed in red, bled crimson through the narrow slit of her helmet. Trilla almost missed its familiarity, the degree of separation it lent between her and the rest of the world. Not to mention everything was too bright without it.Ā
Brighter still was the flash of green in her peripheryĀ ------- not the dull, washed out tones of Bogano grass, but a sickly, acid hue. š¾š½š“ š¾šµ š¼š°š¶šøš²šŗ.. She turned, and the space was empty; then another spark drew her eyes to the cliffs above before it, too, was gone. Either the witch had a sense of humor, or something against standing still.Ā
āI can sense you, you know.ā
@asisteraloneā
