[Intervivium] [CW for gore, sort of?]

[orderfromchaos]

[People visiting the chapel regularly - if they haven't made it a point to avoid the scorched stain commemorating the spot where Jean atomized Dillon Cole - may have noticed that mark doing some strange things. For a few days, instead of an amorphous dark blot, the mark in the wood has become a perfect crisp silhouette against the floor, with the profile of Dillon's face and the articulation of his hands and the crisp line of his jeans and the worn toe of his sneakers all distinct and visible, like the blast stain in an old Chuck Berry cartoon.

Today, the smell is different - not ash or old blood, but fresh. The floor and the back of the pew are faintly wet to the touch.

In the next few days, the pale grey shapes of a skeleton will be visible, like an anatomy lesson sketched in grey chalk, and then like a scatter of stubby broken-toothed limestone stalagmites, coagulating glacially, drop by drop.]

Comments

[tucky]

[And it's about at this point that Tiffany decides to stop going to the chapel.]

[spam][open to anyone conscious!]

[routemistress]

[In her years working here, Iris could count the number of times she's entered the chapel on the fingers of one hand. But once she's heard the story from Tiffany, she becomes a daily fixture: first using her sonic corkscrew to take all the readings she can think of, and then to set up one of Barbara's little cameras on a tripod.

The coalescing of Dillon's physical substance is almost too slow to observe in real time, and Iris is too busy living her life to do very much of that in any case. But she'll be here at odd times, sitting and staring, fascinated.

When there are solid objects, she gives in to the impulse to move one out of alignment. Just so she can watch it move itself back into Dillon's ordered pattern.]

[spam][open to anyone conscious!]

[orderfromchaos]

[This too will be slow; too slow to watch without the camera, will seem to be entirely coincidental.]