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The voice, multiple different ones overlapped merged into one, chewed at her mind, spirt and soul. Try not to pay attention Stella. Ignore "Their" voice. She already has to deal with the whispers of her older sister and their personnel that came down here. She doesn't need more. Especially ■'s.
The whispers turn to silence. Her ragged breathing now scraping her ear. 'Nathan? Clara? Where are you? I hear your voices. . . But where. . .' The world began to spin. Becoming more and more like an oil painting. Done by an artist with a mental institution sending obsession with yellow.
The brick walls are yellow. The stone floor is yellow. The support beams are yellow. The torches are yellow. Is there anything not yellow in this Hell!? Her lab coat, ruined to the point of non-existence, was yellow. Her hair and skin is turing the same sick, sanity eating shade of yellow.
Step. Drag limp left leg. Balance one's self. Step, drag, balance. Rinse and repeat. Anything not yellow?
Her remaining, barely functioning human eye seeing nothing that grants her the satisfaction of having that answer. A sigh leaves her yellow blood stained, cracked lips. Step. Drag limp left leg. Balance one's self. Step. Drag. Balance. How long has she been doing that? Hours? Days? Months even? She couldn't tell. The hands on her watch are spinning so erratically in opposite direction, that she rather not have one.
. . . Does it matter? Knowing the time that is. At this point, knowing the duration of her imprisonment makes no difference. Yes. It makes no difference. No difference at all. No difference. It's for the best.
'I shouldn't have come here. . . I shouldn't have dragged them into this.' Stella clutched the left side of her face. Yellow, pus like tar dripped down her face as if it where a broken pipe. The sensation comparable to having someone bite hard enough down on your skin to feel pain, but not to draw blood. A resulting concoction of blood and brain liquid, a hideous result of breaking the first rule drilled into Travelers when they awaken. She should have known better too. For she is not of this world. A Transmigrator that ended up in this world.
—imaf a evah I !potS !esaelP !me llik t'noD !potS. Which personnel did this one belong too? She can't place a face on it. But it's familiar.
!dneirf er'eW !dneirf !su gnikcatta uoy era yhw !aralC ,retsis rouy s'ti ?!em ezingocer uoy t'noD !aralC' This one, this one sparks something in her heart. Warm and sweet. Those feelings those that person. . . Loathing and regret, for herself. Who is this person?
Sist— Stella collapsed onto her knees. Cold biting at her skin. ".uoy bɘnmæb ɘɔnɘǫillɘƚni n%o yɿɘv ɿuœy ƚɒʜƚ n&*nʞ ɘd ƚ¡ ƚɘ⅃ .nwonʞnu ɘ&þ oƚn! ɿəʜƚɿuʇ Yɿq oƚ ×$#oʜɔ uoy ƚuᙠ .nuɿ oƚ noiƚqo ɘʜƚ b$ʜ uoY .ɘþ@ʇ ƨiʜƚ ɿɘʇʇuƨ oƚ uoy bɘƨɿuɔ ƚɒʜw ƨi yƚ¡ƨ0iɿuɔ ɿ#oY" ■'s voice echoed in her head. Throbs of pain increased tenfold. Grip on her left side weakened. Sick, pus like tar tendrils sprouted and wormed their way out. Flinging matter all over.
"Kimberly! Yield you fool! Your curiosity nearly got us killed!" Her throat burns. Feeling tight. Dry. How so? Did she scream herself hoarse? The throbbing at the side of her skull lessens. Stella can feel control slowly return to her. The tendrils recede back into her. "Go back to sleep. I'll. . . I'll take it from here."
Ahead of her, the path spilts three ways. No indication of the way out. 'At the crossroads, do not turn left.' Her muscles felt like their were set alight. Weighted down by lead. Crawling over to the wall, Stella took a moment to catch breath. In, out. In, out. Nice, deep breathes. With her right arm digging into the wall, Stella, at snail's pace, got herself to stand. In, out. In, out. Deep breathes.
Step. Drag. Balance. Stella continued down the central passage. Not giving the turns the time of day. By the next crossroad, she went down straight. Down straight again by the next one. Straight again. And again. Again. Fighting the feeling of the walls, floor and roof closing in. No room for hyperventilating. No—
"Kimberly! Over here!" Standing down the hall, dressed in that ugly blue polo t-shirt and brown jeans he was last seen with, Nathan stood. Gesturing for her to come over. "Kimberly! Come over! Clara prepared pork belly! Quickly! Come take your share!"
"Nathan!" Stella bolted. Kicking up dust behind her. "*cough* *cough* *cough*" She fought through the burning sensation in her lungs, the pain at the side of her stomach. She, she found him! She found her brother! Tears, both yellow and the typical, normal color of tears, ran down her face. Years of searching have finally come to an end!
First, she has to smack him across the face. Yes. He needs punishment. How could he just vanish like that!? Leaving his phone behind. Not telling anyone where he was going. Tsk. Irresponsible. Then, then what's next? Oh right. She needs to tell Clara! Clara will be over the moon. The searching is over. Afterwards, straight back home. Father and mother, they must be worried sick. It might take awhile, but soon, they'll forgive them for not calling when on the expedition.
Family having Christmas dinner. . . The dream will be reality!
(For a second, she saw a sneer. On that golden retriever of her younger brother. But brushed it aside. The color blue! Yes! From this day onwards, blue will no longer be the color she hates, but loves! Maybe she should name her future first born Blue? Yes. Blue. ).
Her pace increased. Her muscles wailed in protest of her strain inducing action. But she refused to fall. Not now. Not when she's this close to freedom! Yes. She needs to head back to base, seek treatment from the personnel station there, call for assistance, hopefully recovery enough to assist the rescue operation for anyone still trapped in the belly of the the deep. With one final burst of speed,
She got out of the stratum. Ready to embrace Nathan and his warm bear hu—
Yellow clouds bashed into each other. Folding, threatening to rain, or the very least, rain whatever sickly pus they held. Too thick to see the sky behind it. No gaps either. Then how. . . How did she see blue? Was that not the sky? Her eye darts left to right. No blue. No blue. Only yellow. No, wait, there's black. Black stars(?) littered the whole clouded heavens, for as far as the eye could see.
". . ." A gently breeze blew away the tattered remains of her lab coat. The cold was biting at her bones. But she did not care for that. Limping over straight ahead, ignoring too, the grass like feeling of the black sand, Stella found herself at a cliff edge.
The Safforn Spire, off at the far distance to her left, stood tall with its kingly majesty. The peak of the spire blending it with the yellow skies. Where's the campsite? Where?! Did they leave? No. They wouldn't? Professor Xavier Angstrom wouldn't up and leave personnel behind. That's not his MO. Had they. . . Had they been killed?
She couldn't find the campsite. All she did see, was a sea of a barren and desolate wasteland. Not the jungle they saw when they landed here. Ruins of cyclopean structures of a people she had no knowledge of laid sticking out of the black sands. She turned back to see how she came out. "Huh?" How? How did she get out? She swore that there was a door, a hole, a something that allowed her to escape that liminal space of yellow hell. All along the mountain side cliff face, nothing indicated her exit. Even her footprints seemed to have vanished. All but the last three ones behind her remained in the sand.
She turned back to look over the cliff. No campsite. Nothing. Where's the Tesla? Surely even if the campsite wasn't here, the spaceship still shoul—
The roaring of engines fill her ear. The dark matter driver engines! The Tesla! It's not far. Judging by the sound, they are getting ready to kick-start the thing. Great. Enough time to make it there. If only she coul—
A silver flash filled her eyes. The sounds of the engines disappeared.
"Huh. . ." A breath escapes her lips. Did. .. . Did she really not escape?" Ha. . . Aha. . . Haha. HAHAHAH!" Stella broke down to a cacophony of laughter. Why should one not laugh at this situation? Not laughing would be insanity. "DO WHAT YOU WISH TO ME YELLOW RULER OF THE ASTRAL WORLD! I'VE LONG SINCE GAVE A DAMN!" She spread her arms wide. The entirety of her left bursted like a pus filled pimple. Yellow tar like tendrils wrighted and thrashed about. Stella had her gaze honed in on one Black Star in that flashes between black and yellow. "COME AT ME! LET CARCOSA HAVE A BATTLE THAT IT REMEMBERS STILL THE ENDS OF TIME!"