[In another pile on the other side of the room are some things. A lighter. A pipe. Some explosives. And sitting on top, an axe.
The threads tear under Algric's fingers, ripping with some difficulty. They weren't meant to come apart. But like opening a cast, it cracks open, the smell only worsening now becoming open to the air. A few more spiders scuttle out from the new opening and away on the strands upwards.
Inside is filled with dirt. Mud. The faint scent of blood now clearer over the rotten smell. Worms squirming to hide from the open air, deeper. And in the center, half buried in the muck and rot, Jon. His eyes nearly empty staring upward, thick strands of spider thread securing him down, and a wad of it over his mouth sealing it closed.]
no subject
The threads tear under Algric's fingers, ripping with some difficulty. They weren't meant to come apart. But like opening a cast, it cracks open, the smell only worsening now becoming open to the air. A few more spiders scuttle out from the new opening and away on the strands upwards.
Inside is filled with dirt. Mud. The faint scent of blood now clearer over the rotten smell. Worms squirming to hide from the open air, deeper. And in the center, half buried in the muck and rot, Jon. His eyes nearly empty staring upward, thick strands of spider thread securing him down, and a wad of it over his mouth sealing it closed.]