[ Jesse presses the binder to the glass again just as another wave of water surges through the lower level. He doesn’t register it at first, the focus and desperation consuming him, but then it creeps past his waist and up his ribs like cold hands dragging him down. A sharp intake of breath rattles through his chest. The water's rising faster now, and the more he panics, the quicker it floods. It’s not just seeping in anymore. The water is rising steadily like the building’s bleeding from the inside out, like something below just gave way. Another vent submerged. Another pipe split. The flood climbs Jesse’s body with the indifference of a tide that doesn’t give a damn who’s drowning.
His arms shake as he flips the triple-laminated binder open, the pages slick but intact under his grip. Water splashes against his chest now, tugging at the binder like it wants that, too. He jams his forearm higher against the glass, lifting the binder with both hands to keep it visible. The plastic catches the stormlight like a beacon, and he holds it steady as best he can, pointing hard at the glyphs: six strange symbols that feel more like prophecy than instructions. The text above the symbols tells the man what Jesse can't: ENTER THE SYMBOLS IN ORDER. THE PANEL IS LOCATED AT THE REAR OF THE BUILDING.
Jesse can barely feel his legs. He can’t feel anything but the panic clawing up his throat and the bite of cold pressing into his spine. His teeth clack together when he yells again, silent and useless on the man's side of the glass, but his mouth moves with force, and he tries to over-anunciate in the hopes that the guy outside can read the shape of the word on his lips. ]
Please.
[ Jesse hits the window again with his fist, then motions towards the back of the building, or at least the direction he thinks it's in. The water surges again and Jesse needs to start kicking to stay afloat, his oversized clothes and waterlogged shoes weighing him down and threatening to drown him. Do it now. Do it now before the water hits my mouth.
Jesse’s soaked to the throat, hoodie dragging him down like dead weight, but his arms stay high, paddling, flailing, clawing to keep his head above water. There’s no space left for fear anymore. Only survival. Only trust, and the hope that he didn't survive whatever inter-dimensional leap this was, just to end up drowned in some fucking office building. ]
no subject
His arms shake as he flips the triple-laminated binder open, the pages slick but intact under his grip. Water splashes against his chest now, tugging at the binder like it wants that, too. He jams his forearm higher against the glass, lifting the binder with both hands to keep it visible. The plastic catches the stormlight like a beacon, and he holds it steady as best he can, pointing hard at the glyphs: six strange symbols that feel more like prophecy than instructions. The text above the symbols tells the man what Jesse can't: ENTER THE SYMBOLS IN ORDER. THE PANEL IS LOCATED AT THE REAR OF THE BUILDING.
Jesse can barely feel his legs. He can’t feel anything but the panic clawing up his throat and the bite of cold pressing into his spine. His teeth clack together when he yells again, silent and useless on the man's side of the glass, but his mouth moves with force, and he tries to over-anunciate in the hopes that the guy outside can read the shape of the word on his lips. ]
Please.
[ Jesse hits the window again with his fist, then motions towards the back of the building, or at least the direction he thinks it's in. The water surges again and Jesse needs to start kicking to stay afloat, his oversized clothes and waterlogged shoes weighing him down and threatening to drown him. Do it now. Do it now before the water hits my mouth.
Jesse’s soaked to the throat, hoodie dragging him down like dead weight, but his arms stay high, paddling, flailing, clawing to keep his head above water. There’s no space left for fear anymore. Only survival. Only trust, and the hope that he didn't survive whatever inter-dimensional leap this was, just to end up drowned in some fucking office building. ]