#kinda messing with the headcanon that particularly strong emotions/thoughts can be shared through Syl here

[maliwarm]

Sterilised drinking water

BB Fanfic Jam prompt 7

The women glided across the deck in three rows of six, with somber faces and red habits that shifted gently with their movements. At their head, an older woman lead the procession. Imposing in presence despite her thinness, her entire body was angles within angles, from the sharpness of her cheekbones to the silvery claws tipping her slender fingers. The flames caged in her cybernetic heels added to her severity. They spat embers and left trails on the deck in her wake that snuffed themselves out before the other women could tread on them. Alani shrank deeper into the protective cover of some strange machine component and the shadows it provided. Dimmed her Syl as much as she could so the telltale glow didn't give her away, and covered her mouth with a webbed hand to stifle her harsh breaths. Who were these people? And what in the Bluemother's name were they doing on Akapos, sucking up its water? She was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt – perhaps they were scientists, or something of the like; curious but ultimately more passive than their appearance suggested – but the dread cooking in the pit of her gut only became more pronounced with each passing moment. Her unease grew further when the women in red began to form up, creating a large ring around their headdressed leader, their hands clasping together as if in prayer. The staff the fiery woman carried came down in two quick sharp cracks. Her voice – clear and strong and carrying a noblewoman's lilt – sounded clear as day to Alani, even with the distance. "Begin the ritual." She had to suppress a surprised gasp as the ship's roof hissed, beginning to fold up and retract. Fresh, cool air washed in as Akapos' inky skyline and the twinkle of distant stars became visible through the growing hole in the roof. A collective strange whispering filled the air, any and all words being uttered completely indecipherable to her, yet making goosebumps erupt over blue flesh. Wispy-thin trails of flame began to encircle the ring of priestesses, originating from their clasped hands, then expanding to whirl and dance around their entire bodies in loops. Yet more threads of fire glowed at their feet, forming some strange sort of sigil comprised mostly of triangles. The trails branched out, linking with each other, as well as inwards to encircle the head priestess in a larger, more intricate version of the fiery sigil. Alani was positively transfixed by the phenomenon. Moreso when the leading lady raised her staff to the heavens. The tiny blue shard spinning within its head picked up speed, becoming a blur. The temperature of the room was rising steadily to uncomfortable levels, the humidity irritating her gills and plastering her clothes to her body with the buckets of sweat she was shedding. And was it just her imagination, or were the stars flaring? The chanting grew louder. And the temperature climbed higher still when the head priestess added her own voice, harsh with whatever hissing foreign tongue she'd adopted. It was at the point where Alani felt as though she'd faint; she had to clutch at her hiding spot just to keep herself upright. She blinked hard to keep the encroaching darkness slithering at the edges of her vision at bay, and almost didn't catch the curls of white rising just beyond the open roof. What was going-?

A cloud of steam erupted outside, so thick it was like trying to peer through a cloud. But Alani barely noticed. Couldn't when intense, scorching, agony suddenly flooded into her Syl, drawing a strangled gasp from her throat. Successive images flashed through her mind, faster than even the panicked blinking of her Syl. Burning, melting, boiling alive. Clouds of blood tainting the water. Bubbling flesh and muscle sloughing off bones. Terrified screams for family, for friends, for help. Bodies floating above, reduced to charred bones that crumbled as they sank slowly into the depths. Huddles of crying people hiding deep in the darkest depths and trenches, trying to escape the hellish heat but only digging themselves towards deeper, slower graves.

Akapos was dying.

Everyone was dying.

The combined agony flowing into her was too much. Alani collapsed to her knees, nails digging into her scalp. A scream, long and loud and full of anguish, was torn from her throat. Tears for the innumerable dead and dying slid from her eyes but evaporated almost instantaneously.