[ The door easily falls apart under the force of the blast, revealing...nothing.
Well, there are things. Shattered mirrors, shards of glass. The mausoleum fading, changing, from cracked, worn stone to clinical, cold tiles on walls and floor and the buzz and illumination of harsh electric lights that leave shadows nowhere to hide.
And chains, leading into the room's depths, where the lights are broken. There's flickers of movement there, too, some distorted shadow lurking. ]
no subject
Well, there are things. Shattered mirrors, shards of glass. The mausoleum fading, changing, from cracked, worn stone to clinical, cold tiles on walls and floor and the buzz and illumination of harsh electric lights that leave shadows nowhere to hide.
And chains, leading into the room's depths, where the lights are broken. There's flickers of movement there, too, some distorted shadow lurking. ]