Chapter Text
By the time someone knocks on her door, it's been around three hours since Hannah said goodbye to Bacon and essentially quarantined herself in the room they gave her.
In that time, she had that hour nap she had been craving since before leaving the Travel Station, stretched, did some meditating and she's currently finishing the last pasta serving she had prepared.
Hannah gets up from her seat on the nest, placing her now empty plastic container on the desk, and opens the door to the sight of Minute.
Hannah hadn't noticed his tiredness before, but he looks actually well-rested now. His eyes are a more pure white despite the glow not changing, and his shadows are… organized, for lack of a better word. Almost like when a human has messy hair and they comb through it.
"Hey," he greets. He sounds awkward, like the time spent away from Hannah has made him forget how to talk to her. "Are you ready?"
"Yep. Should I grab a shulker box for gear and loot?"
"That's actually a great question," Minute compliments. "Um, no. We're just getting some weapons and basic armour. And we don't need any for the job. I'll still carry one just in case, but that's just if we want to steal something else."
"Perfect. Let's go then."
Hannah softly closes the door, waiting for Minute's instructions. The shadow walks down the hallway to the elevator.
"Did Bacon end up showing you around?" Minute inquiries.
"Yeah, he showed me the floor above this one," Hannah replies. "Spawn, I think he called it. I saw the common area, the kitchen and the training room. Met a couple of people too."
"Oh god," he chuckles nervously. "How did that go?"
"Not… bad at all," Hannah hesitates. "Did you expect it to go badly? Why?"
"It's not that I expected it to go badly," Minute stammers. "I just… didn't want them to scare you, is all."
She raises her eyebrows, deadpan, and Minute rushes to elaborate.
"Not- not what you're thinking, I assure you," he coughs. "They can be a lot. By scare I meant overwhelm. That's on me."
"Aha. Whatever you say," Hannah mutters.
"I know they won't do anything malicious to you," the other rambles, "but they tease. A lot. I was unsure if you would get along with them as fast as you did with Bacon."
"I get it dude, don't worry," Hannah reassures, seeing how Minute looks seconds away from dissolving from stress. "I mean, I exchanged three words with them. I wouldn't say we're besties, or whatever. But we're friendly, I suppose." That's worth something. That's good enough.
"Good. That's great." Minute looks genuinely relieved at this. They stop by the elevator, and Minute opens it. They step inside, where Minute scans his comm and pushes the button to go the floor below the one they're on. "Who did you meet, by the way?"
"Um." She tries her best to remember all the names and pronounce them correctly. "First Leo and Mapicc, then Jojo and… Woogie."
"Oh, Jojo was here?" Minute smiles. "Nice. And… what did you think of the first two?"
"Not sure what I was expecting," Hannah starts. "Not a bad first impression. They did imply that you lie to them a lot."
"I'm not a liar, I just… I'm a little bit of a troll," he admits, half embarrassed half proud. "It's nothing malicious, I promise."
"Mm. I'll take your word for it."
When the elevator doors open, it's not to the sight of a hallway—it's to an impressive, full blown armory. Weapons, both Earth-like and completely foreign, line up the walls, hung up on display and easy to grab. In between most weapons you can find an armour, glinting and shiny as if they're all brand new. Hannah whistles lowly, impressed.
"This is cool."
"Thanks, Zam organized it."
He approaches a corner and Hannah follows him slowly, spinning in a circle to really take everything in. When she focuses on what Minute is grabbing, she notices the silver plaque installed on top of the section, reading MinuteTech. Huh, so this is his equipment. It's all very dark, probably to blend in with his smoke, yet it carries this purple shine to it that only makes it more mesmerizing. It has minimal coverage, if Hannah is honest, and it looks more cosmetic than anything.
"The armour shouldn't be too uncomfortable," Minute explains as he straps his on, "so we can just put it on right now instead of when we get there to save time. If you want to take it off during the journey you can, but I'd advise you to put it back on before we land. I'm not sure how the armour will feel on your skin. It looks tender."
"It kinda is," she admits with a wince. "It's probably not as bad as you're thinking, though."
"Alright." Minute grabs his weapon of choice—a glorified light saber that's not on at the moment—once he's all kitted up. Then, he turns to Hannah. "Come on, I'll show you to the communal gear. We can pick something for you there."
It's a short walk through an open doorway leading to another, smaller room with a bunch of shulker boxes organized along the walls, perched up on shelves. They lay under holographic signs, reading stuff like ARMOUR, ENCHANTED ARMOUR, SHORT RANGE, LONG RANGE, FIREARMS and such. Hannah studies the weapon options with interest.
"We can probably spare enchanted armour," Minute talks to himself, opening a shulker from that section. "Come take a look, see what catches your attention."
She does, taking a peek into the open shulker. There, an array of different coloured armour blesses her sight, all shimmering. She reaches inside trying not to worry too much, grabbing pieces, taking them out to examine their shape and putting them back if they don't fit her criteria. As this takes place, Minute stands back studying this process.
Eventually, and relatively quickly with only three shulker boxes rummaged, Hannah has a complete set. Its light blue catches the soft light beautifully, and although they're nothing more than space kneecaps, shin guards and elbow and shoulder pads, Hannah knows they will be enough.
Hannah puts them on easily, the motions familiar from when she would put on her skating gear as a kid.
"There, armour done," she confirms.
"Is it comfortable?"
"Much comfier than I expected, honestly," Hannah confesses. "Do I get a weapon too?"
"Of course." They step into the weapons section of the room. "Is there anything in particular that you're used to? I'm unsure whether humans have this sort of stuff. I know you use a knife for cooking from what I saw back at the Travel Station, but that's it."
"I mean, the average human doesn't use a weapon." Hannah begins as she looks through the long range section of shulkers first, careful not to cut one of her fingers off with a stray blade. "Besides knives for cutting food, but that's not a weapon if you don't use it as one, y'know. That's just a tool. We used to have all kinds of weapons, though—swords, axes, bows and crossbows. Not now, you can't use them to fight. They're just sports."
"Sports?" Minute repeats.
"Yup. A shame, really. At least the art of using them hasn't been lost to time." She moves to short range now, not feeling confident about her abilities to defend herself or her companion with a sword, axe, spear or scythe. The short range is filled with all kinds of machetes and knives. "This is more like it," Hannah mutters to herself, grabbing a knife and turning it in her hand. "Just this is fine. I'd take a gun, but I don't know how different from what I'm used to they'll be. I don't want to accidentally hurt either of us, I'd rather not take that risk."
"That's fair." He hands her a holster to store her knife in. "You can put that around your waist so you don't have to just hold it all the time."
She knows what a holster does, but she doesn't tell Minute that, unwilling to embarrass him. Hannah simply does what she's told.
"Are we going now?" She questions, aching to know what their job is.
"Yeah." The shadow checks his comm. "We'll take the same ship that Bacon picked us up on."
"Minute?" A voice calls from the other room, startling Hannah. "Is that you in there?"
A hare head pops into the room, studying them both.
"Oh! Is this the human you mentioned?" Their nose twitches in content.
"Jumper, hi," Minute greets. "Yes. We were just about to head out."
"Don't let me interrupt you then. Good luck," they say to Hannah. "You're gonna do amazing. My name is Jumper, by the way. She/her."
"I'm Hannah, she/her. Nice to meet you."
The many tiny wings that Jumper apparently has on her back ruffle excitedly alongside the feathers along her cheeks and neck. "Nice to meet you too! You got this, don't even worry about it."
"Thank you," Hannah can't help but genuinely blurt out.
"Come on." Minute guides her out, walking past Jumper and addressing her one last time. "I'll let you know when we're on our way back."
"Sure. Bye!"
The elevator door closes, leaving Jumper grabbing her own pink armour and Hannah fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.
"You know what would be really cool?" Hannah sarcastically observes, sat in the copilot seat while Minute plays around with the ship's buttons. "If I knew what we were doing."
"I'll tell you once we've launched, don't worry," he reassures. It's not as effective as he hopes. "Have you ever piloted a ship before?"
"Earlier with you and Bacon was the first time I even stepped foot in one," she confesses.
"Really?" Minute exclaims incredulously, whipping his head to face her. Hannah merely nods, not reminding him that she had already had this conversation with Bacon while he was right next to them. He must have really been exhausted. "Wow. What an honour then."
"And what a danger too, I guess." Hannah purses her lip. "I'm not sure how much you want me to do, but I can promise you it's not much."
Back on Earth, she never got her car license. The only thing Hannah has ever driven in her life is a grocery store cart, toy cars when she was five and a bike that was too small for her.
"I can do everything by myself just fine, don't worry," Minute soothes. He sits down, the ship turning on and the exit from the loading bay opening into space. "It was more so to see if I'd need to teach you some time. Maybe not right now, but soon."
"Totally not right now, god no." Hannah winces.
The pair sit in silence, broken only by the spaceship's whirling machinery and faint hum of the space outside once they leave the Lifesteal VI. Hannah takes a second to look out the windshield.
"So, the mission."
"Yes, you can finally tell me about that?" She demands playfully. "About time."
"Sorry." Minute apologizes, gently steering the ship. "I don't even have an excuse."
"You don't need one. But you do need to start talking."
"Right, yeah. It's a simple retrieval, really." Minute shrugs. "There's this abandoned Stationary not that far. We should be there within the hour. Well, apparently there's this thing called crystal heart that we need to find and bring back to Life Steal completely unharmed. There's only one of those things—at least in this Stationary—so it should be a relatively quick in and out." Huh. Sounds simple enough. Suspicious. "But just because the Stationary has been abandoned for years doesn't mean that it will be safe. The place has probably been trapped to hell and back, so we gotta watch our step."
"I can do that." Hannah nods confidently. "Go in, get the crystal heart, don't set off any traps or triggers and leave."
"Exactly."
The ship accelerates. When Bacon was the one driving, it didn't seem to go this fast.
The vast, not-empty space in front of her has never looked so endless as it whips past her at dangerous velocity. They don't say much. Hannah and Minute aren't friends, the reminder slapping her square in the face with little mercy. She welcomes the stinging realization. Minute appears too busy following the map on the little screen in the central console to pay attention to anything else and Hannah takes out her knife to carefully press her index finger against the sharp edge and caressing it, praying that there's no turbulence that shake them and make Hannah accidentally cut off her finger. That would be perhaps the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to her, and she would happily welcome death from blood loss if it meant the embarrassment ends.
Luckily, by the time she sheaths back her blade after studying it with interest for forty minutes, the ship remains cruising steadily through the galaxy.
Out of nowhere, the ship speaks. "Proceed with caution—out of order Stationary ahead."
Hannah jumps, biting back a startled squeak. She didn't know ships could do that. This really is just like the movies.
"There we go," Minute mumbles, slightly changing directions. "Nearly there."
"That was fast," Hannah points out. "Fifteen minutes ahead of schedule."
"I might be pushing this old thing to its limits," Minute exhales. "It might not be brand new, but it may as well be. With the modifications, it can go twice as fast as a regular ship. I guess even I can underestimate it sometimes."
"Huh." Before Hannah can say anything about cars on Earth also being modified, a massive structure slowly takes their whole view.
It's not as massive as the Lifesteal VI, but it's still an impressive size. The material used to built it hasn't been taken care of in who knows how long, but it's a long enough time for nearly the whole thing to be covered in rust and then a thin layer of frost on top, making the whole thing glaringly blue more than anything.
"When you said abandoned, I didn't think it would be in this state," Hannah comments. "Jesus."
"Yeah," Minute frowns. "I actually didn't know what state we would find this in. Let's hope the loading bay is open, otherwise things will get a bit messier."
Minute lowers their ship to sit near the base of the Stationary, also slowing down to see if they can spot the entrance.
As they circle the Stationary, Hannah has to take a deep breath to steel herself. Why is her heart suddenly pounding so fast? She knows what they have come here to do, it's nothing dangerous. Scout the place, find the crystal heart—whatever that is—and get out so they can sell it to their employer. Still, she can't shake the anxiety for some reason. Like she's in a staring contest with someone and she knows she's going to lose. It's nonsense. What a ridiculous metaphor.
They've done almost a complete 360 around the ship when they find the loading bay, thankfully open. They both breathe a sigh of relief.
"I kinda wish I had gone the opposite direction. Would have saved us this little detour," Minute jokes.
"Eh, I kinda enjoyed the sights of rusted metal," Hannah bites back, playful. The shadow speeds up, going further from the Stationary so he can properly enter.
Space is cold. There is no other way to put it—Hannah can't wear a short sleeved shirt without shivering. Of course some areas are warmer, but she hasn't encountered one yet. That said, the shift from cold space to freezing, damp air inside the ship draws a flinch from Hannah.
"Whoa," the mumble escapes her mouth without permission. She burrows into her hoodie as much as she can with the armour on the way. "Jesus. Why is it so cold?"
"It is annoyingly cold," Minute tsks. When the human turns to focus on him, she sees his smoke reacting to the change of temperature—how it condenses, almost makes him sink a little. "All the more reasons to finish this as soon as possible."
They land smoothly and without any trouble. Minute takes the time to show Hannah how to turn the ship off as he does it.
When they open the door, they're hit with freezing cold air, making them both shiver. Hannah crosses her arms at the odd feeling of not-cold but instead lack of warmth.
She stands back as Minute locks the spaceship. Using this time, she sweeps her gaze over the place in search for the entrance. If she assumes this is anything like the Life Steal VI—which it is, at least the loading bay—, then it would be…
There, right there. Perfect.
"Ok, time to go in," Minute exclaims, making his way to Hannah's side. "Have you found the entrance?"
"Yup. Over there." She points.
The shadow follows her finger, humming contentedly when he finds it. "Good job. Now let's go in."
Hannah nods enthusiastically. She secretly hopes that whatever this unnatural cold is doesn't reach inside.
Of course, because the universe hates her, it's even worse.
"Great," Minute groans.
"Why is it so cold?" Hannah mumbles weakly, rubbing her arms in a half-hearted attempt to warm herself up. It's a bit hard with the armour, but she makes do.
"I'll be honest, I have no idea."
Hannah whines quietly. She has never liked the cold.
No lights are turned on, and it doesn't look like they will even if they try.
"I'm guessing the power is out," Minute theorizes. "That means no light, warmth or transport. Great."
Great indeed.
Since the place has no electricity, they have to go up to the main area up the stairs, meaning that Minute has to guide her. Apparently, Stationaries have similar layouts. Which is great for them, considering that neither of them knows what they're doing. While Minute may have an idea, Hannah is completely lost.
"So, do you know what this crystal heart looks like?" Hannah interrogates as they're going up. "Because I have no idea."
"I figured you didn't," Minute replies, not unkindly. "Neither do I, to be honest. Our employer didn't provide any photographs, and I couldn't find any while I was investigating."
"Great," Hannah whispers. "What then, are we just supposed to take a peek at all the bullshit we find until we come across something that makes us go ah yes, that's a crystal heart if I've ever seen one!, or?"
"They did give a description, thankfully," Minute elaborates. "Otherwise I wouldn't have accepted the job. It's a sphere made of glass, but there's this thing inside that beats like a heart, or something. Hence the name."
"If I see any weird glass orbs, I'll let you know."
"That's the spirit," he deadpans.
Before Hannah's legs grow tired, they reach the second door in the staircase. Above it, an old sign read STORAGE.
Their floor. Great!
Minute opens the door for them, letting it close shut behind them with a squeak from un-oiled hinges. She expected better from aliens, what do you mean they too have to oil their doors' hinges?
An unlit, freezing, damp and silent hallway greets them. It's nothing different from the staircase they were just in, but something about the corridor stretching on and on makes it… more eerie. It very well could be a set from a dystopian or horror movie.
Hannah's hair stands on end. She can practically see the zombies jumping them in a corner and killing them.
There's no zombies in space, Hannah. That's not a thing. There might be a bajillion separate alien species, but zombies isn't one of them.
Minute looks at her, gauging her reaction. She responds by courageously marching forwards, Minute soon falling into step with her.
They walk slowly. There's no rush, and they don't want to miss anything. Sometimes her sneakers squeak against the floor, making Hannah want to take them off to stop the occasional noise. Sure, this place might be devoid of life, but it's the principle that matters.
The hallway keeps going on and on and on, curving way too many times to keep track of their journey. The only reason Hannah doesn't forget the way back is because there's no way to change paths. It's just one long, dwindling, maze-like hallway. They turn right.
Internally, Hannah believes that whatever they've come looking for is long gone. This place has seen better days. There were no other ships in the loading bay, and absolutely no decoration whatsoever to distract from the blue walls, floor, ceiling and lightless lamps. If even the hallways are this empty, Hannah can't imagine how ransacked the storage room will be.
She doesn't say this, though. Minute will probably think it's her anxiety. Which, you know, maybe it is all in her head. But she's just saying, the facts do line up. The world she's imagining is highly likely the reality they live in.
Hannah is no scaredy cat—she's a human, skeptical and doubtful in nature. It's all she's ever known: uncertainty.
They take a left.
By now, Hannah has gotten used to Minute's movement. She thought he made no sound, but perhaps the absolute silence amplifies the tiny, nearly inaudible steps of smoke against metal sheets. The quiet, barely there footsteps warm Hannah's chest slightly, grateful for the reminder that she's not alone in this desolate spaceship in the corner of the universe.
They take a left again.
And- listen, it's not like she likes him. She also doesn't not like him. They're not friends—they're coworkers, acquaintances at most. But company is company.
They take a right.
She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, already feeling the tips of her fingers going numb. Her hair, its usual controlled waves cascading down her back, isn't so under control anymore, instead almost humid simply from the cold. Hannah silently scoffs, taking out her hands from their hiding place to tie it up into a ponytail in hopes that it will remain relatively dry.
They take a l-
Hannah freezes.
"What the fuck," she stammers. Beside her, also suddenly coming to a stop, Minute doesn't say anything. Still, his disturbed expression gives his thoughts away. This is not normal.
Blood drips from the ceiling onto the floor. Not a single inch in sight has been spared. There's streaks of dried blood on the walls, sticky clumps congregating where the walls meet the floor, still wet blood trails creating a path on the floor. With all the metallic scent of the ship, Hannah didn't notice it shift into a more… grounded, present smell.
There's so much blood. You can't escape the crimson red covering every surface. It's not all liquid like human blood—sure, there's dried blood, but also viscous puddles, wet patches… Hannah doesn't want to dwell on it, disturbed. Still, with this amount and types of blood, she can't help but morbidly wonder how many species of aliens were injured for this scene to come to life. How many lost their lives. It must have been dozens, at least.
"I'm guessing this isn't normal for a retrieval job, right MinuteTech?" Hannah chokes out. Saliva gathers in her mouth, and she swallows.
"… It isn't," Minute frowns. She turns to him. Perhaps for guidance, or simply to take her gaze off the massacre.
"We should keep walking," she suggests despite the weird feeling in her stomach. She's not going to throw up, she's certain about that. It's something else. "Follow the bread crumbs, y'know. Maybe they were trying to… to protect the crystal heart. Or steal it. Or- I don't know." She doesn't like the implications of any of the possibilities she gave.
They both shudder in unison.
"D'alright. Ok."
After a moment's hesitation, Minute takes the first step, Hannah following close behind.
She keeps her focus straight ahead in an attempt to tune out the carnage. They move excruciatingly slow for two people that want to stop stepping on blood as soon as possible, but it's either that or risking slipping. Hannah represses a disgusted shiver at the feeling of blood on the rubber soles of her shoes.
When they turn the corner, everything is back to as it was—squeaky clean, almost like the bloodbath was an alternate reality they had been thrusted into out of nowhere.
Hannah doesn't have to look back to notice the trail of bloody footprints she's leaving behind.
Neither of them speak, although the air buzzes with tension that wasn't there before their discovery. Eventually, Hannah can't take the awkward silence anymore.
"So, I remember you mentioning something about what kind of jobs you do," she begins, "but I can't remember if you actually explained. And I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, but I'm not the most knowledgeable on this topic."
"I honestly can't remember either," Minute sighs. "I've been kind of locked out. What do you want to know?"
"Everything, I suppose. What you usually do, what your crew does. What a player does. As much as you can tell me."
They take left, and Hannah takes note of how they both unconsciously change their pace to a slower one as they approach the corner. They're wary, on edge now. Neither want a repeat of last corner.
"Well, I personally often take assassinations and hits," Minute confesses. "Not because of anything in particular. I don't enjoy killing, but it's not something I mind doing, and I'd say I'm pretty good at it." He looks at her from the corner of his eye. Hannah only catches this because of the tilt of his head. "Does that bother you?"
She scoffs. "I already told you I knew what I was getting into, this isn't going to scare me away, or whatever you're thinking right now. The concept of killing people, or being with killers- or- or just death in general doesn't bother me as much as you think it does."
"Huh. Is that normal for a human?"
"No," Hannah snorts despite herself. "Is it normal for everyone else?"
"… I suppose not."
"Well, you specialize in murders," Hannah summarizes. "Bacon said he took mostly robberies, I think."
"Yeah, we also take heists, I guess you could call them. Steal valuable artifacts from museums and such."
"Like historical stuff?"
"Maybe, if the job calls for it," Minute says. "Mostly, it's jewels, art, that kind of things. But we have gotten the chance to steal the occasional ancient relic."
"Mhm." That's not something that catches Hannah's attention, but if it gets the money rolling in then she would also be down to do that. They slow down, turn right.
"And, of course, we have this." Minute gestures around them. "A retrieval, of sorts. Our employer tells us what they want us to get for them, if they have a location then we go there and if they don't we look for it, and we get them the stuff. It's mostly dangerous, either to get it or the thing itself." Minute pauses. "Once, I was asked to get a creptrel's head. Took me ages."
"So you also do lots of… extractions?" Hannah affirms. Minute nods, and they take another right. Huh, this corridor is shorter. The shortest one they've been in so far.
"Yeah, I like exploring. I don't mind the danger."
"Clearly," Hannah chides.
They reach the end of this section, and turn another right. You would think that they've been walking in circles.
The next corridor that they enter actually has stuff. Not useful stuff, of course not, but at least it's not another bloody hallway—in a literal way and not the British way. There's a simple pot with a strange plant that's seen better days. It kind of reminds Hannah of algae. Shelves line up the walls, covered in dust and holding nothing.
As they're reaching the end of that section, something makes Hannah's steps falter. She realizes that it's like time has stopped—the air stills, the Stationary unmoving. Just like a second ago, but infinitely different. Minute has also stopped, just a step ahead of Hannah. He turns to her, face confused and walks back while Hannah stays put. It's like- like her feet are glued to the ground, like the leftover blood still stuck on them has finally decided to punish Hannah for desecrating the massacre.
Minute stops in the middle of the hallway, one hand reaching for his sword and resting on the hilt threateningly.
Hannah feels her heart beat once. A pause. Another beat, this time louder. It strikes her that it's everywhere.
Whatever it is beats another time, and her hands are shaking now. She goes to grab her knife-
A low bell-like sound rings inside her ears in tune with another beat of her heart, making Hannah violently flinch. Despite this, she doesn't let her eyes close, unwilling to let her guard down. At least, whatever is happening, it's not only happening to her. She sees Minute react to the bell, too, judging by his clear confusion. Small mercies.
Then, the bell rings again, this time deeper, louder, closer.
"MinuteTech?" She calls, unsure.
The aforementioned faces Hannah, his mouth opening. Maybe to reassure her, maybe to give an explanation as to what the fuck is going on. Maybe to express his lack of knowledge. Doesn't matter what his words were going to be, he's interrupted by the bell tolling again.
It's even louder, echoing inside her skull and making her gasp in pain. She flinches backwards, hands raised to her head. It rings again, and soon after again.
In front of her, Minute quivers intensely. At any other moment, Hannah would be concerned for him and ask him- something, anything. As it stands, she's a little preoccupied.
Another ring, closer. Another ring. It gets to a point where one bell doesn't even have time to stop ringing before another starts.
Hannah has never felt so helpless in her entire life, and she's deeply familiar with helplessness.
Her eyes water from the intense pain, and she stumbles backwards in a futile attempt to get away from the sound. She believes everything's trembling, but she can't be quite sure when all she can think about is confusion and pain. Pushing past her teary eyes, she catches Minute fighting to not crumble to the floor. He's… rippling, each dong making his smoke shudder. In that split-instant of clarity, Hannah worries that it will dissipate and his body will separate. She's unsure if that would kill him.
"Are you-" she babbles. "MinuteTech. Don't-"
Then the next toll comes, and all thoughts escape her mind.
"Hold on." She barely catches Minute's order, his voice tight.
As she's stumbling backwards, Hannah inexplicably thinks about the Bible. She's never read it, despite spending her entire childhood and early teens in catholic school. Her parents were never that religious anyway. Her mind tells her about how in christianity, a bell tolling signified the departure of a soul, or something. Like she said, her parents weren't religious much, and neither was she. Either way, it holds a sense of impending doom.
And all she can muster the courage to think through the ache and the tolling is maybe, they're coming for me. Maybe I should let them.
Before she can even register her own thoughts, more bells enter her mind. She flinches back again, gasping to try to hold back a sob, and suddenly she's tripping backwards over nothing. Her next gasp is out of shock, and she does her best to avoid falling to the ground.
Instead, her skull hits the wall with a loud, hollow thud, and her legs give out from the pain.
She crashes to the ground on her knees, her hands soon also finding the floor. Her vision blurs, and Hannah can't tell if it's because of the tears or the nearly guaranteed concussion she just gave herself.
Another bell dings, and this time it's way more subdued and far away, just enough to allow Hannah to gather her thoughts in order. She blinks once, twice, to get rid of the blurriness, but it has no effect. She raises a shaky hand to her eyes as another toll washes over her, once again more distant. Looks like whatever happened is over now.
She moves her hand to her chest, right above her heart, where it's practically trying to escape her ribcage with how hard it's pounding. Hannah moves to sit up, crouching with her knees still on the ground, and blinks.
Then she blinks again, and again, and wishes that the tolling didn't leave. Because now, she has nothing to distract her from the feeling of complete and utter wrongness that fills her body, the sense of doom that didn't vanish with the bell.