[If he thinks she looks Processed now, you should see her during the fog.]
[Her eyes widen and her breath catches at the sight of the thing on his face. He's out of the sword, but the sword isn't out of him. It jars like her first sight of the Processed Traverson Hall, the familiar made alien.]
no subject
[Her eyes widen and her breath catches at the sight of the thing on his face. He's out of the sword, but the sword isn't out of him. It jars like her first sight of the Processed Traverson Hall, the familiar made alien.]
News to me, too.