For a moment, Fiona feels like she's just hanging there, bathed in
light, not moving at all despite the apparent force she'd used to
leap forward. Before she can question her situation, however, her
outstretched hand feels a brush of hair dance across her fingertips,
followed by a different sensation altogether. Her hands feels like
they've been plunged into jelly, and quite disorientating it is too.
A wave of disgust washes through her, but before she can react her
arms sink further into the sticky gloop. “Eurrgh,” she shudders
to herself, “There's got to be a better way,” but the stuff keeps
coming, racing up her arms. For a moment of blind panic, she's
unsure if she's diving into it or it it's sucking her in. “Not
turning back now,” she says to herself as the strange mire reaches
her face, leaving her only a moment to take a deep breath before
she's plunged in.
