|Lear won't wait until the blood has (clotted) wrote in repose,|
@ 2020-03-11 15:46:00
|Entry tags:||*news, lear laufey|
[Hours after the unsubstantiated chaos, the waves that wash up along the north shore of the lake leave behind a thick, salty-smelling residue. The sticky remains of... something—chemical runoff, maybe?—are a mess, smeared on the muddy strand like so much jelly. Cold and gelatinous, it gives to the touch, sucking up anything that comes into contact with it. Those brave enough to actually reach down and see what it feels like are greeted by a caustic burn that raises blisters in seconds and that will heal slowly and painfully. Too, something strange happens. It doesn't linger, the strangeness—and, as a rule, it's forgotten—, but most, when and if they do try to prod the substance, suffer an immediate forgetfulness of their intent. The forgetfulness doesn't extend further than this moment, nor is the person who has forgotten aware of having forgotten. They just fail to move further with their exact intent to probe deeper. This oddity likely saves several from worse injuries. In some of the bigger clumps of... whatever it is, small bouquets of bones bloom—fish bones, mostly, if you look close enough—, but most of the jelly is too thinly broken down to carry much. Most who encounter it agree on two simple, but stalwart points: it's weird and it stinks.
Residents are advised to stay out of the lake and avoid the beach until the substance is identified and/or cleared.]