Re: [Jester's Court: Cat & Jack] Look, he said, and Cat was beyond looking. He kept swinging at glass. Swing, swing, swing, and all around them mirrors died and shattered into distorted shards that reflected a light which did not truly exist. Throughout it all, Cat could only think of Eddie. Eddie, were he here, would know what to do with this. Eddie would have an idea. Eddie knew everything about strange and supernatural bullshit, and this was absolutely strange and supernatural bullshit. But even that understanding? Couldn't stop the frenetic staccato of Cat's heartbeat. Because dark places? God, dark places were a fucking bitch.
Look.
And, alright, Cat looked.
The glass he'd kicked clear drew Cat's attention upwards, and the pipe was still in Cat's hand, but it was hanging loose and at his side. The fracture was small, thin, nothing, but it was there, and fuck this place.
Cat lunged, and free hands grappled at the seam, fingers slipping under it and grateful he didn't have long nails to contend with. But it was too slow, and Cat took the pipe to it. And, after three impressive swings, the seam burst open. There was a shriek of sound and a burst of light, blinding and deafening, and the illusion was gone. They were both tossed out and tossed back, left where they started and the park was a dead thing once more.
Cat picked himself up, dusted himself off, and he was panicked. His breathing was fast, too fast, fuck, breathe slower, breathe. Jack was nowhere around, and he imagined all of it, surely. Bad hash. That was all this was, bad hash, and he had a plane to catch.