Masks 2

Siren's voice finally gives out. There's a battle raging around her, but her head's pounding too much to focus, so it comes in little flashes. New people arriving, including - who was that goddess? She's seen her before. The wounded had been SHOT but they seemed to be getting better. Tentacles were thrashing. A cowboy was now a clown. She really wished she could have made that scream last a little longer.

The floor was comfortable. It wasn't helping. That portal was still open (oh God, she'd opened it) and the oozing, ancient will of the Deep was still breaking through into their reality. The thought was paralyzing.

But she had to get up. The world hadn't ended yet, and if it was going to, she wanted to meet the apocalypse on her feet.

Siren forces herself up, stumbling under the ferocious pounding in her head! The Voice was still screaming about some fucking thing, the primordial destiny or some saviour tale based on her own embarassing teenage fantasies or SOMETHING. She'd seen its mind too, though. She knew which of the group that narcissistic eldritch bastard liked the least.

She drags herself, shivering and clutching her head, over to Theraea.

"What..." Her voice wasn't quite working right. Her teeth were shrinking back into something more human and it made it hard to talk. "What do you need? Can you get rid of it?"

"What can I do?" Please say there's something I can do!