[Now that everyone has crossed over, we can have a proper scene change!
Like Jing Yuan and Malice saw, there is a line where the color of the world at least partially returned, the landscape gloomy black and rocky while the structure is red, as if it's all coveted in rust. As they approach, they can see the structure is severely damaged, rubble and metal debris littering the ground around it. Haphazard ramps lead up it, looking very slapdash and dangerous, but at the base of it are several smaller structures that blend in with the landscape. They look like they're made with faded wood and scraps from the structure, in something that looks almost like a settlement... which, again, is strange in a place nobody lives.
In an empty clearing in the small settlement (it's less than ten buildings, so it's barely counting as a village), a circle of piled stones sits, scorched sticks and ash piled inside in a haphazard fire pit. There are benches circling it, with scattered cups and mugs about, as if there was some sort of celebratory gathering held here only a short while ago. Long enough for the fire to burn out and cool, but not long enough for people to clear up after their mess.
On one of the benches is a leather-bound book and something wrapped in black fabric.]
ACROSS THE THRESHOLD
Like Jing Yuan and Malice saw, there is a line where the color of the world at least partially returned, the landscape gloomy black and rocky while the structure is red, as if it's all coveted in rust. As they approach, they can see the structure is severely damaged, rubble and metal debris littering the ground around it. Haphazard ramps lead up it, looking very slapdash and dangerous, but at the base of it are several smaller structures that blend in with the landscape. They look like they're made with faded wood and scraps from the structure, in something that looks almost like a settlement... which, again, is strange in a place nobody lives.
In an empty clearing in the small settlement (it's less than ten buildings, so it's barely counting as a village), a circle of piled stones sits, scorched sticks and ash piled inside in a haphazard fire pit. There are benches circling it, with scattered cups and mugs about, as if there was some sort of celebratory gathering held here only a short while ago. Long enough for the fire to burn out and cool, but not long enough for people to clear up after their mess.
On one of the benches is a leather-bound book and something wrapped in black fabric.]