The Emperor Undying runs, and something--something small, and feathered in funereal black-and-white--takes note of his retreat. There's a maybe-familiar glimpse of retreating wings around the next corner he turns, a brief flash of faceted red eyes, before a chimeric silhouette vanishes through a wall.
And around the next corner, or two or three--hard to tell distance and orientation in the awful press of the Farm--a wall of dead flesh awaits him. A half-dozen obvious revenants, fleshy and gross remains of animated Sleepers, clog the corridor. A much greater dead thing, black-feathered and starred in golden eyes, looms behind them.
The mob turns as one to regard the fleeing man with a sightless, impassive benevolence that might be worse than active hostility. Then the monster at the back politely shuts his eyes.
"Even you, ö̸̧͍̣̜̭͔̬̼̼͉̯͕̰͂̈̃͑̚͝ ̶̡̻̯͙̱̳͎̑͐͆̀̽͐̀͠L̶̤̤̯͈͕̫̖̦̹͚͑̉̔̊̑͌͌͝͝ơ̷̧̦̬͔̺̟̙͊̍̏̒̔̌͊̎͊̔́̃̽͋͂̐ŗ̶̥̯̻̰̯̬̩͇̘̲̮̻͙̱̗͐̾͋̎̉̓̐̉̃̚ͅd̴̨̛̥͗̀̄̊͑̆̐̇͒͘͘͝͠?̴̡̡̠̺̳͓̲̹̙̾͗ ̴͚͖̟̤̪̞̺̲̭̙̖̹̞̳̞̱͊̉̋̀̄̍̑̀̑̍̽ I am surprised."
2, cw: zombies, gore, There Will Be Vore
And around the next corner, or two or three--hard to tell distance and orientation in the awful press of the Farm--a wall of dead flesh awaits him. A half-dozen obvious revenants, fleshy and gross remains of animated Sleepers, clog the corridor. A much greater dead thing, black-feathered and starred in golden eyes, looms behind them.
The mob turns as one to regard the fleeing man with a sightless, impassive benevolence that might be worse than active hostility. Then the monster at the back politely shuts his eyes.
"Even you, ö̸̧͍̣̜̭͔̬̼̼͉̯͕̰͂̈̃͑̚͝ ̶̡̻̯͙̱̳͎̑͐͆̀̽͐̀͠L̶̤̤̯͈͕̫̖̦̹͚͑̉̔̊̑͌͌͝͝ơ̷̧̦̬͔̺̟̙͊̍̏̒̔̌͊̎͊̔́̃̽͋͂̐ŗ̶̥̯̻̰̯̬̩͇̘̲̮̻͙̱̗͐̾͋̎̉̓̐̉̃̚ͅd̴̨̛̥͗̀̄̊͑̆̐̇͒͘͘͝͠?̴̡̡̠̺̳͓̲̹̙̾͗ ̴͚͖̟̤̪̞̺̲̭̙̖̹̞̳̞̱͊̉̋̀̄̍̑̀̑̍̽ I am surprised."
And, he will not say, strangely delighted.