[Strands on a web... (a web that is not a web because it is not, it is a nothing-thing in a nothing-place) the weaver waits in the center (but there is not center because there is no weaver, she is not and cannot have ever been, there is no room for her in the design)... an anchor of (not) silk to hold things in (no) place, but also a delicate warning system, alerting the weaver to the arrival of anyone in the place that cannot be found.]
[A number ticks over. A thread snaps.]
[A set of five eyes opens, observing the little monster standing in the space that would have been right in front of the door, if a door had ever been there. But there hadn't been. There was only a bare wall, in this strange and misty room.]
[Most of this place seems to blur away into a strange, pale gold mist, so light as to almost be no color at all. There must be a floor, for the little monster stands on something solid, but whatever he stands on is not visible, covered by the mist, as are the walls and ceiling.]
[The little skeleton is one of a handful of solid things, clearly defined, in this place.]
[The other solid things appear to be, in no particular order, a pair of elegantly high-backed chairs, a delicately lovely-looking table made of wrought iron and clear crystal, an appetizing-looking tea spread on the table, and the head and torso of the neatly-dressed woman sitting in one of the chairs.]
[Below the torso and in the halo of her hair, she seems to trail off insubstantially, into a much darker version of the mist around her, black smoke against the gold.]
no subject
[A number ticks over. A thread snaps.]
[A set of five eyes opens, observing the little monster standing in the space that would have been right in front of the door, if a door had ever been there. But there hadn't been. There was only a bare wall, in this strange and misty room.]
[Most of this place seems to blur away into a strange, pale gold mist, so light as to almost be no color at all. There must be a floor, for the little monster stands on something solid, but whatever he stands on is not visible, covered by the mist, as are the walls and ceiling.]
[The little skeleton is one of a handful of solid things, clearly defined, in this place.]
[The other solid things appear to be, in no particular order, a pair of elegantly high-backed chairs, a delicately lovely-looking table made of wrought iron and clear crystal, an appetizing-looking tea spread on the table, and the head and torso of the neatly-dressed woman sitting in one of the chairs.]
[Below the torso and in the halo of her hair, she seems to trail off insubstantially, into a much darker version of the mist around her, black smoke against the gold.]
[She smiles politely, greeting him.]