Hallowy.

Diem Dark plodded along the edges of the Breach, wary of committing either to the eerily still dark water to her left, or the fog-thicked forest to her right. The former could hold any number of deadly plunges into deep water, or monsters--like alligators!--beneath. Plus, the whole corruption thing... she could feel the faint thrum of its chaos below. And the latter, well... the black, claw-branched trees grasped ominously at the air. So she splashed along, now and then casting out a spark of magic and a hopeful glance at the swamp.

Her familiar, Bitey, had faded off and she'd failed to summon him, but she knew he'd get a kick out of erupting from the swamp like a monster once she actually managed. Admittedly he was only a tiny baby (probably fake, magical manifestation) of a gator, but he was cute and she liked it when he was happy. Or-... seemed happy.

Whatever.

Her thoughts returned to her previous attempts to remember... something.

Not Hallowy. Uhhh...

She lifted a foot from the muck, grimacing at the goop now clotted to the hems of her robe, and edged a little toward solid land.

All Hollow? No, that wasn't it, either.

It was some faint memory, some promise of spookiness and fun, that clung to her as if from another life. It had been prompted, stirred to the surface, by the whisper of skittering leaves and the drifting fog and the chill in the air.

The jack o' lanterns had sort of helped, too.

"Murderween!" she said, abruptly, the glow in her eyes widening. Then she squinted (...No, that's not it for sure,) shook her head, and forged onward.

Diem ducked under the thickening vines, still muttering absently to herself (what the hell had it been called?!) when suddenly--one... fell?

She jerked her skull-like face to blink at it, and then--no, it's GRABBING ME-

Instinct kicked in and she jolted back. Adrenaline rush, sudden horror, the whole package: the cave suddenly felt much darker and more claustrophobic than before, yet paradoxically terrifyingly large. "WHAT-" she managed, and then yanked on her magic for help.

Time seemed to slow for a moment, and she peered up, hoping to have a moment to get her bearings and to act before the... the whatever-it-was... uh, did whatever-it-was-doing.

Whatever it was, it was probably gonna be bad.

Time slowed, seemingly curled into wisplike languidity by the force of magic. Not really slowed, but the unfurling tendrils were drifting like smoke, instead of the jolting ferocity they were probably really displaying.

What the FUCK, Diem had time to think--plenty of time. There was time, too, to go over what magic she knew--as the skull-like, narrow face became visible in all its full horror--and time to lament that she'd not taken the time to gather some offensive, or at least defensive, capabilities.

That turned into a panicked moment to realize that she was probably screwed.

Then--time caught up. She was already reaching for other magic in the same vein, yelling a mental message to this creature at the same time she yelped the words aloud. That wasn't to say she wasn't also fighting, but her wrenching attempts to pull free would probably not help her all that much.

"COULD YOU FUCKING NOT," she yelled, and the thought--COULD YOU FUCKING NOT?! ran as a screaming mental undercurrent, from her to it--did it even have a mind?!--but was far more laced with panic.

Where the vocalization sounded indignant, almost a demand, the mental one was a terrified plea.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

This was not constructive, but terror was setting in. What had she been thinking?! That a jaunt through a haunted forest in autumn would be fun? Well, it WASN'T! And the brief thought that shot through her mind was along those lines: Worst Hallowy EVER.

It wasn't really a coherent thought, though. Mostly she was down to instinct, any thought of 'magic' well off the table. A wisp wasn't gonna cut it, but maybe her claws could? (Literally?)

Not that she thought that through. It was more a flailing, as the thing yanked her limbs with FRIGHTENING efficiency. A perfect efficiency, she noted in the back of her mind, and that seemingly unrelated thought came with a thrill of additional alarm. As if all the rest--being snagged and hoisted by a giant skeletal vine-monster--wasn't alarming enough.

Back to Diem's panic, though: she twisted her feet, kicking with claws at the very vines that held her legs, turning her head to snap with a beak, wriggling with her fingers to try and get a grip on literally anything. It wasn't coordinated, and the monster was holding her pretty damn securely and WHATEVER the barbs were that were hitting all exposed skin, well, that was yet another alarm-cherry on top of the "oh shit" sundae being crammed into her maw right now.

But maybe she could at least create an opening to use.

"OW OW OW-"

Sure, she'd felt vines tear. Maybe that opening WAS something she could use. But, like, also? There were needles, and these vines were WAY too tight and she was pretty sure the giant eldritch carrion-plant monster wouldn't kindly loosen that crushing grip if she asked nicely.

"DO YOU FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" Her shout trailed into a howling shout of pain. She'd forgotten what she was saying. Probably "do you fucking mind," except halfway through agony and panic had sort of subsumed the fury.

She found her body too weak to really DO much, which was frankly awful. So she tried to call on her magic, but that--didn't come.

The horror-thing that looked like decayed tendons and bloodied flesh and withered skull gave no sign of paying her any attention, bar continuing to try and (she assumed) eat her.

She'd just... chrysalize, right? That's how it worked? -If she failed? What if I don't?! Yeah, this would be a short-lived visit to the caves, if so.

Plus, she'd miss the rest of the spooky season. Butts, she thought faintly, because at this point, her vision was crowded by encroaching shadows, and she was pretty sure she was gonna pass out any second. Maybe one last chance to do... something, but bar trying the same magic again, she was fresh out of good ideas.