≃>

The woman is tall. Actually, no, that’s not the right word. Bonnie is tall, maybe six foot or thereabouts. This woman appears to be another of the strange and towering creatures like Archivist – someone for whom ‘statuesque’ is insufficient. Your vocabulary briefly provides suggestions – monolithic, Colossus-of-Rhodes-esque — but they all pale in comparison to the sheer intimidation factor of a woman who has to be at least eight feet tall but seems always to tower.

She looks at you and through you, and her eyes are empty holes in space, lit by the distant glow of hateful stars. This is a glare one withers under, and it doesn’t even feel malicious. She regards you with the same kind of implacable anger with which an iceberg regards a shipping lane.

Her voice is flat and cold. Not like ice or stone or iron, but as cold and empty as the universe will be, past heat death, when all the stars have gone out and the skies are empty.

> _