The vines look agitated as they wiggle and tangle themselves around whatever they can reach and the flesh eaters chatter their teeth despite the humid temperatures of the greenhouse. One may wonder if they are teething again...until one sees the shattered pot and ravaged remains of one of their fellow flora. Rest in pieces, not-so-little plant.

The whole greenhouse seems to be on edge and even the mundane plants appear as though they have withered.

And then, not exactly six feet under but certainly under a work station, lays the face down body of one Delyth Dominique on the floor. Incredible pale and deposited in a position that seems too uncomfortable for anyone willingly fall asleep in, one can be rest assured that she is alive.

But barely.