[Carla has experience this sensation before. While languishing away in her one-true-god's domain, she had felt exactly like this. Trapped inside a fading shell, unseen by the world and increasingly unknown to herself. It had led her somewhere dreadful the last time, she had tried to fend it off with a false sense of purpose: her love for her 'master', her place as his 'art.' She still hates herself for it, still wishes she had let go of her vanity and taken sweet, bloody vengeance on the arrogant man who had pulled her back from death to play doll for him.

She can't stand it. Can't stand going unrecognized by those she depends on, going unheard and unnoticed. All she ever wanted, long before the bullet pierced her skull, was to leave marks on the world, to scratch herself into others with a pain they would remember fondly.

She hates this rotting feeling.

It does her very little good, but she has the video of her device trained on her face, is talking with a great deal of emphasis, anger and panic showing in her expression, in the way she motions with her hands and tries to grip someone's, anyone's, attention.

But there's no sound, and for some there may be no woman visible either.]

( //cut for nightmare themes )

[ For once, Thor seems as agitated as the many sickly people that can be spotted on the streets behind him. ]

Men and mortals: there is sickness come, and I have seen it bend the knees of those it claims. Listen to me well -

[ ...yes, listen to the mighty Thor, as his mouth and hands move heatedly, and somehow, the background noise can be heard, where his voice can't.

Finally he frowns, realizing the obvious, before obligingly becoming invisible.

There's something of a pause, because it's terribly difficult not to notice this one. ]

...something is amiss. Shield yourselves, and speak word if you have needs. Asgard will answer.