. . .
" I cannot think of the deep sea without shuddering at the nameless things that may at this very moment be crawling and floundering on its slimy bed, worshipping their ancient stone idols and carving their own detestable likenesses on submarine obelisks of water-soaked granite. I dream of a day when they may rise above the billows to drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war-exhausted mankind - of a day when the land shall sink, and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium. "
–H. P. Lovecraft.
. . .
Elle thinks she was on the verge of waking up when she heard it: the faint sound of what seemed to be like water splashing all over the floors, more than feeling it actually hitting her skin, mind not quite registering the sudden cold seeping within her.