It's like - tilting, falling, face-first into something vast and fast-moving and incredibly complicated,
tilting and falling into a thousand years of missing context compressed like the iron crystal core of a planet and
forced through the view-port of her skull, her brain torn, distended,
like falling face-first into something big and fast-moving and incredibly complicated, and it's made of knives, optimized to hurt,
surging forward to meet you, presenting all its edged surfaces one after another in rapid succession, that competitive and predatory mind bouncing and rebounding from thought to related thought,
looking for a safe surface, a flat surface?, no, looking for one that's sharp enough to kill her and the only mercy is that Altronus gets no feedback from her and he doesn't know what worked, how much it worked, so he moves on to present other weapons for her consideration one after another after another and she keeps her expression neutral.