The rolling, roiling, boiling lump of plasma streaks by overhead. The fines hairs on your faces crisp instantly, and tiny spotfires smoulder to life. The evening is turned, momentarily, back to a drab high noon as lump passes by overhead, completely silent in it's passing. However, the 'whump... whump' of tiny blobs flaking off and streaking to the cold embrace of the earth and ocean is clear in the calm evening air.
One largish blob, however, seems to be making it's way... towards you.
