Nebula Gravis
04-21-2012, 02:30 AM
Zackwell coughed, expelling some seawater from his throat.
How could he have forgotten that he can't swim?
Water drips from his hair and clothes as he picks himself up.
Coughing, he brings up some more salty seawater.
"Eugh... I hate water." He takes a drink from his flask, and swills it around in his mouth.
Looking up at the sky, the clouds are a malevolent violet colour.
As thick and dark as they were, they were not rainclouds.
"At least I don't have to worry about getting wet again." he says to himself as he glances over his sopping wet clothes.
He closes his eyes and tenses his muscles. A light steam begins to rise from the fabric of his clothes.
Within seconds, he is dry and warm.
"Thank the Gods for my fire." he shakes the salty residue from his sleeves. "I'd've taken hours to dry out otherwise."
He coughs once more to clear his lungs before he begins to trudge towards firm ground.
After a short walk, he finds himself standing before a lonely sign-post.
"Ciniria to the left of me... Scáth to the right..." He ponders for a moment.
"If I remember correctly, Scáth is on the southern coast of Nigerautumnus..."
He pirouettes on his heel to face Ciniria.
"That means Itzal is along this road."
He breaks into a fast walk. He can feel his desire for revenge gnawwing away at his mind like a ravenous creature.
His mind begins to move almost too fast for him to keep up. Thoughts spin around and around as pure hatred begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach.
So fast are his thoughts, that his vision becomes a blur, and before he realises it, he's sprinting down the road; blind with rage.
Suddenly, he stops. Not because he wanted to, but because he had run into something quite solid.
A pain shoots through his nose as his vision unblurs. He is laying on his back.
He tries to focus on that which had hit him. A shock of gold, and a bright green wisp, and the mystery obstacle was gone.
He couldn't move from his resting place on the ground in the middle of the road.
He was so exhausted. He had hardly slept the night before.
Though he couldn't move his body, his mind continued to wander.
What had he run into? And why was he even running?
He sighed. Silly principles; that's all.
How could he let something like that consume him so?
It didn't matter much to him here. He resolved to just lay down in the middle of the road and sleep.
How could he have forgotten that he can't swim?
Water drips from his hair and clothes as he picks himself up.
Coughing, he brings up some more salty seawater.
"Eugh... I hate water." He takes a drink from his flask, and swills it around in his mouth.
Looking up at the sky, the clouds are a malevolent violet colour.
As thick and dark as they were, they were not rainclouds.
"At least I don't have to worry about getting wet again." he says to himself as he glances over his sopping wet clothes.
He closes his eyes and tenses his muscles. A light steam begins to rise from the fabric of his clothes.
Within seconds, he is dry and warm.
"Thank the Gods for my fire." he shakes the salty residue from his sleeves. "I'd've taken hours to dry out otherwise."
He coughs once more to clear his lungs before he begins to trudge towards firm ground.
After a short walk, he finds himself standing before a lonely sign-post.
"Ciniria to the left of me... Scáth to the right..." He ponders for a moment.
"If I remember correctly, Scáth is on the southern coast of Nigerautumnus..."
He pirouettes on his heel to face Ciniria.
"That means Itzal is along this road."
He breaks into a fast walk. He can feel his desire for revenge gnawwing away at his mind like a ravenous creature.
His mind begins to move almost too fast for him to keep up. Thoughts spin around and around as pure hatred begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach.
So fast are his thoughts, that his vision becomes a blur, and before he realises it, he's sprinting down the road; blind with rage.
Suddenly, he stops. Not because he wanted to, but because he had run into something quite solid.
A pain shoots through his nose as his vision unblurs. He is laying on his back.
He tries to focus on that which had hit him. A shock of gold, and a bright green wisp, and the mystery obstacle was gone.
He couldn't move from his resting place on the ground in the middle of the road.
He was so exhausted. He had hardly slept the night before.
Though he couldn't move his body, his mind continued to wander.
What had he run into? And why was he even running?
He sighed. Silly principles; that's all.
How could he let something like that consume him so?
It didn't matter much to him here. He resolved to just lay down in the middle of the road and sleep.