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Where: Ship #4, Tethys.
Rating: G.
Warnings: Jowy suffers the Hojo syndrome of trying to make the world fit in his little box.
The first sensation had been terror.
Jowy curled up at the head of the bed, sweating, shaking uncontrollably as his eyes burned, wide and bone dry, unblinking. Nothing was familiar. None of the stars in the little porthole across from him looked correct, and they rolled past too quickly, as though he were in some turning galleon - and though the feeling of motion was there, it lacked the slow sway of the sea. He remembered nothing that could lead to this, didn't know how he had come to be here at all. In fact, the last thing he remembered was... No. It couldn't be.
He fearfully crept to the window, a porthole as it ought to be if it were a ship, but made of steel like a sword, nothing at all like the wood he was expecting. A glance down through the window made him reel back.
He was afloat on stars. Was this Leknaat's doing? Was this an afterlife? It... it almost made sense. The last thing he remembered, he'd been looking up into the face of his best friend, seeing the pity there, feeling the other boy's hot tears against his skin and feeling, at last, some peace. He had known he was going to die, and had willingly accepted his fate.
And now...
He was fighting to deepen his breaths, the lack of oxygen making him lightheaded, weak. He clung onto the cold edge of the window, focusing. No matter where he was, he needed to remember his strength, the power he had been entrusted with. He needed to keep his head.
He was in his normal clothes, not the uniform of the Highland that had become all too familiar as of recent. His sword was naturally absent, but a slight shift made something knock his hip and fall, clatter with a comfortingly recognisable sound. He swept down to scoop it up, sighed with relief at the feeling of the staff within his hands. He gripped it until his knuckles bleached, turned to the door. The Black Sword Rune felt comfortable within him, powerful and calming - but he couldn't feel its other half, couldn't feel...
"Riou," he whispered into the dark. Maybe he was here. Maybe he could explain what was going on.
There had to be answers somewhere. There always were, and he was ready to seek them out.
Rating: G.
Warnings: Jowy suffers the Hojo syndrome of trying to make the world fit in his little box.
The first sensation had been terror.
Jowy curled up at the head of the bed, sweating, shaking uncontrollably as his eyes burned, wide and bone dry, unblinking. Nothing was familiar. None of the stars in the little porthole across from him looked correct, and they rolled past too quickly, as though he were in some turning galleon - and though the feeling of motion was there, it lacked the slow sway of the sea. He remembered nothing that could lead to this, didn't know how he had come to be here at all. In fact, the last thing he remembered was... No. It couldn't be.
He fearfully crept to the window, a porthole as it ought to be if it were a ship, but made of steel like a sword, nothing at all like the wood he was expecting. A glance down through the window made him reel back.
He was afloat on stars. Was this Leknaat's doing? Was this an afterlife? It... it almost made sense. The last thing he remembered, he'd been looking up into the face of his best friend, seeing the pity there, feeling the other boy's hot tears against his skin and feeling, at last, some peace. He had known he was going to die, and had willingly accepted his fate.
And now...
He was fighting to deepen his breaths, the lack of oxygen making him lightheaded, weak. He clung onto the cold edge of the window, focusing. No matter where he was, he needed to remember his strength, the power he had been entrusted with. He needed to keep his head.
He was in his normal clothes, not the uniform of the Highland that had become all too familiar as of recent. His sword was naturally absent, but a slight shift made something knock his hip and fall, clatter with a comfortingly recognisable sound. He swept down to scoop it up, sighed with relief at the feeling of the staff within his hands. He gripped it until his knuckles bleached, turned to the door. The Black Sword Rune felt comfortable within him, powerful and calming - but he couldn't feel its other half, couldn't feel...
"Riou," he whispered into the dark. Maybe he was here. Maybe he could explain what was going on.
There had to be answers somewhere. There always were, and he was ready to seek them out.