Silence ※
A small area far off from the shore started to bubble a little, and a head dramatically surfaced, gasping for air. Hoarsely coughing out water, he slowly panted a number of seconds, before proceeding to sweep aside the long purple hair that was mangled all over his face. He flickered his eyelids flickered a few times, then tried to rub them when he couldn’t keep them open, just as anyone who just woke up. But of course, waking up from underwater wasn’t exactly… commonplace.
When his vision began to clear, all he saw were the far off lights. His first coherent thought was one of worry. He wasn’t too worried for himself, but actually for the people he had left behind… He hoped they could stay safe and level-headed while he was gone.
His next thought was that of reaching a shoreline. But, he grimaced, realizing he didn’t feel like it. Justifiedly so, too, in addition to it being dishearteningly far, he felt incredibly fatigued and sore, as if he had fought a difficult battle and wasn’t given time to recover. He had bruises and wounds which made different parts of his body feel all kinds of hurt. As hard as he thought, he couldn’t remember what happened before waking up. Did… did he die?
Not that this was what he expected the afterlife to be at all.
He expected to go to hell if he passed away. And this… didn’t look like hell.
But that was besides the point.
Groaning, he decided he would get nowhere if he stayed in place. He didn’t want to make the effort to swim to shore, but if he stayed where he was, the freezing temperatures would make terrible company. He really was cursed, he mentally sighed. If he was going to wake up in a foreign land, at least it could have been on a bed. Heck, he would have been happy with just waking up on the ground. At his track record with misfortune, he wondered why he kept trying to convince himself fate wasn’t out to get him.
Finally after maybe an hour and a half give-or-take, he trudged out of the water. Yuri Lowell, was usually one person easy to identify. Long dark-purple hair, black clothes, gold-colored bracelet, light-gray boots, someone who looked but never acted effeminate… If he wasn’t making a spectacle of himself having a fight with tax collectors and aristocracy, it would have been for the bounty on his head. But you wouldn’t tell that he was that kind of person by the way he looked now. He was exhausted, having swum all that way while injured… and on the verge of collapse. He weakly walked a few more steps towards a large tree, quietly cursing his luck before laying his back on it.
He was cold, and his stomach growled. But more than those he felt… completely drained. All his other needs would have to wait. He shut his eyes, and drifted once more to unconsciousness.
When his vision began to clear, all he saw were the far off lights. His first coherent thought was one of worry. He wasn’t too worried for himself, but actually for the people he had left behind… He hoped they could stay safe and level-headed while he was gone.
His next thought was that of reaching a shoreline. But, he grimaced, realizing he didn’t feel like it. Justifiedly so, too, in addition to it being dishearteningly far, he felt incredibly fatigued and sore, as if he had fought a difficult battle and wasn’t given time to recover. He had bruises and wounds which made different parts of his body feel all kinds of hurt. As hard as he thought, he couldn’t remember what happened before waking up. Did… did he die?
Not that this was what he expected the afterlife to be at all.
He expected to go to hell if he passed away. And this… didn’t look like hell.
But that was besides the point.
Groaning, he decided he would get nowhere if he stayed in place. He didn’t want to make the effort to swim to shore, but if he stayed where he was, the freezing temperatures would make terrible company. He really was cursed, he mentally sighed. If he was going to wake up in a foreign land, at least it could have been on a bed. Heck, he would have been happy with just waking up on the ground. At his track record with misfortune, he wondered why he kept trying to convince himself fate wasn’t out to get him.
Finally after maybe an hour and a half give-or-take, he trudged out of the water. Yuri Lowell, was usually one person easy to identify. Long dark-purple hair, black clothes, gold-colored bracelet, light-gray boots, someone who looked but never acted effeminate… If he wasn’t making a spectacle of himself having a fight with tax collectors and aristocracy, it would have been for the bounty on his head. But you wouldn’t tell that he was that kind of person by the way he looked now. He was exhausted, having swum all that way while injured… and on the verge of collapse. He weakly walked a few more steps towards a large tree, quietly cursing his luck before laying his back on it.
He was cold, and his stomach growled. But more than those he felt… completely drained. All his other needs would have to wait. He shut his eyes, and drifted once more to unconsciousness.