Death is Pretty Undefinitive, I Guess

[muttwithasword]

Who: sitsinarmor and muttwithasword
What: Waking up in Luceti.
When: Pre-dated a little to whenever their intro is.
Where: The magical forest of Luceti~
Summary: It's not every day that you wake up in one piece after being dead. And all that considered, these two probably have some talking and tomdickery to achieve by the end of the day.
Rating: PG? Just some cursing,

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[sitsinarmor]

The last thing Martel remembered was metal. The cold metal of Alphonse's armor and then the hot bite of one of Bradley's swords. It wasn't the scents of the surrounding area that roused her from unconsciousness, but instead the pains that were making her ache in ways that made her think the most ridiculous thing. I guess I can't be dead, it ain't supposed to hurt...The main pain radiated out from her shoulder blades, like someone had hit her solidly there, though the smaller pain on her neck was more familiar and was got most of her attention. Sitting up, she gingerly touched the back of her neck. Someone had inked her while she was out. That in itself was disturbing enough, but when her fingers brushed the base of her back where wings protruded she recoiled, feeling sick

[muttwithasword]

Aha. Just what the dog chimera ordered: a familiar female voice echoing very faintly through the forest. Good to know his ears were still working for him; as much as he enjoyed his nose, hearing a voice was far more rewarding. He pushed aside a throng of tall grass, pointing intently toward his destination like a bloodhound on the hunt. That was definitely Martel. He stomped across that annoying thick grass until he finally stumbled into a bright pocket of gold-green land, groaning at the effect the sun had on his vision for a fleeting moment.

But no time for that. After a beat, there was the sound of rustling ahead-

"Martel? That really you?"

He approached a few steps more cautiously.

[sitsinarmor]

Once she'd adjusted and a cursory limb check. Two legs, two arms and some extra pieces she refused to acknowledge. Looking around and vaguely wishing for that stupid sense of smell Dorochet was always bragging about. No time was wasted admiring the scenery as she got down to starting her search. That her yelling hadn't gotten any responses was only slightly discouraging.

Cautiously, Martel began to make her way through the grass and brush, keeping low in case she was in some sick test the military was running. Absently she picked up a small rock that fit into her hand comfortably. It wasn't a knife, but it was better than nothing and made her feel a little less naked.

When she heard movement up ahead she tensed up, until she heard what unmistakeably Dorochet's voice. All she could think was 'Thank god I'm not the only one.' Losing the tension in her shoulders, she moved into his line of sight.

"Yeah, it's me."

[muttwithasword]

He sighed a big, relieved sigh at that, before walking with his hands hanging, shoulders looking as though he'd been carrying a heavy weight on his back. By the time he'd gotten to her, he was disgusted by the wings-and then quickly over them, as his ability to even growl at the thought waned with the weariness in his legs.

Feels like I just ran a marathon.

"Shit, it's good to hear someone else is around, at least."

Did that mean she died...? Because he was pretty damn sure he couldn't've been alive alongside her; he wasn't a moron, and those wounds were pretty grim to even think about. Instead, he stood awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of how to even begin to question or speak.

...

"Nice dress."