(Untitled)
A screaming, shapeless, blurred mass of brown is hurtling out of the sky and heading directly for the Nexus floor. The limp, tumbling figure suddenly makes contact with the ground, emitting a resounding, earsplitting smack. However, this person is not smeared across the ground like a bug on a windshield, nor is he dead--lucky enough to be protected
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"Deep breaths, darling," is both advice and announcement of her being about an arm's length in front of him, "take a few deep breaths and then we'll sort everything out. It's okay, you're safe here."
She sounds friendly enough.
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Muska opens his eyes experimentally. His vision is returning, but is extremely poor at best. All he sees in front of him are dark, sepia-colored blurs. He stares forward, unsure of who or what he's looking at. He follows Ali's advice anyhow, desperate for even an ounce of reassurance. He squints slightly as he starts to see the light in the Nexus.
"Where am I? Is this still...still Laputa?"
He places his hands over his eyes in discomfort. It's far too bright here.
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He shifts uncomfortably. Everything hurts, but this wreched light--
"It's the light, there's too much light--my eyes hurt--"
He looks up--still blurs, and it doesn't seem like it's going to get any better.
"Ali, ma'am," he tries his best to be polite, still trembling quite a bit, "Laputa was last soaring over the ocean--"
He suddenly begins trembling harder, breathing quickening again. Several scenarios are presenting themselves to him, and he doesn't like any of them.
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She's moving around as she talks now, looking for his glasses.
((Are his glasses anywhere she can find them?))
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Muska keeps his hands tight over his eyes, taking deep-yet-unsteady breaths. If he landed somewhere on land, his royal blood somehow protecting him, he'd be put to death, if he was dead, he almost certainly had to be in hell. Nothing else made any ounce of sense.
"Do...do you see them anywhere? They're sunglasses...they've got rectangular lenses..."
((His sunglasses were completely lost in Laputa's epic collapse. He'll need another pair. or a corny hat.))
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A little while later he'd feel them being pressed gently against his arm so he knows where they are. They're perfectly normal, with a nice dark tint.
She's also got corny hats if he'd like.
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"I'm Rom--Muska. Everyone calls me Muska."
For the first time ever, he doesn't really feel like referencing Laputa. The thought of his fallen kingdom now is only succeeding in making him sick.
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When he takes the glasses, she pulls a few more things out of her bag. First he's offered a bottle of water, and then a bottle of aspirin. "These should help the pain, at least until we can figure out what's wrong and what kind of treatment you want. Are you hungry?"
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"I'm not hungry..." another pang of sickness, remembering what just happened. He struggles with the bottle a little more. He normally would scoff at asking for help, but being in such a fragile state (and really, fragile would probably be an understatement) he's as helpless as a child.
"...Could you open this for me?"
He holds out the bottle. You wouldn't ever guess this man was a mass murderer by the look on his face.
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"Is there anything else I can get for you?"
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"No...nothing. Thank you again--thank you so much."
Muska pauses for a moment.
"...I don't mean to be rude...but...what are you?"
He stares blearily ahead, moving to take his notebook from his pocket--he stops just short of pulling it out, remembering that he probably wouldn't be able to read or write if he tried. He clutches the water-bottle tightly.
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The question seems to amuse her. "That depends very much on who you ask. Do you mean physically, emotionally, spiritually...grammatically?"
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He drums his fingers on the bottle nervously.
"...Are you a robot?"
When he says the word, he seems to pale a little, and looks down at the floor. He pushes hard on the bridge of the sunglasses, pressing them against his nose. It looks like a bit of a nervous gesture.
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"Ah, no. It's a prosthetic." To prove her point, she touches his hand with her nice warm fleshy one.
"I'm sorry, sometimes I forget how uncomfortable it makes people."
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He looks somewhat relieved, and makes a mental note to avoid even thinking about robots.
"I-I'm not uncomfortable, just--I just was a little confused. I can't see well at all right now. What happened?"
He's a liar. It made him uncomfortable, but for reasons completely different than what she might suspect. He pushes all the thoughts from his mind before they get to him.
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