(no subject)
Who: Cloud Strife (mirageof-deceit) & Zack Fair (I-love-squats)
When: December 30 - Mid-afternoon
Where: The Ruins - Mist Level 1
Format: Paragraph, past tense
What: Cloud wanders too far into the Mist, only to return and run into Zack who was searching for him.
Warnings: Mild violence/gore
The snow had relented and the sun had reappeared in the sky. It was warmer than it had been in days, yet the Mist continued to loom near his spot of rest as always. It seemed completely unchanged by the events, and he still hadn't suffered from ill-effects that were different from the norm. The nightmares were the same, and the monsters were no worse than those he faced on Gaea. Yet, his place was supposed to be horrible?
He has awoken early to the sound of creatures moving in the ruins, and he decided suddenly to venture into the Mist. He needed to know how bad it could be at its worst moments; he had to know if he could handle it and protect those within the city from it if needs be.
Cloud had headed off early in the morning, killing a few creatures that lurked in the Mist as he went. They were no problem, even if he soon began to see shapes and vague figures out of the corner of his eye. It didn't do more than cause a glance as he pushed onwards throughout the morning, and he eventually picked up his pace to make better time. So far, there was nothing that was particularly offensive to his senses aside from a growing lack of sight because of the thickening Mist all around him. There were lurking creatures, but a quick blast of Demi sent them on their way. He was no becoming a meal for anything.
Eventually, he found himself so deep in the Mist that it was unclear about which direction he was supposed to be heading in. He thought that straight ahead was the direction that he should be going it, but it was impossible to tell if he were getting turned around as well. This Mist made it impossible to tell where he was, and none of his two remaining materia could help with any sense of direction. He simply had to press on in hopes that he would reach the other side or simply find himself back on familiar ground.
His first inclination that something was wrong was heat. He wasn't normally affected, but he felt hot. When was the last time he had had a fever after all? It was a foreign feeling, and he had to stop in order to feel the ground beneath his feet in order to check for heat rising from it. Nothing, which forced him to feel his forehead, and it felt warmer than it should have. So the Mist caused physical changes? Would it induce mako poisoning within his body or was this just a one time deal?
It was only his stubborn need to know that forced him to walk through the heat rising from him; he continually told himself that he had been in far worse condition before. A little fever could hardly slow him down, but the further and faster he walked, the worse it came on until he was certain that his skin was burning.
The flesh of his bare arms were horribly red and swelling with blisters, and the burning sensation only increased as he hoped to push through it. The blisters began to burst and the rare burnt flesh left behind charred black until he was forced to stop. Even for him, it was nearly unbearable. If he kept going, there was no guarantee that the damage would cease or even lighten. Did he remain in hopes that he would simply acclimatize or return to Anatole to lick his seeping wounds?
The decision was taken from him as slowly but surely liquid began to rise in his throat. His nostrils burned with the air he breathed, but soon enough the burning sensation ebbed in exchange for something far worse. Blood seeped from between his lips and from his nostrils, dripping down regardless of him wiping it on the back of his blistered arm. He spat the liquid out and withdrew a step, but his vision blurred red as blood welled in his lacrimal ducts and coated his eyes.
"T'ch," he sounded as he suddenly backtracked away from the area, drawing himself back. The blood didn't stop flowing and the burning sensation was only made worse by the blood that dripped from his face or was wiped there. There was no sense of getting the right direction; he simply needed to remove himself from the Mist as quickly as possible... or find a way to stanch the blood flow from his mouth, eyes, and nose.
Of course, the blood attracted predators even as he made his escape at a dead sprint through the Ruins. He knew better than to lag and fight and instead allowed a few minor scratches to his arms as he passed. If he were correct, he was in far worse danger as he passed back through the levels of the Mist, leaving droplets of blood in his wake even as he blindly travelled back the way that he had originally come. His only salvation was to stop the bleeding, but with no restore materia on his person, he had to trust that someone in Anatole would be able to provide that information.
How he made it back to familiar ground or even how long it took was beyond him. Cloud moved and even stumbled his way through the Ruins. Eventually, he tripped and fell, spitting a mouthful of blood to the stone as he attempted to right himself slowly.
When: December 30 - Mid-afternoon
Where: The Ruins - Mist Level 1
Format: Paragraph, past tense
What: Cloud wanders too far into the Mist, only to return and run into Zack who was searching for him.
Warnings: Mild violence/gore
The snow had relented and the sun had reappeared in the sky. It was warmer than it had been in days, yet the Mist continued to loom near his spot of rest as always. It seemed completely unchanged by the events, and he still hadn't suffered from ill-effects that were different from the norm. The nightmares were the same, and the monsters were no worse than those he faced on Gaea. Yet, his place was supposed to be horrible?
He has awoken early to the sound of creatures moving in the ruins, and he decided suddenly to venture into the Mist. He needed to know how bad it could be at its worst moments; he had to know if he could handle it and protect those within the city from it if needs be.
Cloud had headed off early in the morning, killing a few creatures that lurked in the Mist as he went. They were no problem, even if he soon began to see shapes and vague figures out of the corner of his eye. It didn't do more than cause a glance as he pushed onwards throughout the morning, and he eventually picked up his pace to make better time. So far, there was nothing that was particularly offensive to his senses aside from a growing lack of sight because of the thickening Mist all around him. There were lurking creatures, but a quick blast of Demi sent them on their way. He was no becoming a meal for anything.
Eventually, he found himself so deep in the Mist that it was unclear about which direction he was supposed to be heading in. He thought that straight ahead was the direction that he should be going it, but it was impossible to tell if he were getting turned around as well. This Mist made it impossible to tell where he was, and none of his two remaining materia could help with any sense of direction. He simply had to press on in hopes that he would reach the other side or simply find himself back on familiar ground.
His first inclination that something was wrong was heat. He wasn't normally affected, but he felt hot. When was the last time he had had a fever after all? It was a foreign feeling, and he had to stop in order to feel the ground beneath his feet in order to check for heat rising from it. Nothing, which forced him to feel his forehead, and it felt warmer than it should have. So the Mist caused physical changes? Would it induce mako poisoning within his body or was this just a one time deal?
It was only his stubborn need to know that forced him to walk through the heat rising from him; he continually told himself that he had been in far worse condition before. A little fever could hardly slow him down, but the further and faster he walked, the worse it came on until he was certain that his skin was burning.
The flesh of his bare arms were horribly red and swelling with blisters, and the burning sensation only increased as he hoped to push through it. The blisters began to burst and the rare burnt flesh left behind charred black until he was forced to stop. Even for him, it was nearly unbearable. If he kept going, there was no guarantee that the damage would cease or even lighten. Did he remain in hopes that he would simply acclimatize or return to Anatole to lick his seeping wounds?
The decision was taken from him as slowly but surely liquid began to rise in his throat. His nostrils burned with the air he breathed, but soon enough the burning sensation ebbed in exchange for something far worse. Blood seeped from between his lips and from his nostrils, dripping down regardless of him wiping it on the back of his blistered arm. He spat the liquid out and withdrew a step, but his vision blurred red as blood welled in his lacrimal ducts and coated his eyes.
"T'ch," he sounded as he suddenly backtracked away from the area, drawing himself back. The blood didn't stop flowing and the burning sensation was only made worse by the blood that dripped from his face or was wiped there. There was no sense of getting the right direction; he simply needed to remove himself from the Mist as quickly as possible... or find a way to stanch the blood flow from his mouth, eyes, and nose.
Of course, the blood attracted predators even as he made his escape at a dead sprint through the Ruins. He knew better than to lag and fight and instead allowed a few minor scratches to his arms as he passed. If he were correct, he was in far worse danger as he passed back through the levels of the Mist, leaving droplets of blood in his wake even as he blindly travelled back the way that he had originally come. His only salvation was to stop the bleeding, but with no restore materia on his person, he had to trust that someone in Anatole would be able to provide that information.
How he made it back to familiar ground or even how long it took was beyond him. Cloud moved and even stumbled his way through the Ruins. Eventually, he tripped and fell, spitting a mouthful of blood to the stone as he attempted to right himself slowly.