The Eye in the Desert
[The howling of the wind is what wakes him. The wind, the sand, the heat, the grit. He hurts everywhere. Sheik raises his head slowly, opens his eyes, instantly shuts them again. He's woken into a sandstorm--no, the beginning of one. If it were a true sandstorm, he might be stripped to the bone by now.]
[He gets his hands under him and pushes up from the ground, his arms trembling from just that much effort. Sitting up is as far as he can get at that moment. He slits his eyes open again, carefully now, keeping them narrowed against the sand in the air. What he sees before him makes his heart stop in a moment of pure, perfect terror.]
[The Sheikah eye is carved in the cliff face in front of him.]
[He closes his eyes, covers his face in his hands. Now he understands why he can't remember coming here to the desert. Whatever has possessed him to carve these symbols did so again. After a moment he raises his hand again and looks around. The hulking shape a short distance away is the Spirit Temple, he thinks. He can't think about what he did right now. He needs to get into shelter. Though part of him wants nothing more than to stay here and let the sand scour him away to nothing, he has his lady to protect.]
[He puts his hands on the ground again and begins to push himself up, gasps at the sudden sear of pain across his left arm. It's cut, a long slash that goes nearly from the top of his wrist to his elbow, bitten into the muscle of his forearm and still bleeding sluggishly. Sheik stares at it blankly, his head swimming. The work of his own dagger is unmistakable.]
No. [he says aloud] No. Get up.
[A glint catches his eye; his dagger is lying a foot or two away. He leans to grasp hold of it, sheathes it, and climbs to his feet with effort. Raising an arm to shield his eyes against the wind, he staggers toward the shelter of the temple.]
((ooc: continuing with plot. I know the setup is kind of crazy, but feel free to approach. ♥ ))
[He gets his hands under him and pushes up from the ground, his arms trembling from just that much effort. Sitting up is as far as he can get at that moment. He slits his eyes open again, carefully now, keeping them narrowed against the sand in the air. What he sees before him makes his heart stop in a moment of pure, perfect terror.]
[The Sheikah eye is carved in the cliff face in front of him.]
[He closes his eyes, covers his face in his hands. Now he understands why he can't remember coming here to the desert. Whatever has possessed him to carve these symbols did so again. After a moment he raises his hand again and looks around. The hulking shape a short distance away is the Spirit Temple, he thinks. He can't think about what he did right now. He needs to get into shelter. Though part of him wants nothing more than to stay here and let the sand scour him away to nothing, he has his lady to protect.]
[He puts his hands on the ground again and begins to push himself up, gasps at the sudden sear of pain across his left arm. It's cut, a long slash that goes nearly from the top of his wrist to his elbow, bitten into the muscle of his forearm and still bleeding sluggishly. Sheik stares at it blankly, his head swimming. The work of his own dagger is unmistakable.]
No. [he says aloud] No. Get up.
[A glint catches his eye; his dagger is lying a foot or two away. He leans to grasp hold of it, sheathes it, and climbs to his feet with effort. Raising an arm to shield his eyes against the wind, he staggers toward the shelter of the temple.]
((ooc: continuing with plot. I know the setup is kind of crazy, but feel free to approach. ♥ ))