[Backdated: Before Explosion & then after]
Sarah had always liked Dia de Los Muertos. It was a reminder of life's fragility while simultaneously honoring the dead. She had too many dead to remember, though she had the list rolling on loop at any give moment. Walking through the garishly decorated stalls of the open air marketplace, she let the easy hum of normality breeze around her with
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What the hell was that?
[Pause. oh. knife. Right, that would be bad.]
Don't pull it out.
[Someone's gotta be Captain Obvious here.]
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"Leaving it or pulling it out doesn't matter."
It didn't hurt, but it made shit awkward.
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Someone hadn't really figured this out yet. It didn't change anything for him, after all.
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"Wherever this is," she said, her voice muted. "There's water."
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The view tilted as her arm came back down and she carefully leaned into the wall, a slight frown darkening her features. The camera didn't catch it. Sarah was patient as she turned to watch the water lap against the stone and the slight breeze tugged at her hair.
She turned her face into it, but couldn't feel the air. Sarah had to close her eyes and shove the panic down, because it wasn't useful. And there was nothing she could do about it. Her fingers touched the blade again, as if making sure it was real.
So much for Mexico.
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"No one here has a heartbeat. I don't like it. Where's the ship?"
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For awhile, she just stood there, staring at him with wide eyes.
"I can't feel the wind."
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"If you can still think, you're fine. Don't panic."
That was perhaps closer to an order than a comfort. He'd never been very good at emotions.
"No one I passed knew where I could find a healer, we might have to get Fordring."
At some level, and at times like this, he trusted Tirion implicitly - paladins wouldn't refuse help to anyone who asked, and the Light would patch up anyone in any state of living or unliving.
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Panicking solved nothing and he was right, she could still think, despite the fact that she couldn't breathe or feel...anything. Her fingers closed around the hilt of her rapier, her expression grimly determined.
"What would happen if we just ripped the knife out and fucking sewed the wound up? Unless you want to spend the time trying to find Fordring." She almost tried to shrug, but stopped herself. "Then again, we've got nothing but time. Except the part where I've got to find something like...fifteen monster eyes."
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The tone suggested he was only half-listening.
"It's close to where arteries would be, I don't... know. I don't know how it's supposed to work here. ...You're not breathing."
His expression went oddly detached and he reached for the knife to pull it out anyway. All signs pointed to undead, and if she wasn't well ... then they'd have a new set of problems to deal with.
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She was dead.
Sarah didn't stop him, not even when she realized that he was just going to yank the knife out. Her expression was somewhere between dazed and just as detached as she felt an odd tug and heard what she thought was a squelching sound.
"For the record, I will beat you with my arm if it falls off," she muttered.
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"That's... fine." Still not really listening. He'd had other things on his mind when he'd been turned. By the time he was really allowed to think about it it had become normal, but he'd seen enough recruits deal with it... less than ideally.
"Are you alright?"
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"I can still fight."
That was what mattered.
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