10-06-2019, 10:06 PM
If the idea of breathing underwater was difficult for Feza to fully wrap her head around, the opposite was true for Echo.
Her life spent in the ocean, whether in certain depths farther than most could swim or near the surface where she could hear those birds, she was quite used to the idea of breathing water, and the protection it gave her. Peaking her head out was like stuffing it into an oven - everything was hotter, the sun beating down on her scales, and it was so loud, the sea's waves rolling around her, as they always did, but not protecting all of her.
And then it was all gone. She loved the sea, even when she was in it, and departing from it was so painful - even beyond the little underwater crash she had. Her body was doing remarkably well, though. Her brain's autonomic systems (words she didn't really know, but she could explain in different words, hypothetically) seemed to adapt immediately, and she had no effort with breathing as a whole. Her only problem was with what she was breathing in. So hot and stuffy, and there was this strange taste to it all, like something very rotten had happened - it almost burned, burned, burned away at her. It was so wrong that she felt like puking sometimes.
What a coincidence that two fellows with situations similarly centered around desperation would cross paths. Two ships in the night, as they say, though that phrase had much different connotations. It was also a shame that they wouldn't be able to share these thoughts with each other - if Echo were to actually have a voice, perhaps she would have enjoyed sharing her feelings. For once.
Said feelings included the pure and utter fright that comes right before you die.
Echo happened across the situation almost at the same time as Kiira did, and much like the other - whom she didn't know yet - didn't see Feza's little disguise until it was much to late. She may not have been the one to be jumped, being adjacent to the other two, but she damn well felt like she was - her body tensed up, her forepaws pressed into the ground, ready to start moving backwards as fast as possible, and if she could she absolutely would have screamed, screamed, until eventually whatever lurked up in the heavens woke up. But she didn't scream, she couldn't scream, nobody woke up, and it turns out she wasn't even in any danger. At least, if Kiira's reaction was any indication. Feza, the petite femme had said (after teleporting, which she did not have the brainpower to figure out right now), a name she had heard before. The name of the supposed repairperson Worm had talked to. Yes, this person, who played such a prank, was certainly more befitting a name with such pop.
These thoughts somehow managed to make it to the surface in her head, climbing valiantly through a sea of adrenaline and fear. Her turquoise fur was fully puffed out, and her pupils were narrowed in shock, but her jaw stayed closed, as she tried to figure out what to do. Should she do anything? There wasn't much to say, since only 3 words had been spoken so far.
She sat there, silent, waiting for something else to happen, so that the tides of terror besieging her head could still at last.
Her life spent in the ocean, whether in certain depths farther than most could swim or near the surface where she could hear those birds, she was quite used to the idea of breathing water, and the protection it gave her. Peaking her head out was like stuffing it into an oven - everything was hotter, the sun beating down on her scales, and it was so loud, the sea's waves rolling around her, as they always did, but not protecting all of her.
And then it was all gone. She loved the sea, even when she was in it, and departing from it was so painful - even beyond the little underwater crash she had. Her body was doing remarkably well, though. Her brain's autonomic systems (words she didn't really know, but she could explain in different words, hypothetically) seemed to adapt immediately, and she had no effort with breathing as a whole. Her only problem was with what she was breathing in. So hot and stuffy, and there was this strange taste to it all, like something very rotten had happened - it almost burned, burned, burned away at her. It was so wrong that she felt like puking sometimes.
What a coincidence that two fellows with situations similarly centered around desperation would cross paths. Two ships in the night, as they say, though that phrase had much different connotations. It was also a shame that they wouldn't be able to share these thoughts with each other - if Echo were to actually have a voice, perhaps she would have enjoyed sharing her feelings. For once.
Said feelings included the pure and utter fright that comes right before you die.
Echo happened across the situation almost at the same time as Kiira did, and much like the other - whom she didn't know yet - didn't see Feza's little disguise until it was much to late. She may not have been the one to be jumped, being adjacent to the other two, but she damn well felt like she was - her body tensed up, her forepaws pressed into the ground, ready to start moving backwards as fast as possible, and if she could she absolutely would have screamed, screamed, until eventually whatever lurked up in the heavens woke up. But she didn't scream, she couldn't scream, nobody woke up, and it turns out she wasn't even in any danger. At least, if Kiira's reaction was any indication. Feza, the petite femme had said (after teleporting, which she did not have the brainpower to figure out right now), a name she had heard before. The name of the supposed repairperson Worm had talked to. Yes, this person, who played such a prank, was certainly more befitting a name with such pop.
These thoughts somehow managed to make it to the surface in her head, climbing valiantly through a sea of adrenaline and fear. Her turquoise fur was fully puffed out, and her pupils were narrowed in shock, but her jaw stayed closed, as she tried to figure out what to do. Should she do anything? There wasn't much to say, since only 3 words had been spoken so far.
She sat there, silent, waiting for something else to happen, so that the tides of terror besieging her head could still at last.
tags - "speech"
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