07-22-2015, 02:14 PM
Wakka’s mind bustled with questions, but after the mysterious figure’s monologue, it flashed a childish grin and giggled, quickly vanishing before the blitzballer could even part his lips.
Wakka stared into the water of the fountain, and his reflection stared right back at him. The questions he had for the mysterious figure were still running through his mind, repeating even, and as he looked harder at his reflection he could see it mocking him. Like it knew something he didn’t. It teased him. A subtle ripple flared his image for a second, but as it returned back to normal Wakka swore his reflection smirked.
He almost balled his fist and smashed it into his mirrored face; splash it into a violent tsunami. He resisted the urge. He knew his reflection would gather itself. His punch would just be misguided anger.
The place in which he found himself only exasperated his building frustration. A gaze in any direction led to the same blank sight—barren land, empty skies, something in the distance. The earth grew nothing, not even a damn weed, and it continued for miles. The sky was sunless, yet the land was still bathed in a bright perpetual light. If not for the circular fountain (probably the centerpiece) the land would have been a clean canvas.
There had to be a way out; if there was a way in there was a way out. The words echoed with the voice of Tidus behind them; the blonde’s persistence had rubbed off some on Wakka.
With a glance down to his sandals, he grabbed the bag next to his feet by the strings, flicking his wrist and wrapping it around his fist. The blitzballer was unsure of where to go, but he slung his bag over his shoulder and picked a direction.
Wakka stared into the water of the fountain, and his reflection stared right back at him. The questions he had for the mysterious figure were still running through his mind, repeating even, and as he looked harder at his reflection he could see it mocking him. Like it knew something he didn’t. It teased him. A subtle ripple flared his image for a second, but as it returned back to normal Wakka swore his reflection smirked.
He almost balled his fist and smashed it into his mirrored face; splash it into a violent tsunami. He resisted the urge. He knew his reflection would gather itself. His punch would just be misguided anger.
The place in which he found himself only exasperated his building frustration. A gaze in any direction led to the same blank sight—barren land, empty skies, something in the distance. The earth grew nothing, not even a damn weed, and it continued for miles. The sky was sunless, yet the land was still bathed in a bright perpetual light. If not for the circular fountain (probably the centerpiece) the land would have been a clean canvas.
There had to be a way out; if there was a way in there was a way out. The words echoed with the voice of Tidus behind them; the blonde’s persistence had rubbed off some on Wakka.
With a glance down to his sandals, he grabbed the bag next to his feet by the strings, flicking his wrist and wrapping it around his fist. The blitzballer was unsure of where to go, but he slung his bag over his shoulder and picked a direction.