05-07-2018, 05:40 PM
The Sage fell towards the surface of the water, the rush pressing his body straight as he shot towards the reflected sun. he burst forth into the empty air, and only then realized he had been underwater and not the air. The Sage looked down at the surface of the water, noting that his vision seemed strangely obscured. Curious, the sage reached a hand to his face, finding a strangely familiar mask seemed attached to his visage, but his attention was drawn away from the mask by the realization that he was standing on a seemingly infinite film of water. The Sage crouched down, trailing his hand through the shinning liquid, watching it ripple and splash about much as any normal water would be expected to.
And yet it holds weight. Where logic fails, belief must bear its own weight, I suppose…
His gaze caught on a sequence of strange lights dancing in the ripples, and he looked up to notice a woman, her form a scintillating array, though its sheen seemed dull and sickly. Then the Sage noticed the crimson cloud that issued from her prone form.
“Oh dear, what trouble have we found this time, Chapel eyes?” the Sage murmured to himself as he made his way over to her. The thought briefly crossed his mind that he had been dying just before this. Could his own psychic state be affecting this situation? He felt intuitively that this area was his space, or at least some portion of his mind. Was Luci wandering again, or perhaps she was just a subconscious manifestation of his own impending demise.
In which case, he thought with a rueful grim, I may need to reassess my self-image…
The Sage turned Luci over gently, glancing over her injuries with a practiced eye. She had certainly taken some bruising, it looked like she had fallen a significant distance to land here. Yet by far the most concerning injury were the jagged gashes that seemed to have torn up her abdomen. The cause was not readily apparent to the Sage, but he didn’t need to know how the wounds had been inflicted to know they would be mortal if nothing was done. A quick knife slice provided fresh inkblood which the Sage smeared over the injuries. As always, his strange blood seemed to understand his intent, and the black liquid trickled purposefully across Luci, knitting closed her wounds like the finest of surgeons. Her pallor was still quite concerning, and the Sage wondered how recent the injury had been inflicted. The scarlet mist her blood made in their strange floor faded away too rapidly to be of use. The Sage settled down next to Luci, and began filling his pipe.
“Wake up soon, Chapel eyes, I need you to tell me which one of us is dying.”
And yet it holds weight. Where logic fails, belief must bear its own weight, I suppose…
His gaze caught on a sequence of strange lights dancing in the ripples, and he looked up to notice a woman, her form a scintillating array, though its sheen seemed dull and sickly. Then the Sage noticed the crimson cloud that issued from her prone form.
“Oh dear, what trouble have we found this time, Chapel eyes?” the Sage murmured to himself as he made his way over to her. The thought briefly crossed his mind that he had been dying just before this. Could his own psychic state be affecting this situation? He felt intuitively that this area was his space, or at least some portion of his mind. Was Luci wandering again, or perhaps she was just a subconscious manifestation of his own impending demise.
In which case, he thought with a rueful grim, I may need to reassess my self-image…
The Sage turned Luci over gently, glancing over her injuries with a practiced eye. She had certainly taken some bruising, it looked like she had fallen a significant distance to land here. Yet by far the most concerning injury were the jagged gashes that seemed to have torn up her abdomen. The cause was not readily apparent to the Sage, but he didn’t need to know how the wounds had been inflicted to know they would be mortal if nothing was done. A quick knife slice provided fresh inkblood which the Sage smeared over the injuries. As always, his strange blood seemed to understand his intent, and the black liquid trickled purposefully across Luci, knitting closed her wounds like the finest of surgeons. Her pallor was still quite concerning, and the Sage wondered how recent the injury had been inflicted. The scarlet mist her blood made in their strange floor faded away too rapidly to be of use. The Sage settled down next to Luci, and began filling his pipe.
“Wake up soon, Chapel eyes, I need you to tell me which one of us is dying.”
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.