From a bird’s eye view, if that bird was high enough, it probably looked like a crazy piece of russet driftwood pushed onto the shore.
Though from a bird’s eye view, if that bird had particularly good eyesight, it would clearly see a body, the russet being skin, its clothing tangled about it and torn, bent in all wrong angles from the waist down, and suffering torn flesh, probably from the bite of a large aquatic creature, who shook twice and decided the taste of fel blood and ink was not to its liking.
From a bird’s eye view, if that bird’s eye were at all catlike in its disposition, there would be a ghost-like shimmer in the air, running across the water, toward, around, and fading into the corpse.
The body would shudder, then abruptly lift, leading with the chest to roll over onto one elbow, the other arm moving to push hair away from the face as the contents of its stomach pour onto the sand.
Oi… I can’t recall dyin’ on a beach… Am I finally, you know, dead dead? Oh shit; can’t breathe.
Nedriece took the momentum from that realization and used it to flip herself over by the chest, vomiting buckets of water and who-knows-what onto the sand. One arm supported her from the elbow while another led her long, pale hair out from her face; salty hair is Fel'a manageable, but vomit hair? Please not.
Yeah, no. Definitely not. Pain receptors aren’t back to snuff, but as she lay twisted on the shore she knew she couldn’t move her toes; even dragging her hip into a better supportive position caused pieces of her to cry out in distress. She flipped her hair carefully over her head as she turned back around, tangling it well in the ram’s horns, and inched herself away from the gore to examine herself a little more closely below the waist.
The surroundings were green, and hazy, getting moreso without the adrenaline pulsing through her.
What was I even doing? What was I supposed to have done…?
Things were getting harder to remember again.
(@firemagicked @darnath - @ who else is on Atlas Island right now?)