@royalxshock
Ugh, it’s hot...why is it so bloody hot?
Daryl opened her eyes, or at least, she tried to against whatever blinding light was blazing through her eyelids. She blinked and squinted, quickly becoming aware that the heat was not the only thing assailing her body, but also...sand?
Oh gods, it was sand. And she could feel it in her mouth, in her nose and--she shifted--oh hells, and in her pants, too.
She peered around her through slitted lids, feeling about herself with her hands. Why is there so much sand, she wondered. She’d just been...somewhere...for the life of her, she couldn’t remember precisely--which itself was concerning--perhaps somewhere in Gyr Albania? Anyway, definitely not somewhere there would be so much sand...Or so much bloody sun, for that matter.
She caught site of a dark shape nearby, just within reach. A familiar shape, even through her eye’s barely focused haze. She reached out for it, and found some comfort in the familiar feel of her chocobo’s feathers.
“Trill,” she moaned. “Trillium, you alright?”
The bird stirred, a garbled sound of discomfort rumbling from her breast. Daryl struggled herself to sit upright, a wave of nausea overtaking her. Aether sickness--a damn nasty spell of it, too. But her vision had finally cleared, though fat lot of good it did her while the sun reflected off the sand around them.
Actually...as far as she could tell, they were sounded by a near perfect wall of sand...a pit. A perfect pit. What in the seven hells?
“Trill, we need to get out of the sun.” A black chocobo and a pale girl who barely sweats would be at a disadvantage in a desert even had they arrived intentionally and prepared, let alone like this.
Trillium had already shifted and put her feet beneath her--far closer to being on her feet than Daryl was. But she wobbled as she rose; she, too, must be aether sick. They must have been transported. How, Daryl still could not recall, though considering the things she tends to find herself wrapped up in, not at all outside of possibility.
Once Trillium had steadied herself, she bent her neck and took hold of Daryl’s sleeve, pulling her to her feet. Daryl leaned into her, patting her gently in thanks.
“I dorn’t suppose yer up t’flyin’ us out of this hole, are ye?”
Daryl glared at the incline before them. It wasn’t particularly high, but it was just steep enough to be a nightmare to climb, unsteady on their feet as they both were.
Trillium gave a surprisingly bright ‘Kweh!’ and launched herself forward, flapping her wings haphazardly. The jolt took Daryl by surprise, and with her support suddenly gone, she toppled back to the sand.
“The hells, Trill!” Daryl shouted, spitting out a mouth full of sand. Trillium had made it to the top of the embankment, her path marked by skids and gouges and trickling streams of sand. She wobbled on her feet, regretting her foolish exertion, Daryl expected--wait, no. Trillium’s attention was locked on something Daryl could not see from below, and she was....excited? Daryl watched, confused, as Trillum danced, or at least tried to. She turned on spot (with no lack of staggering), waved her tail feathers at whatever it is she had spied, and cried out quite shrilly, the bags and quiver attached to her saddle rattling in time. And then she tumbled sideways; thankfully, not back down into the pit and onto Daryl. A spray of sand accompanied her efforts to right herself.
Daryl did the same, though with much less flair as her large, feathered companion. “Trill, what is it!?” she shouted as she found her footing. But of course, Trillum could not answer her, at least, not in a way Daryl could understand. She just continued to flat her wings and swing her tail and whistle as best she could. She must see something, or someone, she thought could help.
At least Daryl hoped so. She didn’t fancy spending half a bell trying to pull herself 15 fulms.
