Post by Amidatelion on May 26, 2024 11:38:32 GMT -6
HEALING PROPERTIES (OPEN)
wc: 441
wc: 441
 | It had been some time since Amidatelion had seen the wakefulness of day. There is no blinking awake -- there is only looking into the distance and seeing miles and miles of untamed forest, as far as their gaze can possibly take them. Whether the sound of birds is a hallucination or not, they can't be certain -- there's something eerie about this forest, not like the one from the world below. This is something else entirely. Odder still is the capacity to even think about such things. Their mind is in a game of catch-up with itself, trying to get its bearings on the situation. Firstly comes a mote of pain from deep within their chassis, the unpleasant reminder of a death well died and a life perhaps not so well-lived, though it's hard to be certain as said pain makes its way up from where it begins in their hand and into their helmet. It clangs in their head like fire, and they can't help but let out a groaning noise at the inconvenience. Now, the rest of their tactile senses come through; below that sharp ringing in their head comes the tingling sensation of having fingers, feet, legs... They collapse to the ground nearly immediately, overwhelmed by the feeling of feeling. Amidatelion's breath comes in ragged, soft exhales. That alone is an entirely new experience, as the Yuke had never needed air like this before -- or at all, but all they can do in this moment is deal with the pins and needles pins and needles for the love of the Principle if someone could help right now that'd be grand! But, at first glance, no one is around, and the forest is silent with the threat of hallucination still. Where... are they, anyhow? At first glance it nearly resembles the Forgotten Forest, where one of their portal entries may have still remained. They... they think so, anyway. Their memories are fuzzy, and any time they try to truly focus on something outside of the massive pain in their chassis, they are greeted with the reminder that it is still there, and will remain. A bird sings, and they're not sure if it's in their head. Their ribs heave with effort, the glowing blue of the crystal slicking the back of it reflecting off of the dappled sunlight into myriad reflections on the undergrowth. Wherever this is, they have to get out of here, and fast. But, the pain. But, they have to leave. There is no clear path to follow, so they simply start trudging in a direction, muttering to themself about the strangeness and newness of it all. |
THE WILL OF THE PRINCIPLE.
