Thán (
hohnkai) wrote in
thisavrou_ooc2016-12-02 06:24 pm
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Entry tags:
tdm 14
T E S T D R I V E |
"living is an act of courage."
|
T E S T D R I V E |
"living is an act of courage."
|
[ Egil wakes up soaking wet.
At first, nothing seems wrong with this considering how much time he's spent on the water these days, but as his surroundings slowly blur into motion, there's not that noticeable sway of the Speranţă or the loud sounds of the crew moving and working and living around him. In fact, it's rather quiet, and his breath catches in his throat at the prospect of Sorin actually following through with some of his idle threats and tossing him back onto land. The ground's solid, anyway, and he's unconsciously shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. He's alone, and the oddity of that fact makes him feel sick to his stomach, scrambling up from the damp puddle he's been soaking in for who knows how long and clawing his way towards the opening he sees up ahead. Obviously, he's in a cave, and there's no real memory of how he'd gotten there.
Had the fiare gotten him? Is this what some of them did now? Drag helpless people back to their nest to devour them later?
Egil swallows his fear and grits his teeth, stumbling out onto the rocky surface almost angrily. If this is a joke, he's really not so pleased, and the greyness of the atmosphere says rain to him. Yet, he doesn't smell it, doesn't sense anything at all, and the instinct to run, run, run is a humming thought in the back of his head. But run where? He doesn't know where he is, and last he remembered, there had been talk about heading to Australia. Or something. Is this what Australia looks like? Whatever, he doesn't care.
He starts to walk, trying to wring out some of the water in his shirt that's glued itself to him, and he hates how deep that cold feeling has sunk. And later, when he thinks he sees someone up ahead, Egil doesn't even think about whether or not it's dangerous. If they're dangerous. A mistake he hasn't made in a long time, but again, there's little to care about when he's probably going to die like this. He moves towards them. ]
« Is this Australia? » [ He phrases the question in his native Icelandic, though he quickly trips over himself to switch back to what he's been speaking aboard Sorin's ship. ] Can you tell me if this is Australia? Which direction is it to the shoreline? [ If anything, he probably looks impatient. ]
[ He hates this.
He hates this, he hates this, he hates this. In fact, he hates this so much he thinks he hates it more than he's ever hated anything in his life, and there's a strong bitterness to it, expression drawn as he wanders around through the tents and glares at anyone who might look at him. He's gotten a dry shirt, at least, and other bits and pieces of clothes. They've given him a ridiculous little card to contact the people of this group, and frankly, Egil would rather sit at the edge of camp and not speak to anyone. So, that's what he tries to do. Sort of. Except on his way to the outside edge of the tents, he knocks into someone and grimaces at the contact. ]
Don't touch me. [ He doesn't spit it out like he normally might have, calm but not at all apologetic as he gives them a once-over and keeps on going in the direction he'd aimed for originally. Really, he just wants to be alone so he can think about how much he's lost and if he'll ever have it back again. ]
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