fandomtownies | Beach | Late Sunday Morning

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Beach | Late Sunday Morning

The last thing Silver had remembered was being underwater, his metal excuse for a leg trapped in some netting that had exploded off the Walrus during cannon fire. By the time he had managed to free himself from the peg leg entirely his vision was already starting to tunnel from the lack of oxygen. It only got darker as he tried to swim up to the surface, chest burning and frantically trying to use whatever strength he had left to get above water. His thoughts went to Madi and Flint, briefly wondering if they would use his death as an act of martyrdom for their cause...and then everything faded away completely.

Silver awoke with sunlight hitting his face and the uncomfortable feeling of having been in wet clothes for too long. He winced as he sat up, feeling the effects of not only almost drowning but the battle beforehand as well. Since his false leg was at the bottom of the sea he couldn't do much but sit for a while to regain his strength and then crawl over to some of the debris that had washed up on the beach to try to fashion a makeshift crutch.

The longer he sat the more he would notice that this was definitely not the Bahamas.

[And Silver is on the island. FYI he probably looks like an angry wet cat and is very clearly missing his left leg below the knee. Post is open!]

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Freya had been training for most of that morning, as she did for most of her mornings here on the island, and she planned to finish up with various leaping exercises on and off of some of the higher vantage points she'd been able to find thus far. From one, she had an excellent view of the beach, and would often pause there, to look over the ocean and the horizon, to ponder how strange it was to have land not cloaked in mists or to not see a sky dotted with airships. And the stretch of sand, sometimes speckled with woodchucks or squirrels or the occasional teal deer, the other fauna she knew now to avoid, and currently, it would seem, a lone humanoid figure.

For a fleeting second, a crazy thought hit her, made her heart jump in her chest, and on that sudden whim, she lept down from her height, into the sand, and started to rush forward, though, as she approached the figure, it became increasingly clear just how misguided her hopeful inclination had been.

Why, it was just another human. No tail or snout or peaked hat like her own at all, and she felt foolish for having even thought it could have been possible.

But now that she was here, and she was closer, her keen eyes could also see that the man had most certainly seen better days, and it was with more caution now that she approached, head tilted curiously.

"Hello?" she ventured. "Are you alright?"

Because what else could possibly make being washed upon a foreign shore better than being greeted by what appeared to be a giant rat girl dressed like some sort of fancy medieval squire?

Silver jumped when he heard a voice but that was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he saw who (or what?) the voice was coming from.

He died. That was what happened. He drowned and now this was some form of the afterlife. A form he was not very pleased with considering rat girl and the fact that he was still missing a leg.

"I don't think so," he said weakly. What had he done to deserve this kind of afterlife?

...quite a lot, actually.

"What happened?" Freya asked next, kneeling down for a better look, and thinking it would really be a good idea to keep some potions on hand for when she was training, except for the fact that she wasn't entirely sure where to get proper potions around here. "Are you hurt?"

Hurt instead of injured, because the latter was evident; the missing leg had not escaped her notice, but it hardly seemed...fresh, though her gaze did sweep around the beach for any sign to prove her assumption wrong.

That leg had been left somewhere in the Atlantic ocean off the South Carolina coast years ago.

"I think I might've died." 'Cause clearly that was the only way to explain Freya. No offense.

Look. Freya couldn't help it that this world was woefully homogenious and utterly lacking in a proper anthromorphication of its sentient species. Besides, she was just visiting.

"Then consider me impressed," she said. "I don't think there's many people doing that who can still manage to...talk," yes, she was going to say walk and talk, but, with a flick of her tail, amended herself in time, "after that, let alone breathe."

Then, she considered him thoughtfully.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Swimming," he replied. "My leg--my iron leg--had been caught in something. I pulled myself free and I tried to swim to the surface."

He tilted his head up to get a better look at Freya. It didn't make his 'I'm dead' theory weaken in the slightest. "I'm sorry--who are you?"

Freya blinked her one green eye not hidden by the shag of hair over her face at the man.

"Right," she said, shook her head a little. "Sorry. My name is Freya. Freya Crescent. I'm a dragon knight of Burmecia, though if that actually means anything to you, you'd be the first. Who are you?"

That goes around swimming with iron legs. Her gaze shifted to the ocean, wondering if that iron leg had just found itself a new home instead.

Silver had understood the bare minimum of that sentence. The words were English but all put together was just jibberish.

"I'm John Silver," he said, his ability to be polite apparently sticking with him in the afterlife. "I'm sorry I'm just...very, very confused."

"I can see that," said Freya, who knew she probably wasn't making things much better, but she did at least hope she wasn't making things too much worse. "You know your name, though, so that's a good start."

Her humor really was much too dry for this wet of a situation.

"Do you know where you are?" she asked.

Because, yes, the answer to that will certainly help matters a ton.

"I..." That was a good question. He might have not been the best at seafaring but he did know when he hadn't washed up on a tropical island. "Last I checked I was on the shores of Nassau but I'm going to guess you are going to tell me differently."

"You pick up quickly," Freya complimented, "for a dead man. You're on an island called Fandom, off the coast of a country called the United States, which meant about as much to me when I arrived here as Burmecia and Gaia probably means to you. It's a very....strange place." If he couldn't tell already. "But it's peaceful," if she sounded unconvinced about whether or not this was a good thing, it was merely because she simply didn't trust it, "and the people are nice, even if the woodchucks and gremlins are not."

"Exactly how much of that am I expected to understand?" He picked up quickly but he didn't pick up that quickly.

"The important parts," Freya offered, "but which parts those are probably depends on the person."

Because why wouldn't the rat girl get philosophical to the confused man washed up on shore?

But he didn't seem hurt, which had been her main concern, just a bit lost, which was understandable, especially around this place. She'd started to learn every inch of this island in her explorations, and she still felt a bit lost herself sometimes. So she pushed herself up from her kneel, brushing a little sand off her knee, and considered John Silver again.

"Do you need anything?" she asked. "There's a clinic, if you need that, and there's a hotel for lodgings, unless they've got you registered as a student here as they had me registered, but you look a bit past your school days." It was hard to tell, though, with humans. "Several stores for various needs, including food. If you want to get your bearings, though, maybe the Portalocity office can help. That seems to be a waypoint for travelers, though I haven't had much luck with it. Whenever I want to go home, they send me to the wrong Gaia, so I've sort of given up for the time being, but maybe they can help you...

"Or," she concluded, gesturing toward the town, "you can skip all that and take advantage of the fact that there are two taverns." She smiled a little. "Might be a bit early, though."

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