Post by Terminally Chill on Aug 15, 2012 18:30:38 GMT -5
“Ugh, man...”
The scorching desert wind rolled across the parched earth, no kinder to the cactus than the bruised and broken body that attempted to stand in its way. On the shore of the dusty island lay a young man, clothes worn and torn and body not looking much better. A slender hand rested on his stubbled face, soon making its way up to cast aside a woolen cap and ruffle through the shaggy mess beneath. Although the stray stranger had survived whatever unfortunate ordeal had put him in such bad shape, the buzzards that circled ahead couldn't tell any different. With the motionless way the man laid on the cracked desert ground with his eyes clenched tightly against the white hot head above... Well, he might as well have been a dead man. Sooner or later the barren land would take him if he kept it up.
But then again, what was Gavin Amadeus D'Arras supposed to do?
The battered bard had no qualms waking up in strange places, but there was a difference between waking up after a restful sleep and waking up after having your senses knocked into absolute oblivion. Gavin had no idea where he was, and the pounding in his head wasn't helping the recollection of anything. The farthest the dazed guitarist could trace back was the perilous journey up Reverse Mountain with his windward comrades, Fenrir Foehn and Jun Lokuan... And then there was a crash of some sort? Gavin groaned, unable to make sense of how he had ended up with his back against the blazing dirt. Against his aching frame's will, Gavin forced himself to a sitting position at the least. His skin felt strangely stiff with the feeling of dried salt, the desert quickly having robbed his body and garments of any previous soaking he had receiving from the sea. The remains of dried blood gathered from his hair were dusted off against his worn shorts, sleepy gaze scanning the roasting expanse for sign of his friends. The only shapes on the dry land were those of active, none bearing the familiar shapes of Fenrir nor Jun. For a moment, Gavin felt a pang of loneliness. The sensation was one that had nearly been forgotten by the stranded songster. A wanderer rarely felt alone in his travelers; solitude was the way of life. However, for the first time in a long while, Gavin had found companions. And suddenly they were no where to be found in a foreign land. The half-dead drifter quickly shook himself from the unfamiliar thoughts, the empty feeling on his back forcing him into a brief panic, hands scraping across the baked earth for some sign of his third comrade.
“There you are, man...” the wayward wanderer said with a sigh of relief, stretching a single arm out to retrieve his guitar and inspect it for any sort of damage. A little worn as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary. Gavin rested it on his lap, playing a single, comforting chord. The instrument had surprisingly remained in tune through the turmoil of the devilish mountain. With his musical partner recovered and replaced in its usual spot, Gavin felt as though he could at least pull himself from the parched ground. Gavin moved his stiff joints, stretching and shaking in an attempt to rid himself of the hammering pains that plagued his limbs. Gavin stuffed his hat in his pocket before pulling his suspenders from his shoulders to hang loosely at his sides. The entertainer untucked his cotton shirt from his shorts, panting as he wiped brow sweat against his sleeve.
“Guess I should go find those guys,” mused the musician to himself, shading his eyes against the unwavering sun. There were clouds of dust visible in the distance, shadowy figures at the helm speeding across the desert. The distinct shape of cowboy hats gave Gavin some sense that there was more than just cacti and critters in the strange desert. Hopefully that also meant there was at least one town somewhere. Though, before Gavin could even complete one grueling step, his sharp ear caught the ruffling sound of movement only a few feet away...
“Huh...?”
... And it sure as hell wasn't a tumbleweed.[/size]
The scorching desert wind rolled across the parched earth, no kinder to the cactus than the bruised and broken body that attempted to stand in its way. On the shore of the dusty island lay a young man, clothes worn and torn and body not looking much better. A slender hand rested on his stubbled face, soon making its way up to cast aside a woolen cap and ruffle through the shaggy mess beneath. Although the stray stranger had survived whatever unfortunate ordeal had put him in such bad shape, the buzzards that circled ahead couldn't tell any different. With the motionless way the man laid on the cracked desert ground with his eyes clenched tightly against the white hot head above... Well, he might as well have been a dead man. Sooner or later the barren land would take him if he kept it up.
But then again, what was Gavin Amadeus D'Arras supposed to do?
The battered bard had no qualms waking up in strange places, but there was a difference between waking up after a restful sleep and waking up after having your senses knocked into absolute oblivion. Gavin had no idea where he was, and the pounding in his head wasn't helping the recollection of anything. The farthest the dazed guitarist could trace back was the perilous journey up Reverse Mountain with his windward comrades, Fenrir Foehn and Jun Lokuan... And then there was a crash of some sort? Gavin groaned, unable to make sense of how he had ended up with his back against the blazing dirt. Against his aching frame's will, Gavin forced himself to a sitting position at the least. His skin felt strangely stiff with the feeling of dried salt, the desert quickly having robbed his body and garments of any previous soaking he had receiving from the sea. The remains of dried blood gathered from his hair were dusted off against his worn shorts, sleepy gaze scanning the roasting expanse for sign of his friends. The only shapes on the dry land were those of active, none bearing the familiar shapes of Fenrir nor Jun. For a moment, Gavin felt a pang of loneliness. The sensation was one that had nearly been forgotten by the stranded songster. A wanderer rarely felt alone in his travelers; solitude was the way of life. However, for the first time in a long while, Gavin had found companions. And suddenly they were no where to be found in a foreign land. The half-dead drifter quickly shook himself from the unfamiliar thoughts, the empty feeling on his back forcing him into a brief panic, hands scraping across the baked earth for some sign of his third comrade.
“There you are, man...” the wayward wanderer said with a sigh of relief, stretching a single arm out to retrieve his guitar and inspect it for any sort of damage. A little worn as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary. Gavin rested it on his lap, playing a single, comforting chord. The instrument had surprisingly remained in tune through the turmoil of the devilish mountain. With his musical partner recovered and replaced in its usual spot, Gavin felt as though he could at least pull himself from the parched ground. Gavin moved his stiff joints, stretching and shaking in an attempt to rid himself of the hammering pains that plagued his limbs. Gavin stuffed his hat in his pocket before pulling his suspenders from his shoulders to hang loosely at his sides. The entertainer untucked his cotton shirt from his shorts, panting as he wiped brow sweat against his sleeve.
“Guess I should go find those guys,” mused the musician to himself, shading his eyes against the unwavering sun. There were clouds of dust visible in the distance, shadowy figures at the helm speeding across the desert. The distinct shape of cowboy hats gave Gavin some sense that there was more than just cacti and critters in the strange desert. Hopefully that also meant there was at least one town somewhere. Though, before Gavin could even complete one grueling step, his sharp ear caught the ruffling sound of movement only a few feet away...
“Huh...?”
... And it sure as hell wasn't a tumbleweed.[/size]