ુ ✬ Ｍคsʈeɾ Åqυค ✬ ૂ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rainprism) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-06-30 11:18 pm
rainprism) wrote in sirenspull2012-06-30 11:18 pm
〈oo5〉⁂〈accidental video ⇢ foward dated to 7/1〉
[Dust. Lots and lots of dust. Several minutes of silence fill the feed. There has been an accidental activation of the video function, and for those first crucial moments, all that can be seen is billowing curtains of dust falling and settling around the NV, which is stationary on the ground.
Gradually, a close silhouette appears -- a long, shapeless lump on the ground to begin with ... until the last bits of dust clear away. The details come into focus. It's probably a white sleeve, but it's ripped, snagged, and slightly stained by the dark orange dust. And there's more -- a hand at the end of that sleeve, partially covered by fingerless gloves, palm down in that dust.
Labored breathing crescendos into range of the NV's microphone soon thereafter, and it isn't long before movement rocks the arm in an unstable to-and-fro motion. The person this arm belongs to ... is coming around.]
Nnnh ... !
[... Albeit painfully. When Aqua plowed into the baseball diamond the first time, there'd been the buffer of her armor to soften the blow. This time, she's taken the full brunt of the impact. But not unlike her first collision into Siren's Port, her recovery curve is rising sharply -- not long after the groan, a green light sets the recording NV out of focus for a moment and a musical trill sounds the casting of a Curaga spell. That arm is bathed in curative magic, and her hand closes around a fistful of dirt before the process of pushing herself into an upright position begins. The move is riddled with pauses and small gasps as sore spots are identified, but she somehow manages to maneuver herself into side-sitting, knees together and bent at an angle, the metallic accents of her boots clicking together as her ankles cross.
At first, the lens of the NV only captures this much; Her neatly folded legs. But her elbows soon find her knees and her face is promptly buried in her hands. The high noon sun has effectively stunned her, and she remains steadfastly in this position ... presumably, to get her bearings.]
Home ...
[The feed continues in this manner. A blue-haired young woman none the wiser to her in-progress broadcast, hiding her eyes like a child, coping with lingering aches, and whispering something with each carefully measured exhalation ... over and over, rhythmically.]
... Home ...
[The light of day is dizzying after a decade of nothing but darkness.]
Home.
Gradually, a close silhouette appears -- a long, shapeless lump on the ground to begin with ... until the last bits of dust clear away. The details come into focus. It's probably a white sleeve, but it's ripped, snagged, and slightly stained by the dark orange dust. And there's more -- a hand at the end of that sleeve, partially covered by fingerless gloves, palm down in that dust.
Labored breathing crescendos into range of the NV's microphone soon thereafter, and it isn't long before movement rocks the arm in an unstable to-and-fro motion. The person this arm belongs to ... is coming around.]
Nnnh ... !
[... Albeit painfully. When Aqua plowed into the baseball diamond the first time, there'd been the buffer of her armor to soften the blow. This time, she's taken the full brunt of the impact. But not unlike her first collision into Siren's Port, her recovery curve is rising sharply -- not long after the groan, a green light sets the recording NV out of focus for a moment and a musical trill sounds the casting of a Curaga spell. That arm is bathed in curative magic, and her hand closes around a fistful of dirt before the process of pushing herself into an upright position begins. The move is riddled with pauses and small gasps as sore spots are identified, but she somehow manages to maneuver herself into side-sitting, knees together and bent at an angle, the metallic accents of her boots clicking together as her ankles cross.
At first, the lens of the NV only captures this much; Her neatly folded legs. But her elbows soon find her knees and her face is promptly buried in her hands. The high noon sun has effectively stunned her, and she remains steadfastly in this position ... presumably, to get her bearings.]
Home ...
[The feed continues in this manner. A blue-haired young woman none the wiser to her in-progress broadcast, hiding her eyes like a child, coping with lingering aches, and whispering something with each carefully measured exhalation ... over and over, rhythmically.]
... Home ...
[The light of day is dizzying after a decade of nothing but darkness.]
Home.