Siren's Summit
01-07-2018, 02:54 PM
You're already high-strung; nervous energy courses through you like a wildfire, flipping switches you barely even knew you had. Look at you, Waker, always the placid and gentle one, throwing your head through the inky waters, your white-rimmed eyes wide and staring for the glowing form of someone you care dearly for. But she's not there, and you're suddenly too aware of the water all around you.
Trapped.
Entombed.
In water—cold and dark and pressing against your every pore, sloshing into your throat with ever quivering breath you take, pressed intimately against every part of you, inside and out; it's a scream, building in your throat. You don't want to be here, on the bottom of the lake, you just want outoutout—
It isn't until someone's muffled scream—"No!"—rings from behind you that you notice anything but the bubbles of your own frantic breathing. Orbs of light shoot out like bullets, but you can't even see what they are striking at—just shadows, until one of them is suddenly in your face. Uselessly you pound your wings, feeling the heavy drag of water on wet feathers, and the scream that has been building inside of you is let out when sharp, sharp teeth lodge themselves in your neck. You feel your skin slice open, the disturbing sensation of water touching the split edges, and in the miasma of underwater scents you can still find your own blood.
It's not deep, but it hurts, and the slimy thing is still attached to you, so you twist and turn and buck, quite possibly throwing both yourself and the attacking creature into one of the bodies surrounding you.
Trapped.
Entombed.
In water—cold and dark and pressing against your every pore, sloshing into your throat with ever quivering breath you take, pressed intimately against every part of you, inside and out; it's a scream, building in your throat. You don't want to be here, on the bottom of the lake, you just want outoutout—
It isn't until someone's muffled scream—"No!"—rings from behind you that you notice anything but the bubbles of your own frantic breathing. Orbs of light shoot out like bullets, but you can't even see what they are striking at—just shadows, until one of them is suddenly in your face. Uselessly you pound your wings, feeling the heavy drag of water on wet feathers, and the scream that has been building inside of you is let out when sharp, sharp teeth lodge themselves in your neck. You feel your skin slice open, the disturbing sensation of water touching the split edges, and in the miasma of underwater scents you can still find your own blood.
It's not deep, but it hurts, and the slimy thing is still attached to you, so you twist and turn and buck, quite possibly throwing both yourself and the attacking creature into one of the bodies surrounding you.
Waker gets bitten in the neck and freaks out, possibly colliding with someone in his group because he's just "hopping" around.
