*points to them* :)
With mind slip in two gaps, between the nearby fight of wilderness monsters that made a soundless approach and the curious picture that the obsidian water reflects off the moonlight above the skies of her faithful skyfarer friend within reach. Anxious steps towards the ocean, waves breaking on the shore and the screams that break the silent night along with the splash sounds her body gives. It breaks the tranquility of the salad fluid and the picturesque scenery a setting like that one had to give. Where terror made it’s reign in no time from paradise pieces. Where no repose is absolutely given, though steps made balance to not let her fall towards the obscure deeps. Where thoughts are empty caskets of what they should be, the instinct comes forth than logic in her extended brain.
Dark fabric that is now drifted in water and the hand of the embodiment of a girl who is desperate to get the other primal’s attention. A grasp in the other’s wrist with words of chronic worrying over the current situation. — “Prunella.” — She whispers thanks to her lips being outside of the neverending realm made island, hoping for the liquid environment to consign her message to the earth friend.
Due to the negative and voidless of an answer, a response she feels is needed, porcelain fingers ( at first, reluctant ) conveying themselves the shaking of uncertainty take care in the form of a movement trying to take her out of the place she has spotted herself in an aggressive and perhaps uncomfortable action. It is not enjoyable. Not a wonderful night, she thinks. It is the panic running in her veins, making heartbeats louder with each passing second of the clock; it takes a second in eternity. — “Prunella!” — Is how loud her voice became, echoing in the air left. A snap out of context, the need to know she is fine over the different struggles she heard behind her back. The ones the others of the Grandcypher are fighting for. That isn’t her place to be and she doesn’t know if the ability to feel it in a natural way can be possible without any harming in the middle of it. And she, who is trying to maintain a calm equilibrium, still speaks with softness in each syllable yet fast phrases. — “Tell me you are alright, please.” — C'mon, stay with me. A thousand of pleas coming from her lungs that ache in her throat, without vibrating and making themselves known. She is sure there are other plenty of souls worrying over her, too.
The ambush no one expected. The turn of events in an easy going trip to Auguste, where she had already had a slight fear of the salty waters but a true love for the beach fauna, and so she paraded with the others across a tightrope, balancing between danger and promise. Could the ocean hurt you? was a question from her friends that was met with equal unknowing; an unsettling feeling to have while on a simple vacation. But with how the air from the shores scratched her nose, and how those sandy beaches made her remember deserts vacant of life, it was safe to assume that it’s contents were at least not good for her and her heart was at unease. There’s an attempt to study the palm trees nearby; perhaps gain an affinity and strength towards this ocean, with fascination for Joel’s description of seaweed furthering a growing hope that she could get rid of fear and fatal wounds, while acquiring a use for a swimsuit graciously picked out by friends.
Alas, such hopes were dashed, and the start of learning halted entirely, when her fears were ultimately realized. The beach was not her forte for fighting, slipping in soft sands and not being able to use her powers at all, so as to be relegated to the useless beachgoers that the crew now protected. Her task was then calming, reassurance, and guidance away from the fighting and towards safer destinations. But a woman about to be caught in the crosshairs didn’t go unnoticed, her own scream piercing the busy night, and there was barely enough time to push her away from the crab’s sucker punch —
Flying into stars. Falling into calm darkness. Suffocation and struggle as she sank. Gasping for the oxygen she desperately craved; gulping in waters that, instead of nurturing though possibly oversaturating her, burned and broke every fiber of her being. It was pure agony. Where infertile lands let even the air sting her eyes, this ocean cut out her vocal cords. Yet both treacherous environments made her stiffen; not able to move; feeling cracks as deep as her core slowly break her apart, yet even as she faded she knew this intake of salt possibly hurt her so literally —
When Crystal cradled her out of the poisonous drink, all signs of life seemed gone. Lifelessly heavy but stiff as a board; the green in her being shriveled to a dead brown except for faint spots, soft skin now coarse and even flaking. Excess water leaked from her mouth, but all the rest soaked into her body. It’s only when her exposure to air is realized that her glazed-over eyes get some recognition back, but her only actions upon being revived the littlest amount is coughing up — throwing up; ejecting however possible — the dark abyss from her now fragile body, convulsing to each horrific beat of the action’s drum. Crystal’s clothes are griped as tightly as she could muster while doing so, but that’s only truly a soft lifeline that could flatline at any moment. Nevertheless, even as her strength was so very limited, Crystal is still held onto for dear life. No words can leave her broken and salt-hardened lips, and consciousness could still barely register this world around her, all of the bad ocean still clogging her veins and clinging to her skin to prevent anything else. But she hoped her tiny grip conveyed a simple message: She wanted out of here, and she wanted to live, for she now felt this whole island was now destined to kill her off.