
Originally Posted by
Yutuyu
This is a very short snippet where a character winds up stranded and wounded in Al'Taieu and observes his strange surroundings while slowly dying from his wounds.
Enjoy ripping it (and me) to pieces.
***
Orc looked better than Lumorian. At least Orc resembled meat and stopped moving after being severed. Lumorian organs kept convulsing for hours after their decapitation, seemingly unaware that they should be dead.
His wounds prevented him from actually hunting a Lumorian. The best he could do was set up a lame trap and hope the creature would fall into it. He learned two things. One, the Aerns weren't beasts, couldn't be, they saw right through his pathetic attempts at tricking them into killing themselves. Two, only the Hpemde were that dumb.
They'd run straight into a wall if the bait was right. Unconscious they weren't very formidable opponents, weak enough that he managed to take one down in his faltering state. But he couldn't bring himself to consume any of the beast, even when it finally stopped moving.
The water wasn't much better. It was different from its counterpart on Vana'diel, so much infact that he wasn't even sure that it was water. After a few attempts to drink it to prevent dehydration he gave up.
There was no dusk or dawn in Al'Taieu, no measure of time. The only indication that it passed at all was his quickly worsening state. When his wounds stopped stinging he didn't revel in his new-found relief, the numbness had already set in mentally and physically. He'd stare at the shining pastel sky for what seemed like hours waiting for a miracle.
Sometime after he'd given up hope of eating, drinking, or being rescued the irony of the situation set in. Long ago it'd been his dream to come here, to be be accepted in Al'Taieu. It finally came true, and now he was going to die there. In what he assumed were his last hours he pieced together the final fragments of his life before, scrawled a note on his last piece of parchment, and closed his eyes.