18

[asea]

Who: Walter and anyone
Where: Island
When: 5th, morning
Style: Either
Status: Open

[The change is gradual and starts with faint discomfort when it actually affects him. The onset of something more severe begins much later.

Walter glimpses the network between then: I believe this week some of you might begin feeling a little chilly if you don't have physical contact with someone. He throws the communicator aside after that, and ignores the clatter of the thing against a table as he folds his arms.

He endures through Thursday, but by Friday, his senses have dulled and he doesn't quite see it or his paling complexion.

Something compels him to visit the island that morning. His gait on the way is more languid than that of his usual march, and he moves with a deaf ear to his surroundings, his inattentiveness being cause for the rare bump (or close call) into another denizen of Vatheon. But he cares little for the error and moves on without so much as a glance when it happens. He's strong yet – there's nary a stumble throughout the whole ordeal.

When he reaches shore, Walter sits where the tides reach. Perhaps it is against his better judgment, but his mind is a haze and why should he not sit there in the seawater? It belongs to the sea. He belongs to the sea.

His head rolls to the side in a fit of exhaustion, his ear brushing against the fabric of his attire. He's tired. Odd, considering he has neither fought nor trained recently, and he should be accustomed to a few hours of sleep; but he's tired nonetheless, the feeling reminding him of another time . . . a time he can't recall . . .]

Comments

[seaborg]

[It had taken longer than he would have liked for Pyunma to make his way up to finally visit the island. He'd been in Vatheon for more than a week, after all. But between meeting with his comrades and finding his way around the underwater city, he hadn't had the time to come up and properly explore both the island and the mostly-empty village on top of it.

His first impression, when he emerges from the elevator, is that it's very much like the small islands he and the other cyborgs have visited before. A beach, a forest, some cliffs- the thing that's different from the islands he usually visits is the village. But the village will still be there, so he starts his exploration with the beach.

And here he encounters another unexpected sight, a person sitting in the sand. At first, he intends to leave him to it, but when he sees that this person is sitting within the reach of the water, and seems strangely listless, he approaches.]

Are you alright?

[shirleyhopeful]

[Despite feeling extremely cold, Shirley still managed to find a way to get to the island. Right now, the only thing she needed was warmth and the island seemed like good idea at first.

However, as time passed, it was starting become clear that it wasn't working. Even with the blankets on her, she was still shivering. Was this really the coral's plan? To freeze everyone to death?

Before she could even finish her thoughts, she managed to find someone else on the island. That outfit...it couldn't be...!]

Walter?! [In that moment, she momentary forgot what she was doing. All that mattered was her friend guardian.] Walter, what's wrong? Are you okay?

[contemptibility]

[And from a small distance behind him—]

You're only going to get colder like that.

[tsundyne]

[It's not an entirely difficult concept to grasp, but it certainly doesn't make it any less inconvenient, either: at least for this week, physical contact = warmth. Maybe it was stupid of her too, to think that being on the beach might help matters, but at this point, she has to do something. Her teeth chatter, and when she breathes, it feels like she should be seeing smoke; but when she doesn't, she just keeps walking, with the sun doing nothing to warm her.

She comes across a familiar blond figure who seems to be minding his own business -- and really, she wants to do the same. Out of some morbid curiosity, though (and perhaps against her better judgment), she also ventures out far enough to wear the water comes in to drench her feet.

And they feel like icicles not long afterwards.

Stumbling, she hurriedly scrambles backwards in the direction she came as the tide "chases" her -- and just as it goes out again, she plops into the sand.

Yeah. Ow. Real graceful.]