Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

The Skies Over the ...
 
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The Skies Over the Aniada Sea


Irihi
(@irihi)
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The skies over the Vericule off Aniada are as changeable as the waters. Days can be clear with benign puffs of cumulus or the winds can be whipped into a frenzy by great towering stormclouds.

In the northern reaches, frigid winds blow incessantly and great mists can overspread and hide the cold waters.

To the south the sun warms the waters, but great swirling storms sometimes appear, filled with lightning and powerful winds.


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Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 4 months ago
Posts: 196
Journey starter  

(OOC: Miiya Aether)

From: The Skies Above the Mountains Ethereal

Miiya had sprinted until the world had retreated into a long grey tunnel and the thundering of her heart against her ribs began to stutter. Her lungs burned. Her skin was on fire from the cold, even with her altitude gear shielding her from the most deadly of its icy fingers. It had been an hour, perhaps, of pumping for all she was worth. She was higher, but not much higher. Enough, she judged, to now beat her way to the next stormtop. The anvils of the great storm, spinning and churning at the edge of the cold front, stretched out before her in an endless progression. She must overfly them all. To Storm's End.

Below and behind there was no sign of Aerie, or land or even ocean. Just clouds; boiling stormclouds below, white streaks of cirrostratus in the polar jetstream above. She was somewhere in the jet. Not at the core; that was too high for any living thing, but she was as high and as fast in it as she could fly, and it was carrying her away from the island and out over the deadly cloud-hidden sea.

Gliding is death.

Higher.

Faster.


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Irihi
(@irihi)
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Posts: 196
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(OOC: Miiya Aether)

Miiya choked down the last dregs of the Freet and dropped the waterskein. She did not feel lighter. She did not feel stronger. Her arms and legs were lead, dragging her down toward death. Her wings were wooden planks, unresponsive, unfeeling, useless. She forced them to beat, regardless.

Sprint higher. Never stop. Never stop. Never stop.

Everything was numb with the cold. A cone of solid ice had formed on her mask when she had grown too exhausted to even raise an arm to knock it away. Now it was as much a part of her as her eyes or teeth, frozen to the skin of her face where mask and goggles met. She would have prayed that her freezing breath would not seal it over, but she could only focus on two words.

Higher.

Faster.


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Irihi
(@irihi)
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Joined: 4 months ago
Posts: 196
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(OOC: Miiya Aether)

 

She had been sprinting for hours now. Hours. A lifetime ago, when the sun had set, she had still had the capacity for fear. Fear that the starlight would not be enough. That she was blind flying off course and into the sea. Now, she didn't care.

Higher.

Faster.

The merciless train of stormtops glittered in the cruel starlight, clear as a crystal dagger. Even her sharp eyesight--dulled now by hypoxia--gave no sign of the endless storm ever ceasing. It was an hour to sprint between stormtops, climbing for all she was worth, but still feeling the air thicken, slow, as she could not help but descend between the towering updrafts. Then another half hour of sprinting atop the storms, only the great upward energy of the squall enough to push her back into the jetstream. Her wings, her pitiable strength, were nothing, and even they were fading.

She was going to drown. One dip into a stormtop, one gust of icy air settling in her wings. That was all it would take to kill her.

Higher.

Faster.


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Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 4 months ago
Posts: 196
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(OOC: Miiya Aether)

 

 The dawn stabbed into her oxygen-deprived brain. Or was it another hallucination?

Higher.

Faster.

No. This might really be the sunrise. Instead cotton-candy cloud swirls, like her earlier visions, the storm below was inky black. Only the tiny speck of an Aeros girl was high enough to be in the sunlight above the limb of the worlde.

High...

The rising sun shone off the great metal wing, like an immense sword cutting through the evil traitorous air that no one could breath. Miiya squinted and pulled down the shade before turning to the handsome Uman in the immaculate uniform. "I'll have the omlett, please."

She tasted blood and Jambora as her fingers smeared the paste against her gums of their own accord. The nonsensical hallucination of a flying metal house filled with warm sweet air vanished and her mind sharpened.

Higher!Faster!Higher!Faster!Higher!Faster!

Calm! Her heart was going to explode. Literally going to explode! Long breath through the sinus. Taste it. Haven't lost too much altitude... You can still climb out of this...

Higher.

Faster.

One goggle was fogged and broken where she had smashed it along with the suffocating mask of ice. Her core was so cold that her breath froze immediately now. She could see only from one eye, but it didn't matter. Distance didn't matter. The storm would never end. She would fly through this frozen hell forever. At least the cold didn't hurt any more. In fact, she felt warm. The Jambora tube was swallowed down by the cruel sky. It was as empty as she.

Higher.

Faster.

She had dropped her last Freet skein while it was still half-full. It had frozen solid. Her body had no warmth to keep it liquid. Hadn't seen that coming. Wish I hadn't carried it for so many hours.

Higher.

Faster.

She couldn't feel anything. The sky had devoured her. She was nothing now. One eye worth of sight and the pain of exhaustion that had become her whole identity. No other feelings. No other thoughts. Nothing ahead but endless stormtops. She would just disappear into the jet stream. Her eyes ground dryly against their sockets as she looked to make sure her wings still pumped for altitude. She couldn't feel them or any other part of herself.

Higher.

Faster.


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Irihi
(@irihi)
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Posts: 196
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(OOC: Miiya Aether)

 

 Higher.
Faster.

It was mid-morning, or maybe mid-afternoon. She had blacked out more than once today. Without the Jambora paste, with her body so cold, even the evolutionary advantages of the Aeros were failing her. The tiny bit of oxygen at this altitude wasn't getting into her thickened blood. That sluggish blood wasn't reaching her brain in sufficient amounts. Only her flight muscles, wrapped around heart and lungs and first to be fed, still scavenged enough oxygen and glucose to keep moving. Her knuckles were bloodied and broken from smashing away the choking ice mask from her exhalations.

Higher.

It hurt to turn even her eyes to see her wing. It did not move. No downbeat.
Higher.

Her wing shuddered, then went limp and spilled the thin air keeping her aloft. Her flight muscles finally failed.

Falling.

She was over a stormtop, then she was in it. A world of white and grey, fading to black. Then slowly swimming back to grey as she involuntarily rolled heads-down and a bit of oxygenated blood reached her brain.

Glide or die.

Her wings, fluttering in the slipstream, were as useless as rags. As she fell to lower altitudes, her perceptions sharpened slightly. GLIDE! There was not even an ounce of strength left in her flight muscles. Her wings would not move. She rolled and reached with her arms, caught hold of one wing, and jammed it into place, locking the joint into its boney crown. Stay! She rolled the other way until the slipstream aided her, and managed to lock her left wing in place. She wasn't gliding, but at least she wasn't in free-fall any longer.

The icy mist of the stormcloud had turned to snow and it blinded her. She swiped a raw knuckle across her goggles. Nothing to see. She breathed deep into her sinuses. Descending too fast, but still high. A gust buffeted her, and knocked her limp wings out of alignment. She fell into an uncontrolled tumble.
Three times more, she managed to ram her wing roots back into glide alignment, only to be knocked out of trim by the storm. Then, she fell through the bottom of the cloud deck.

(OOC: To Kiana - North Hampshire)


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