#modwork

LIVE

He woke with a cough and sputter, groaning as his senses returned to him. Ocean air, damp and briny, stung his nose when he could actually breathe. Nonetheless, it was refreshing enough and he took a deep breath in an attempt to revitalize himself. Though he could feel the distant sunlight on his face, the comforting warmth on his closed eyes, his soaked armor made his limbs deadweight and he even struggled lifting only a hand to wipe away the grit he felt on his cheek. The god furrowed his brow feeling the water from his fingers seep into and sting scrapes he had not realized were there. Wet and miserable, he made a strangled howl like that of a forlorn dog and finally opened his eyes.

Blue skies greeted him, skies so bright that he winced and had to squint until his golden eyes could better adjust to the light. While he blinked away some of his exhaustion, his fingers dug into the wet sand his body had washed upon. The cool and malleable graininess comforted him, grounding him and reminding him that somehow he was alive. Listening to the roll of distant waves, the god sighed and recalled what had happened before he lost consciousness and drifted ashore. He cursed himself for being so foolish. He was fortunate to be alive in the first place, to apparently have nothing in terms of broken limbs either, after trying to fly through a storm like that- Damn.

“C-Cade! Caderyn!!” Swallowing thickly, he realized how parched his throat was. His voice truly sounded hoarse and pathetic trying to call out for his traveling companion.

He was afraid he would not get an answer back. His fears over what had happened to the stormdrake churned through his thoughts amidst the developing throb of a headache. Where could he be? The two of them had fared well through rain and thunder before, but had never flown through such a tempestuous hurricane, especially over the vastless expanse of the ocean. He mouthed a silent prayer. Surely the currents had been merciful to the stormdrake as they had been to the god.

Not hearing any telltale chuffs, the god wearily turned over to a side, propping an elbow down in the sand to look around. Birds he had never seen before tilted their beaks at him in curiosity. They squabbled and squawked at him from their rocky perches before waddling away. Following their movement, he could see something glowing far beyond the distant cliffs, a hint of something grand and divine in this unfamiliar land. He was sure that glow belonged to a power entirely different from what he had witnessed in his homeland, amongst the godkin of Anor Londo. And yet… He felt compelled to see the light for himself.

Wanting at last to find a more comfortable retreat, the god struggled to stand to his feet, the weight of his waterlogged scarf and armor not lost to him. He brought out his swordspear, expanding it to its full length and size, and hoisted himself steady to let the sun warm his back. Relief soon enough steeped into his body with the sunlight.

Though he was grateful that his weapon had not been lost during the storm, the god much rather preferred the company of the stormdrake. After all, a mere blade could not provide friendship and comraderie. Through countless excursions, meanwhile, god and dragon had become inseparable. Demonstrating such heartfelt loyalty to each other had been unfathomable, of course, with them having been bitter enemies long ago. Thusly, he refused to let despair choke his heart. Silent prayers were made once more. Should good fortune continue to shine upon him, as it had helped the god survive so far along his exile, he would find his traveling companion safe and well.