Alone at last.Â
Berrod barely waited for the bathroom door to shut properly before shucking off the damp, salty leathers that clung to his clammy skin. A steady frown was stamped onto his lips; it was standard fare whenever he took a bath, but tonight's expression bore the weight of haunted haggardness. The gloves flopped onto the floor, the coat was shed carelessly and his boots kicked off. Trousers and smallclothes followed, all damp, salty, and with that slight, sickening smell of seaweed. He'd have to either charm or bully the inn girl into laundering them for him later.Â
Under normal circumstances the Highlander would have nothing of a bath after being thoroughly soaked, but tonight the smell of the sea offended him. He needed to get rid of it, or he wouldn't have a sound sleep for the night -- of that he was certain. With a scowl back at the pile of wet clothing, Berrod approached the tub.Â
It was a nice wooden one, deep and with a pump for hot water regulated by a few fire crystals. Berrod leaned over the edge and cranked the mechanism rapidly -- he really wanted to get the bath over with as soon as possible. With a gurgle the water sputtered and began pouring into the tub, immediately raising a light steam. The mere sight of it caused the ruddy hairs on the back of Berrod's neck to stand on end, but he ignored the discomfort after attributing it to his exhaustion.Â
He wanted it hot, but not too hot. It wouldn't do for him to just start sweating right after a bath, after all. His muscular arm went down into the water to slosh around and gauge the temperature. Good enough. The water rolled back and forth and lapped against the edge of the tub.
A wall of thundering indigo that rises to the skies and approaches at a speed that means certain death...
Berrod blinked and clutched the edge of the tub with white knuckles, quite unable to explain the sudden, cold fist that gripped his heart and forced his breathing to come in short gasps. As always, his pride insisted that he was never beyond instant recovery and sought to disregard the alarming reaction. Cursing and grumbling under his breath, the Highlander lifted a leg to begin climbing into the tub.
A harrowing roar sounds, and a wet mass crashes against the steel, twisting the railings and tilting the vessel. He can't do anything as he slides down, down toward the deep blue sea...
Berrod's back hit the floor with a painful thud that only intensified the horrible confusion that gripped him. Again it was hard to breathe normally, and his heart hammered in his chest. A sickening dizziness took to his gut and he retched. Fortunately, dinner had been skipped on account of a possible rough ride at sea. It was somewhat difficult to ignore that particular instance of panic -- which only surged as he stood and looked at the half filled tub. The water...terrified him. It terrified him and he didn't understand why. The Lord of the Whorl had been vanquished, and he was safe in Ul'Dah once more. Still -- a sudden and clear preference was given to smelling a little like sea-weed.
He stopped the water pump and reached down to unplug the tub, watching with satisfaction as the liquid swirled down the drain.Â
The water surrounds them all, a closed cylinder of shadowy liquid death as high as the eye could see, closing in to end them all. The dark, serpentine figure swam around in circles, each fleeting circuit marking a countdown to the end...
A gutteral cry left Berrod's lips as he stumbled backward and fell again, this time with his back to the bathroom door. It was so hard to breathe, and his chest hurt. His stomach kept clenching -- he was sure that he'd throw up if there was anything in it. Every limb shook like a leaf in the wind.
Suddenly, unbidden, the pump began pouring water again, dark and indigo. The sound of straining glass drew his attention to the small, rectangular bathroom window. Instead of the usual sight of the starry night sky, it was deep blue and swirled with a distinct current. Cracks spidered along the glass.Â
The tub started to overflow and the deep blue liquid rapidly spread to the floor. Through the debilitating panic, the need for action struck Berrod into motion. He needed to get out of the room, and soon. Caring nothing for his nudity he stood on shaking legs to face the door -- just as a crash and thundering roar signaled the breaking of the window. A jet of dark blue poured into the room in a great deluge -- it wouldn't be long until the place was flooded. Without hesitation, the Highlander moved to wrench the door open.
The door handle broke off in his hand, and the door remained steady on it's frame. Dark water poured from the hole the handle had broken open. Deep blue began leaking at the door's frames, running down with a sinister trickle. The thundering flood had not abated from the window -- already the water was at his hips, and the wood of the door creaked with strain.Â
Berrod lost himself to terror. All he could do was desperately place his hands on the wet door as the water lapped at his navel. His forehead joined his palms as he murmured in a trembling plea.
"P-please. Please lemme wake up. Please..."
Berrod barely waited for the bathroom door to shut properly before shucking off the damp, salty leathers that clung to his clammy skin. A steady frown was stamped onto his lips; it was standard fare whenever he took a bath, but tonight's expression bore the weight of haunted haggardness. The gloves flopped onto the floor, the coat was shed carelessly and his boots kicked off. Trousers and smallclothes followed, all damp, salty, and with that slight, sickening smell of seaweed. He'd have to either charm or bully the inn girl into laundering them for him later.Â
Under normal circumstances the Highlander would have nothing of a bath after being thoroughly soaked, but tonight the smell of the sea offended him. He needed to get rid of it, or he wouldn't have a sound sleep for the night -- of that he was certain. With a scowl back at the pile of wet clothing, Berrod approached the tub.Â
It was a nice wooden one, deep and with a pump for hot water regulated by a few fire crystals. Berrod leaned over the edge and cranked the mechanism rapidly -- he really wanted to get the bath over with as soon as possible. With a gurgle the water sputtered and began pouring into the tub, immediately raising a light steam. The mere sight of it caused the ruddy hairs on the back of Berrod's neck to stand on end, but he ignored the discomfort after attributing it to his exhaustion.Â
He wanted it hot, but not too hot. It wouldn't do for him to just start sweating right after a bath, after all. His muscular arm went down into the water to slosh around and gauge the temperature. Good enough. The water rolled back and forth and lapped against the edge of the tub.
A wall of thundering indigo that rises to the skies and approaches at a speed that means certain death...
Berrod blinked and clutched the edge of the tub with white knuckles, quite unable to explain the sudden, cold fist that gripped his heart and forced his breathing to come in short gasps. As always, his pride insisted that he was never beyond instant recovery and sought to disregard the alarming reaction. Cursing and grumbling under his breath, the Highlander lifted a leg to begin climbing into the tub.
A harrowing roar sounds, and a wet mass crashes against the steel, twisting the railings and tilting the vessel. He can't do anything as he slides down, down toward the deep blue sea...
Berrod's back hit the floor with a painful thud that only intensified the horrible confusion that gripped him. Again it was hard to breathe normally, and his heart hammered in his chest. A sickening dizziness took to his gut and he retched. Fortunately, dinner had been skipped on account of a possible rough ride at sea. It was somewhat difficult to ignore that particular instance of panic -- which only surged as he stood and looked at the half filled tub. The water...terrified him. It terrified him and he didn't understand why. The Lord of the Whorl had been vanquished, and he was safe in Ul'Dah once more. Still -- a sudden and clear preference was given to smelling a little like sea-weed.
He stopped the water pump and reached down to unplug the tub, watching with satisfaction as the liquid swirled down the drain.Â
The water surrounds them all, a closed cylinder of shadowy liquid death as high as the eye could see, closing in to end them all. The dark, serpentine figure swam around in circles, each fleeting circuit marking a countdown to the end...
A gutteral cry left Berrod's lips as he stumbled backward and fell again, this time with his back to the bathroom door. It was so hard to breathe, and his chest hurt. His stomach kept clenching -- he was sure that he'd throw up if there was anything in it. Every limb shook like a leaf in the wind.
Suddenly, unbidden, the pump began pouring water again, dark and indigo. The sound of straining glass drew his attention to the small, rectangular bathroom window. Instead of the usual sight of the starry night sky, it was deep blue and swirled with a distinct current. Cracks spidered along the glass.Â
The tub started to overflow and the deep blue liquid rapidly spread to the floor. Through the debilitating panic, the need for action struck Berrod into motion. He needed to get out of the room, and soon. Caring nothing for his nudity he stood on shaking legs to face the door -- just as a crash and thundering roar signaled the breaking of the window. A jet of dark blue poured into the room in a great deluge -- it wouldn't be long until the place was flooded. Without hesitation, the Highlander moved to wrench the door open.
The door handle broke off in his hand, and the door remained steady on it's frame. Dark water poured from the hole the handle had broken open. Deep blue began leaking at the door's frames, running down with a sinister trickle. The thundering flood had not abated from the window -- already the water was at his hips, and the wood of the door creaked with strain.Â
Berrod lost himself to terror. All he could do was desperately place his hands on the wet door as the water lapped at his navel. His forehead joined his palms as he murmured in a trembling plea.
"P-please. Please lemme wake up. Please..."
![[Image: tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/80be4033cdf57fb6268473ef9ce37db6/tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png)
