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neverfirstclassOn the bright side, Cloud hadn't thrown up when the ship went down. Of all the things that went wrong that day, at least the fortitude of his stomach remained intact.
He'd braced himself for impact and after that it was fuzzy. Dream and memory intermingled. When he and the other Heroes blacked out and later he wouldn't be able to recall which parts actually happened and which were just projected assumption. He even thought he saw Zack running around on the deck trying to help, as absurd as that mental image of a chocobo trying to help keep an airship in flight was.
The next thing he was aware of was the feeling of thick water lapping against the side of his head. That and a sense of cloying scruffiness around his face. Grunting, he pushed himself up to sitting, half in and half out of some water. The dry ground wasn't very much so, more mud. Looking around blearily he could make out shapes moving in the fog around him. Things slipped into focus bit by bit from there. This was a swamp of some sort, or a marsh, whatever. Same difference.
Next he noticed three bodies laying near him; Reno, Johnny and another he knew was a fellow Hero but didn't really know by name. Dylan or something? His mind more latched onto the fact that the way they were laying was that it was almost like Johnny and Reno were reaching for each other.
The last thing to shuffle into focus were the shapes moving in the distance. They were a bit far off, too far, hopefully, to see or smell or hear them...but there were Malboros sloshing through the marshwater and mud in every direction.
He'd braced himself for impact and after that it was fuzzy. Dream and memory intermingled. When he and the other Heroes blacked out and later he wouldn't be able to recall which parts actually happened and which were just projected assumption. He even thought he saw Zack running around on the deck trying to help, as absurd as that mental image of a chocobo trying to help keep an airship in flight was.
The next thing he was aware of was the feeling of thick water lapping against the side of his head. That and a sense of cloying scruffiness around his face. Grunting, he pushed himself up to sitting, half in and half out of some water. The dry ground wasn't very much so, more mud. Looking around blearily he could make out shapes moving in the fog around him. Things slipped into focus bit by bit from there. This was a swamp of some sort, or a marsh, whatever. Same difference.
Next he noticed three bodies laying near him; Reno, Johnny and another he knew was a fellow Hero but didn't really know by name. Dylan or something? His mind more latched onto the fact that the way they were laying was that it was almost like Johnny and Reno were reaching for each other.
The last thing to shuffle into focus were the shapes moving in the distance. They were a bit far off, too far, hopefully, to see or smell or hear them...but there were Malboros sloshing through the marshwater and mud in every direction.
