[Each moment spent in this 'resort' wills another mystery into the back of his mind. These swirling questions lead to fewer answers - especially with the general sense of deference found amongst many of the resort goers. Such a blanket of condonation is a vibrant Red Flag Number 1 in the supernatural hunter's handbook, for those keeping score. Nevermind the more obvious red flags such as curses, aggressive birdmen, and the lingering touches of specters..
These strange circumstances leaves Baptiste to lean on his more foundational lessons: Don't Be Obvious(as supernatural beings tend to hate whenever humans try to blatantly pull back the veil of trickery and influence) and Absorb Everything. The recall of even the smallest detail could save a man's life - and so Baptiste explores, participates, and intermingles in hopes of flying under the radar while he finds his footing.
And thus, the spirit of inquiry is what pushes him past the line of safety in this vast 'ocean.' A quick dip under the surface to avoid the prying eyes of power-tripping gullguards before he would crest the surface once more an continue his observations of just what might be worth hiding in this place that had so clearlty spirited him away. Or rather, that was the intention. Yet as Baptiste's head breaks the surface of the water, there is a rush of power around him that begins to pull him in the direction of the depths. Sea water forces its way into his sinuses as the man quickly turns to try and swim against the increasing rush of a riptide towards... The water continues its pull as if Baptiste wasn't attempting to tear his way out of it. Limbs attempt to swim in a way to cut the current, and yet with each intention to change direction - the rushing tide tosses him like a rag doll.
Overexertion begins to settle in the man's muscles as he chokes against another wave of water that overtakes his head. His own thrashing and fighting keeps him from registering the roaring sound of tumbling water or the drop until it is far too late. The sea water overtakes him, sending his body plunging over the edge. Darkness quickly begins to overtake from the corners of his eyes and Baptiste grits his teeth as he prepares for impact.
He won't die. He can't die. Not just y-
The downward trajectory of his body is suddenly stopped not by a violent collision in the dark - but instead something incredibly inhuman grasping him at the waist. Just as Baptiste's body begins to wrench, ready to fight against whatever monster came out of the dark to grasp him - he hears a gentle voice that dampens his fight response. Aching muscles comply with the request before he speaks.]
That. That makes two of us I think! [His words are tinged manic, his smile not yet one of relief. Instead his smile is interrupted by a violent sputtering as his body rejects the very notion of talking just quite yet.
It is clear by the look in his eyes that he's fighting for consciousness - having been so gently plucked a black-out. He squints to get a better idea of just what had saved him (and if he were truly saved) - yet his swimming vision makes it an impossible task for the moment.]
III - (Not) Tumbling Down
These strange circumstances leaves Baptiste to lean on his more foundational lessons: Don't Be Obvious(as supernatural beings tend to hate whenever humans try to blatantly pull back the veil of trickery and influence) and Absorb Everything. The recall of even the smallest detail could save a man's life - and so Baptiste explores, participates, and intermingles in hopes of flying under the radar while he finds his footing.
And thus, the spirit of inquiry is what pushes him past the line of safety in this vast 'ocean.' A quick dip under the surface to avoid the prying eyes of power-tripping gullguards before he would crest the surface once more an continue his observations of just what might be worth hiding in this place that had so clearlty spirited him away. Or rather, that was the intention. Yet as Baptiste's head breaks the surface of the water, there is a rush of power around him that begins to pull him in the direction of the depths. Sea water forces its way into his sinuses as the man quickly turns to try and swim against the increasing rush of a riptide towards... The water continues its pull as if Baptiste wasn't attempting to tear his way out of it. Limbs attempt to swim in a way to cut the current, and yet with each intention to change direction - the rushing tide tosses him like a rag doll.
Overexertion begins to settle in the man's muscles as he chokes against another wave of water that overtakes his head. His own thrashing and fighting keeps him from registering the roaring sound of tumbling water or the drop until it is far too late. The sea water overtakes him, sending his body plunging over the edge. Darkness quickly begins to overtake from the corners of his eyes and Baptiste grits his teeth as he prepares for impact.
He won't die. He can't die. Not just y-
The downward trajectory of his body is suddenly stopped not by a violent collision in the dark - but instead something incredibly inhuman grasping him at the waist. Just as Baptiste's body begins to wrench, ready to fight against whatever monster came out of the dark to grasp him - he hears a gentle voice that dampens his fight response. Aching muscles comply with the request before he speaks.]
That. That makes two of us I think! [His words are tinged manic, his smile not yet one of relief. Instead his smile is interrupted by a violent sputtering as his body rejects the very notion of talking just quite yet.
It is clear by the look in his eyes that he's fighting for consciousness - having been so gently plucked a black-out. He squints to get a better idea of just what had saved him (and if he were truly saved) - yet his swimming vision makes it an impossible task for the moment.]