Waiting for...whatever [OPEN]

[Zana Rinne]

Zana pulled a lock of dark red hair with a slow sigh as she poured a bowl of hot soup for herself. She then went to sit on her bed beside the window, staring out of it absentmindedly. She was waiting...although she didn't know what for. An answer, a new question, an exit...the three of them? It was too much to think about.

She stared out at the sunset unemotionally. She'd already torn the same questions apart in her mind over and over again and nothing would come to aid her to answer them. All she really wanted was to get out; find a way to defend her home...also see something diferent. It had been one of the dreams she'd forgotten from when she was a child, before it all...fell.

It hurt; not remembering...it made her want to do smething stupid. Run away. Scream. Avoid everything and just step away. Anything. The feeling of impotence made her almost desperate; a painful knot swelled up in her throat and her eyes started to prick almost as if they were dry.

That was what one felt when wanting to cry.

She'd already shed too many tears though; so she didn't. Instead she went on looking out the window; giving an empty look toward the sky and the sea.

[zid]

[OOC: Sorry it's so long! Got carried away.]

The world was too hard and gritty under him, and the surf too loud. It was in part because Zidane had never lived by the ocean and certainly never fallen asleep there. He dragged himself to his feet, silencing the echoes of a dream or nightmare, and brushed clumped sand off one bared arm and the slightly damp vest and slacks.

And he stopped, looking out at the ocean. There was something nostalgic about it, but the trick to nostalgia is one only remembers bits and pieces. Even once he found his soft blue light, Zidane didn't and would never fully recognize it. Those memories were fractured, and yet he kept feeling he'd find the fractured world in them--whether he kept searching pointlessly or not.

Speaking of points, this was not the house with Satan-cat. How did that work? He didn't remember getting knocked out or sent flying, so how'd he ended up here? Maybe the magic had just worn off. After all, this could be the same world, even if the houses in the distance didn't look nearly as affluent as the one he'd been in.

Whatever the case, it didn't help to stand on the beach and theorize, so he sent the remainder of the sand back to its place with a rippling kind of shiver like a dog flinging water everywhere--if not that primal--and set off. If he'd wanted to he could've sought out a trail leading back to the village from the beach, but Zidane didn't feel like sparing even that much time. He had to get home, after all, and back to Dagger, so the sooner he knew where he was the sooner he could pull together some provisions and get going.

That meant Zidane tromped freely through the tall grass in front of the sand and discovered burrs.

They were no match for his boots, and for the most part they only caught in the loose fabric of his trousers, but his tail and arms were completely exposed to their nasty little hooks. He felt the first one at his bicep--turned sharply, felt another catch near the base of his tail--whirled, two more at his wrist--and once he realized the damn things were everywhere he yelped and drilled through the remaining grassland with his daggers, leaving a haphazard path of burr-littered destruction in his wake.

It worked, though! At the end of it he had markedly fewer casualties hooked into his flesh than he would have by trudging forward or back. It still amounted to about eight flinches and curses; Zidane could take a battalion of monsters any day, but nothing bothered him quite like having to yank something out of himself that had done him harm. When he was little, getting a splinter meant Baku got a black eye and Zidane got two.

Tossing the last burr over his shoulder and making a face at it, Zidane brushed the tiny spots of blood off his arms knowing they'd return and looked to the village again. He didn't see anyone bustling around immediately, but a flicker of blackish red caught his eye and he met the gaze of a girl staring out her window. "Hmm?"

[Zana Rinne]

((OOC: Lol it's ok << I can't manage long posts >//< *fails*))

This was the world she knew. It was home. It might be tiny in comparison to the rest of the worlds, but it was home. She would very much regret leaving it. It was the one place she'd defend with claws and teeth if need be. But she couldn't do anything. She was just one person. No matter how much people said that 'one person could make a difference', she was not that one person. Damn.

There was nothing much to do at this time of the day. Then again, there was never anything to do at all. Or maybe she hadn't looked enough. Zana admitted, she was too caught up trying to figure out her past. But there was nothing else for her to do, it intrigued her and continued to eat at her most of the time. It was pretty damn annoying. But what else was she supposed to do? Go and pretend that nothing had happened? And go on without knowing anything about herself? Yeah, right.

Her reverie was broken when she allowed her gaze to wander around and she spotted someone staring at her. Someone whom she didn't know. Her expression didn't change; not the slightest. But she did rise her voice to speak.

"Who are you?"

[zid]

[OOC: Pfft, I just get lucky sometimes. Long posts can be tough.]

He hadn't meant to stare, and when she didn't look surprised or much of anything he thought she was looking right through him. Then she talked, though, and he couldn't really pick up anything from her disposition. Was she drugged? Probably just stern, he better not waste her time--cute as she was--but aside from all of that Zidane needed information first.

"Oh, sorry! I guess I should've expected a pretty face in a place like this. I'm Zidane." First name basis wouldn't reveal anything he couldn't afford to. After all, strange place, strange girl--probably harmless, but he'd open up later.

In passing, he thought that was kind of odd of him...wasn't it? Shouldn't he be giving his name out unthinkingly? It wasn't like anyone had a warrant out for his arrest--that he knew of.

"I'm just passing through, but--uh, so...could you tell me where I am? I guess I got lost on the way over." In a manner of speaking. He could make up a wild tale about a boat crashing on the beach if it came to that, but he was just asking for directions now.