Homeworld Visit: 24th October 2020 (Backdate)
Shrieks filled his ears, unbridled screams of pain and agony before his vision cleared. He was in another dream, one in the midst of those looming things within the arena that had caused him such concern when he had first seen them. Whatever his former life's species were, they seemed to be horribly inclined towards gruesome trials that tested the endurance, agility and adaptability of their kind and the consequences of failing seemed to be lethal.
Before him he saw the swinging wood crash against one of his 'kin' thrusting them unceremoniously into the chasm beneath them. He dared not looking down but the sickening crack of ribs had made it abundantly clear that it hadn't been pleasant, at least...not to him.
Alas, that sudden distraction was enough to punish him, one should never lose focus in these things and as his gaze swung back to the path ahead he was greeted with a punishment of his own. It was one he had seen too slowly and simply couldn't move fast enough to get away from it. Within seconds the blades had descended upon him and though he had managed to plunge away from them his choice had not been a favourable one for his youngling self had suffered the same fate as his kin and fallen into the depths of the chasm.
...But if he had died so early than how was it that he was the so-called champion of his home?
Whispers filled his ears and he caught sight of an adult in the distance on the chasm walls; a single thrust of their arms had thrown something towards him. No sooner had the glimmer of light been cast forward than he felt the warmth surround him and gazing down at his own form he took note of the tiny drones that now clung to his clothes. Wings fluttering rapidly they pulled him towards the awaiting arms of the adults on the walls and by extension, aid for his wounds.
"Learn from this," the words crept into his ears more clearly as he was swept off to another awaiting set of hands.
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His vision faded and Athalia came to within the room once more, resting on the pillows he had now become so familiar with. The storm had lasted the entire day, blasting the walls relentlessly, but as he lifted a hand to press it against his head he surmised that the storm might well have cleared up. The rumbling and crashing above his head had gone, the echoing through the halls had fallen quiet and peace had fallen upon the land once more. All things considered he was more well rested than he thought he would be.
...Vision of his 'almost' death aside.
He had been warned at the very beginning that he would experience these, but it seemed that prolonged exposure to the planet had made it perceive him as fair game. Two in the space of three days was hardly fair to say the least, but those flashes had given him some context as to how his species may have survived here. If they trained themselves on what he thought they did, then it was no wonder that they lived on a world where the very weather could potentially slice them apart.
Given he was not immune to effects of such weather though he had made the right choice in remaining inside.
He pulled himself to his feet and after making use of some of his supplies, all of which were far from 'gourmet' meals, he made his way towards the entrance to confirm whether his suspicions were correct.
Sure enough the skies had cleared and as he drew closer to the door and stepped over the threshold he was greeted by bright skies and the ever present, looming monoliths beyond. One thing was amiss though because the clay that had once covered the plants within the caldera had been shattered, leaving living and fresh leaves beneath. Granted not ever plant could tell such a joyous tale as some remained tattered and aged, but littered among the sand and dust he could see spatters of grain that made his jaw drop in astonishment.
There was 'life'.
It was the only way he could describe it as he moved away from the monoliths (his entire reason for being out here), and towards the trees instead. Sure, their existence may not have seemed like much to some but this particular man had written his world off as desolate and 'dead'. Evidently the monoliths were not the only thing that seemed inclined to prove him wrong whether this was through sentience or simple coincidence.
He reached out a hand to touch the newly exposed leaves and pursed his lips, soft to the touch they were proven to be real for they didn't crumble in his grasp like their fossilised counterparts. Despite the hostility of the weather system that had developed on this planet in recent months it appeared that the planet had found the determination and will to show that survival was possible.
...Against an adversary he would have considered to be insurmountable for more fragile lifeforms, it had proven that looks could be deceiving and that even the smallest and softest could endure.
A lesson perhaps?
He wasn't sure, but he gave the leaf a pat as he moved beyond it and sought to inspect the others. If a few trees had found the means to spring to life, then perhaps there would be more in time. Maybe the peculiar storms even served a purpose here that he didn't quite understand yet.
Regardless, if these plants could survive against that and he drew his powers from the planet that they lived on, then maybe, just maybe, he needed to take a closer look at what he might be capable of surviving against too.
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