#dbd rp

"M...r...P...a..l...m...e...r"

Sable blinked, taking deep breaths as she pressed the wound in her abdomen. Her ASL was hardly passable. Closely, her eyes followed the movements of the killers hands. Once she believed she understood, Sable shook her dead in denial.

"No...there isn't a Mr. Palmer here. At least, I haven't seen one. You..." she goraned softly from the pain. "...you have no idea what's going on, do you?" Sable asked, approaching enough to push the pickaxe away with her foot. She took another deep breath, realizing her pain was slowly beginning to fade. Was it the chimes? This oddly blue region of the map?

He stumbled forward, hands reaching out for, well, anything. Anything that could steady him. Anything that could give him any idea where the hell he’d been dropped off. He still couldn’t see, or at least he couldn’t really process what was around him. Had he been deposited back at Ormond resort, he was sure one of the Legion would have come running to him by now. Unless…

Panic sliced through the pain and the nausea, sharp and immediate. He quickened his movement, though his steps were still leadened and clumsy. FUCK. He remembered. Small pieces snapping back together all at once. He could see flashes of a frenzied scene: Julie’s desperate grip on his arm, her eyes wide with fear; Susie reaching out amid the chaos, shouting their names; Joey's frantic attempts to fend off those dreadfully sharp claws. The image of Julie's hand slipping from his grasp haunted him, the raw terror that had gripped his heart as he felt her absence. Had they all been captured? Were they still trapped in whatever nightmare he'd just been released from?

“Guys?!” Frank’s voice was hoarse, cracking as if it hadn't been used in far too long. The world around him had gradually sharpened, and he could at least tell where he was now. The Eyrie of Crows. Why? Why here? This wasn't his realm. “Joey!? Susie?! Julie?! Where are you?!” The urgency in his voice pierced through the silence, echoing back at him like a cruel reminder of his isolation. No. Nonono. Frank looked around him frantically for any sign that his friends had been returned with him. But there was no one around; it was just him, the crows, and the sound of the sand blowing over itself. 'Focus, asshole,' Frank thought to himself, wrestling with the rising emotions. If he panicked, he'd get himself killed or lost.

He needed to escape the desert and return to Ormond, especially before anyone discovered him in his weakened state. While some killers were at least tolerant of his presence, others were not. Carmina, in particular, was somewhat notorious for driving away anyone who entered her territory uninvited. Not that Frank really blamed her, he'd also get kind of stabby if a random person appeared in Ormond. If he could just reach the main gate of the Eyrie, he would likely make it back home. From there, he could actively search for his friends. Fuck, they better be OK; he wouldn't know what he'd do if they were— No. No, he couldn't go there. He refused to go there.

He attempted to summon his power for a speed boost. Instead of the rush of adrenaline from the frenzy, a second wave of nausea crashed over him. It was more intense than the first, leaving him reeling and stumbling against one of the jagged rocks of the Eyrie. The rough texture scraped against his skin, grounding him in a moment of painful awareness. Gritting his teeth, he swore under his breath, the sound barely more than a breathless whisper. Doubling over, his body heaved uncontrollably for a few seconds; thankfully, his stomach was already empty, leaving nothing but the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat.

With a sharp, desperate gasp, he straightened back up. He spat the acrid fluid onto the ground, the taste lingering unpleasantly in his mouth. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he felt the eyes of the crows lock onto him. Their harsh croaks rang through the air as if they were laughing at his misery, and he couldn’t help but bristle at the sound, a mix of frustration and humiliation stirring within him.