14th of Cylus, Arc 719
Tess woke him up as the tides began to ebb out, what would have been the crack of dawn had the sun been visible. "Good luck." Was all she said, and he nodded to her as he saddled up, bringing nothing but his scythe to reduce weight. Sivan was grumpy, both from being woken up early and from the stress of the previous day, but she let him on without much complaint, and took off at his command.
As the kheledzan flew out along the coast, Praetorum couldn't help but look back at the ship growing smaller and smaller behind him. For better or for worse, when he returned here tonight, it would be for the last time.
Shaking his head, he looked away, turning instead to scan the sea. Normally, he'd be able to see a fair distance away from the skies, possibly even enough to spot a ship sailing out from Yaralon. But this was the season of Cylus, and in the dim, permanent nighttime, it was difficult to make out anything from too high up. So, worried he would miss something in the darkness he urged Sivan lower, until they were flying only a few dozen meters above the water.
When he shifted his weight forwards, though, to try and get her to go faster, she tried to rise higher, and complained when he tugged her back down. Frowning, Praetorum noted that they seemed to be going slower than normal. Did the difference in height really affect the wind that much?
Reluctantly, he let Sivan rise a little higher, though not so high that the surface of the sea became indistinct. It was difficult to tell if he was actually going faster; up in the air, he was so far from anything even vaguely resembling a reference point that it was impossible to gauge distance and speed properly. So he maintained that height, keeping the coastline just barely in sight on his right in the hopes of covering as much ground as he could.
He flew for breaks, anxiety rising as the tide ebbed lower and lower, and still no ship appeared within his sight. Maybe he'd misjudged, maybe he should double back to make sure, maybe he should give up this entire endeavor and just head back, admit that he couldn't save everyone. Maybe, maybe...
He shook his head firmly. He needed to stay focused. There was still time before he had to return, and he wasn't about to give up halfway out of fear. People were relying on him.
As the kheledzan flew out along the coast, Praetorum couldn't help but look back at the ship growing smaller and smaller behind him. For better or for worse, when he returned here tonight, it would be for the last time.
Shaking his head, he looked away, turning instead to scan the sea. Normally, he'd be able to see a fair distance away from the skies, possibly even enough to spot a ship sailing out from Yaralon. But this was the season of Cylus, and in the dim, permanent nighttime, it was difficult to make out anything from too high up. So, worried he would miss something in the darkness he urged Sivan lower, until they were flying only a few dozen meters above the water.
When he shifted his weight forwards, though, to try and get her to go faster, she tried to rise higher, and complained when he tugged her back down. Frowning, Praetorum noted that they seemed to be going slower than normal. Did the difference in height really affect the wind that much?
Reluctantly, he let Sivan rise a little higher, though not so high that the surface of the sea became indistinct. It was difficult to tell if he was actually going faster; up in the air, he was so far from anything even vaguely resembling a reference point that it was impossible to gauge distance and speed properly. So he maintained that height, keeping the coastline just barely in sight on his right in the hopes of covering as much ground as he could.
He flew for breaks, anxiety rising as the tide ebbed lower and lower, and still no ship appeared within his sight. Maybe he'd misjudged, maybe he should double back to make sure, maybe he should give up this entire endeavor and just head back, admit that he couldn't save everyone. Maybe, maybe...
He shook his head firmly. He needed to stay focused. There was still time before he had to return, and he wasn't about to give up halfway out of fear. People were relying on him.
