Asuras — Roleplayer Guild

She could have sworn her bones still ached. Sworn that her eyes were too clouded with blood to see in anything but an abyssal red tint. Sworn that her right arm simply couldn't move anymore, too twisted in its very socket that the ligaments failed to untangle themselves. But as she suddenly took a breath, gazed upon the world with clear vision, and lifted herself up from the puddle of something-smelling water, she knew immediately her 'death' was all over. One moment she could tell she was falling, and the other she was entangled in some mass, pelted by a never-ending smell of lemon pledge.

For once, Wendy reasoned her way into a conclusion. Did she get tossed into a river of lemons and fished out by a fisherman out in the ocean, or did she go to some crackpot hell?

Obviously it was the latter. Unless the shitheads who beat her to death (there was no way she'd survived, Wendy was sure) picked up her mangled body and drove over to the bay, then it was impossible that she had been dumped in a river leading to the same place. And where in the world did the waters smell strongly of citrus? They didn't drop her in a lemonade factory vat, right? Rising from the boat's puddle, Wendy found herself staring into the face of what was obviously not a grizzled fisherman. He didn't have a beard. He was too young. He had purple hair.

This weaboo clearly wasn't a hard-working seafarer.

With a grunt, Wendy rolled the whole set of limbs she still miraculously possessed, as if still feeling soreness in them. It must have simply been a memory, then, for she experienced nothing of the sort. In fact, she was quite the opposite; she felt an overwhelming rejuvenation in her body the likes of which she'd never known. It was as if she'd been born again or something, as brand-spanking new as a newborn baby that had just taken its first breath. The whole experience was so perfectly relieving, she had practically failed to register Lyss's introductory comment. Hell, if she didn't, she'd probably have given him the only proper response she could think of; a fist to the chin. If he went overboard, she could pilot it, no problem.

Wendy came to realize that she was not alone, however, and that the boat wasn't quite as small as she'd initially thought. There was room for her and plenty more, evidently, and she clued in on the fact that she wasn't the only one who'd recently died. The other faces were anything but fisherman as well, or demonic for that matter, so she figured they were -quite literally- in the same boat as her.

"I was expecting fire and brimstone, not a latino woman's wet dream," she proclaimed.

Asuras Member

No spoken words, only napalm and guns

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