And Not a Drop...
Falling, falling...
Such a long trip...
Maybe I'm dying...
God that'd be cool...
No, maybe not...
I'm going to hell...
Yup, I'll burn like a bastard...
Oh wait, what's that...?
I think I will name it 'land'...
Nice to meet you, Land...
Darkness...Falling...Fallen...Fell...Fell...en...?
Screw it.
The sight our protagonist was granted, initially, was of the most pristine, annoying whites he had ever been given the misfortune of experiencing. "God dammit!" Blinking hard, his hellishly bright visual faded into a slightly better view: Sand. A tawny, coarse sand that stuck to his bared skin and enveloped the whole of his surroundings. Sitting upright and facing the wind, he could feel the familiar burn of the tiny granules bringing a sting to his eyes. His hand appeared with an unconscious swipe to clear his vision of the annoyance before he'd completely realized what he was doing. "God DAMMIT" Yami Bakura of the Sennen Ring, who had lived a lifetime under the Egyptian sun, had just smeared sand into his eyes.
With an unsteady lunge forward, he was standing. His hair, matted and windswept, batted against his neck and shoulders with the dry, suffocating winds of the land our protagonist had aptly dubbed "A Shitty Place To End Up" (ASPTEU, for short, he surmised). With a muted chuckle at his own humor, he dusted himself to an acceptable level of cleanliness before assessing his surroundings further. He squinted.
Faintly, he could make the shadow of an obelisk, though the distance between he and said spire made it a dirty toothpick on the horizon. He made a decision. There, that was his new 'North'. Spinning on his heel, he checked 'South' 'East' and 'West'. Sand. His figurative compass became easier to navigate, at least. 'North' and 'Sand.
"That's some shit luck you've got there, Bakura" he murmured to himself before sighing and resigning himself to taking his first step into ASPTEU's northern region. He started.
He fell. Tripped. His body stumbled forward and his face met sand, he could feel the grit in his teeth and the burn when he gasped for lost breath. His stomach lay at an uncomfortable angle and he struggled to stand again, vision swimming. He had tripped over a person. He opened his mouth (intent on berating the idiot who caused him a moment of discomfort) and then closed it. Yami Bakura of the Sennen Ring gaped. The Game King, Yami Yuugi, lay unconscious before him, face buried in the earth. His body had been accumulating sand that rose and fell unsteadily with his breathing, occasionally spilling over. "He looks dead" The thief registered in muted curiosity.
In a not so tentative gesture, his foot grazed the slumbered one's cheek, nudging his face to the left. Upon receiving no reaction, the foot traveled lower, prodding the pharaoh's ribs. Yami Bakura hated being ignored. Bending down, he grabbed two fist-fulls of Pharaoh hair to meet him at eye level and screamed.
He yelled at first, insults; Ranging from biting and personal to random and crude. Afterwards, he would switch to venting personal frustrations. A good twenty minutes later left the Pharaoh face down in the sand again and the Sennen Ring's dark spirit yelling obscenities to the sun that burned his eyes.
His throat burning and heart pounding hard in his chest, Yami Bakura fell into a sit beside his sleeping companion, emotionally drained and panting. He'd long stopped caring about his habit of talking to himself when upset.
"This is a nice change for him: Unconscious and quiet at my feet…Makes a nice pet. Mommy, can I keep him?" He laughed out loud. Shaking slightly to rid his thoughts of the almost childish torture scenarios, Bakura was thrown out of his daydream when Yami made a noise that sounded something like language.
Leaning over, his hand shot forward to grip the Game King's placid face, turning it from side to side, inspecting with dull curiosity. The promise of his charge dying in the heat of the land that worshiped him brought a smirk but something dwelled, still, in the back of his mind. Aspirations aside, he needed to know what was going on. He called out, once more to the Game King, whose eyes were scrunched shut. Not bothering to wait for an answer, in a split second he'd made up his decision. The Pharaoh would not die peacefully in the sands of an unknown land. Bakura would see to it that his death was special. Yami would be fully awake. Those eyes would be open and looking at him—directly at him.
"That, was for ignoring me….Hmm, that's a good line."
The dead weight of Yami was sprawled almost childishly piggyback style after about five minutes of struggling with the sheer lank of the blonde man. Bakura calmed his nerves by talking.
"Water, water everywhere and not a drop to…Shit, I'm thirsty."
Well that was new.
I've not written anything in such a long time, I believe my writing style has changed again. Review.