For the first time in several years, the Fates had decided to take pity on her. She didn't land in the water initially, or a single rock face of the island - the drop was usually very jagged, but she was still going through solid stuff. Hells, even if she was sort of suicidal, pummeling was not the way she would want to die. All she could imagine was her body falling weakly into the water, killing her on impact and her body being eaten by fish. It made her angry. She was above sharks and all the delicious little minnows in the food chain! They weren't allowed to have her. Full of spite for that uppity marine life, Shion activated a separate Earth spell near the base of the island to move some minerals and slow her fall significantly. The move took some timing, some precision, and a little bit of forlorn hope, but she was able to pull it off.
Even if she had to dispell the other power first.
And crack several ribs as she bounced off of a jutting cliff face.
What mattered was that when she hit the water, she didn't break any limbs. After that it was a matter of rubbing it in the fishes' collective faces that there would be no cat meal for them today, so with the kindest voice and a little Essence magic, she asked some sea life to help her swim to the nearest port. It hadn't taken much effort at all. 'Cause she was dominant. DUH.
Sandy (the dolphin servant) and her pod were nice enough to swim her to the largest "boat home" nearby. For her purposes, that had been Chaville. She wasn't going to complain at that choice; Big cities meant more places to hide, and if there was one thing she needed right now, it was a hidey-hole. She could count at least three that she had in that lively city. Maybe she could even call on a couple of her friends in the circus to let her crash at their place. It would be like a friendly, assassin-filled slumber party!
Except her friends always made her sit on pillows and drink tea, and it there was one thing she hated doing, it was sitting still for an elongated period of time. It wasn't as if she couldn't do it. She just didn't like it. It was boring. The Daimah sighed, the breath reminding her lovingly of her broken ribs. If she couldn't find a healer or just heal herself when she got to town, she would have a very boring time on her own. She would have done it herself then and there, but then she would have had to drop the spell she was using to talk to the fish.
She would rather suffer for several hours in the water on the back of a squeaky-skinned animal than let the Fates take hold of where she would be dropped off. That collection of power-mad twats could scissor the propulsion blades of the burning La Dama for all she cared. They might just be more appealing after that, anyway. That was why she kept her spell on course, kept her clawed fingers firmly locked together on the fin of Sandy, and kept her breathing as slow and rhythmic as she could keep it with waters and rolling muscles bumping her in the torso every couple of seconds. It took everything in her not to pass out in transit.
But Khali had done worse than this. If she could live through Khali, she would live through anything. Sure, every pain was very clear in her body (and would be for the rest of her life, she was sure), but she could be dead. Death...now wasn't that a lovely thought…?
Around moon's zenith was when Shion finally made landfall. Captains and their crews were firmly settled in for the night, watches perched on the sterns of top-decks while the porter dozed peacefully in an old wooden rocking chair, feet propped up on his podium. Shion dragged herself onto the wharf with a series of pathetic grunts as seawater poured out of her dress. If she never saw the ocean again, she would be delighted. What was not delighting was the slow, crisp breeze that came off the waves in gentle gusts. That was bone-chilling to the thoroughly-soaked woman. It was like the air itself was wanting to keep her guessing who was around the corner. Calm, quiet nights always put her on edge in general, but being damaged and on the run gave everything a haunted feeling. No person, place or thing was safe.
Not anymore.
Despising existence more and more with each step, she headed to the nearest inn. Instead of going inside, however, she slinked in the shadows to the back of the inn, sitting on the lip of a small planter by the back door. She couldn't walk in looking like a drowned cat, even if that's what she was. Instead she sat, thinking, drying, and accumulating zeon, and with that time she mentally sorted the events that had brought her to a dark place with only forget-me-nots and baby's breath stuck in a planter to keep her company.
After an hour and a half of mourning and another half an hour making sure there was no-one trying to stab her as she did, she was able to dredge up enough power to heal her cracked ribs, dehydrated skin, and bruised muscles. By that time she was at least somewhat dry (though no less salty) and felt it safe to sneak her way into the inn. For her, that part wasn't hard. Nor was finding the room with a lone man in his bed. It wasn't even hard to convince said man that she would make the random stay worth his while (poor man couldn't see the psionics coming if they slapped him across the face). It was trying to sleep afterwards.
She knew that the Sisters would catch wind of her survival soon. They were always quick on gathering information. The woman knew that, especially for a traitor withholding information about the island's secrets, they would go all-out. There wasn't usually too many people of their own scattered, but there were high concentrations of them in ports that were near the unmapped monstrosity - Chaville happened to be the closest. That was fine. All she had to do was survive long enough to get onto a clipper into a place where the sea wasn't a place she could onto land from.
Like, oh, Phaion Ein Saimon. There was a major plate there, so that very well could mess with her plans, but she had a plethora of hideouts there that she could lay low in until she could make it to somewhere less populated with her kind. Hells, maybe she'd run and join Tolgarini. They seemed to like people with powers, and though hers were weak, she had them. She'd be a goddess. A beautiful, safe-ish, Selene-immune goddess amongst men and beasts alike. After a bit of mental back and forth she decided that was probably the best bet for her right about now and, only half as hopeful that she was going to get killed in her sleep, she rolled over and cuddled with her companion for the night.