BAY: And I'm free, free falling. There's an art to fainting, especially if one is doing so in an attempt to seem surprised by a revelation of some kind, and Nie Huaisang is well practiced in it. The motions are almost automatic, now: eyes rolling back as the knees start to bend, twist to the upper torso so that it's his thighs and hips that hit the ground first, then his upper body, in order to insure that his head doesn't strike the ground too hard.
That's the plan, anyway. Except this time, he doesn't hit the ground at all. Instead, once his eyes are closed and his knees start to buckle, it's not ground that meets his side, but open air. The movement sends Nie Huaisang tumbling over himself as his eyes shoot open, arms pinwheeling during the approximately five seconds he has to realize that he's falling straight down towards a body of water. Not exactly having time to consider an actual proper course of action, he starts to scream, but barely has time to get out more than something like a yelp before suddenly his mouth is filled with water as he impacts with the surface, sinking beneath it immediately.
Panic sets in and the previous pinwheeling turns into an incredibly ineffective attempt at a dog paddle. The robes he's wearing are, as it turns out, rather heavy when soaked with water and considering that he's rarely ever swum in his life (and never successfully,) it's an all around distressing situation. With some more flailing, Nie Huaisang manages to get his head above water with a loud gasp; though he feels himself sinking again immediately, which only makes him flail harder.
"Help! Help, I can't swim!"
At least, that's what he's trying to say. How much of that is actually getting across is another matter, considering it sounds like he's gargling saltwater. Fortunately for him, though, he is lifted out of the water, coughing and spitting and still flailing a bit until he's unceremoniously dropped onto the beach by his escorts.
Don't mind him, he'll just lay here for a moment, staring at the sky.
CARAVAN: NHS phone home (or not) Now fully out of the bay and up onto the cliffs, Nie Huaisang is taking this moment to stare down at the odd contraption in his hands. It's like nothing he's ever seen, felt, or had contact with before--and also some man's voice came out of it. Honestly this is just so much. At least he has his fan on him now, and a change of dry clothes that he'd been more than happy to get into. The whole outfit is a bit lopsided, which is Less Than Ideal, but it's better than still being in those wet clothes.
He's also not sure what to make of the wispy, spirit-like canary that sits contentedly on his shoulder. Another thing he's simply just not going to question right now. Instead, he's just going to open that fan and flutter it nervously as the carriage rolls on.
MAGICAL FLU: Nie Huaisang is having A Time. First, he found out he had to have a roommate of all things, and then that roommate brought home some kind of strange illness that made a whole bunch of water appear every time they sneezed. Which was often. Said water didn't go into a bucket or a bath or anything helpful, of course, but rather spilled out into whichever room it was in, soaking the apartment from top to bottom. The next day, Nie Huaisang had woken up to a pounding headache and flashing lights. An investigation (aka sitting up in bed and groaning) proved that the flashing lights were a result of his magic apparently starting to go awry. The illness has only gotten worse from there--and after making his way to the living room, carpet squishing under his toes, he's ended up collapsing face-first onto the couch. Any visitors will come in to find that the lights have progressed into a multitude of colors, and Nie Huaisang has taken up permanent residence on the couch, it seems, only because it gets him out of the ankle-deep water in the living room.
Nie Huaisang | Chenqing Ling (light/green magic)
There's an art to fainting, especially if one is doing so in an attempt to seem surprised by a revelation of some kind, and Nie Huaisang is well practiced in it. The motions are almost automatic, now: eyes rolling back as the knees start to bend, twist to the upper torso so that it's his thighs and hips that hit the ground first, then his upper body, in order to insure that his head doesn't strike the ground too hard.
That's the plan, anyway. Except this time, he doesn't hit the ground at all. Instead, once his eyes are closed and his knees start to buckle, it's not ground that meets his side, but open air. The movement sends Nie Huaisang tumbling over himself as his eyes shoot open, arms pinwheeling during the approximately five seconds he has to realize that he's falling straight down towards a body of water. Not exactly having time to consider an actual proper course of action, he starts to scream, but barely has time to get out more than something like a yelp before suddenly his mouth is filled with water as he impacts with the surface, sinking beneath it immediately.
Panic sets in and the previous pinwheeling turns into an incredibly ineffective attempt at a dog paddle. The robes he's wearing are, as it turns out, rather heavy when soaked with water and considering that he's rarely ever swum in his life (and never successfully,) it's an all around distressing situation. With some more flailing, Nie Huaisang manages to get his head above water with a loud gasp; though he feels himself sinking again immediately, which only makes him flail harder.
"Help! Help, I can't swim!"
At least, that's what he's trying to say. How much of that is actually getting across is another matter, considering it sounds like he's gargling saltwater. Fortunately for him, though, he is lifted out of the water, coughing and spitting and still flailing a bit until he's unceremoniously dropped onto the beach by his escorts.
Don't mind him, he'll just lay here for a moment, staring at the sky.
CARAVAN: NHS phone home (or not)
Now fully out of the bay and up onto the cliffs, Nie Huaisang is taking this moment to stare down at the odd contraption in his hands. It's like nothing he's ever seen, felt, or had contact with before--and also some man's voice came out of it. Honestly this is just so much. At least he has his fan on him now, and a change of dry clothes that he'd been more than happy to get into. The whole outfit is a bit lopsided, which is Less Than Ideal, but it's better than still being in those wet clothes.
He's also not sure what to make of the wispy, spirit-like canary that sits contentedly on his shoulder. Another thing he's simply just not going to question right now. Instead, he's just going to open that fan and flutter it nervously as the carriage rolls on.
MAGICAL FLU:
Nie Huaisang is having A Time. First, he found out he had to have a roommate of all things, and then that roommate brought home some kind of strange illness that made a whole bunch of water appear every time they sneezed. Which was often. Said water didn't go into a bucket or a bath or anything helpful, of course, but rather spilled out into whichever room it was in, soaking the apartment from top to bottom. The next day, Nie Huaisang had woken up to a pounding headache and flashing lights. An investigation (aka sitting up in bed and groaning) proved that the flashing lights were a result of his magic apparently starting to go awry. The illness has only gotten worse from there--and after making his way to the living room, carpet squishing under his toes, he's ended up collapsing face-first onto the couch. Any visitors will come in to find that the lights have progressed into a multitude of colors, and Nie Huaisang has taken up permanent residence on the couch, it seems, only because it gets him out of the ankle-deep water in the living room.