[ This time, Ciri realizes something has gone wrong faster than when they'd wound up next to the crater. For one, the desert is entirely gone. And then, very quickly, it becomes apparent that the ground is also nowhere near them.
The sea comes up to meet them both very suddenly and very rudely, briny and cold. The momentum of their fall from a not insignificant distance above it dunks her completely, and water rushes into her nose and mouth and eyes, stinging with salt. All at once, instinct grabs her, bred of a dire mix of necessity, bad memories, and childhood summers diving off Skelligan cliffs. Ciri is dimly aware she's still got a grip on her sword -- so no thrashing, not with that arm, not when Viktor might be nearby. She tucks it in, held close, and kicks powerfully. For what feels like a long while, there's nothing but the coldness of the water, the knowledge she didn't have a chance to take a breath, and each moment is drawn out to excruciating length, adrenaline screaming through her veins. Then, somehow only a handful of seconds later in reality, Ciri finds the glimmer of sunlight indicated which way is up, and she breaks through the surface gasping and spluttering.
That is when she realizes she is not longer holding Viktor's hand.
Panic. Frantically, she casts about, coughing and gasping too uncontrollably to call his name. Between the waves and the seafoam and her own fall, she is too disoriented. And running out of time.
Ciri dives beneath the surface once again, eyes open this time despite the initial discomfort, searching desperately for her friend. ]
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The sea comes up to meet them both very suddenly and very rudely, briny and cold. The momentum of their fall from a not insignificant distance above it dunks her completely, and water rushes into her nose and mouth and eyes, stinging with salt. All at once, instinct grabs her, bred of a dire mix of necessity, bad memories, and childhood summers diving off Skelligan cliffs. Ciri is dimly aware she's still got a grip on her sword -- so no thrashing, not with that arm, not when Viktor might be nearby. She tucks it in, held close, and kicks powerfully. For what feels like a long while, there's nothing but the coldness of the water, the knowledge she didn't have a chance to take a breath, and each moment is drawn out to excruciating length, adrenaline screaming through her veins. Then, somehow only a handful of seconds later in reality, Ciri finds the glimmer of sunlight indicated which way is up, and she breaks through the surface gasping and spluttering.
That is when she realizes she is not longer holding Viktor's hand.
Panic. Frantically, she casts about, coughing and gasping too uncontrollably to call his name. Between the waves and the seafoam and her own fall, she is too disoriented. And running out of time.
Ciri dives beneath the surface once again, eyes open this time despite the initial discomfort, searching desperately for her friend. ]