There was an old guy talking. Or at least he looked old; he might just have white hair. The dude - Oswald or something - was explaining stuff. It was probably important, and Argent knew that she should listen. She tried that, though, but this guy used too many words. Motherfucker should've just gave the quick version, like he did at the end, first. 'Get thing, protect thing, move thing' - was that so hard? She boredly ran her tongue along her upper teeth. She had a sub before they took off; it tasted good. She wasn't much of a fan of the onions though. Thinking about it, this really was her first time flying. It was actually kind of like a bitch-version of sailing; so she settled in pretty easily. 

[color=silver]"Oh, he's done,"[/color] Argent remarked to herself as a mechanical sliding noise sounded and the air-pressure dropped. While Argent had little problems with flying, her only real qualm lay in the change of pressure. It made her nose feel weird and her ears dull and it was just not a good time for someone like her who relied on their senses and instinct and subliminimal massaging or whatever they called it. She turned around to see a missing panel in the floor behind her. Was that their exit? Argent took a step forward as the section of floor beneath her retracted, sending her falling horizontally into the sea of green below rather than vertically as she had expected.  There was some music playing elsewhere. Words on the edge of her mind that she could only barely hear as the wind rushed through her ears, drowning out all the panicked screams of others and the accompaniment of bowel ejection. Falling was kind of like swimming, now that she thought about it. You're sinking, suspended in non-solid substance, and resistance was a factor one should take into account.

[color=silver]"..."[/color]

It occurred to her that she was facing face towards the ground, and that landing this way may hurt significantly. It didn't help that she had no fancy-schmancy acrobatic bullshit or 'relatively low terminal velocity' ([color=silver][i]'What the fuck is a terminal velocity anyway?'[/i][/color]) to help her out what with the fucking anchor strapped to her back. Anchors were, after all, meant to keep things from moving with their weight. She raised her arms slightly, using the air resistance to shift herself into a vertical position. She brought her knees to her chest and tucked her head in, waiting for the impact like a not-so-metaphorical cannonball.

[b]CRASH![/b]

Argent tore through the treeline like a rock through paper. No, that was wrong - paper beats rock. It was more like a punch snapping a bone in twain, or her harpoon penetrating the flesh of an unfortunate foe. With a final [i]THUNK![/i] she hit the ground proper, leaving a nice dent in the earth. That's right. Fuck you earth, and your lack of fall-cushioning. At least water had the goddamn courtesy to cushion falls under a specific speed, and air wasn't even [i]there[/i], like a spooky ghost. 

Argent stretched her limbs outwards and yawned. There was a [i]POP![/i], and now she could hear things better... and her nose felt weird. Fuck. She leapt to her feet, rubbing her nose through the dark veil on her lower-face. 

[color=silver]"...Uhh..."[/color] Argent sounded, looking all around here. Where was she to go now? Where the fuck were these ruins? [color=silver]"...Okay..."[/color] she droned, resigned to follow after the ship since she didn't see any ruins when she looked out the window.