[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=DC143C]Fyror Kildragon[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c08e11f7-3cfd-47ba-8929-88361f1112d2.gif[/img][/center][center][I][h3][color=DC143C]Integrity is doing the right thing 
even when no one is watching.
[/color][/h3][/I][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xirk18P889U][color=DC143C]- [I]C.S. Lewis[/I][/color][/url][/center]
[hr][hr][center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] The Sea (Off the coast of Preston, England)
[b][color=DC143C]Skills:[/color][/b] Constitution  
[/center][hr]
	A certain weariness came to the rich amber of his one good eye. The waves seemed to be growing more treacherous by the minute and as such he was quickly growing tired as he attempted to support both his own weight and Colette's. That's not to say he had any intentions of simply giving up, far from it actually. He would use every last ounce of strength and every last breath to keep his charge safe. However, he was also realistic. He knew that he couldn't keep this up forever. He had to find something that they could grab ahold of and that would allow them to replenish some of their strength. As his gaze scanned their immediate surroundings, taking some of his concentration with it, a wave suddenly took him unawares, pulling him into its depths. 

	He fought to get back to the surface while maintaining his hold on Miss Fontaine, but at that same time, he felt something wrap around his ankle. His heart started beating wildly within his chest, and with it depleted some of his precious oxygen, as he felt whatever it was drag him further into the ocean's depths. At that point, his grip on Colette felt less like a protective instinct and more like a lifeline, not that the comparatively diminutive woman who couldn't even swim could possibly help him now. His grip finally slipped from her grasp, and he struggled and kicked out to try to dislodge the hold of whatever it was wrapped around his ankle. He grew weaker by the minute, eventually growing all but limp in this watery death trap. Davy Jone's Locker was surely calling to him now.

	However, as he hopelessly looked up at the surface, which grew further and further from his view, he saw the flash of a face amidst the dark water. Miraculously, a stranger had come to his rescue. He felt the mystery thing that had been dragging him downward being cut from around his leg before he was quickly rushed to the surface. He would have swum to the surface himself if it weren't for the fact that he felt so exhausted and weak. His muscles burned from the overexertion. His eyes burned from the salty water, and his lungs burned for even a small breath of precious oxygen. Once his head broke the surface of the water, he coughed up water before gasping as he took in several ragged breaths of air. He blinked as he tried to right his currently blurry vision and glanced around. [color=DC143C]"C-Collette. W-where's Collette?"[/color] he questioned in a quiet and raspy voice once his immediate needs had been met. He couldn't see the Frenchwoman from down here in the water, and he prayed that they had rescued her before they had bothered with him. If they didn't, well, he would be royally pissed, and justly so.