[h3][b][color=blue]Alina Sanford[/color][/b][/h3]
They'd done it. They'd met back up with the others. But no sooner had they succeeded there, than the worst came to pass: not one, not two, but three of those "Warlord" people had come out. And one was new, even... great.

She was tired. Tired of all of this. Which was why she didn't even question this new Spindle person's idea, or the idea that maybe jumping off a cliff was a bad idea, or that it'd probably aggravate her ankle even further. She simply followed after her as fast as she could, a modest hobble rather than a sprint by now, and when she came to the cliff's edge... hesitated.

She'd die. She'd die if she fell down there.

But everyone else was doing it. God, that brought back that old idiom about everyone's friends jumping off a bridge, didn't it?

Fuck it. She closed her eyes, screwed up her face, and tossed herself off the edge as best she could, folding her body together. She didn't want to tense up for the impact...