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[color=Silver]	By the motion of the crowd - nature's greatest negotiator - he'd found himself stood aside the edges of the pier. It was all too strange, this sort of thing. Such traditions and strangeness, it felt rather alien to what he'd known from life, for that typical way communal gatherings occurred in his growing years. Truth be told, Franciszek deemed it a little too "buddy-like", akin to a fledgling cult. It was pessimism, yes, but it was just as that. The overt kindness, the way they cheered and chimed, and the seemingly false confidence worn by their guides. He hadn't said much as a word to the others. Some were in for the ride. Yet despite his qualms, when the crowd moved, so did his feet. The ever infectious peer pressure.

	He'd tuned out their voices to begin with. The water was all they talked about. He looked at it, and as dark as the night was, they all stood in their bright colours, colourful personalities and all. And he just stood there, all quiet. He hadn't much to say. What else was new? Though in one regard, he wasn't alone there. One or two hadn't spoken much. Though was that a pick-me-up? Perhaps they weren't too fond of what was going on either. Perhaps that was his cue to turn around, and to not jump into the pool, as if what laid in the sand were a life-changing episode, a jaded chapter in what was yet to happen.

	But of course, the klutzes have their ways of keeping things in motion. Franciszek didn't really understand who had made the first move, or fallen in, but by doing so, they'd brought with them the domino effect. A hand to a wrist, on and on. Someone grabbed his. It was the guide, he thought, Sofia. They yelled as they descended, and when his skin collided with the water, there was a sudden, terrible darkness all around him - and the current was tumultuous.

	Into the bleak he fell. He clutched someone's wrist for dear life, maybe Sofia's, maybe Victoria's, he had no way of telling. His vision had descended into a blurred nightmare. Eternal blight surrounded him. Deeper he sank. His thoughts were only panicked questions. How? Why? What? Further was the fall. No seabed was in sight. His eardrums pled as if the pressure itself was going to burst them for good. So cold and arctic was his tomb that all sensation seemed to die with the light. And then came the pale blue, the nimbus, alone in the centre of the sea.

	When his head emerged from the waters beneath, into the starlit sky, he found himself in the turbulence of a storm. Waves crashed around him and his ears were assaulted by the extensive noise. Barrages of salt water hit him from every angle. There was dismay and panic, colluded by dread. A desolate raft eyed what he thought was his way. Two figures stood shrouded in silence. A voice reached him; a gaze most still, defiant in the waves, pierced through him. Curled lips formed the words. [i]Thou[/i]. Then came the bubbled rage, the boiled blood that almost popped from their veins, the terrific monstrosity of pain and anguish, as though he'd fallen right into the sun itself. It felt as though his skin was scorched and soldered to the ocean itself. He opened his mouth and water flooded his body. It weighed him down and he sank one final time, down into the dysphoric trance inflicted upon him.

	And then it was over. There was moderate warmth. His skin was in tact, and his mouth was full of warm, dry sand. He lifted his head and gasped in breathless confusion. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the blinding grace of daylight. He shivered, even in the tropic warmth. And when that vision cleared, Franciszek had awoken to a pacific view, far spanning. An aura of uncanniness perfumed every aspect of the landmark. Around them was the deep blue once more, yet with it came the shivers of a brooding beyond, a terrible place, where those that ventured did so for the last time.

	Someone screamed. Sofia - the woman who'd dragged her in - fell in heaping surprise. Then he noticed the others there. Some seemed soothed by the sights. Some were moderate, others left with some slight questions. And Franciszek sat there. He brought his knees to his chest and laced his hands underneath. Anxiety welled up throughout his system. The pure shock of the experience, the transition between the normal and the insufferable unknown, had placed him right in the middle of the greatest discomfort.[/color]

[color=EEFF53][b]"Wait-...no, what? No. No, no. I..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He was at a loss of immediate words. All reactions of his were funnelled through the veil of permeated surprise. He touched his face and felt the dryness of the sand. That sensation - like drowning - had taken its toll on him. He shook. Others seemed to have already busied themselves with curiosity, something he simply could not understand.[/color] [color=EEFF53][b]"I...but...the water and..."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	He eyed at how others seemed to manage themselves. The way they tended to the passed out Sofia, who he even thought had rather selfishly lost consciousness after having plunged them into a trance so nightmarishly vivid that he could not face the sea with comfort. It angered him, then tolled him with sadness. He breathed. Easily, he asked, and he did not comply to his own request. There was nothing but total confusion. Even the level-headedness of everyone around him, it almost terrified him.[/color]

[color=EEFF53][b]"No, I...how is anyone like...am I missing something? Am I the only one losing their mind over..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He looked over at the others and, rather anxiously, pointed toward the short girl with classes, then to the guy who sort of sat there with the passed out Sofia.[/color] [color=EEFF53][b]"Where am I? What did you do?! Did...did you do this? Did you...oh...god..."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	He looked to his side as an intense sickness seemed to fill his throat. He held it back, just barely, but the nausea made a mockery of the lad. For what looked at him was a cruel, literary joke. A murder of all nicety, and an estranged, vile prod at what he most definitely feared. For he was but a stranger on an isle, with strangers themselves, and for the briefest of moments, he maintained that panic, for it felt like the most normal thing someone could have done.[/color]