In the dimly lit room, it was hard to make out every detail, but MacKensie could see he was a kid. A teenager, more accurately, and looked like he might be a little lost himself. This notion of a shared, miserable situation, seemed to calm the young woman even if she did remain frozen.
"Uhm...Hello. Do you...know where we are?"
His reaction to his own voice, MacKensie just guessed he was scared of being too loud, but he didn't sound scared at all. If anything, the kid just sounded annoyed. But then why.... oh, like it matters, Mac, she scolded herself.
Visions flashed in her mind - the hysterical plane isles, filled with screaming athletes; her friends, coaches.
"I..." was the start of her reply to the boy, before being distracted by another one waking up, this one a man, not much older than her maybe.
"Where the hell am I?" he asked. He pressed his questions further, MacKensie shaking her head and telling them both that she had no idea what was going on. It was clear that none of them did. "Umm, My name is David Markovia....I think it is at least."
David's last announcement was disconcerting. He didn't seem 100% sure of his own name. Much like the boy's reaction to his own voice, MacKensie didn't (couldn't) dwell on it, instead introducing herself.
"I'm MacKensie. MacKensie Trydant," she told them, straightening her posture and giving them a clipped courtesy, before leaning back against the wall. As she did, she noticed for the first time that she had some weight around her hips, and she realised that she was wearing an old leather belt satchel. Also on her belt was a smaller pouch and a knife. "I err... I think I..."
I think I died, she wanted to say. It was just so ridiculous. But those final moments on the plane were real. That terror. The impact.
MacKensie suddenly realised she was at the door to the chamber, when she heard the hard-heeled steps of someone outside the room. Out of instinct, she moved away from the door and back to her coffin. It was then that she saw she'd left some items behind in it, so she scooped them up to inspect for clues. Then the chamber door opened.
"Everyone up? Everyone good? Functional? Hmm?" The man that entered was well-dressed and groomed, older than everyone else, and clearly not so confused like they were. He shared his gaze with the room, before cutting right to the chase. "This...never has a good explanation, but I'm going to need you to ready to fight, soon. Yall familiar with it?"
MacKensie bristled at the idea. Fight who? Why? She had another look at the items in her hand and now realised they were weapons. One was a small crossbow of sorts, and the other was some kind of wrist contraption. She looked at the boy beside her and saw that he had a sword. And not a rapier for fencing. It was a bloody full-on knights swords, like something out a fairy tale.
Perhaps this is a dream, she thought. Perhaps it's the ultimate dream of death. Then her thoughts spilled out of her mouth. "This is the afterlife."
