Adrift
IC date: Multi
OOC date: 2/12
Location: The Ocean, Somewhere
PCs: Dustdevil
NPCs: N/A
GM: N/A

There was nothing, nothing but grey clouds of the Maelstrom, pelting hail, wind blown sand, and pain, there was no escaping that. Then, then there was confusion, and nothingness, like being tossed about with no understanding of up from down, not even Dustdevil could find an escape to this concentrated madness, the confusion spread and consciousness failed as something struck him from behind. There was true nothingness…

Water, yes it was definitely water the ocean to be more precise as Dustdevil swam weakly to beach himself upon some driftwood where he could get his bearings. Dustdevil stared around but saw nothing but more ocean, all around, nothing but ocean! Panic set in instantly causing the pegasus to simply break into tears sobbing as he, the Search and Rescue pony was hopelessly lost at sea, not a shore, or island or ship in sight! Lost!

As his tears failed him he found that somehow he had managed to loose his survival gear, his vest, and rope, and everything that could help to keep him alive that little bit longer, save for one thing, upon his rescue harness, held one thing, something from his friend 'Sodium-Fizz' back at the harbor, it was a small flask of something special, it was an endurance potion, this, this stuff would save him, or help him somehow. With that, he gripped the bottle and upended it guzzling down half of it before putting it away again for safe keeping in hopes he didn't have to use the rest.

Dustdevil was able to watch the day fade to night, see the stars come out and watch the patterns of the night, the stars the way they rotated through the night gave him hope. He had overcome his weakness by the study of the night. The rescue pegasus would have to rescue himself this time, or at least do his best to try. Its all he could do now, was to just try.

Upon the sea the pegasus collected a bit of driftwood scraps, and had managed to get himself up atop this mass of flotsam so that he could dry his wings. Wet wings were pretty much useless in flight, so with some preening, and realization that he had lost a few feathers in his struggles, he found that he could at least fly a little bit, even if he was a bit sore at it.

As night faded yet again to day, he could see his direction laid out ahead of him. He stood atop his driftwood float, and set his hooves just right, opened his wings, and buzzed them in just such a way as that he wouldn't take off, but stay level, so he could push his raft along. This would allow him a place to rest and keep dry when needed. So far he was being fueled purely by that endurance potion that he kept near to his heart. He charged ahead, aiming for Equestria, and hopefully home.

The day lingered on, and eased towards evening tides, still nothing. Nothing was right, he was going the right direction, but somehow had found nothing. He hadn't been out to sea /that/ long, but somehow he was still far from home. All day long, and still nothing, He had still only had half of that potion, and he wasn't giving up no he'd never give up! He 'flew' all day until night came upon him again where he collapsed to his driftwood boat completely exhausted.

Dreams took him home, flying that last mission flying beside that new Pegasus in town, that of Moonglow, "Oh, I hope Moonglow made it to safety." Dustdevil snorted a few times and woke up groggily just feeling something different. He looked about, all about and nothing. Thats just it, he'd been sailing now for some time, and saw no evidence of the storm which threw him out here, not even a speck on the horizon, nothing to aim for even. Dustdevil sighed and dozed back off to sleep.

Days passed on into a loop of nothingness and suffering, after he finished off that potion and still nothing. He was going the right direction, but still there was nothing to find, no food, no water, the pegasus was wearing thin and he knew his time was near. Every effort went merely in staying awake, keeping alive regardless of how his stomach ached, throat parched, Dustdevil could see his demise not far in the future, it would claim him soon.

That night found Dustdevil confiding in the Princess of the Night, begging for a way to escape this nightmare, but that dream was interrupted as someone lifted the pegasus from his raft and into a sanctuary of exotic voices, each one sounding worried, some poking him in his ribs, others just holding him. The voices spoke of confusion, sickness, and death. The voices were anything but equestrian, Zebra for sure, perhaps even gryphon of origin, but one thing was for sure, Dustdevil had been rescued!