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When your neighbors kill you when you were just trying to have a polite discussion about mutual problems, it's probably not a good sign. They didn't go and hunt down her various homes to outright destroy her, though. At worst it's a temporary inconvenience, and that's what destroying her form was aimed at.
She covers herself in stone and reaches out to feel the surrounding tiles as she stands, almost reflexively. She does not feel any tiles.
I respawned. But... Where the hell am I?
She's on an ocean. There are boats. They're on fire.
Wait, that can't be right.
Well, her confusion can wait. Those boats will soon be less on fire, as she flies upward and whips up a secton of sea into a very local, very intense rainstorm.
This extinguishes the fire immediately. More details of the situation become apparent: in particular, there's a crew of people standing on the shore. They are presumably the ones who just lit the boats on fire, and now they look a little terrified.
Simmering anger- Well, it's more like frustration, really, at why anyone would burn a perfectly good boat.
She focusses on her relatively non-sensitive water-sense, checking for outlines of bodies within the ships, people possibly in need of rescue.
There is, in fact, a person in one of the ships, not badly burned but not moving.
She flies into the ship and picks them up and carries them onto the shore. Are they breathing? Obviously injured?
Not breathing, not obviously injured. May have inhaled too much smoke.
She has no good way to heal them. No crystals, no wands, no nothing. And she's not even a proper healer.
So she carries them to the people down the beach a ways and half-shouts in an unfamiliar language, "If anyone has medical training, help him!"
The people on the beach come running. There are several thousand of them, probably tens of thousands, more stretching into the foothills. They move very fast.
She forms a smooth, slightly curved, clean stone table for the injured person to rest stably on. But that's the extent of her medical knowledge.
She hovers up a bit and just observes. These people aren't humans. There aren't any tiles here. She is very confused.
There is singing, and yelling, and some shoving. No one touches the not-breathing person, but as the singing intensifies he starts breathing.
...She knows six languages, more or less. What's a seventh before a little determination? She floats there, listening, mentally assembling an alphabet.
When he's breathing the singing stops and the yelling and shoving rather intensify.
How to get a crowd's attention. Step 1: Draw a large boulder up from the ground. Step 2: Bring it down sharply (not on anyone) to produce a near-deafening CRACK. "Calm!"
This is highly effective. They pull up in startled, awed silence. What do you want, someone demands, not in words she recognizes, but the spirit quite clear.
This method of communication is vaguely alarming. It's not supposed to be possible. But it's also not supposed to be possible to have a world that's not tiles.
She wants to be sure nobody is about to die because of rashness and stupidity, why someone was burning perfectly good boats with someone still inside them, and, in general, what is happening here, because she is rather lost.
No one seems exactly eager to explain themselves, but eventually the crowd backs aside and someone comes through, looking deeply unhappy to be the man of the moment.
Hello. I am Canafinwë Macalaurë of the house of Fëanor. We thought at first you were Uinen but then you saved my brother. Whose presence honors us?
She lands and reveals her humanlike face by peeling back the stone. I am known as Mountain. I am glad that he will survive. We are both confused, and your group seems to be in upheavel.
Confused is an understatement, given the images flashing through her head. Her world is very different from here, laid out in rigid - triangles?
He raises an eyebrow at that, but stays put. I know of no place like that. Here the world just - is.
She remembers making tiles, not really intending to share the feeling, the rightness of making, but doing so anyway. It's a strong memory. And I have never known a place like this. I suspect it's a different Creation entirely. So long as I am lost here, could someone tell me about this world?
Well.
Fëanor is the wrong person to be talking with the powerful stranger, but that doesn't mean there's a right person, and it does not mean it is him.
He starts telling the story of the Elves. We awakened beneath the stars of Cuivienen, fully grown, eager to name and explore and learn of the world, and we called ourselves the Quendi, and we knew nothing of the greater forces in our world.
She listens serenely. Our beginnings are lost to memory for most. The oldest of the Fates- the word comes with the same impression of making -May know how everything began, but they do not speak of it. Also, if you have peaceful work to do I would gladly assist for a time.
Our work is regrettably not peaceful. A power - perhaps a Fate, the impression you pair with it is the same - murdered my grandfather, despoiled our land, and threatens our people. We're here to destroy him.
Between the Valar, our Fates, it does that too, he agrees. But if we are the ones to fight him it may not.
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