Waking up somewhere other than the last place one remembered was far more disarming than Tieria could have suspected. He remembered sortieing against the incoming army to protect the Ptolemaios in what felt like a fruitless endeavor, the loss of Lockon almost too fresh for him to perform at 100% efficiency. Not like it would have helped; they'd fared better than he himself had predicted by roughly 4 hours and 53 minutes, and even as Nadleeh's torn body had lost all life support functions he'd felt, somewhere behind the despair and loss and defeat, a sort of pride that he once imagined Veda felt for him.
'So I am dead.'
It was a logical conclusion, except it felt very much like being alive. Tieria didn't believe in Heaven or Hell, didn't stop to wonder if he'd even be admitted to such places, but his current location matched neither of their descriptions. It was nothing but an island reminiscent of the one they used as a base of operations on Earth, except the quiet indicated the annoying fowl and other wildlife were absent. The landmarks were also unfamiliar; he couldn't place where this specific beach could have been, and brushed sands of grain from his cardigan as he stood.
He knew he had been in his flight suit last, yet now.. He was definitely wearing his normally off-duty clothes, complete with his glasses. Checking his shoe Tieria found that annoying scuff he'd meant to polish off before they'd gone on alert, making such a task trivial. To be dressed in his own clothes on a beach like this, with no injuries nor any sign of them, what did it mean?