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The air is chilly against your skin, which has despite your best efforts been stained with a sticky black tar that smears when you wipe it. Ugh. You try your best to avoid thinking how you’ll have to iron press this shirt again.
The zone has finally opened up into a more expansive little desolation, and as the water ebbs and flows against the hard edges of the terrain, you take a look at the area around you. To your front is a grandstanding building, once a monument to the heights of architecture, now nothing more than a elder pillar lost to time. The appearance of the material looks like that of cracked clay, or perhaps melting concrete, as its surface is scattered with wind-swept indentations and the appearance of rough gravel. Support beams jut out of the building like broken bones, slowly pricking the sky. A ladder that seems to stretch infinitely across the surface of the building runs along its exterior.
To your immediate right however, you can spot a few pedalo rides, stranded out of space and slowly grinding against the shore with the pulse of the waves. Said grinding most definitely has worn down their beautiful architecture, making them infeasible for travel. The avian silhouettes run and jut along the coast and into the horizon. Perhaps if you investigate the coast further, you could find a workable ride.
You are anchored in place as the waves fizzle around you. You decide to:
>Climb the ladder of the tall building
>Search the coast for a usable pedalo ride.
