Fields of grass. Endlessly repeated toward the horizons of all 360 degrees, with a depressing lack of flowers that graced the spot by the river. The only positive thing that could be said about a trek across this ocean of grass was that the scattered hills, while annoying obstacles at first, became beacons of hope, distraction, and, most importantly, variance. This great positive in a sea of arduous neutrality, was not without its downsides. Every so often these slopes would reveal themselves to be slick with mud or plagued with loose stones mere moments before casting any traveler down to the base in a defiant revenge for rudely trotting upon them.
It is on one of the former, gentler hills that Korias has found themselves, with metallic feet digging into the fickle earth and not another soul in sight. They could not tell how long they'd been walking across the lush, yet barren, landscape. They first thought that it had only been an hour (or had it been even less?), but the distinct lack of the features that had drawn them to the river and their slow, methodical pace convinced them that it had to have been longer. How long seemed like an impossible calculation that, when considered for even a moment, was drowned instantly by the memories of every thought that had been had and every sight that had been witnessed since people began falling from the sky. This left the once mediocre sense of exploration and discovery shriveled and uprooted before it had even had a chance to grow into an actual interest. All of this constantly nagged inside their rattling form, constantly pleading for the abandonment of this inquisition before being beaten down and restrained by a combination of worry for those that had fallen and curiosity for what had caused such a phenomenon.
As the hilltop grew closer and closer, the temptation to rush to it grew and grew. It was Korias' siren, and they had no crew to tie them to the mast and hold them back from enthusiastically answering its call. The negative part of sirens, that of ships crashing into rocks and sinking, became clear the moment a metallic ring echoed for miles as their boot struck the last of the hidden stones on the slope. It was the final test of this great beast of an average hill, and they has failed it, and had suffered the sensation of their entire body painfully vibrating for a moment. After suffering from the armored version of a stubbed-toe, and gritting imaginary teeth to stop themselves from letting some unintelligible noise escape them, Korias regained their posture and finally crested the mound of dirt and was given their reward.
Before them lay a lake, dwarfing the waters of the subtle river and making the journey of unknown length here somewhat worth it. As Korias looked out over this silent and calming scene, light winds caressing their faces and forcing memories of an annoying march into obscurity, their nonexistent eyes haphazardly scanned the beaches; the goal, while currently set aside for a moment, was still present in their mind. It took a few seconds of tracing their eyes over the sandy outline of the lake, with all its stones, wandering children, and green phantoms, before Korias finally managed to rip themselves away from their trance. A wandering child was something that could potentially provide them with information, and a phantom could do the same if it wasn't malignant, though few ever seemed to be.
So, with strict course, Korias began to make their way down the hill they had just ascended, doing as best they could to both be quick and stay unnoticed. Unfortunately, this side of the hill was suffering from an even worse infestation of rocks to impede their travels and give out an audible cry every time metal so much as touched them. Being a shining, silver suit of armor out in daylight also meant that stealth was pretty much impossible, as light reflected off of the plated body like a beacon for any who so much as glanced in their direction.