The vision of black, laced with spiralling blue essence had flowed around his mind and in front of his closed eyes for many hours now. He knew not of his surroundings, but the fluctuation of blue between navy, aqua & marine represented the ambiance of wherever he was. Yet the greatest surprise was that he wasn't in the stomach of one of the flying beasts.
At this thought, he concentrated on those spirals, checking the colour.
From the previous uncertainty of navy, his vision changed to a lighter blue. Much like the pure blue of the clear caribbean sea.
From this, he felt a fresh wave through his brain. He didn't know what it meant, but he sensed that the safety of his friends was at a better stage than it had been.
At this point, his eyes slowly opened. His stomach was pressured, and he saw that he was flopped over something smushy. He looked first to his right, where was a wall with a few fine paintings, and then to his left, to the head of who was carrying him.
"Riooooo." He groaned, scratching his head. "Dewmann, that you?"