OOC: Second First Memory Crystal (Yeah, you read that right)
[[ooc: Senses are Sight/Smell. Memory taken from the episode Mordland, which I cannot find a clip of.]]
Because of the fire, Alexi's haircare collection diminished from an assortment of products that would make Sally Hansen jealous to a couple combs and some hairspray. Although displeased with his limited resources, that wouldn't stop him from making use of what his could anyway. When he reached for his comb, the tips of his fingers knocked something hard, which clattered into the sink. Brows arching curiously, he reached into the basin and claimed the item between his fingertips, barely catching sight of the crystal before the world swirled around him.
Alexi sat in a bedroom. Not just any bedroom. The porcelain walls reached high, gleaming for a king. Architecture crafted by the Gods. Minimal, overall. Symmetrical. Most notably, decorated only for one. Yes, he approved.
The tall window arched like a doorway, and metal bars served as the only barrier from the outside view. A large television was affixed against the wall. Flat screen. HD. Nice.
From the way things were looking, if he were to get up and look around, he might find a toilet made of gold.
In the very center of the room was a large bed with a mass fur throw draped over it, as white as everything else. In fact, the frameless mattress was large enough to accommodate more than one person, and judging from the size of the voluptuous woman laying next to him (just as naked as him, mind you), appropriately so. Nevertheless, he couldn't be assed to give any regard to just who this woman was.
For the moment, he actually felt rather irritated. Out of the corner of his vision stood an entire line of spectators, sectioned off from the rest of his room by red velvet rope. They simply watched in awe, gawking, slackjaw. Maybe they were saying things, Alexi didn't know, he couldn't hear anything.
They stunk though. Like some sort of noxious disease infesting sterility.
Regardless, Alexi paid them no mind. He leaned over, taking his unplugged Explorer and pulling it into his lap. Wrapping his hand around the guitar's neck, his fingertips danced down the fretboard. His other hand plucked the strings. The unplugged strums fell upon deaf ears, but it hardly mattered. He understood this instrument, memorized it, like an extension of himself. No matter how intricately he played, no matter how swiftly, whether he could hear it or not, he knew he hit every note perfectly.
The rest of the world was easy to ignore.
Then the bathroom of the house in Section 3 came back into view, and a mother fucking clown stared at Alexi through the mirror.
Because of the fire, Alexi's haircare collection diminished from an assortment of products that would make Sally Hansen jealous to a couple combs and some hairspray. Although displeased with his limited resources, that wouldn't stop him from making use of what his could anyway. When he reached for his comb, the tips of his fingers knocked something hard, which clattered into the sink. Brows arching curiously, he reached into the basin and claimed the item between his fingertips, barely catching sight of the crystal before the world swirled around him.
Alexi sat in a bedroom. Not just any bedroom. The porcelain walls reached high, gleaming for a king. Architecture crafted by the Gods. Minimal, overall. Symmetrical. Most notably, decorated only for one. Yes, he approved.
The tall window arched like a doorway, and metal bars served as the only barrier from the outside view. A large television was affixed against the wall. Flat screen. HD. Nice.
From the way things were looking, if he were to get up and look around, he might find a toilet made of gold.
In the very center of the room was a large bed with a mass fur throw draped over it, as white as everything else. In fact, the frameless mattress was large enough to accommodate more than one person, and judging from the size of the voluptuous woman laying next to him (just as naked as him, mind you), appropriately so. Nevertheless, he couldn't be assed to give any regard to just who this woman was.
For the moment, he actually felt rather irritated. Out of the corner of his vision stood an entire line of spectators, sectioned off from the rest of his room by red velvet rope. They simply watched in awe, gawking, slackjaw. Maybe they were saying things, Alexi didn't know, he couldn't hear anything.
They stunk though. Like some sort of noxious disease infesting sterility.
Regardless, Alexi paid them no mind. He leaned over, taking his unplugged Explorer and pulling it into his lap. Wrapping his hand around the guitar's neck, his fingertips danced down the fretboard. His other hand plucked the strings. The unplugged strums fell upon deaf ears, but it hardly mattered. He understood this instrument, memorized it, like an extension of himself. No matter how intricately he played, no matter how swiftly, whether he could hear it or not, he knew he hit every note perfectly.
The rest of the world was easy to ignore.
Then the bathroom of the house in Section 3 came back into view, and a mother fucking clown stared at Alexi through the mirror.