1. The Return He Won't Remember | Action | OTA
[It's early Tuesday morning when he wakes up, splayed on a large boulder with nothing on but the new feather pants every one gets and his hand curled around a book. He wakes up shivering, and the sun does little to help that, being the middle of winter. His immediate reaction is to sit up and curl around himself, leaving the book to sit next to him on the cold stone while he tries to get warm. There's a few short sneezes, cut off quickly as he works to keep silent.
He has no idea where he is, and there's a cold pit in his stomach when he realizes that he's completely alone in the middle of a forest he doesn't remember traveling to. The last thing he does remember was being on the bridge, readying himself to--]
Zoe...!
[It's enough to make him scramble to his feet, still looking around frantically. Standing doesn't make anything clearer though, and the only anchor he finds is the leather bound journal at his feet. He frowns as he sees his name etched on the cover and bends to pick it up. That's when the dull ache on his back finally catches his attention and he stops, straightening back up to ease the pain a little.
His muscles seem to spasm, but it's an odd sensation, as if something wasn't hooked up quite right. That's when he sees the flash of something brown and cream-colored flick just into view and just as quickly back out again. He pivots immediately, but the object seems to move with him, and it isn't until his back spasms again and that same visual flash of something occurs that he realizes it's attached to his back.
Derek goes stock still then, even his breath ceasing for a moment as he carefully reaches behind him and grasps feathers. He gives an experiment tug, and is rewarded with a flash of pain that goes all the way down his spine and makes him let go quickly.]
What the ever-loving fuck?
[He's liking this little scenario less and less by the second, but practicality is also coming to the fore. He's in a strange place, in the middle of winter, in nothing but a pair of cotton pants and something painful and feathery stuck to his back. He can ask all the questions he wants later, but priorities are to find shelter first, and then possibly a medical clinic second. He's just grateful that it's daytime; chances were, this wasn't some sort of mind trick by the master vampire. It might even be a dream, although he's getting way too much sensory input for that. Either way; priorities were still priorities. He didn't fancy freezing to death in his dreams any more than he would in reality.
Fortunately, he isn't far from the village, and the smell of chimney smoke, faint but present in the heavy air, is enough to guide him to the nearest buildings at the south end of the village.
He checks out a few of the houses as he passes them by, occasionally jiggling a front door knob, but generally leaving the homes alone if they seem to be occupied. Instinctively he heads for the village square. If he sees any other villagers, he'll nod at them, but otherwise not say much unless they respond. If they do though, he has one simple question for them:]
Where am I? What do you call this place?
[Eventually, he'll make his way to Good Spirits, trying to get into the place without drawing too much attention and settling into a back booth, taking time to figure out what he wants to do next. Hopefully, the owner won't toss him out on his ear.]
This entry was originally posted at http://derek-bliss.dreamwidth.org/345916.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
He has no idea where he is, and there's a cold pit in his stomach when he realizes that he's completely alone in the middle of a forest he doesn't remember traveling to. The last thing he does remember was being on the bridge, readying himself to--]
Zoe...!
[It's enough to make him scramble to his feet, still looking around frantically. Standing doesn't make anything clearer though, and the only anchor he finds is the leather bound journal at his feet. He frowns as he sees his name etched on the cover and bends to pick it up. That's when the dull ache on his back finally catches his attention and he stops, straightening back up to ease the pain a little.
His muscles seem to spasm, but it's an odd sensation, as if something wasn't hooked up quite right. That's when he sees the flash of something brown and cream-colored flick just into view and just as quickly back out again. He pivots immediately, but the object seems to move with him, and it isn't until his back spasms again and that same visual flash of something occurs that he realizes it's attached to his back.
Derek goes stock still then, even his breath ceasing for a moment as he carefully reaches behind him and grasps feathers. He gives an experiment tug, and is rewarded with a flash of pain that goes all the way down his spine and makes him let go quickly.]
What the ever-loving fuck?
[He's liking this little scenario less and less by the second, but practicality is also coming to the fore. He's in a strange place, in the middle of winter, in nothing but a pair of cotton pants and something painful and feathery stuck to his back. He can ask all the questions he wants later, but priorities are to find shelter first, and then possibly a medical clinic second. He's just grateful that it's daytime; chances were, this wasn't some sort of mind trick by the master vampire. It might even be a dream, although he's getting way too much sensory input for that. Either way; priorities were still priorities. He didn't fancy freezing to death in his dreams any more than he would in reality.
Fortunately, he isn't far from the village, and the smell of chimney smoke, faint but present in the heavy air, is enough to guide him to the nearest buildings at the south end of the village.
He checks out a few of the houses as he passes them by, occasionally jiggling a front door knob, but generally leaving the homes alone if they seem to be occupied. Instinctively he heads for the village square. If he sees any other villagers, he'll nod at them, but otherwise not say much unless they respond. If they do though, he has one simple question for them:]
Where am I? What do you call this place?
[Eventually, he'll make his way to Good Spirits, trying to get into the place without drawing too much attention and settling into a back booth, taking time to figure out what he wants to do next. Hopefully, the owner won't toss him out on his ear.]
This entry was originally posted at http://derek-bliss.dreamwidth.org/345916.html. Please comment there using OpenID.