+ Sebastian: I +
Who: Sebastian Verlac and...?
Where: Snowy field in Espoir
Style: Third, unless you want to play a tacky game of mix and match
Status: OPEN
Warning: Anything I post from here on out should be considered a spoiler for City of Glass. If you're reading the 3rd book of The Mortal Instruments or plan to read it in the future, and don't want any spoilers, well, then don't read any further. You were warned. Have a nice day)
(OOC: Spoiler begins - Sebastian Verlac is an alias for Jonathan Morgenstern. He'll be introducing himself under the alias, but I'm going to start off the narration as Jonathan, since that's his real identity)
He was drowning.
He was burning.
He was bleeding.
He was dying.
Jonathan opened his eyes and blinked up at the overwhelming white light. Surely, not. This couldn't possibly be...? What the f-
Disoriented, and in denial of the possibility, Jonathan desperately tried to clear his vision, blinking, squinting, straining to see past the damned light, ultimately having to look away. It was then that he noticed the snowy expanse to his left. And then his hand, resting against the frozen bed of white. Whole, uninjured, attached.
Jonathan sat up suddenly, tightening his hand into a fist. There was no pain, anywhere in his body. The oppressing feeling in his chest, the burning in his throat and down his back, his heart weakly straining to keep up its suddenly fragile rhythm...all of that felt like a nasty dream he'd started himself away from.
But it couldn't have been a dream. He clearly remembered it. Every detail, down to the unbearable realization that the little bastard had tried to kill him.
Tried and failed. Idiot.
Smiling to himself, Jonathan sprung to his feet, relieved to be on the move again.
All your limbs are in tact. Save the celebration for later. First order of business: where the hell are we?
Eyes narrowed, Jonathan glanced around, nostrils flaring. Definitely not Alicante. The feel of this place was entirely different. What's more, the smells were all wrong.
And it hadn't been winter in Idris. Jonathan wasn't dressed for the colder clime. An unfortunate oversight, but no matter. A minor discomfort.
Had they portalled here somehow? A cheap parlor trick - some last-ditch maneuver to outsmart him, no doubt. When violence fails, turn to dry ice and a scene change. It could be easily done, with a flashy warlock on your team.
Clenching his jaw, Jonathan heard a rustling behind him and spun around, grappling at his side for a weapon. At the least, he should have his stele. Where was his sword? Brushing his side in search of a weapon, then patting down his back pocket, Jonathan did indeed feel the cold press of metal inside the fabric. Dipping his fingers into the pocket, however, it was not a cylindrical instrument he came into contact with, but something flat and wider. Brows drawn, he removed it, lifting the object up to his face.
A cell phone. What is this? What was he supposed to do with a cell phone?
Jonathan scoffed, discarding the damned thing into the snow at his feet and lifting his head, sniffing the air again as he took another survey of the surrounding area, debating his next move.
Where: Snowy field in Espoir
Style: Third, unless you want to play a tacky game of mix and match
Status: OPEN
Warning: Anything I post from here on out should be considered a spoiler for City of Glass. If you're reading the 3rd book of The Mortal Instruments or plan to read it in the future, and don't want any spoilers, well, then don't read any further. You were warned. Have a nice day)
(OOC: Spoiler begins - Sebastian Verlac is an alias for Jonathan Morgenstern. He'll be introducing himself under the alias, but I'm going to start off the narration as Jonathan, since that's his real identity)
He was drowning.
He was burning.
He was bleeding.
He was dying.
Jonathan opened his eyes and blinked up at the overwhelming white light. Surely, not. This couldn't possibly be...? What the f-
Disoriented, and in denial of the possibility, Jonathan desperately tried to clear his vision, blinking, squinting, straining to see past the damned light, ultimately having to look away. It was then that he noticed the snowy expanse to his left. And then his hand, resting against the frozen bed of white. Whole, uninjured, attached.
Jonathan sat up suddenly, tightening his hand into a fist. There was no pain, anywhere in his body. The oppressing feeling in his chest, the burning in his throat and down his back, his heart weakly straining to keep up its suddenly fragile rhythm...all of that felt like a nasty dream he'd started himself away from.
But it couldn't have been a dream. He clearly remembered it. Every detail, down to the unbearable realization that the little bastard had tried to kill him.
Tried and failed. Idiot.
Smiling to himself, Jonathan sprung to his feet, relieved to be on the move again.
All your limbs are in tact. Save the celebration for later. First order of business: where the hell are we?
Eyes narrowed, Jonathan glanced around, nostrils flaring. Definitely not Alicante. The feel of this place was entirely different. What's more, the smells were all wrong.
And it hadn't been winter in Idris. Jonathan wasn't dressed for the colder clime. An unfortunate oversight, but no matter. A minor discomfort.
Had they portalled here somehow? A cheap parlor trick - some last-ditch maneuver to outsmart him, no doubt. When violence fails, turn to dry ice and a scene change. It could be easily done, with a flashy warlock on your team.
Clenching his jaw, Jonathan heard a rustling behind him and spun around, grappling at his side for a weapon. At the least, he should have his stele. Where was his sword? Brushing his side in search of a weapon, then patting down his back pocket, Jonathan did indeed feel the cold press of metal inside the fabric. Dipping his fingers into the pocket, however, it was not a cylindrical instrument he came into contact with, but something flat and wider. Brows drawn, he removed it, lifting the object up to his face.
A cell phone. What is this? What was he supposed to do with a cell phone?
Jonathan scoffed, discarding the damned thing into the snow at his feet and lifting his head, sniffing the air again as he took another survey of the surrounding area, debating his next move.