( 001 ♠ HOLO ♠ ARRIVAL )
The vertigo was different this morning, accompanied by a dry taste in his mouth that left Puck wondering what the bartender had slipped into his drink.. and where he could get some more. Only then did he realize that he was standing rather than laying in his bed and concluded that his life was certainly at no high point when his automatic assumption was that someone had drugged him. Although, looking around this strange silver room, that might have been the easy explanation. "The fuck is going on?" he muttered, dragging his hands over his face as though that would help wake him up... but froze, the cool lights glinting off the bracelet fused against the pale skin of his wrist.
Now more disquieted than disgruntled, Puck took another long look around as he tried to piece together how he might have gotten here. The last thing he remembered was falling into bed in his loft, accompanied by... "Blon-- brunette? No, blonde. Dyed though."
He spoke more to break the silence of the room than anything, because he found it disturbingly creepy. It struck him as something sort of... retroactively futuristic. Almost idealized, but like from another, earlier decade. He tried to pry his fingers beneath the silver band, but it only resulted in a gash on his forearm. Black studded boots clunked down the stairs leading from the platform as he approached the only other thing immediately visible: a small pedestal. He frowned at the device sitting there, skimming his fingers lightly over the unmarred surface that looked like it'd never been used. A weird cellphone? Puck patted his pockets down, but his was missing.
A flash of colour in the corner of his eye made him swing around, and to his shock he saw his guitar behind the platform he'd just left. Crossing to it quickly, Puck ran his fingers over the polished surface, but couldn't detect any flaws. Whatever hallucination this was, it was convincing enough to fool him. "Is this your damned modern glamour?"
That was his only explanation, because how else could it be explained that he'd woken into a room with nothing but the clothes on his back, his guitar, and no door? A sardonic scowl twisted his mouth into his usual moody expression. "I would've thought a padded room would've been more appropriate," he muttered.
But even a faerie could not force himself awake from a dream, even one as unwelcome as this. At the very least he would not indulge it, and keeping his guitar close to his side, sat down with his back against the featureless wall. "I can wait longer than you know," he called out sullenly. "I have nothing but time."
Now more disquieted than disgruntled, Puck took another long look around as he tried to piece together how he might have gotten here. The last thing he remembered was falling into bed in his loft, accompanied by... "Blon-- brunette? No, blonde. Dyed though."
He spoke more to break the silence of the room than anything, because he found it disturbingly creepy. It struck him as something sort of... retroactively futuristic. Almost idealized, but like from another, earlier decade. He tried to pry his fingers beneath the silver band, but it only resulted in a gash on his forearm. Black studded boots clunked down the stairs leading from the platform as he approached the only other thing immediately visible: a small pedestal. He frowned at the device sitting there, skimming his fingers lightly over the unmarred surface that looked like it'd never been used. A weird cellphone? Puck patted his pockets down, but his was missing.
A flash of colour in the corner of his eye made him swing around, and to his shock he saw his guitar behind the platform he'd just left. Crossing to it quickly, Puck ran his fingers over the polished surface, but couldn't detect any flaws. Whatever hallucination this was, it was convincing enough to fool him. "Is this your damned modern glamour?"
That was his only explanation, because how else could it be explained that he'd woken into a room with nothing but the clothes on his back, his guitar, and no door? A sardonic scowl twisted his mouth into his usual moody expression. "I would've thought a padded room would've been more appropriate," he muttered.
But even a faerie could not force himself awake from a dream, even one as unwelcome as this. At the very least he would not indulge it, and keeping his guitar close to his side, sat down with his back against the featureless wall. "I can wait longer than you know," he called out sullenly. "I have nothing but time."