(no subject)
It was still disconcerting, waking up to the sun on his face. Disconcerting. And fabulous. So fabulous, he lay there for a full ten minutes before stirring, just enjoying the warmth on his skin and the peace that could only come from a good night's sleep. Since coming here his days had been spent in sunlight, his nights free of Ambrose's dreams - the kind that would scare most humans into catatonia.
He could get used to this.
Then he opened his eyes and, of course, everything had changed. His house, or hut rather, wasn't a hut anymore. It looked like...an apartment?
Had he somehow left the island? Not that that would surprise him. He'd actually found a little peace here. The gods knew that couldn't be allowed, could it?
The question was...where was he? And who was here with him?
Immediately, he flashed to his feet and drew his shortsword from its sheath. It felt different in his hands. Different wasn't good. When he looked down, though, the difference wasn't so much bad as it was really, really strange.
"Oooohkay."
He did two things at once. First, he pinched the skin of his inner arm and it hurt like hell. Right. Not dreaming. Second, he tried to use his powers. Still as dead as a skinned gator. Right. Still on the island after all.
As he tried to get his bearings, something Luke told him rattled into his head, something about this place liking to fuck with your head. Based on today's wake up call, he was a little more open to believing that shit than he had been just yesterday.
Deciding to see what else had changed, he turned to dress and stopped dead.
He'd worn an outfit like that once before. Late August. Five years ago. When Ash had finally convinced him to go to Dragon*Con with him and Tabby'd insisted he go steampunk-style. The clothes were almost identical, but a bit more true Victorian than what Tabby had put together. His Oakleys had become goggles, his leather jacket was now a black coat with tails, his Docs had become buckled boots.
He dressed and looked into the mirror. Almost identical.
"Why can't I get away from you, Acheron? Even trapped on a fucking island, you're still here dogging my ass. I swear Savitar's behind this somehow."
With that last thought, he decided to head out and see just what else had changed while he slept.
[OOC - not a bad time to meet Nick at all, he's outside a residential building near St. James Park or wandering around. closed and completed, I think]
He could get used to this.
Then he opened his eyes and, of course, everything had changed. His house, or hut rather, wasn't a hut anymore. It looked like...an apartment?
Had he somehow left the island? Not that that would surprise him. He'd actually found a little peace here. The gods knew that couldn't be allowed, could it?
The question was...where was he? And who was here with him?
Immediately, he flashed to his feet and drew his shortsword from its sheath. It felt different in his hands. Different wasn't good. When he looked down, though, the difference wasn't so much bad as it was really, really strange.
"Oooohkay."
He did two things at once. First, he pinched the skin of his inner arm and it hurt like hell. Right. Not dreaming. Second, he tried to use his powers. Still as dead as a skinned gator. Right. Still on the island after all.
As he tried to get his bearings, something Luke told him rattled into his head, something about this place liking to fuck with your head. Based on today's wake up call, he was a little more open to believing that shit than he had been just yesterday.
Deciding to see what else had changed, he turned to dress and stopped dead.
He'd worn an outfit like that once before. Late August. Five years ago. When Ash had finally convinced him to go to Dragon*Con with him and Tabby'd insisted he go steampunk-style. The clothes were almost identical, but a bit more true Victorian than what Tabby had put together. His Oakleys had become goggles, his leather jacket was now a black coat with tails, his Docs had become buckled boots.
He dressed and looked into the mirror. Almost identical.
"Why can't I get away from you, Acheron? Even trapped on a fucking island, you're still here dogging my ass. I swear Savitar's behind this somehow."
With that last thought, he decided to head out and see just what else had changed while he slept.
[OOC - not a bad time to meet Nick at all, he's outside a residential building near St. James Park or wandering around. closed and completed, I think]