17 :: Like a Steel Sieve [Action/Accidental Voice]
[There is a man with long, white hair currently sitting on the edge of a fountain in the center of some stupidly quaint, little village. Even though he's trying not to show it, he's clearly disoriented. The morning began badly with him waking in a forest, feeling bruises on his body and a dried cut on his face that he has no memory of receiving. Things got stranger when he found a path his feet automatically wanted to take, though he didn't know why, and it lead it him to the village. Evidently his feet knew more than his brain - which really can't be a good sign, all things considered.
The village is vaguely familiar, and it is irritating as hell that he can't pin down why. Making matters worse is that he can't recall a single thing about himself. Not his name. Nothing. For all he knows he could be a pastry chef. That, however, seems unlikely seeing as he has some odd looking sword strapped to his hand. Why is it like that anyway? And then there is this useless journal! He flips through it idly, looking for clues, and comments to himself rather than anyone near by.]
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!
The village is vaguely familiar, and it is irritating as hell that he can't pin down why. Making matters worse is that he can't recall a single thing about himself. Not his name. Nothing. For all he knows he could be a pastry chef. That, however, seems unlikely seeing as he has some odd looking sword strapped to his hand. Why is it like that anyway? And then there is this useless journal! He flips through it idly, looking for clues, and comments to himself rather than anyone near by.]
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!