*prods comm until it moves* >:I
[[About a week after finally releasing Bitch from her bedroom prison (she'd finally agreed not to kill herself, and Autor was getting worried about bedsores), Autor is out at midnight again, wandering the town. The moon is just barely waxing tonight, a tiny concave sliver, occasionally hiding among the dark clouds that have drifted into the sky over the past hour or so. There's a scent in the air of an approaching storm, and wait... was that a raindrop...?
As if in response to Autor's thoughts, the sky suddenly sees fit to open up on him, flinging down all the water its clouds can possibly hold in a sudden, collosal torrent. Things often seem to work this way for Autor.]]
Oh, dammit!
[[Far from home and without a jacket, Autor's first thought is to dart into the nearest house, shutting the door tightly behind him to keep out the rain. He sheds his waistcoat almost immediately, pacing as he wrings it out, not bothering to look at the room around him. It's dark, so he assumes it's empty.]]
Son of a--Damned weather--completely ruined--AAAAH!
[[Abruptly, he trips over the foot of a chair, flying face-first into the table in front of it. As luck would have it, his forehead slams solidly against the polished wood, while a few unidentifiable glass items topple off the end of the table and shatter on the floor.]]
...So now I'm soaking wet, I may have a concussion, and...
[[He trails off as his eye is caught by a beaker of orange liquid on the table in front of him, fizzing quietly from the bottom.]]
What... What the hell?
[[OOC: Decided to see if I could shock some life into this place. Basically, Autor has stumbled upon an alchemical laboratory. Won't that be great? Anyway, feel free to wander in after him to escape the rain, or just to laugh at his newly-concussed self.
ETA: Backdated to the night before Caras' escape, because I'm a dumbass.]]
As if in response to Autor's thoughts, the sky suddenly sees fit to open up on him, flinging down all the water its clouds can possibly hold in a sudden, collosal torrent. Things often seem to work this way for Autor.]]
Oh, dammit!
[[Far from home and without a jacket, Autor's first thought is to dart into the nearest house, shutting the door tightly behind him to keep out the rain. He sheds his waistcoat almost immediately, pacing as he wrings it out, not bothering to look at the room around him. It's dark, so he assumes it's empty.]]
Son of a--Damned weather--completely ruined--AAAAH!
[[Abruptly, he trips over the foot of a chair, flying face-first into the table in front of it. As luck would have it, his forehead slams solidly against the polished wood, while a few unidentifiable glass items topple off the end of the table and shatter on the floor.]]
...So now I'm soaking wet, I may have a concussion, and...
[[He trails off as his eye is caught by a beaker of orange liquid on the table in front of him, fizzing quietly from the bottom.]]
What... What the hell?
[[OOC: Decided to see if I could shock some life into this place. Basically, Autor has stumbled upon an alchemical laboratory. Won't that be great? Anyway, feel free to wander in after him to escape the rain, or just to laugh at his newly-concussed self.
ETA: Backdated to the night before Caras' escape, because I'm a dumbass.]]