And Everything is Plastic and Everyone's Sarcastic
Who: Melchior Gabor and anyone who'd like to pay him a visit
Where: The lounge
When: Before sunrise
Summary: Nightmares finally force Melchior out into the open for a while.
As he'd predicted, the reality of his strange predicament eventually hit Melchior with a force that seemed almost physical. He practically locked himself up in 202 for several days in an attempt to avoid not only other people in the hotel but as much of the hotel as possible, as though he really believed that one of these mornings he'd wake up and be back in 19th century Germany, or even better, back in his own bed at home waking up to another monotonous day of school.
Every morning he still woke to a disgustingly fancy hotel room with the damn desert out the window.
His despair at his predicament quickly began to slip into his unconscious as well; in dreams he was haunted by the life he left behind -- not the life he wanted so badly to return to, but all of the things about his life he tried so hard to bury.
So, after laying in bed and staring at the ceiling after another restless attempt at sleep, Melchior dressed and headed down to the lounge where he settled in a chair, nodding off over his copy of Faust despite a stack of books from the library on a table beside him, an ash tray balancing on top of them with a cigarette sitting forgotten.
Where: The lounge
When: Before sunrise
Summary: Nightmares finally force Melchior out into the open for a while.
As he'd predicted, the reality of his strange predicament eventually hit Melchior with a force that seemed almost physical. He practically locked himself up in 202 for several days in an attempt to avoid not only other people in the hotel but as much of the hotel as possible, as though he really believed that one of these mornings he'd wake up and be back in 19th century Germany, or even better, back in his own bed at home waking up to another monotonous day of school.
Every morning he still woke to a disgustingly fancy hotel room with the damn desert out the window.
His despair at his predicament quickly began to slip into his unconscious as well; in dreams he was haunted by the life he left behind -- not the life he wanted so badly to return to, but all of the things about his life he tried so hard to bury.
So, after laying in bed and staring at the ceiling after another restless attempt at sleep, Melchior dressed and headed down to the lounge where he settled in a chair, nodding off over his copy of Faust despite a stack of books from the library on a table beside him, an ash tray balancing on top of them with a cigarette sitting forgotten.