Who: Mercutio and Yu Narukami What: Arriving. And resuscitating, or something. When: Nov 3rd. Where: A part of the village that looks like Verona but definitely isn't. Rating: G
Mercutio did not enter this new world with much dignity. Before he was conscious of anything else, first there was pain. Not, he decided, the worst thing he’d ever experienced. When Tybalt had stabbed him, that had been the worst, though whether it was only a moment ago or an age ago he could not tell. Now it was just as if someone had knocked the wind out of him, out from that very spot between his ribs. He drew breath – deep and harsh and rasping, like he was coming up for air from a deep swim. And then he realized he was on the ground, in the not terribly flattering nor manly pose of curled up, clutching his side.
He stood up, gingerly. He felt shaken and his head throbbed. It was like the morning after enjoying oneself a little too much with drink, though Mercutio was positive that the things that had preceded his headache before waking up weren’t nearly as fun. A few deep breaths later, he felt better. Still confused and bewildered, but at least a little more solid on his feet. He checked himself over, and was glad to find he was still in one piece at least. Still had all of his belongings, and his sword. His shirt was a little torn, and he fancied he was probably a little pale, but it could be worse.
This was not Verona, he was certain of that. It looked a little like it, but the more he stared, the more little oddities began to show themselves. There were bits and pieces of alien architecture all over the place; and it was quiet. The world he was used to was never this placid. This place seemed like a pale shadow of his city. If this was death, as he assumed it was, it seemed far too lifeless to be heaven. Perhaps complete desolation meant Hell, instead. Mercutio’s world was vibrant and loud and full of color. The street he was on seemed more like an empty stage, long after the players had left.
Mercutio, ever the center of attention, was completely disoriented by having no audience. And he was not a creature well suited to silence.
He whistled to keep himself company, with a cheeriness he wasn’t exactly feeling just now.