Who: Niki Wolfe, Nicole Desjardins, open
What: Arrival! (Because those are always fun. >.>)
When: 1700 hours, April 21
Where: The morgue
Rating/Status: TBA/Incomplete
Note: A himation is a cloak, and a chiton is a traditional male or female garment of Ancient Greece.

He sighed and set the book down, rubbing at his eyes. He'd learned some of those characters from his time with the Romans, but the other twenty-nine letters, he was still learning. English, he'd discovered, was quite confusing. He much preferred Latin or Greek. Niki's hand strayed to the knife at his side. While he was at the house of his friend, he didn't have to hide Theophanes' knife, and he didn't have to dress like an American.

Nikolaos Wolfe hadn't always been his name; he'd changed it after discovering that Antigonus was a much stranger name in the twenty-first century than it had been in his own time. When he'd mentioned his parents' names to his friend, he'd laughed so hard he cried.

"Zosime? Hilarion? Good Lord, man!"

Shaking the memory away, he stood, stepping towards his armor. It lay over a chair, almost glowing in the warm light. He placed a finger over it. He had a sudden urge to try it on again, and he hesitated. Why try it on? He wouldn't need it...

He ran a finger over it, reliving battles in his past. He flipped long, dark hair over his shoulder, wincing as he got his fingers caught in a tangle. It wouldn't be a simple matter, either, to try on his armor. He pulled the folds of his chiton and himation closer around himself, letting out a tiny sigh of relief when he felt his fingers brush across his own knife, and the few possessions he valued enough to carry with him all the time.

Before he could make a final decision about trying on the armor, he found himself gasping for breath as he was dragged through time and space. He followed the path of Kasandros' ring (or had it been Nikon's or Panther's?) and its bearer, panicking out of habit as he saw his surroundings change.

A base, with people he assumed were soldiers...then a crowded ship, wandering down hallways at random, with this seeming to drag out for the longest. Suddenly, scenery changed again and he was rushing through hallways, down to a place that seemed more sterile even than that room his friend had called his "lab." A woman stood, holding a ring, admiring it, and then suddenly he wasn't rushing anymore.

He stood, chiton and himation still wrapped around him, and Theophanes' knife on his hip, his own just inside the himation. Swallowing his fear and confusion, he kept his hand on his knife. Any challenge to come, he was at least partially ready for, though he'd already learned there were things beyond any of his training in this day and age. Things they called guns, which he hadn't ever seen before in his lifetime, but they had now. His only defense was time manipulation, which he didn't like to use in warfare. What with the speed of everyone moving around, it was exhausting, and he could only keep it up for so long. Better to just battle it out and rely on his experience and training.

Focusing his attention on the girl, he made a quick analysis. She was only a few inches shorter than he was, with dark hair...she might have been a Celt, or a Roman - possibly even from Gaul, but he doubted it. And then he dismissed the ideas. His world had died with the Roman Empire, and the nations he knew were either no longer existent, or they had been renamed and redivided. All of his thoughts were combined into a few seconds as he stood still, taking stock of his surroundings. No need to waste energy if she hadn't noticed him yet...