[Just when he was all pleased about the apartment being full again, he realized he hadn't seen Alma yet that morning; unusual, especially since the boy was so active and excited last night, but wasn't sleeping in or enjoying his gifts... He shouldn't have a class...

They didn't get Link back just to lose Alma, did they? Alma -- doesn't have anything to go back to.

Allen switches on the video]


Alma? Are you off somewhere already?

I'm sorry to ask, but has anyone seen him?


((eta: filtered from Noah sob))

[The first thing he can really think to do is groan. His head hurts. In fact, his whole body hurts. A pale eye cracks open, and he realizes he’s face-first on the ground, the Other streaming in ebony ribbons across his flesh. It takes him some effort, but with a muttered curse, he pushes himself to his feet. Or, well, he tries. The ominous rattle of something around his ankle stops the big man dead for a moment. Thick fingers scrabble clumsily at the metal, but without the aid of his Other, there’s just no point.]

[The first question on his mind is ‘Where the fuck am I?’ This isn’t New York. And are those… gravestones?]

What—

[His voice cuts off abruptly as he realizes that there are words in front of his face. Criminal. Criminal? He was trapped under the water in some prison thanks to a goddamn robot? A fist smashes itself into the ground without thinking, and he’s suddenly aware that the earth here is soft. Has to be, for grave digging, but with notable effort, he again struggles to stand, and this time manages to do so. The Other clings to him weakly more disorientated than truly injured, and Eddie just stares at the small, plain tombstones he can see.]

This is a goddamn mistake. They've made some sort of goddamn mistake.

[He’s in utter disbelief. He has to find this “Acumen” thing and get out of here. But not right away; even standing up has made him a little dizzy, and without the aid of the Other, he feels very vulnerable indeed. Soon, though. Soon he’ll have his answers, and he’ll be getting the hell back to New York, one way or another.]

[Without thinking, he rips the communicator from his head and smashes it, infuriated by the message and refusing to believe it. In retrospect, it was probably not a good idea.]

How do you celebrate birthdays in your worlds? I know some places have parties with cake and presents, but that's the only tradition I've heard of.

[Guess who has a birthday in eleven days?]

[[OOC:replies will be slow, but I wanted to get this up now that IJ's working again]]

( Shards reflect broken truths )

{OOC: Warning for possible self-harm. Posting order Cas --> Dean/Sam (first come, first tag?) --> Alma. And sorry for running off to work in like a half hour. >>;}

[After listening to various people talk over the communicator and reading through the information things, Syaoran can't be bothered to actually make a post because he's figured out the basics of this place and asking the same questions would just be a waste of time. He's trying to find his sword and/or look for a way out because there's got to be one somewhere, no matter what anyone else says. He wants to get back and he wants to get back now.

So you might come across a ten year old wearing some green formal robes. He doesn't look very happy because his sword his gone and he was - in typical Marina fashion - in the middle of something really important back home. As in, trying to help save the world important.]

Prison! Just the place I wanted to end up in, really.

Before we have the little heart-to-heart's, the "ooh, what are you in for"s, I just have this one little question. You see, I have a brother back home. Younger brother. He's going through a really rough phase - identity issues, addiction to a dangerous and toxic substance, a compulsive need to lie to everyone around him - the whole schtick. What I want to know is whether or not I can make a phone call to see how he's doing. Like, right now. It's my duty as the older brother to take care of him. Anything less would be a dick move. Just one phone call, and I promise, I will be the best-behaved prisoner you have ever seen in this...place. Ever.

And if the answer's no, well. I just might have to pull the pout.

[Prowling around. He's everywheeeere.]

Is it January?

[It's suddenly very important for him to know this. An impromptu food run has turned into him faceplanting for an elongated period of time at the ramen shop, a bit too weak to walk back, but that's not nearly as important as, "is it January?".]

Well, well. A prison and facilities for all of my egregious crimes.

How sweet. [have a wry chuckle; he's a man of few words]

So tell me, criminal citizens, if you can. Has no one ever left alive?