| April 6th, Talion & OTA |
[16 Apr 2008|08:24pm] |
Who?: Talion and whomever
What?: Trying to make sense of things
When?: April 6th, Morning
Where?: First floor
Rating?: PG, probably
Status? In Progress
Talion's body thrashed beneath the covers as his mind tried to free itself from the images flooding through his mind. He shot upright in bed with a gasp, sweat dripping from his forehead. Nightmares, if they could be called that... they were memories of events, crystal clear in every excruciating detail. No these weren't dreams, they were the past refusing to let him move forward. He looked at skull tattooed on his palm, the ominous black tattoo. It was her, as if her soul wouldn't leave his body and rest in peace, or let him rest either. "Why..." he whispered to himself. He leaned forward, resting his hand and head against his bent knees, palms rubbing weary eyes.
"No..." He shook his head, refusing to give in to self-pity and loathing. He threw the covers aside and slipped from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Running water... yet another new thing this mansion had introduced him to. He washed off his face and looked himself in the mirror for a long moment before taking his straight razor and shearing the stubble from his face. The sound of fluttering wings of those damn little faeries brought a curl to his lip. They had learned from the previous day or two to keep their distance from him. So they slowly, cautiously closed in till they were just outside his reach. Even as he climbed into the shower to clean up.
Having cleaned up and dried off, he opened the door from the bathroom to his main room only to find it not there. He was staring into the Skull Chamber at Talianna. He swallowed and looked about, then down at himself he was in his dirty riding leathers ready to go through the cleansing ritual. Everything was right.. the pool, the tables, the slick stone all about. Was he back 'home'? Had everything else been a dream? No sooner had he started to begin questioning which was reality than wing lightly brushed against his hair. Damn faeries... He screamed in outrage at the chamber and the illusion faded back into the smoke and shadow it was... leaving only the generic room he was assigned. He growled and stepped back into the plain room, so the gods were just wanting to screw with the inhabitants.
Opening the dresser revealed a single set of clean black cotton pants and shirt, both embroidered with a white skull. Always a single clean set waiting for him, no matter where he deposited the previous day's clothes. Yet he had never seen a servant or any sort. He threw on the supplied clothes and left his room, headed towards to the library. He had seen some maps and atlas's, perhaps he could figure out where the hell he was, what was going on, and what he was supposed to be doing here.
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