treasure hunter (thieveries) wrote in realitycrash, @ 2011-10-27 11:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !arrival, locke cole, rory williams |
The Players Locke Cole and open!
What Locke arrives, someone stumbles upon him.
Where Near the town's entrance; general street side area.
When Thursday morning, shortly after this.
Rating PG/PG-13.
It wasn't every day that Locke found himself falling to the earth. The impact hadn't killed him, but the soreness of his limbs from the fall and the battle before had exhausted him to the point of not immediately checking out his new, unfamiliar surroundings. He had remained in the grass, looking up to the morning sky that wasn't his, watching as the sun came out to make its presence known. He knew that he had to move eventually. And soon, after hearing the footsteps and distant voices of other people, Locke pushed himself up into a sitting position. His muscles and bones burned with ache, but it didn't stop him from checking to see if he had everything, to see if he was okay. His dagger and magicite were still with him, along with the small pouch he had for coin. His clothes were dirty from the battle and fall, stained with dirt and grass, but it wasn't anything to cause him concern. He checked his torso for any damage, found nothing, and went on to check his head. Fingers brushed themselves through his light colored hair and he felt nothing wrong — well, wait. Running his fingers through his hair a second time, he realized what was missing. His bandana. Something of little consequence, but it was still something he no longer had. Forcing himself up to his feet, he found himself staggering a little, but he remained standing. His breath was caught, however, when he took in the sight of where he had landed. The buildings, the streets, the things that moved around with wheels — everything was foreign to him, straight down to the way the people were dressed (even though, unbeknownst to him, he looked like someone who ran away from a Renaissance festival). Locke took a few steps forward, passing a large sign that beckoned his attention. Welcome to Red Oak, Delaware, it read, and it meant nothing to him. "Where is Delaware?" he asked, mostly to himself, as if speaking the name would bring something to his memory. Nothing came. He wasn't aware that his presence had drawn him a little bit of attention. |