|Damien Thorn (_bornofajackal) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-10-11 20:15:00
|Entry tags:||damien thorn, james kirk|
Who: Damien Thorn and James Kirk
When: Late afternoon
Where: Stull Cemetery, to start
What: Arrival 2.0
Status: In progress
It had been quite a few eventful months since he had been sent home from Lawrence. He had only kept those memories for a brief moment before losing them completely and resuming his normal path. No deaths or torture was involved. He didn't normally engage in life threatening situations unless he were in danger of attack. Which was rare, since most of the world aside from those in his circle, didn't know of his destiny. There had been a couple isolated incidents involving a zealous priest or a former disciple who suddenly decided to repent and turn against him. As if they hadn't known whose payroll they were on to start with. He had mostly involved in some work behind the scenes, with the planning. Moving chess pieces around, empire building, attending some business seminars with other up-and-coming CEOs, watching how other corporate leaders did things and theorizing how to improve on it, checking on other company branches of Thorn Industries, etc. He'd been kept quite busy of late. Maybe he could take a vacation soon. England was always nice.
But right now? Tonight. Damien had been in the middle of important talks. It was late on Monday night, close to midnight. It had been himself in his board room with about five or six screens which were used for video conferences. Most were thankfully English speakers, but he found that he was able to converse in a couple of foreign dialects, fluently in fact. His father's connection to him was likely the cause of that. The meeting was of the usual thing. How they can serve his or his father's empire, recruitment procedures, business or political moves, building projects, and other things to do with his destined purpose. Basically shop talk, mostly. It was necessary and important but it could also be boring at some times. Quite boring. Maybe he should promote one of the followers to handle these sorts of things for him instead. Though it was going quite well in this particular meeting, he was also inwardly wanting to wrap it up soon and leave that place. Maybe go home or possibly check out one of the new clubs that was owned by one of his people. He was giving his farewells and compliments as the talk was concluding, a question was then asked and.. nothing. It was like the entire room changed for him. It was so fast, he merely blinked and was elsewhere a couple seconds later.
He was actually.. outdoors? Worn green and browned grass on the ground. Couple trees. And tombstones! Was this a cemetery? He was sitting on a tombstone in fact. "Damn, I much preferred the nice swivel chair from five minutes ago," he said with a sigh as he got up. He knew this place. There was a sense of recognition as well as a bit of dread. He looked toward the gate and saw the name of the place: Stull Cemetery. And right now, he was suddenly having memories of the past, images and events, relationships, battles, no longer dormant or forgotten in dreams but very real and to the surface of the mind. He was back. He was curious how much time passed since his last time. Month or two? A year? Maybe a century? Hard to tell when all he could see was this place. He wasn't even sure if those he knew before were still present and alive. Hopefully this wasn't some darker alternate universe to the Lawrence town he remembered. He also felt a bit quiet within himself. Where before he could feel his father's presence and inwardly speak to him, then get an answer.. now there was nothing. Just like before. So no urgent plans, then. Didn't have to be anywhere important or meet anyone, didn't have to do any of his father's work. Part of him had enjoyed a bit of it, but it was sort of relieving to be his own free agent again. No high expectations of destiny now. He was free to walk out of the storybook and make his own scripts. Besides, there were more important things going on. Or at least before he was sent away. He wasn't sure one way or another if the circumstances had changed. But whatever was going on at this point in time, he would try to do his part to help.
He had by now began to feel other memories of Hell, of the Cage. More importantly, however? He realized, as if a light turned on, that it was right here that the Cage had opened up below him. Or close by at least. He jumped off the stone on impulse, emotions on edge from fear and worry, feeling a frantic need to get far from here as soon as possible. Hopefully they still had the two nightclubs here. Or better, the apartment complex he had stayed in when he was turned into a child. He'd need an amulet. And of course answers, but getting somewhere protected was now his primary focus. He paused at the gate now as he looked back. He wanted to make sure it was just him. There was a chance someone else would suddenly drop in, wouldn't be good form to just leave without maybe waiting first. Someone could need help after all. "Did I really have to brought back to this scene," he muttered to himself. This place. Where he had fallen into Hell. He was understandably on edge from just standing there, though his face remained calm as he took a few breaths to compose himself. It would however be apparent if any saw him that he'd really be intending to go anywhere but where he was at the moment. Fifty years. There was no way he wished to linger and end up falling again. Unlikely, but he wasn't the sort to take chances. So he quickened his pace, rushing toward the gate. He'd see soon if there were any new developments in the area. But right now, he was more focused on just getting the Hell out. He nervously looked over his shoulder one last time, making certain no other arrivals dropped in. Newbies, anyway. He at least had lived here before so he might be able to help get them somewhere else safe if they were to suddenly appear. One minute of watching, though, and he'd try to make his exit toward civilization.