11-28-2021, 03:20 AM
(This post was last modified: 12-31-2021, 03:18 AM by Elazar. Edited 2 times in total.)
Lucius Elazar is dead.
And then, he is not.
He knows this before he can feel it, its slow, quiet return. Not at all like the last great rush headlong into the end. This comes sneaking in through the cracks, wiggling him free. He flexes his toes, all of them on every limb, and they each answer. He smacks his lips, wets his tongue. There is nothing to taste except his sleep, and all so different from the last thing he could remember. No trace of his battered end seems to remain with him. Questions are aplenty now in this hazy after instead, but it is not the moment's first concern.
Sunlight streams in through a dirtied old window. It's the remains of an old bed, definitely not his own, and a single sheet is drawn over him as he begins to move. Such effort shakes free a low, tired groan; popping joints too as the fabric falls away with a gentle rustle. He supposes it could be worse. Sluggish from heavy sleep, he rises slow, disturbing the peace and the dust motes with it. Nothing here is familiar, not in this life, nor the last. Everything feels strange; numb, but overwhelming when there had only just been nothing.
Wooden floors creak when he eases his weight down, and finds his paws after a few shaky steps of a newborn fawn. It comes back to him quickly, though, he finds with satisfying grace. He can breath new life, it would seem. The soldier straightens again, and moves on to make his way through a tattered door frame. Then it's down the leftovers of steps that warranted a leap to the end. He skims along with purpose, but carefully, all honing in on the nearest exit; he would much rather not be in the crumbling remains of someplace he had never been before, and the sooner, the better.
Fresh air greets him, finally, with a great sigh he fills his lungs. He squints and admires the scenery that awaits, slowly panning from his left to right. Evidently, he finds himself surrounded on all sides by strange structures. Lucius recognizes none of it, and still cannot place himself. He grunts beneath his breath, ponders the meaning of this, and steps on into the abandoned street. He heads towards the west like he might find the answers there.
And then, he is not.
He knows this before he can feel it, its slow, quiet return. Not at all like the last great rush headlong into the end. This comes sneaking in through the cracks, wiggling him free. He flexes his toes, all of them on every limb, and they each answer. He smacks his lips, wets his tongue. There is nothing to taste except his sleep, and all so different from the last thing he could remember. No trace of his battered end seems to remain with him. Questions are aplenty now in this hazy after instead, but it is not the moment's first concern.
Sunlight streams in through a dirtied old window. It's the remains of an old bed, definitely not his own, and a single sheet is drawn over him as he begins to move. Such effort shakes free a low, tired groan; popping joints too as the fabric falls away with a gentle rustle. He supposes it could be worse. Sluggish from heavy sleep, he rises slow, disturbing the peace and the dust motes with it. Nothing here is familiar, not in this life, nor the last. Everything feels strange; numb, but overwhelming when there had only just been nothing.
Wooden floors creak when he eases his weight down, and finds his paws after a few shaky steps of a newborn fawn. It comes back to him quickly, though, he finds with satisfying grace. He can breath new life, it would seem. The soldier straightens again, and moves on to make his way through a tattered door frame. Then it's down the leftovers of steps that warranted a leap to the end. He skims along with purpose, but carefully, all honing in on the nearest exit; he would much rather not be in the crumbling remains of someplace he had never been before, and the sooner, the better.
Fresh air greets him, finally, with a great sigh he fills his lungs. He squints and admires the scenery that awaits, slowly panning from his left to right. Evidently, he finds himself surrounded on all sides by strange structures. Lucius recognizes none of it, and still cannot place himself. He grunts beneath his breath, ponders the meaning of this, and steps on into the abandoned street. He heads towards the west like he might find the answers there.
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