This wasn't part of the plan...

[chronomancer]

Characters: Eridan and YOU.
Setting: Room 1-10; Dormitory Hallways, attmepting to head towards the cafeteria.
Format: Starting with Action tags, but I'll match your preference.
Summary: In which Eridan wakes up and Is Not Dead, followed by a self-pity storm, followed by a bit of exploration. And oatmeal.
Warnings: Ridiculous amounts of self-pity. Additional warnings will be added as necessary.

Room 1-10.

[Eridan was not having a good day. For one thing, he was having a day in the first place. Which wasn't supposed to happen. He knew that much. For another, looking into the trunk at the feet of the bed he'd woken up in - his? - he found his Time Reels. Completely unreeled. So he's trying really hard not to go into meltdown at the whole situation by carefully trying to fix his damn reels back as they should be. Which wasn't really working out all that well.

So there he is, sitting on his own bed, tangled beyond hope in what seems like miles of film, trying to carefully reel it all back in place. And very casually hyperventilating at the fact he was alive. He really wasn't supposed to be, dammit.]

Dormitory Hallways.

[Having given up on fixing his reels - right now - Eridan chose to explore a bit and see what kind of people were around. He walks around the dormitory hallways, with this defensive, "I have no fucking idea where I am" expression on his face, feeling unnerved and lacking in weapons or defenses.

But he's hungry and the letter said he could find food at the cafeteria, which is where he's hoping to go. At some point. When he stops being hopelessly lost and jumpy about every shadow in the corridors.

Hey, he's not the Hero of Space, alright? Cut him some slack. ...please?]

Comments

[chronomancer]

...not the second time.

[Wince.]

Yet.

[tortileghostwriter]

What.

[THAT gets his attention.]

[chronomancer]

[He winces again, turning back to his reels. Keeping his hands busy so he can't fidget.]

...when was the last time you talked with Jade?

[tortileghostwriter]

Recently enough. I was in LOGAS when I was brought here.

[yyyyeah he really does not like the sound of this.]

[chronomancer]

Ah. I figured.

[He shrugs. And keeps his eyes glues on the reels.]

Doesn't really matter anymore though.

[tortileghostwriter]

Oh, I should think that it does.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan really doesn't want to have this conversation. Can you tell? What's worse is that he's the idiot who brought it up in the first place. And he knows.]

No, really it doesn't.

[tortileghostwriter]

Eridan, you do not get to bring up something of that caliber and then proceed to act as though it doesn't matter!

[his shadow begins writhing more angrily, spreading out further.]

[chronomancer]

[...well, that's just encouraging him to speak up, really. So comforting.]

But it doesn't!

[He might be inching to the side of the bed, reels still hopelessly tangled. Think... think... think... aha!]

And it's not really mine to say.

[tortileghostwriter]

And why is that?

[Just going to cross his arms, now.]

[chronomancer]

Because.

[Still not looking up from his reels, nope.]

[tortileghostwriter]

You'll need to do a touch better than that I'm afraid, Eridan.

[chronomancer]

Best I can do, sorry.

[Wonder if he can somehow build a fort out of film reels?]

[tortileghostwriter]

[Not as bad as when David was building a fort out of books and holing up in the library to avoid everyone.

Too bad he doesn't remember that.]

Bullshit.

[chronomancer]

Best I can do.

[Eridan tugs at the film a bit too harshly, but thankfully it doesn't tear.]

Nevver said I wwas any good at this, though.