mirrortouch | 01 | 🕐

[ It's not something that really ever becomes routine, it doesn't matter how often he wakes up someplace strange and uncharted. The voice on the line sounds about as scattered as he feels. ]

My name is Will Graham, it's- [ He's pulling back his sleeve to look for a watch that's not there. ] I don't have the time. I don't- I don't have the time.

[ Hang on, don't get too lost. ]

It's not clear to me exactly where I am, but- [ a dry laugh ] you probably already knew that. This isn't even my phone. But you probably knew that too.

[ He's missing details. He's missing plenty. His voice trails off for a short while before he can get his bearings enough to speak again, and even then it's almost unconsciously. ] I don't know. I don't know.

[ It's as if the fact that he has no idea sparks him back into the present. His voice grows more composed, if somewhat cracked. ] So if you're hearing this, if anyone is hearing this - [ is anyone hearing this? ] - any singular indication will be key.

[ Another beat. ]

I feel as though I've strayed a long, long way from home.

[ The air goes dead, and then so does the line. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Generally not prison.

[ He's not sure he even has the capacity to answer the question correctly right about now. In a usual mindset, he'd just claim Wolf Trap and leave it at that. Alana, Winston, Abigail. Hannibal. This has left him in a decidedly unusual mindset. ]

There's only dustings of home here, like a tattered baby blanket's nostalgia trying to make up for the sick smell of hospital room.

[She nods, although her ties to home are less tangible than his.] It makes it worse. And better, yes?

It makes it stranger. [ He admits, as he feels tumultuous here, unsure of the direction he's going to be turned in. ] It makes it, ah, harder.

[ He can pick out her accent as Slavic, but beyond that - ]

What sort of dustings have they left peppered behind for you?

A room I knew. Things I made. [The cot in the old ship may not be everyone's idea of comfortable, but it's familiar. With Tomas gone, she can draw and do whatever she likes in it.]

But you have more than just that, yes?

A room I knew.

[ Just to use her own words. But he knows that's not all. "Friends" doesn't seem like the appropriate word, not with each entangled relationship he has, and so: ]

People I know. Some lost. [ He thinks of Abigail and he can feel his stomach churn, guilt or anger or something in between. ] Some found. None of it arranging itself into particularly grid-like lines, easy to follow and understand.

[ He knows idly that, metaphorically speaking, it won't mean much to her. ]

I feel - anachronistic.

Edited 2014-06-27 09:54 (UTC)

What is 'anachronistic'?

[ He pauses, and explains best he can: ]

There is a feeling, easily identifiable, that comes with a certain sensation of abandonment. A sense of not belonging somewhere, as if one has been misplaced within the wrong sort of environment entirely. Everyone's felt it at some point or another.

Anachronistic. Something out of place, out of time.

Anachronistic. [Contemplative, almost a murmur.] I like this word.

It is easy to feel that here, I think. Out of place.

That's a fair assessment. Just how out of place do you feel?

[Honestly? She's been more welcomed here than anywhere else in her entire life, pretty much. It still feels strange, but not necessarily in a bad way.]

Less than you do.

Well, you've been here longer. You have the proverbial one-up on me.

What did you do, to end up here, feeling so out of place?

Edited 2014-07-12 04:35 (UTC)

I went down the rabbit hole.

[ Wow, helpful. But he's not letting it up that easily. ]

What did you do?

[Nope. She just breezes right past the question like she didn't even hear it.]

Have they told you there was a snare at the bottom of your rabbit hole?

[ so rude helena ]

They never had to. I'm not sure they could have, with how intricately it was set, executed, to maim and to empower.

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