Young Writers Society

He furrowed his brow and stared at her. "Is that a joke? If it is, I'm sorry for not laughing, but I don't see the humor." He inspected his hand, then held it up for her to see it. "I only use this if they deserve it - you know? The people at the hotel were just doing their job, and I was sort of doing my own. If they were really evil guys? They'd regret the day they were born. But the girl at the desk I talked to was actually really sweet and even offered me some of their refreshments they had on the counter-"

He paused, realizing that he had started to ramble.

"Anyways, no punching here! Just some good old magic and a little charm on my part~"

"Ah," she nods, the a small smile dancing across her lips. "I see." Well, he's got morals. That's something to note.

He looked over at her and studied her for a moment before he spoke again, trying to understand the strange woman beside him. "So what were you up to before you ended here?" he asked, gesturing at the area around them.

"I'm fairly certain I was falling off a roof," she answers. "When I hit the ground I was here."

He raised an eyebrow. The answer was vague and far from helpful, but it seemed like that was all that Viper was going to tell him. He would have to figure things out going on his limited knowledge of what had happened to him; unfortunately, that was about as useful as her story. How did someone that get hit in the head end up in a place like this? Was he physically dragged her, or did whoever brought him to this place have a magic user on their side?

He looked around the corridor - if it could be called that - that they were walking down. "We should try to find other people," he said. "They might be bale to give us more information on what's going on."

"Or they'll be little more than a hindrance," she points out. "We may be better off on our own."

He shook his head. "We could do with the intel. You want to know what we're up against, don't you? We're either dealing with monsters or humans, and both of those can be quite terrifying in a place like this." He grinned, then gestured at himself. "Besides, you have me! I'm a wonderful leader~ Even the most stubborn people tend to do what I say."

She looks at him sidelong, chuckling in slight amusement. Wonderful leader? In her experience those who can sway the stubborn are usually the opposite. "Fair enough, but can not we get what information we need and then continue on our way?"

"I guess," Oz said, pouting, "but I do think there's safety in numbers."

"Depends on the people. Sometimes it's a liability."

"Well, let's just assume they're good people," Oz said, smiling. "And if they're not, we'll go from there."

She just nods in reply, tensing a little. Her gait is getting a bit more uneven, and he might notice the blood beginning to leak through her black shirt onto her fingers.

His eyes opened, and he held a hand to his head. He staggered to his feet and pressed himself against the nearby wall, hearing voices from around the corner. Hopefully, they wouldn't notice him. As he looked around though, he realised he wasn't where he thought he was. The walls were too smooth, and they stretched up to a point where he couldn't see the end of them. Underneath his feet was dirt, compressed and solid. He stifled a cough as he inhaled the stale air. He knew not who it was that was walking beyond that corner, nor did he particularly wish to know at this moment.

The place he was last was vastly different to this. There were trees, grass, but all underwater, encased in a glass dome. How he got here, he was unsure. The last thing he remembered was dropping into the large building. After that, he could not say. He pulled up his turtle neck so it covered his mouth and nose, and he used his hair to obscure his face. The sounds of footsteps grew close.

In an instant, he was conscious. His bright, yellow eyes opened and he immediately gathered two things: he wasn't in the scarred lands, and he was trapped, to some degree. With stone walls stretching high all around him and matted dirt hard as rock beneath his feet, he knew that something was wrong.

He had fallen asleep in the ashes only to find himself here, and he knew without a doubt that this was no hallucination.

He took in a deep breath, the fire burning beneath his skin - simultaneously feeling the welcoming warmth and the piercing pain of the power subdued - and he let it out, with wisps of smoke leaving his nostrils.

He cocked his head to the side, zeroing in his hearing to listen for any life nearby. After a few prolonged seconds of focus, he could hear it. The quiet murmurings of voices, and the quiet breathing of a confused and conflicted one. A small, toothy grin parted his lips, and he sat down where he was, with legs crossed and hands perched on his knees (altogether forming what looked like a meditative pose).

He would wait for them to find him. Whoever they were.

Though Oz had yet to determine if Viper is foe or friend, her injuries were becoming all the more noticeable. She would undoubtedly slow their place in her current state. In a place like this, he was certain something like that would be a death sentence. So he turned to offer her his magical assistance, only to come to an abrupt stop when he heard something around the corner.

Someone - or something - was breathing. From the lack of other movement and from the familiar volume of the noise, they were likely about to encounter a human. Better to let them know that they were there, rather than abruptly startle them when they turned the corner.

"Hello!" he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth in almost comical way. Sometimes even he couldn't tell if he was being dramatic because it suited his personality or because he wanted to put on a good show.