Young Writers Society

Damascus stirred, wrapped completely around the metal legs as if he was trying to become one with it. A small whimper left his throat, and he slowly opened his eyes. Why did everything hurt?

Or maybe it was just his head. It was hard to tell.

Carefully, he slid up into a sitting position, and hit his head on the back of the stool. At this point, however, a bonk on the head did nothing to affect the dull ache, and he hardly reacted.

Gazing around under half-shut eyelids, his hair a mess, he caught sight of Boris and Engel embracing, and a sweet smile crawled up his face.

"Awwe." He cooed softly to himself, voice hoarse.

Wilson watched as Dami began to stir and bent down beside him after his unfortunate head bump against the stool. She smiled. "Hey, want help getting back to the game?" she asked, offering a hand to help him up.

Damascus gratefully took the hand and pulled himself up shakily. When he was once again upright, he blinked and contemplated Wilson's question.

"The... the game?" He murmured, a little pout on his lips as he tried to remember. "Oh, the... truthh er dare. Yesh, thank you, Wishon." He patted her gently.

"Nein...eshh tut mir leid, dasshh ich dich gegen eine Wand geworfen habe," ((No...I'm sorry that I threw you into a wall)) Engel mumbled, patting Boris somewhat clumsily. "Du bist ein guter Bruder." ((You are a good brother))

Now that his brothers were beginning to come to, Edward was quite eager to turn the focus away from his mysterious disappearance and reappearance. He eyed James as he tried to come up with a good question that would surely distract them all. It only took a few seconds, thanks to the conversation he had been having with Schadel.

"Who was the last person you kissed?" Edward asked James, tugging on his sleeve to make sure his brother knew he was being asked his truth for the round.

Wilson gladly gave Damascus a lift and helped him back over to the group, making sure he made his way securely to a chair. She patted his shoulders for a moment to make sure he was steady, and then looked up with a smile when she heard that Edward had asked a question. Yes, good. The game was still going. She felt successful.

Meanwhile, James blinked as the question registered - the sleeve tug causing him to flinch as he looked over at Edward.

Oh gods. Oh gods. He shouldn't have picked truth. Anything was better than truth. He should've learned this by now. Never choose truth. Always choose Dare.

He met Edward's eyes and his face immediately flushed. He averted his eyes to the floor. Maybe the others hadn't heard the question. Maybe someone else could ask a different question.

"Buh-but-" he started to mumble, before deflating into his chair with a wheezing noise. "I fink thuh bottle pointed at uh... Kratsher."

Edward shook his head. "It pointed at you," he insisted. "You even said you wanted truth, right before Wilson woke everyone up."

"That shounds unwikely," James posed in a weak, muttered defense. "Evewyfing's moving-" he gestured to the bottle. Everything was spinning again. Surely it was for everyone else. Though he couldn't deny that the bottle was, still, by all accounts (even with everything shaking) pointing at him.

Godsdamnit. He was going to have to answer. He groaned. With a grimace, he pulled himself up in his seat, trying to regain some of his dignity at being called out so obviously.

"Hhher name wash Eliza."

Edward was getting a little too into the game right now - Schadel suspected that it had something to do with the chaos that had occurred during the phone call. But she didn't draw attention to it; there was no reason to sabotage Edward's apparent plan to distract everyone in the room by bugging James - it was going to bite him in the butt eventually, and she could only hope he'd be the one to address it then.

"You have to tell us more than that!" Edward declared. Yup, he was definitely trying to get attention off of The Incident. "What was she like? What did she look like? Why did you kiss? Were you a thing, or was it just a one-time deal?"

James lifted his chin and looked down at Edward with a small frown. "That washn't part of the queshtion." He turned his head away, eyes closed. "One queshtion, one ansher."

"It was heavily implied," Edward desperately argued.

James raised his brows, smugly looking at Edward as he leaned forward to the table and spun the bottle. As the bottle slowed and stopped on Edward, a mischevious smirk graced his face and he leaned back in his seat.

"HA!" he laughed, louder than made sense. "You go."

Edward started to utter a swear, but stopped when he realized he could use this to his advantage. If he said truth, he could give a long-winded answer that had nothing to do with what had transpired only minutes before. They'd totally forget by the end of his turn!

"I pick truth," he confidently said, resting his elbow on the bar and putting his chin in his hand.

Damascus took the stool and smiled blearily at Wilson, thanking her again. He finally turned his attention to the game, and the person to whom the bottle had landed at. Suddenly, he gasped.

"Edwarddd!" He no less than shrieked, getting up haphazardly and going over to throw his arms around him. "Yeer baaack!"

Good...good brother. I let the precious sentiment sink in, for a spell, before rejoining the outside world. Things had gone well there, while I was gone.

Damascus was happy, Edward and Schadel were getting back into the game just fine, and James had a name to give regarding his last kiss! There was hope for him yet.

But things were not entirely right.

Edward had called out 'truth', which only served to remind me of how so much was left to be desired in my knowledge of events. But all would be well, Edward could clear things up. Of course he would certainly have shared his story with me in any case, but the opportune timing of his 'truth' did not hurt anything.
I called out the question from my new spot next to Engel, as my head still felt heavy and sore, and I was happy where I was.

"Edward, what happened? Where did you go, and why, why haven't you asked us what happened while you were gone? How'd you-? You seem to know...well, I'm not sure of what went on, myself.

Let'sss sstart with, where you were. And end with where you are."