sixthiterationlogs | A whiskey bottle comforts me and tells me not to cry

WHO: Joshua Faraday
WHERE: Fountain. North Village. South Village Inn
WHEN: Middle of November
OPEN TO: Vasquez, All
WARNINGS: Will update if needed

Arrival

Last he'd known was a comfortable bed, a full belly, and a lot of nightmarish thoughts of how he and the others might die the next day. Somehow finding himself drowning rather than waking up to die is far more fear inducing.

Dragging himself out of the water and onto a bench, he lay down there in the sun for a bit, trying to dry off and buy himself time not to think about this. Whatever this is. Nothing looks right. His clothes aren't right. Hell, for all he knows this is Hell and he never made it out of Rose Creek except in a shallow hole. However it happened, he's not ready to think about it.

Also to not think about the pain he's got in his gut, his skin feeling tight and his head pounding. Drowning will do that to a man. So will being a mostly functioning alcoholic without a drink and with your body having a fit that you're running on empty.

So he lay there under the sun, not caring it is cold on his wet skin and clothes and pretends none of this is happening while he tries to clear his head.

The Inn

Finding Vasquez after Joshua gave up on ignoring how much like shit he feels hadn't done much to help in so many ways. He knows things got bad. Like he's been in a coma bad or the like. He's gotten some whiskey though, and he's been nursing the bottle for a few days to try and not get back to feeling like he did when he arrived.

Not that things are much better. Between Vasquez's attitude, the revelations that were made, and the weirdo who apparently wore a fur coat for everything - maybe even sleeping - and he just needs time to think.

So he makes the hike down to the Inn every few days, getting a meal and trying to make sense of his place and all that he seems to have lost. At least now he has a white linen shirt to wear and so he's only got on the yellow pants with the shoes they gave him. It all feels weird, but the food is familiar enough so least there's that.

He's curious about others though, settling down at tables where others are and giving them a minute or two before asking about where they came from, what they do here, or what happened to them before they got stuck here.

The House - Locked to Vasquez

It's been a few days and Joshua is still trying to work this out. He's not sure what to think about Vasquez and this Booboo fellow or whatever the hell his name is. He's not sure how to handle that Vasquez is being with others. It's all so different than what he's familiar with, especially since even having feelings like that he hasn't let them so because it's wrong and screwing that up could have caused a lot of shit in a war they had started.

Jack had been a bear in a human suit, but Joshua is pretty sure their roommate is definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing, so he's glad when he wakes up and he's apparently gone and out.

Sitting on the front porch in the chill air, sipping a bit off the little bit of whiskey he has left in the bottle and trying to not think while waiting for Vasquez to get up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alec made a decision post Matt Murdock to try and position himself at the fountain. There were people who regularly appeared here and - better to get seeing him out of the way.

In this case however it's a bit warm so he's been rooting, trying to splatter the ground with a few water droplets when the man drags himself out of the water. Easy enough to uproot himself and move over.

"Are you all right?"

Said the giant tree being, hands out, expression concerned.

Life for Joshua was fairly normal until, well, magically waking up in another place. He played poker. He drank. He took on an army and went into it believing that he'd come out alive on the other side. All normal things.

So as he's standing there next to the fountain, dripping water as he coughs hard to try and clear his lungs to breath, he's struck with two things. One is that he's dressed in what appears to be the worst dyed pajamas ever, and is in public in them. Two is that he's being addressed, he realizes as he lifts his head, by a being that is not like anything he's ever seen before.

"What in the Hell," he mutters, hands braced on his knees, and not sure if he trusts himself with more words than that. No, wait, he can't help himself. "How much did I have to drink last night?"

"Only you can answer that." Alec shuffles forward, "...Though you must be new, and I would like to help you if I can because you're not where you ...think you are."

He paused, "Wow. That came off far more mystical sounding then I wanted it to." He paused, "...Let me try again. Can I help you?"

"Well yeah, unless everyone else goes around in the cold dripping after trying to be drowned," he says, though there's a bit less heat to his words this time.

Still looking confused though, is head canting to one side. "You can tell me where the hell I am, and how far it is from Rose Creek. I don't remember leaving last night and I sure don't remember putting on these weird pajamas."

A whiskey bottle comforts me and tells me not to cry

Arrival

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