(no subject)

[the_prisoner]

The sounds were familiar. People, pigeons, the city beyond.

The sun was on his face, grass under him. He had fallen asleep in the park. And all that seemed right.

Until reality started to filter back in. The fact that asleep in the park was not where he was suppose to be.

He shot up, looking around. No, he wasn't wrong. The city peaked above the trees at the far end on the field, a soccer game playing out before him. Everything was so normal.

What the fuck.

Comments

[ka_mai]

What the fuck indeed?

Eddie wasn't alone in being out of place in that New York park, though his unknown companion was not quite newly awoken.

Cuthbert sat not terribly far away at all, with his legs crossed under him, dressed like any other young man in the city. Jeans, a checkered shirt open over a sleeveless undershirt, pair of tennis shoes sitting beside him. His hair was worn to his shoulders and unbound, and perhaps he was a bit on the ragged side, but there was nothing physically about him that seemed out of place. Still...there was a sense of otherness, a strange feeling of not-quite-belonging if the eyes lingered. If eyes saw instead of simply looked.

He sat in the park with a book open in his lap, though he wasn't reading it. He liked to simply sit and listen to people talking around him, firming his grasp on the right sounds to make in order to speak without constantly being asked where he was from, what manner of accent was that? He could pronounce most things alright with careful thought, but his New Canaan accent was still thick and strong.

He didn't know why he was here, where 'here' was in the grand of scheme of things, or even how he'd ended up here - other than taking a crossbow bolt to the eye, he remembered that - but here he was and so here he had been attempting to live.

Attempting being the key word.