After a bit of wandering through the city and with some additional help from locals, Katsumoto and Tony had finally located a clothier shop and procured more suitable attire for the former chef, courtesy of Jordan College funds. It was clothing that wouldn't have looked out of place in the era Katsumoto came from, but he knew from Tony's reaction, even before he said anything, that it must have been an archaic style of dressing for someone from the year 2008.
From there, Katsumoto suggested they continue their excursion and head for this world's equivalent of the ( Collapse )
The TARDIS was silent, cold. Like death in the arctic, and he sat on the floor grating where he'd fallen and stared at her. The usual low thrum of machinery and life was absent, and he felt a sort of vague desperation building as he felt under his hands the still cold metal. No signs of life, no movement whatsoever except his own slow breathing and the too-quick beating of his hearts.
Balthier had had enough of ex-Dalmascan soldiers who really ought to be dead but were some how up and walking and having little lovers' tiffs all over the place. It was time for ale, wenches and cheesy biscuits- standard fare for any pirate. The only pub he knew of nearby was the ignominiously named Red Lobster.
He was alone when he started to head off campus, but who knows how many had followed him?
It was cold. It was not the discomforting chill that could be driven away by pulling the covers tighter. No, Allen recognized it as the dangerous kind of drop in temperature that made it hazardous to fall asleep in. He didn't bother with what he'd just been doing before now, he was too busy scrambling to his feet. He risked opening his eyes and stared at the snow that crunched under his boots, as he stumbled forward a few steps.
His mind raced, his thoughts of the Akuma that had been about to strike him. A level four, and the soul... He felt his stomach churn as grief threatened to overwhelm him. Or rather it would have if something didn't butt into his side. "Its not your fault, you can't be everywhere at once." He blinked at the soft female voice and looked over before he froze. "W-who are you?" Last he checked, tigers didn't talk.
Then again he'd seen a lot of weird things in his lifetime. It was a wonder he hadn't become as jaded as his master. "Artemidoris, I am your Daemon." The tiger breathed as she pressed into his side and he nearly stumbled again. "We need to find shelter, or we'll freeze." She had a point he couldn't deny, and he never was one for dwelling on things he couldn't change.
He'd find a way back, but for now... "Where are we?" He whispered quietly, one hand resting on the strange new companion that felt like he'd known her forever. "I don't know, but we'll find out. We have too."
"These will be your quarters, sir." The porter said, choosing a key from an enormous ring and pressing it into Tony's palm.
"Thanks." Tony said, sticking the key into his pocket.
"Will you be needing anything further?"
"I... guess not." He said. "Uh, thanks."
The porter said nothing, only turned on his heel and walked away.
"Nice guy." Tony muttered, pushing open the door to his new digs. It was small, like a dorm and if it was a dorm, it was thankfully a single. Tony flopped himself down on the bed, the springs squesked and it was definitely too short, but it was comfortable enough. He sighed.
As much as he disliked the outdoors, Near knew it was best to give L some time alone with Edward occasionally, even if he didn't really know what they were doing, just that Edward seemed to grow antsier the longer he went without time alone with L.
So, Near relocated himself to the lawn outside the dorm, along with Tillie and a deck of cards. Tillie, who was currently in lemur form, was assisting in the futile effort of keeping a house of cards upright when the wind was blowing.
At first Bruno thought someone had pushed him into the MacDonald Hall swimming pool again. He rose quickly to the surface and pushed his head above the water, sputtering. "Cathy!" he shouted. No answer. "Boots?" he tried. Sighed. "...Sydney?"
Something wet and alive flickered between his shirt and his collarbone. Bruno yelped, and swatted at it.
"Hey!" whatever-it-was said clearly in a burbling wet voice. "Careful what you smush, there!"
Bruno breathed in, deeply, then out again. He stuck his hand down his shirt and pulled out a bright, indignant clownfish. "You could get one of us hurt, thrashing around like that," it said.
"I'm Karl," it added. Bruno stuck out his index finger and shook its fin.
"Bruno Walton. Pleased to meet you."
They weren't in the MacDonald Hall swimming pool at all, but in a warm brackish river edged by old stone buildings. "Keep up!" Bruno said, and setting Karl gently back in the water, swam for the shore.