Open | Eternity in an hour... or three days.

[opiate_visions]

Isaac arrived three days earlier.

He had numbly followed the instructions on the PDA and holed himself up in his apartment for three days to try and swallow the hysteria. He was too sober to cope with this on top of everything else and total isolation was the only way he knew how to cope in the absence of his favourite addiction.

Now, he's decided to put on his big boy pants and actually go out and try and find out if this is Heaven, Hell or something far weirder.

Judging by the profusion of roses and clover, he's going for far weirder right now.


(OOC: Hello and please come and help/harass Isaac Mendez, formerly of Heroes and coming from his death at the end of season one!)

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[gunsgowoof]

Many had talked about the roses and clovers, and if they hadn't told him, Caine wouldn't have thought they were that odd. Now though he was trying to learn as much as he could. Mostly about why this place was here, not why he was there.

He wasn't getting a lot of answers, but he was okay with that. Mostly because it was the first time he had time to just exist. He wasn't a soldier, or a prisoner, he just was.

At that moment, he just was nearly tripping into Isaac because he'd dodged to avoid the thorns of a rose, and ended up catching his wing on another bush.

"Why the hell do they have thorns?" He snapped, not much of one for flowers. They seemed a waste of space that could be used for so many better things. Like anything else.

[opiate_visions]

"Whoa."

Isaac's brain didn't offer anything more helpful as far as conversation went, which was a pity, because he would've liked to make a slightly better impression on the...

Whatever he was.

"To stop animals eating them," he replied. He didn't even know why he knew that. Probably heard it from a grandparent at some point in his dim and distant past.

[apprenticemusketeer]

All d'Artagnan could think of was Lucrezia. Her beauty, her fairness, all of it.

It was what was on his mind when he nearly stumbled into someone who looked all too familiar, even in the haze of what he was feeling. "Aramis?!"

[opiate_visions]

Isaac stepped out of the way, twisted awkwardly, stumbled and then found his feet. He wasn't the most graceful creature about and his foot play would've made any swordsman cringe. "Que? No? What? No. I'm Isaac."

[apprenticemusketeer]

"But you - "

No, this man was decidedly not as graceful as Aramis and did not have the beard and moustache his friend took such pride in, and yet, the likeness was uncanny. "I ... I beg your pardon, monsieur."

[opiate_visions]

Isaac ran a hand back through his hair, pushing it from his face and taking a risk, changing to speaking French. "Apology accepted. I must look like a friend of your, right?"

[apprenticemusketeer]

"You do," d'Artagnan replied, still watching the man most closely, still baffled, still thinking so of Lucrezia that he could barely focus. "Isaac, you say your name is?"

[opiate_visions]

Isaac nodded, folding his arms over his chest. There were other things that, with a good look, were apparent. He was underweight for his size and slightly too pale, like he didn't see much sunlight. He had dark marks under his eyes from not sleeping well.

"Isaac Mendez. Which yes, Spanish name, I'm not Spanish. I'm from America. Most recently. You are...?"

[apprenticemusketeer]

"d'Artagnan, of the King's Musketeers. In Paris, most recently, I suppose. But here now." And he could not bear the thought of being away from his love; it made his chest ache just thinking of it. "I admit to being glad to hear you are not Spanish," he adds with a small smile.

[opiate_visions]

Isaac was quiet for a long moment, nodding slowly.

Right. Guess that answered that question. Dead.

"So... I guess I'm dead then. Which, I guess is a good thing. Overall." He was getting a bit paler.

[apprenticemusketeer]

"I ..." d'Artagnan looked just as baffled as he felt. "I... do not understand."

[opiate_visions]

"I... don't have words in French for this. I was being killed. Murdered. So I guess I'm dead. Because if you're d'Artagnan, I must be dead." There was a logic in there somewhere.

[gunsgowoof]

"Most I've been around are genetically altered," he admitted, peering at them. "And smell differently." He wasn't sure why that was though. That these were natural and pure and not genetically changed.

"Huh, I suppose that makes sense. Not that I would think to eat them," he admitted, giving the boy a look. "You're new here, or just skittish?"

Because he knew it could be the latter, not that it seemed a very evolved method of living. Likely to cause more harm than good in his mind.

[apprenticemusketeer]

If there was logic there, d'Artagnan did not see it. He cocked his head, perhaps giving the man something of a "... really?" look. Explain?

[opiate_visions]

"I-what? New? I guess. I died. Horribly. well, not that horribly, but it was horrible to me." And maybe he was just skittish. He didn't think about it too much.

"I got here like three days ago. I just figured I couldn't simply hide in that room and scream for the rest of time."

[opiate_visions]

"Well... you've been dead for centuries. And I was having my head cut open. And then, stumbling through a doorway here. I don't know. I must be dead." He rubbed at the crook of his elbow, an anxious tic.

[apprenticemusketeer]

"You seem quite alive to me," d'Artagnan said dryly. "As do I. So ... there must be another explanation."

[opiate_visions]

Isaac's hand shifted to feel for his pulse.

Which was there. And beating fairly normally, maybe a little fast.

"Well... okay. I got nothing in that case. I should be dead. I don't heal like Peter does."

[apprenticemusketeer]

Having no idea who Peter was, d'Artagnan just shrugged. "I cannot say I understand this place," he admitted. "But it seems to be a good think if your head was being cleaved for you to be here."

[opiate_visions]

Isaac's hand reached up to where the cut had been made, fingers shaking slightly as he checked it yet again. "Yeah. Guess so. I had sort of banked on... being dead? And I'm not. You're not dead either. According to you."

[apprenticemusketeer]

"I would hope according to you, too," d'Artagnan agreed, amused. "What would that make me ... a ghost?" He scoffed. "I was alive in Paris, then I ended up here and I am still alive, monsieur."

[opiate_visions]

"Well, I was more hoping for this being the afterlife. Maybe even Heaven. Though I really don't think I belong in Heaven..." He crossed himself absently.

[gunsgowoof]

Caine froze then. It wasn't an answer he was expecting. "What do you mean you died? As in dead? For real dead? Like ..."

He was still trying to straighten that out in his head. "So you're a ghost?" Nope that didn't make sense either.

[apprenticemusketeer]

"... you clearly have a lot on your mind," d'Artagnan offered. "I don't know if this place is heaven or hell, and I have no idea where I will be when the time comes. I suppose I don't worry on it very much." What was the point?

[opiate_visions]

"Pinned on the floor, head being cut open. I closed my eyes and saw a door a ran for it... open my eyes and I was in this place. About three days ago."

He didn't know what he was. He hugged his body.