[ in a quiet and dark corner of the ship, any at all and none in particular, someone wakes up. for a moment, in his disorientation, still shaking off the— dream?— he wonders if he'd only lapsed out of consciousness for but a moment, and awoken back to the same situation he'd remembered being in prior. his surroundings are as dark as they were before, the pervading sense of negativity around them punctuated by the occasional howls of the gusting wind outside.

but— no. where he'd been, the winds were strong, but there hadn't been any rain. he'd been outside, more or less, and here he isn't. more or less.

he's here, and no one else is. that's... that's good, right? it means it must have worked, regardless of any lingering impressions of blame and fault.

it has to have worked. but there's a gap in his memory from when and where he was last, and waking up here, the lingering phantom sounds and sensations even now of dripping blood, not his, and that ... surely, nothing could have happened, right? he doesn't know how he got here, and that lost time—

—no, it must have worked.

the cat who'd arrived with him—oh, he hadn't even noticed at first...—meows to him, and he responds like he can understand it, a soft, unsure murmur for anyone who might be nearby to hear: ] I don't know, Sulpher.

[ another meow, then, and an at first faltering, but then more firm nod as he offers the cat a shoulder to hop up onto. sulpher's right. might as well get their bearings, a lay of the land, find somewhere less wet...

see if anyone else is here as well, he decides, slipping out of the suite and through the darkened hallways like just another one of the shadows on the ship. ]

[ the indistinct whispering filtering in from around every other corner of the ship bothers him surprisingly little, it seems, because he forges through the ship like he doesn't hear them at all. nor do the shadows of people, making their way through the ship as if ignorant to its current condition.

it's the way that his steps veer him away from any such apparitions that would give him away, but, then again, it's hardly as if one person's hallucinations are apparent to another. there's no one there. he'd learned quickly after looking for the first of them.

but should you meet him onboard the ship in a way where he can't simply skirt away from your presence, and your presence is apparent enough to not seem simply another apparition, you'll be met with a guarded, but more defensive than actually hostile stance: ]

... You don't know what's going on either, do you?

[ he can navigate the darkness adequately enough, brief, small flashes of flame from a raised and outstretched hand lighting his way when the halls grow too obscured, but regardless, he quite literally ends up tripping over it, and then going still in shock, as recognition dawns upon him.

several things he'd attempted to ignore prior come rushing to mind in quick succession. missing time. that blank space he woke up to— what had happened? did he do this? ... did someone else? someone here—

like the one approaching them—?

come across them, and you'll be met with the flash of a set of blades that materializes itself from shadow, and a snarl that would rather be that than a sob as he hovers protectively over the would-be body, because there has to be something he can still do as long as they aren't hurt further: ] Who's there?

Stay away from us...!

[ (the cat, incidentally, disappears when the blades come out.) ]

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