Ugh. Why does my head hurt so much?
This wasn't his room. This wasn't even a room. He jolted upright, head swinging back and forth rapidly to take in his surroundings. No planet he'd ever seen before. Well, not that the surrounding trees were indicative of any particular planet. The main distinction was the moon, if one could even call it that. Large, red, clearly sinister. No moons were that large and red without being suspicious as hell. good moons were small and white, or blue. Bad moons were big, red, or black. Yes, a blacklit moon. Those were the really scary ones, because black wasn't even a color that could glow.
Moon shit aside, it was raining. And - back to moon shit for a second - despite the heavily overcast sky, the moon was STILL VISIBLE. Innumerable red flags, really. It wouldn't have been so bad that it were raining, if it weren't for the fact that he were outside, sitting in a muddy puddle like a chump. He did not like doing things like a chump. He stood up and looked down at his damp, soggy, dirty clothes. Fuck. Not a good start to the day, really. That was totally ignoring the fact that he wasn't wearing his pajamas. Er, his god tier outfit. They doubled as pajamas, just roll with it.
The point of the matter was that he was wearing a set of clothes that he had not even seen in a while. He gingerly removed the green jacket from his body, shaking out some of the excess drippage and holding it away from himself. The black shirt underneath was a bit damp, but not soaked. Lucky. Jeans were jeans, so they'd probably be okay with some time.
He had his glasses on, which was good. He tried to float up into the air to get a better view of the area, but he didn't. He couldn't. It was hard to explain, really. Usually when he used his powers they just sort of happened. It was like moving his arm, or shaking his head. Or walking. Just another body function. But that feeling of capability was no longer there. If he focused and tried really hard, nothing happened. He couldn't fly, he couldn't disapperate into the breeze, nothing.
That was bad. This was getting bad. It started bad, but it was getting worse. He clutched his head, feeling the wet strands between his fingers. Don't panic, stay calm. You need to talk to somebody. Anybody. Where your phone? There's nothing in your pockets. There's a watch. What the hell is this? Some weird waypoint thing, like some kinda video game bullshit. Pesterchum. Good. Names? Friends, yes. Others. Not friends. Strangers. How weird.
Were there any more surprises he was supposed to know about? He twisted his body, examining every inch of his self that he could see. The only other oddity he could note was a barcode tattoo on his arm. And if that wasn't ominous as fuck, nothing was.
Regardless, it was time for him to pick a name from those recognisable and see who knew what was going on. Maybe Rose, or Jade, or-
-- turntechGodhead [TG] has begun pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
TG: oh shit look what the dog dragged in?
And with that, he was on his way. How had Davesprite fucked his wrist up? He'd ask when he got there, he supposed. John was sure that the story behind it was hilarious. He'd activated the waypoint sent to him and a little arrow appeared to point him along. Lovely.
He hadn't even been walking for two minutes when the messages started rolling in. Rose, Terezi, real Dave, some girl named Jane. It was nice to know that he'd have nice company here. And Terezi. Talking to them helped the walk go by quicker, and he almost forgot it was raining until a crack of thunder sounded fairly close by, startling him. He nearly dropped his jacket in surprise, which would have been... inconvenient, to say the least. He tightened his grip on the article, shaking some of the excess water from his head.
After a short conversation with Rose, he took a short detour to gather some relatively dry sticks. He gathered a good armful, wrapping his jacket around them to keep them safe. Lucky for him, the outfit he was currently wearing had a belt, although it would not for long. He kept Rose's advice in his head as trekked onward.
Not too long later he'd found him. Davesprite, although it was a little weird to call him that when he wasn't really much of a sprite what with the legs and all. Yes, the wings were still there. Clearly. But at this point he was basically just a birdman, yes? But calling him Bird Dave would probably be insulting, although possible not as insulting as Fake Dave. But he wasn't doing that any more either. So for now, Davesprite he would have to be, just for differentiation's sake.
From the direction he'd arrived, Davesprite had his back to him, just standing there. He took off his glasses and cleared them up a bit, then replaced them on his head and cupped his mouth, trying to make his voice more audible over the pouring rain.
