Just as you had disappeared what seemed like days ago, you arrive back in your room. Reality itself bends and rips apart, revealing the white expanse for just a glimpse before you are thrown back into the world. Your body burns and aches, but the tips of your fingers and ears feel as if you had been standing in the arctic with nothing on. Quickly sitting on the ground, you stabalize yourself. Your insides feel all stirred, your stomach flipping and bounding, threatening to reveal what you had for lunch yesterday.
You look to your hands, shaking and quivering as you sit on the floor next to your bed. You like the solid feeling of the floor right now, and you wish not to move for a while. Inside your hands, you look at the piece of aged copper that lay within your palm. You do not open it, fearing that you will experience that awful feeling for a third time without having recovered from the second. You remember from the first time that you opened it that it was a pocket watch, unnameable gold and black metals making up the gears, arms, and other components reveals underneath a thin circle of glass. If it weren't for the little button and chain link on the top, you never would have guessed where noon was on it.
You clench your fist with the pocket watch and consider throwing it away. Whatever happened, you never want it to happen again. You never want to expenrience the blacks and whites of the infinite voids and expenses, burning and freezing as you fall in every direction, only to end up in a location you can't remember at all.
You remember the past few days vividly. You remember waking up in a grass field on your back, flat out and on the ground with the closest connection to the earth as possible. You looked to your left, finding what seemed to be the food that you had taken right before opening up that damned pocket watch all on the ground in a disgusting liquid state. As you slowly propped yourself up, you could feel the grass underneath your hands charred and freshly burned, but your own self unharmed for the most part.
When you finally recovered, you stood up and looked around. You were no longer in the city, but grasslands off to the side of a much smaller settlement that you could have imagined possible.
You couldn't believe what you were seeing, and you were starting to go hysterical. All of these people looked, talked, and acted like is was the fifteenth century. There was no Renaissance fair going on, you were sure of that, but all of these people insisted that they were living in the fifteenth century. You couldn't look at your phone to check the time, you had left it on the little nightstand next to your bed before looking at the pocket watch. There was no way that you could have possibly been awake, it must have been a dream. You spend days trying to set things right. The good will of the people helped clothe and feed you, a lost and poor wanderer who seemed hopeless in a land they did not know.
And then you decided to look at the watch that seemed to have always been in your hand, opening it up again to look at the several arms and times that it seemed to record. It stated that you were back several hundred years ago, but you still refused to believe it. You looked at the center of the watch, looking at the origin for the hour and minute arms. You remember it being a button, you having pressed it to wind up here in the first place. You press it again in a desperate attempt to return home.
Nothing happened.
You start accepting that you are in the past and that you will never return home or see anyone that you knew ever again, and you start playing with the watch again, hitting everything to make something work to make you go home. You cannot remember what you pressed, but everything went black after that. The next thing you remember was returning to your room. You wanted to throw the watch away, but then it would have been someone else's curse to bear, and you already had more experience with the pocket watch than just about everyone on the planet. You couldn't let someone have to live with that.
You remember your phone again and scramble up your bed to look at it. It was August Twenty-Seventh, the phone said. Your eyes widen and your hands throw the little bronze watch and your phone further onto the bed. Not a day had passed, but you clearly remember spending several days in your uncomfortable normal clothes, and more days in the clothes that the people were nice enough to provide you with.
Slowly, you crawl further onto your bed and pick up your phone, your eyes only on the lonesome watch as you make a call.
You know a University teacher in the city, a friend, if you wanted to call him that. He was a regular Indiana Jones, just without all of the whipping and the adventures. He went on digs and research trips, finding weird things all the time.
He had to help.
I hope I caught your attention with this, and I hope that I can get something like this moving!
Anyway, I would like for this to be a high-casual 1x1, and I'm always open to suggestions or ideas if you want to do something else that you think might do well for us both, so please, leave a message either here or through PM and lets get adventuring!
You look to your hands, shaking and quivering as you sit on the floor next to your bed. You like the solid feeling of the floor right now, and you wish not to move for a while. Inside your hands, you look at the piece of aged copper that lay within your palm. You do not open it, fearing that you will experience that awful feeling for a third time without having recovered from the second. You remember from the first time that you opened it that it was a pocket watch, unnameable gold and black metals making up the gears, arms, and other components reveals underneath a thin circle of glass. If it weren't for the little button and chain link on the top, you never would have guessed where noon was on it.
You clench your fist with the pocket watch and consider throwing it away. Whatever happened, you never want it to happen again. You never want to expenrience the blacks and whites of the infinite voids and expenses, burning and freezing as you fall in every direction, only to end up in a location you can't remember at all.
You remember the past few days vividly. You remember waking up in a grass field on your back, flat out and on the ground with the closest connection to the earth as possible. You looked to your left, finding what seemed to be the food that you had taken right before opening up that damned pocket watch all on the ground in a disgusting liquid state. As you slowly propped yourself up, you could feel the grass underneath your hands charred and freshly burned, but your own self unharmed for the most part.
When you finally recovered, you stood up and looked around. You were no longer in the city, but grasslands off to the side of a much smaller settlement that you could have imagined possible.
You couldn't believe what you were seeing, and you were starting to go hysterical. All of these people looked, talked, and acted like is was the fifteenth century. There was no Renaissance fair going on, you were sure of that, but all of these people insisted that they were living in the fifteenth century. You couldn't look at your phone to check the time, you had left it on the little nightstand next to your bed before looking at the pocket watch. There was no way that you could have possibly been awake, it must have been a dream. You spend days trying to set things right. The good will of the people helped clothe and feed you, a lost and poor wanderer who seemed hopeless in a land they did not know.
And then you decided to look at the watch that seemed to have always been in your hand, opening it up again to look at the several arms and times that it seemed to record. It stated that you were back several hundred years ago, but you still refused to believe it. You looked at the center of the watch, looking at the origin for the hour and minute arms. You remember it being a button, you having pressed it to wind up here in the first place. You press it again in a desperate attempt to return home.
Nothing happened.
You start accepting that you are in the past and that you will never return home or see anyone that you knew ever again, and you start playing with the watch again, hitting everything to make something work to make you go home. You cannot remember what you pressed, but everything went black after that. The next thing you remember was returning to your room. You wanted to throw the watch away, but then it would have been someone else's curse to bear, and you already had more experience with the pocket watch than just about everyone on the planet. You couldn't let someone have to live with that.
You remember your phone again and scramble up your bed to look at it. It was August Twenty-Seventh, the phone said. Your eyes widen and your hands throw the little bronze watch and your phone further onto the bed. Not a day had passed, but you clearly remember spending several days in your uncomfortable normal clothes, and more days in the clothes that the people were nice enough to provide you with.
Slowly, you crawl further onto your bed and pick up your phone, your eyes only on the lonesome watch as you make a call.
You know a University teacher in the city, a friend, if you wanted to call him that. He was a regular Indiana Jones, just without all of the whipping and the adventures. He went on digs and research trips, finding weird things all the time.
He had to help.
I hope I caught your attention with this, and I hope that I can get something like this moving!
Anyway, I would like for this to be a high-casual 1x1, and I'm always open to suggestions or ideas if you want to do something else that you think might do well for us both, so please, leave a message either here or through PM and lets get adventuring!
