When he wakes the first time, he lays there looking at a large, strange mirror, with sounds of whispers quieting around him. He stays there for a moment, his sluggish mind trying to quickly calculate exactly what he is looking at, where he is, and--
Oh. And who he is. That's a problem. That is definitely something he should be able to remember. Isn't it? He lays there for another long moment as he tries to remember. Well, he remembers language. So that's something. He remembers mirrors, and whispers, and -- decks? Yeah. He can hear the ship creak around him. So he's on a ship. He remembers what ships are, that's helpful. He remembers what the sea is--
But when he tries to remember how he got there, when he reaches back for any other pertinent information, nothing comes.
After another few silent seconds, he says to the room:
"Well. This is a fucking problem."
B. At Sea
The first couple of days, while he still couldn't remember anything, he just sort of wandered around, sticking his nose into whatever he could manage, and often getting doors closed on it as a result. He spent at least three hours on the first afternoon marveling at all of his tattoos - both arms fully sleeved, as well as a tattoo on his chest, and some beginning to creep up his legs, and he helpfully asks whoever comes near him: "What do you think this means??" While pointing and some indecipherable squiggle.
He's surprisingly helpful when asked - and seems to be especially adept at helping sew the sails, so he can be found there most of the time, needle in hand and humming to himself songs he doesn't quite remember.
He gets especially excited about the mermaids and the sea creatures, nearly leaning over the railing of the deck at one point and gesturing to them and happily calling: "I don't know much, but I know you shouldn't be here! Hello!"
For the first two days, he is amiable and chatty - not sure why he is here but apparently not overly worried about it. If asked, he says that "he'll figure it out soon", but as no one is being obviously abused or hurt, he doesn't seem to think they are much more than poor deckhands.
On the third day, he wakes and remembers his name.
His mood dips that entire day as he starts to regain his memories, his normally easy smile disappearing for a worried frown. He still does his duties, but he seems distracted, only half present, running on autopilot while his mind is off somewhere else.
He spends an hour that night trying to activate his tattoos, and trying to ignore the growing panic he feels when none of them answer to his touch.
On the fourth day, he wakes in tears, the blizzard rolling in. This is his fault, he realizes. This is his fault. He spends a lot of the day approaching different people and asking them a very odd set of questions - Where are they from? What year was it? What kind of magic do they know? Do they know anyone called Mingyu, Rushi or Jade?
He steals a piece of charcoal from one of the braziers that keep the half-frozen decks warm enough to live on, and he starts drawing in dark marks on the deck and muttering to himself as he tries to link it all together. If left undisturbed, much of that deck ends up covered in weird markings and unreadable runes before he is finally dragged away, protesting, to go back to the mirror.
He forgets his name again, after that.
C. The Escape
He's half out of it, again, when the explosions begin, groggy and confused when it wakes him from a restless slumber filled with nightmares. He shakes his head like a wet dog drying off and looks up at whoever is next to him. "What-- Was that an explosion? What's happening?"
D. The House of Dew
Do you know anyone named Mingyu, or Rushi, or Jade?
He'd asked that question of everyone he'd met - those on the ship as well as his rescuers - and the overwhelming relief he had when someone answered yes was quickly marred by confusion when they explained where to find him. He's a courtesan in the House of Dew. You'll find him there.
By the time he actually arrived at the house, he had already convinced himself that it was coincidence. Mingyu could not be the only one with his name - even Bai Mingyu couldn't be that rare - so the idea of it just happening to be the same man was near impossible. And a courtesan definitely didn't sound like him at all.
But then, Fox had somehow destroyed the timeline. So. Who was he to know what to expect in anything?
So he asked around quietly, trying to find him, giving the name "Ernest" if anyone asked for his, and immediately giving a cheerful, amiable mask to anyone who was willing to speak with him. The worry, the agony - he kept that tight to his chest. He was in a very foreign place, now, and though the cold at least was reminiscent of home, nothing else was the same. He'd broken the world, and no one could know.
Emmet "Fox" Martin || OC: Impetus Universe
When he wakes the first time, he lays there looking at a large, strange mirror, with sounds of whispers quieting around him. He stays there for a moment, his sluggish mind trying to quickly calculate exactly what he is looking at, where he is, and--
Oh. And who he is. That's a problem. That is definitely something he should be able to remember. Isn't it? He lays there for another long moment as he tries to remember. Well, he remembers language. So that's something. He remembers mirrors, and whispers, and -- decks? Yeah. He can hear the ship creak around him. So he's on a ship. He remembers what ships are, that's helpful. He remembers what the sea is--
But when he tries to remember how he got there, when he reaches back for any other pertinent information, nothing comes.
After another few silent seconds, he says to the room:
"Well. This is a fucking problem."
B. At Sea
The first couple of days, while he still couldn't remember anything, he just sort of wandered around, sticking his nose into whatever he could manage, and often getting doors closed on it as a result. He spent at least three hours on the first afternoon marveling at all of his tattoos - both arms fully sleeved, as well as a tattoo on his chest, and some beginning to creep up his legs, and he helpfully asks whoever comes near him: "What do you think this means??" While pointing and some indecipherable squiggle.
He's surprisingly helpful when asked - and seems to be especially adept at helping sew the sails, so he can be found there most of the time, needle in hand and humming to himself songs he doesn't quite remember.
He gets especially excited about the mermaids and the sea creatures, nearly leaning over the railing of the deck at one point and gesturing to them and happily calling: "I don't know much, but I know you shouldn't be here! Hello!"
For the first two days, he is amiable and chatty - not sure why he is here but apparently not overly worried about it. If asked, he says that "he'll figure it out soon", but as no one is being obviously abused or hurt, he doesn't seem to think they are much more than poor deckhands.
On the third day, he wakes and remembers his name.
His mood dips that entire day as he starts to regain his memories, his normally easy smile disappearing for a worried frown. He still does his duties, but he seems distracted, only half present, running on autopilot while his mind is off somewhere else.
He spends an hour that night trying to activate his tattoos, and trying to ignore the growing panic he feels when none of them answer to his touch.
On the fourth day, he wakes in tears, the blizzard rolling in. This is his fault, he realizes. This is his fault. He spends a lot of the day approaching different people and asking them a very odd set of questions - Where are they from? What year was it? What kind of magic do they know? Do they know anyone called Mingyu, Rushi or Jade?
He steals a piece of charcoal from one of the braziers that keep the half-frozen decks warm enough to live on, and he starts drawing in dark marks on the deck and muttering to himself as he tries to link it all together. If left undisturbed, much of that deck ends up covered in weird markings and unreadable runes before he is finally dragged away, protesting, to go back to the mirror.
He forgets his name again, after that.
C. The Escape
He's half out of it, again, when the explosions begin, groggy and confused when it wakes him from a restless slumber filled with nightmares. He shakes his head like a wet dog drying off and looks up at whoever is next to him. "What-- Was that an explosion? What's happening?"
D. The House of Dew
Do you know anyone named Mingyu, or Rushi, or Jade?
He'd asked that question of everyone he'd met - those on the ship as well as his rescuers - and the overwhelming relief he had when someone answered yes was quickly marred by confusion when they explained where to find him. He's a courtesan in the House of Dew. You'll find him there.
By the time he actually arrived at the house, he had already convinced himself that it was coincidence. Mingyu could not be the only one with his name - even Bai Mingyu couldn't be that rare - so the idea of it just happening to be the same man was near impossible. And a courtesan definitely didn't sound like him at all.
But then, Fox had somehow destroyed the timeline. So. Who was he to know what to expect in anything?
So he asked around quietly, trying to find him, giving the name "Ernest" if anyone asked for his, and immediately giving a cheerful, amiable mask to anyone who was willing to speak with him. The worry, the agony - he kept that tight to his chest. He was in a very foreign place, now, and though the cold at least was reminiscent of home, nothing else was the same. He'd broken the world, and no one could know.