It's only been a week. He doesn't know it, but it has.
For a week there's been no light, no sound, no motion, no ground. Edward's simply been left suspended in a featureless void, his own thoughts his only company. He's felt no hunger or thirst, nothing to keep him even the least bit occupied. Tangible suffering is almost desirable at this point; there's nothing else to feel. He doesn't even recognise the stinging of his throat from the many, many times he's made noise just to hear something. His brain tries to fill in the empty space with something, anything, haunting him with phantom sounds and ghosts of his past.
He is alone. He's lost the capacity to even feel numb. It's only been a week, and yet it's as if an eternity has gone by, and all memory of such familiar sensations is just out of reach.
And then something "opens," and Edward falls.
Suddenly he's overcome with those feelings he could hardly remember before. The wind whipping past his limbs is "cold," and gravity acting upon his very bones gives him "weight." He moves through the air too fast to breathe, but "breathe" he must do once again. He falls limply through the air, staring wondrously at the enormity of the blue sky above.
He hits the ground harmlessly, or at the very least it seems that something broke his fall somewhere along the way down. He lies in the middle of the sidewalk near a busy street in Duckburg, and for several moments he is motionless as even such a slight impact ripples through his body. Vehicles drive past on their own respective journeys, paying Edward no mind. He is insignificant to the workings of this world.
Everything hits him at once.
Stimuli assault his every sense like a sleeping bear freshly-awoken, even the slightest sensation so long-forgotten that it nauseates and terrifies him. The raucous thrum and screech of cars grind deep into his elongated ears, and beams of light extend into the ultraviolet, for his monstrous features seem to not have left him behind in Ryslig where they rightfully belong. His enhanced senses burn him alive.
And there, lying on that smooth pavement, experiencing the motion of life once again, Edward screams.
[THE HOSPITAL: IF YOU GIVE THEM TIME]
Eventually, he's taken into a hospital where he's processed like other Fallers before him and, once his circumstance is realised, given a less violent reintroduction to his senses. He's given a room to stay in for the time being, and it's kept quiet at all times. The lights are dimmed to keep from straining his sensitive eyes too strongly. There are objects on a bedside table and a desk by the wall for him to interact with, including strips of different fabrics, brushes, small instruments, noisemakers, paper and writing utensils, and even a radio. There's a television in the room as well, but he usually keeps it off. Any curious visitors will often find the Pooka picking gently at a hand harp with his claws, seeming to enjoy the sound. His ears perk at the sound of the opening door, his nose wiggling with the scent of this new person, and he waves softly in greeting.
[DUCKBURG STREETS... 2!: AND YOU GIVE THEM PATIENCE]
Of course, with time, Edward recovers enough to be sent on his way, directed to a number of spaces designated for Fallers to take up a more permanent residence. He's given a bag with some materials reiterating information about the state of the worlds and updates on the havoc wreaked by Glomgold in recent days, and he's allowed to leave with confidence that he can handle himself.
That said, being in such a new place without a guide isn't perhaps the best decision of his. As such, he's likely to ask for some help. "E-excuse me, are... Do you know this place?"
[IN THE NIGHT, SOMEWHERE: THEY WILL HEAL AND LOVE AGAIN]
Even when he's found a place to stay, Edward can't bring himself to sit still like he has since his arrival, and he makes special note of any parks or interesting landmarks he comes across on his journey to a welcoming doorstep. He slips out in the evening when traffic is least severe, the coolness of the night air brushing through his fur. He doubts many people will be out so late, expecting to be alone when he spreads his limbs out on a bed of grass over a hill. He breathes in that comforting scent of nature and thinks back to home. What he wouldn't give to return one day.
He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice someone coming by, perhaps to join or even judge him. Regardless of the intent, he doesn't seem to mind. "Who woulda thought somewhere so loud could be so calm. It's nice, isn't it?"
Edward Atlus | OC, Ryslig CRAU
It's only been a week. He doesn't know it, but it has.
For a week there's been no light, no sound, no motion, no ground. Edward's simply been left suspended in a featureless void, his own thoughts his only company. He's felt no hunger or thirst, nothing to keep him even the least bit occupied. Tangible suffering is almost desirable at this point; there's nothing else to feel. He doesn't even recognise the stinging of his throat from the many, many times he's made noise just to hear something. His brain tries to fill in the empty space with something, anything, haunting him with phantom sounds and ghosts of his past.
He is alone. He's lost the capacity to even feel numb. It's only been a week, and yet it's as if an eternity has gone by, and all memory of such familiar sensations is just out of reach.
And then something "opens," and Edward falls.
Suddenly he's overcome with those feelings he could hardly remember before. The wind whipping past his limbs is "cold," and gravity acting upon his very bones gives him "weight." He moves through the air too fast to breathe, but "breathe" he must do once again. He falls limply through the air, staring wondrously at the enormity of the blue sky above.
He hits the ground harmlessly, or at the very least it seems that something broke his fall somewhere along the way down. He lies in the middle of the sidewalk near a busy street in Duckburg, and for several moments he is motionless as even such a slight impact ripples through his body. Vehicles drive past on their own respective journeys, paying Edward no mind. He is insignificant to the workings of this world.
Everything hits him at once.
Stimuli assault his every sense like a sleeping bear freshly-awoken, even the slightest sensation so long-forgotten that it nauseates and terrifies him. The raucous thrum and screech of cars grind deep into his elongated ears, and beams of light extend into the ultraviolet, for his monstrous features seem to not have left him behind in Ryslig where they rightfully belong. His enhanced senses burn him alive.
And there, lying on that smooth pavement, experiencing the motion of life once again, Edward screams.
[THE HOSPITAL: IF YOU GIVE THEM TIME]
Eventually, he's taken into a hospital where he's processed like other Fallers before him and, once his circumstance is realised, given a less violent reintroduction to his senses. He's given a room to stay in for the time being, and it's kept quiet at all times. The lights are dimmed to keep from straining his sensitive eyes too strongly. There are objects on a bedside table and a desk by the wall for him to interact with, including strips of different fabrics, brushes, small instruments, noisemakers, paper and writing utensils, and even a radio. There's a television in the room as well, but he usually keeps it off. Any curious visitors will often find the Pooka picking gently at a hand harp with his claws, seeming to enjoy the sound. His ears perk at the sound of the opening door, his nose wiggling with the scent of this new person, and he waves softly in greeting.
[DUCKBURG STREETS... 2!: AND YOU GIVE THEM PATIENCE]
Of course, with time, Edward recovers enough to be sent on his way, directed to a number of spaces designated for Fallers to take up a more permanent residence. He's given a bag with some materials reiterating information about the state of the worlds and updates on the havoc wreaked by Glomgold in recent days, and he's allowed to leave with confidence that he can handle himself.
That said, being in such a new place without a guide isn't perhaps the best decision of his. As such, he's likely to ask for some help. "E-excuse me, are... Do you know this place?"
[IN THE NIGHT, SOMEWHERE: THEY WILL HEAL AND LOVE AGAIN]
Even when he's found a place to stay, Edward can't bring himself to sit still like he has since his arrival, and he makes special note of any parks or interesting landmarks he comes across on his journey to a welcoming doorstep. He slips out in the evening when traffic is least severe, the coolness of the night air brushing through his fur. He doubts many people will be out so late, expecting to be alone when he spreads his limbs out on a bed of grass over a hill. He breathes in that comforting scent of nature and thinks back to home. What he wouldn't give to return one day.
He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice someone coming by, perhaps to join or even judge him. Regardless of the intent, he doesn't seem to mind. "Who woulda thought somewhere so loud could be so calm. It's nice, isn't it?"
[WILDCARD: hit me with whatever you've got!]