Gardenia Sewers
"The Kindness of Strangers."
He lied there, like a fallen log. Unmoving, unflinching, and most of all unconscious. His mind was a violent whirlpool of thoughts, fears, and hopes. He heard voices upon voices, none was more louder than HIM but he continues to hear instructions it seems. Pawn, War, Factions...all of it continued to come through. He wasn't sure what it meant but he understood and so did HE. He was found wearing nothing but rags for pants. Some homeless passerby stumbled upon the body of Jean-Pierre. He worried about the man and seeing his state, he felt sympathetic. He tried to rouse him, but all attempts were futile. Seeing no more options the Homeless man carried Jean-Pierre to safety.
The Man soon came upon exit from the sewers a large gated entrance used for maintenance. It was through here they would exit and the man would bring him to his home. (Exited Gardenia Sewers)
Gardenia City-Underpass-Shanty Town
Jean-Pierre began to feel life once again. Warmth returned to his body and for once he felt at ease. It was then he awoken and then suddenly launched himself out of a makeshift bed and landed on the ground. The man then raised his hand in soothing fashion, "Calm down friend, your fine." He humbly spoke. Jean-Pierre was a bit thrown off by the man sitting across from him. His accent odd, but it sounded like he spoke English. "Où suis-je ?" Jean-Pierre spoke in French. The man then raised his ear to him, as he was confused by the words just spoken. "Excuse me come again?" The man asked. "W-where...am...I?" Jean-Pierre spoke louder, this time trying to use his English.
The man then nodded as he understood him. He was glad the person was able to understand his English despite his accent. "Why your in my home, well really all of our homes." As the man raised his arm encompassing all of the other makeshift homes and people. Jean-Pierre looked around. The town reminded him of the Slums in Paris. Poverty it seems, is always everywhere. Jean-Pierre nodded. The man then looked at him as he motioned for him to sit next to him. "Come on." "You'll be less cold if you sit by the fire." The man said as he tended to the fire burning it what looks like a metal barrel. Jean-Pierre did sit by the fire as he used it to get warm he the noticed he had a coat wrapped around him. "Ah yes, that was mine but you look like you need it more." The man spoke. "Merci." Jean-Pierre spoke.
"Huh?" The man spoke as he raised his eyebrow. "Thank you." Jean-Pierre spoke again in English. "Before I forget to mention, your accent is strange," He paused as he tended the fire again, "Were are you from?" He asked. "France." Jean-Pierre replied. "Hm?" "France?" "Never heard of it." He spoke. Then Jean-Pierre raised an eyebrow in confusion. Who hasn't ever heard of France? It was only one of the most powerful nations in the world. Or since he seems to speak English is he being an arrogant Brit, and ignoring the French nation. "You are an Englishmen, no?" "How can you not know of France?" Jean-Pierre asked a bit astounded.
The man gave him a strange look, as if he was the one who was crazy but decided to oblige, "Well sorry I haven't." The man sincerely spoke. Jean-Pierre felt a bit put-off from the man's words but still he gave him a coat when he is in rags, and a fire too. So Jean-Pierre shouldn't be upset with the man, even if he does say he knows nothing of France. Jean-Pierre sat there looking in to the fire as he struggled to remember more of his life. He knows he is a Frenchman but what else? It was so frustrating not to remember anything else of his life. Not to mention where he is and what these instructions mean to him. Still, at least he learned English back some time ago. Even trying to think of when he learned English is foggy. Why does he know next to nothing of his past?
Every time he tries he feels HIM and guilt. One thing is for certain he knows all to well about his roommate and how destructive he is. Which brings him to worry about the people here. He doesn't want to become HIM and hurt these fine people. He wouldn't be able to live with himself after the hospitality they've shown him. Hell, he can't even live with himself now. The Beast forces him too though...so his best defense is to remain in control. Easier said than done. Even with the Beast he continues to feel these new sensations, as if he knows where other people are without even knowing where they are. He seems to have such an exact feeling he could tell when they move away. Why is he feeling this for? Is it because of the instructions? He then suddenly remembered to mark on his hand. He raised his right hand to see that mark again. This time he could tell what it was, a Pawn. Pawns are used in chess correct? Is he supposed to play Chess? Or something like that.
He placed his hand round his body to keep warm. He was glad these people decided to use this large, roof for covering. The rain beyond is brutal. Which makes him wonder who would place such a thing and why? He shouldn't complain it provides ample cover. Yet, it's design seems familiar...a bridge perhaps? Jean-Pierre thought, soon his concentration was broken by the man. "So what were you doing down in the sewers?" He asked. "Trying to find cover from the rain." Jean-Pierre spoke. "Ah I see, well the sewers don't help much, in fact it's probably worse down there, with all of the rats y'know?" He spoke. Jean-Pierre merely nodded. "You don't talk much do ya?" He rhetorically asked. Jean-Pierre only merely nodded. "Well it's getting real late, I should get some rest." He spoke, "Have a good night." He spoke as he entered that shack and left his view. Jean-Pierre continued to look into the fire as he continued to feel out other things. All the while the Beast stirs...