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Snippet #2454535

located in The Medialoum, a part of Coffee in Hell, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Medialoum

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Character Portrait: Orpheus Hall Character Portrait: Lilith Amaris
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The smell was the first thing he sensed-the only thing that seemed to refresh what he had of his memory. It was blood, and a lot of it. He hadn't even opened his eyes or made any movement out of his current position, mainly because he was still trying to figure out what that was. He didn't recall where he was, or who he was for that matter. Everything felt foreign, whether it was the blood drying on his skin or the sharp pain in his back. His body ached, as well as a dull pressure that squeezed his head. As he regained his consciousness he also regained the feeling in every nerve of his body unfortunately for the situation given. Though he didn't remember, he'd fallen off the roof of his house.
Raven-black eyelashes parted, exposing a faint sliver of blue iris to the outside world. Through the half-open ocular, he noted that the balance of colors in the sky had shifted now to oranges and yellows, the red and purple receding as they were wont to do upon the dawn’s breaking. He wondered if it even were dawn, considering the darkness that wrapped itself beneath the light. He didn't know what time of day it was, nor could he see the sun directly. He had an uneasy feeling that the destruction and rubble that laid around hadn't always been there.
His eye fell closed again, and Orpheus returned to his meditations, heedless of the faint breeze that teased his uncanny black hair and the fabric of his loose red shirt. With any will he still had he used to straighten, and dug the palms of his hands into the ground to prop himself up against the wall of the building. His breathing was constant, but shallow and quivering. Nothing came back to him really, though he wasn't aware anything should have.
He knew he'd was old. Very old. He'd been around for a long time. He felt ancient clocks of time clicking and chiming in his head, in his whole body, but no recollection of how he'd spent the many centuries. He didn't ask himself many questions, in fear he'd have very little answers. He didn't have any idea what to ask either. Everything felt strange, yet at the same time he didn't know anything else. There were a few basic ideas of knowledge in his mind, but anything of personal matter was blank.
Something- or someone, caught his attention. Orpheus, it called. He recognised the name as his own, though moments before he wouldn't have been able to say he had one.
He search the area, only looking but no effort to get up. He didn't know who was calling him, or why for that matter. His caution worried him, wary of the fact that he should know a lot more than he did. Though it seemed he'd regain it slowly with time. He debated calling out to it, but instead let out a cough that stung in his chest. He spit out a coppery taste of blood beside him, and let his body relax in an effort to release some pain. Orpheus used the wall he'd been leaning on to stand, but only got most of the way before having to completely use it for support. Where was he, anyway?