✍ KENT VICTOR
Everything felt so surreal. And at the same time he sort of felt like he wanted to throw up, completely groggy and senseless. He was trying to latch onto something and couldn't, trying to find some sort of sense in this state he found himself in. At the moment, it was sort of like he was just moving on his own. Kent had no control of his body, everything was just doing whatever it wanted. It was a feeling he didn't like. Feeling useless, helpless, powerless, none of those things were okay with him. Ever. Kent was the sort of person to always be in charge, and this... this wasn't him being in charge.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he was in some sort of building. No, no, it was too small to be a building. But the only other reasonable explanation would be that he was in some sort of cage, like a stall or something. That was insane, who would put him inside a stall? He had no enemies, no one that wanted to hurt him. Quickly he searched the small room, mostly with his eyes rather than actually moving around. It seemed there was nothing, not one thing in there but himself.
"Hello?", he called out, but the only answer was the echo back of his own voice. He highly doubted anyone else could hear him. Hopefully his brother was still safe- he couldn't deal with himself if his brother had gotten hurt.
✍ DORIAN VICTOR
Dorian sort of liked the feeling he was getting. Which was actually quite childish of him, considering it was probably somewhat like he was being drugged. Who knew though, perhaps this was death. Though he was young, dying in his sleep seemed very unlikely. Oh well, if it had happened, it had happened. There was no reason to question fate, not like he was going to get an answer anyways. Just let it take him where it wished, right? Probably the only logical explanation he could come up with right now.
That is, until he woke in a stall. "Hm," he made the sound, causing his lips to vibrate as he reached out with long, pale fingers to touch a wall. "What is this?" Poor boy, always had a tendency to talk to himself. The whole thing didn't seem very much like death, perhaps he was still alive. But in that case, where exactly was he? Just a bit ago he was napping in the studio, right? God, he had better find his way back there soon, they still had a few songs to record and if their band was missing a guitarist, it wasn't going to go over well.
"Can someone let me out?" The words came out directed to no one in particular, he really just hoped it was a prank or something from the band. Someone was bound to walk by soon and help him out. "I really need to get back to the studio!" He called again, as if giving a reason was going to help him out of this mess.
Finally he sat, legs crossed and hands in his lap. Oh well, someone would come by and let him out sometime, no need to worry himself about it.
