Ishthin Veltre's Story

or at the very least no one is talking to me

Peter looks around. It sure was kind of those people to pick him up, but he already finds the memory of who brought him here fading, strangely.

"Huh."

He stares up at the archway, admiring it in it's grandiose size and structure.
He shakes his head. What am I thinking? I don't have time to marvel at architecture. I'm here to find somebody... If they were even real.

The memories of that vast plain of wheat or grass, he can't remember which, are already fading, and he struggles to remember.

A set of faces suddenly come into recognition, his mind remembering them, even as details have faded.

Moon... Moon something. Waves in Moonlight? Nah, wait... And the girl, Ha... Haze. Yeah.

He clutches his steel-plated temple, the leather gloves gripping firmly onto the metal surface.

Why... Why does it seem so distant? Was it even real? Or... A dream?

He suddenly finds it hard to breath, and scrabbles his hands at the seal of his helmet. As he removes it, he takes a deep gasp of breath. He's never felt uncomfortable in his armor before, but he feels very claustrophobic all of a sudden.

"F- Fuck, man. What's going on? Why-" He stutters to himself. He's never felt as out of place as he does now, with all the people around him.

The ground begins to spin around him as he turns in circles, staring at everyone around him. 30, maybe 40 people. Some of them, as he sees them dissolve into mist for a split second, then regain solidity, as if they weren't really there.

Peter shakes his head. He can't focus on this now, he has things to do. He puts back on his helmet, not bothering to seal it, and takes a deep breath of the filtered air. Lord, man. You gotta chill out. Take a step back, and let the business end take over.

He laces his fingers together and stretches out his arms, cracking his knuckles.

Alright. Time to get to work.