Osuka
Primarch of Terra'Avenia
Osuka
Location: A whole world of Hurtin'.. and the holding cells, I think. We'll find out together. Yes, I think that would be good. Being in a new place is lonely, after all.
"Iitein iitein IITEIN IITEIN IITE-"
And his world went black. The smack to a force he couldn't see was more than sufficient enough to break him and send him quickly into a blanketed world of darkness, which didn't seem to last very long at all. When he awoke, Osuka found himself in a very familiar place:
"Gesh," he grumbled, shaking his head as he kept himself still on the cot he laid upon. "Velnis ki halferen Accosteira." (Great, I'm in Prison again) There were a few things to consider when he found himself in such a normal situation, as it seemed every world he had wound up in did this to their unexpected guests. You'd think they'd put them in a hospital with some guard detail, but no, here he was, better off than when he was knocked out, and about to take stock of his situation. The room seemed.... Oddly sterile, but he could tell it was a personal cell. There was a toilet, a sink, a bed, and a table, but he was shackled with just enough lead in his restraints to move around the room. It didn't seem as if the room had multiple ways in and out, and he couldn't see out of the room. Instead, it appeared to be artificially illuminated. Only explanation for a room that didn't have any natural light was that it had to have a two-way mirror somewhere, or at least security cameras, of which he found three as he looked around.
Now to take stock of himself.
The first thing to notice was that he found his right, prosthetic hand was missing, and they must've done it improperly since the socket throbbed with a very slight but dull ache. He was wearing some kind of monotone uniform that he could only assume was meant for those being detained, but it wasn't a jumpsuit. That means they had stripped him down, and that he didn't have any of his gear. Even his necklace was missing as he touched his left hand to his chest and rubbed his neck after. They also had Colette's picture... He had been chasing her for decades now, and the longer it took, the more easily he slid into restless fits of sorts. Before this was nothing but a world of Telepaths who had no mouths, and they were nosy, even when he tried to dissuade them with images he thought would dissuade them from digging.
They found it entertaining, and talked way too much about "Letting Go."
There was nothing to let go of. Colette was taken, and he had sworn to himself, as the Primarch, that he was either going to get her back or chase every lead he got until he was dead.
"Geeeeeeeeeesh..." he sighed again, then sat up slowly. The movement still made him ache, but since he expected more, it meant that they had to have tended to him somehow. "Kishou? (Sir?)" he called out, looking around. "La'Noui? (Lady/Ma'am?) Xiferou kiishein, vi delour galfen, perssheis Accosterial mitteroun (you should know, I'm not dangerous, but these restraints hurt slightly)."
Now he would wait for some sort of answer - any answer really, whether it was in his language (Which he was, admittedly, praying for), but so far, the implements they were using him was at least some sign it wouldn't be his language, and it was going to make him impatient.
Deathkitten
Location: A whole world of Hurtin'.. and the holding cells, I think. We'll find out together. Yes, I think that would be good. Being in a new place is lonely, after all.
"Iitein iitein IITEIN IITEIN IITE-"
And his world went black. The smack to a force he couldn't see was more than sufficient enough to break him and send him quickly into a blanketed world of darkness, which didn't seem to last very long at all. When he awoke, Osuka found himself in a very familiar place:
"Gesh," he grumbled, shaking his head as he kept himself still on the cot he laid upon. "Velnis ki halferen Accosteira." (Great, I'm in Prison again) There were a few things to consider when he found himself in such a normal situation, as it seemed every world he had wound up in did this to their unexpected guests. You'd think they'd put them in a hospital with some guard detail, but no, here he was, better off than when he was knocked out, and about to take stock of his situation. The room seemed.... Oddly sterile, but he could tell it was a personal cell. There was a toilet, a sink, a bed, and a table, but he was shackled with just enough lead in his restraints to move around the room. It didn't seem as if the room had multiple ways in and out, and he couldn't see out of the room. Instead, it appeared to be artificially illuminated. Only explanation for a room that didn't have any natural light was that it had to have a two-way mirror somewhere, or at least security cameras, of which he found three as he looked around.
Now to take stock of himself.
The first thing to notice was that he found his right, prosthetic hand was missing, and they must've done it improperly since the socket throbbed with a very slight but dull ache. He was wearing some kind of monotone uniform that he could only assume was meant for those being detained, but it wasn't a jumpsuit. That means they had stripped him down, and that he didn't have any of his gear. Even his necklace was missing as he touched his left hand to his chest and rubbed his neck after. They also had Colette's picture... He had been chasing her for decades now, and the longer it took, the more easily he slid into restless fits of sorts. Before this was nothing but a world of Telepaths who had no mouths, and they were nosy, even when he tried to dissuade them with images he thought would dissuade them from digging.
They found it entertaining, and talked way too much about "Letting Go."
There was nothing to let go of. Colette was taken, and he had sworn to himself, as the Primarch, that he was either going to get her back or chase every lead he got until he was dead.
"Geeeeeeeeeesh..." he sighed again, then sat up slowly. The movement still made him ache, but since he expected more, it meant that they had to have tended to him somehow. "Kishou? (Sir?)" he called out, looking around. "La'Noui? (Lady/Ma'am?) Xiferou kiishein, vi delour galfen, perssheis Accosterial mitteroun (you should know, I'm not dangerous, but these restraints hurt slightly)."
Now he would wait for some sort of answer - any answer really, whether it was in his language (Which he was, admittedly, praying for), but so far, the implements they were using him was at least some sign it wouldn't be his language, and it was going to make him impatient.
Deathkitten