Dias' first thought was that he had died, and that wouldn't have surprised him at all. It wouldn't even have bothered him at all, because once you were dead you were able to accept just about anything that might choose to come your way without complaint.
But the fact that he seemed to be standing, and breathing - that he was aware he was standing and breathing - effectively ruined that theory. Dead people didn't do either of those things; were renowned for it, in fact.
And there were voices.
He opened his eyes without any actual expectations of what it was he would see, and he was still taken by surprise.
He was standing in the shadow of a gate, massive and imposing. It was obviously some sort of metal, but crafted skillfully to look like ice, the jagged icicles giving it an appearance that was neither comforting nor inviting from where Dias was standing. The gate suggested the experience of walking through it would be immediately followed by the experience of walking headlong into a universe of razor blades.
And despite this...there was a line. Who the hell would line up to walk through a gate that looked like that?
Once Dias had processed his surroundings, he turned his attention back to himself. Everything seemed normal...he wasn't injured, and his sword was still hanging in its sheath at his side. He rested one hand reassuringly on the hilt before he went back to surveying the surroundings that he had privately labeled, for the moment, Not Expel, because he had travelled the length and breadth of his world and never seen a place like this.
Of brief interest to him was a silver-haired boy, being trailed (apparently to the boy's annoyance) by a small...person, he decided charitably...that moved and, in several vague ways, looked like the monsters that had charged the Lacour front line, just before the incident which had somehow landed him here. Small, dark, with yellow eyes that seemed to possess a sort of bioluminescence. But it was apparently human, far more human than the monsters he'd fought, so he dismissed it as being an unsettling coincidence.
He surveyed the line again. Even if he'd been exactly eager to walk through such a forbidding gate(and he had to admit a small amount of curiosity as to what was so interesting about in there - wherever 'in there' was - that people would wait in line to get in), the thought of having to wait all that time to go into a place that didn't seem the least bit inviting while having to listen to inane chatter was distasteful to the extreme. Better to scout around out here, first, to see if what was inside could possibly be better.
So, apparently entirely alone in having drawn this conclusion, Dias finally moved - away from the gate and the line.
no subject
But the fact that he seemed to be standing, and breathing - that he was aware he was standing and breathing - effectively ruined that theory. Dead people didn't do either of those things; were renowned for it, in fact.
And there were voices.
He opened his eyes without any actual expectations of what it was he would see, and he was still taken by surprise.
He was standing in the shadow of a gate, massive and imposing. It was obviously some sort of metal, but crafted skillfully to look like ice, the jagged icicles giving it an appearance that was neither comforting nor inviting from where Dias was standing. The gate suggested the experience of walking through it would be immediately followed by the experience of walking headlong into a universe of razor blades.
And despite this...there was a line. Who the hell would line up to walk through a gate that looked like that?
Once Dias had processed his surroundings, he turned his attention back to himself. Everything seemed normal...he wasn't injured, and his sword was still hanging in its sheath at his side. He rested one hand reassuringly on the hilt before he went back to surveying the surroundings that he had privately labeled, for the moment, Not Expel, because he had travelled the length and breadth of his world and never seen a place like this.
Of brief interest to him was a silver-haired boy, being trailed (apparently to the boy's annoyance) by a small...person, he decided charitably...that moved and, in several vague ways, looked like the monsters that had charged the Lacour front line, just before the incident which had somehow landed him here. Small, dark, with yellow eyes that seemed to possess a sort of bioluminescence. But it was apparently human, far more human than the monsters he'd fought, so he dismissed it as being an unsettling coincidence.
He surveyed the line again. Even if he'd been exactly eager to walk through such a forbidding gate(and he had to admit a small amount of curiosity as to what was so interesting about in there - wherever 'in there' was - that people would wait in line to get in), the thought of having to wait all that time to go into a place that didn't seem the least bit inviting while having to listen to inane chatter was distasteful to the extreme. Better to scout around out here, first, to see if what was inside could possibly be better.
So, apparently entirely alone in having drawn this conclusion, Dias finally moved - away from the gate and the line.