When she jolts awake, she's not entirely certain why. Maybe it's a nightmare. A noise. Something in between.
Then again, she's not entirely certain of anything but the fact that her back and butt ache because they're on a cold stone floor, and when she sits up, she's greeted by the familiar sight of her suit when she looks down at herself.
Okay. Cool. Not bound or missing a limb. That's always a good start.
Except she doesn't remember suiting, or falling asleep, or getting knocked out. She touches her head--cowl's down--and doesn't feel any injury, but her head aches like she's not been drinking enough water. Slowly, the neurons fire, and she abruptly and frantically looks around her.
"Wait. Seriously?"
The castle. Paradisa. Wasn't she just here? Or... no. Not just here. Gotham? Something's not quite right, but that doesn't really tell her much because when was it ever, here? Oh, but she remembers. People passing through this lobby, going to the stairs, going to the different rooms. The kitchen, the pool. The city beyond.
Was she just here, or...? It feels longer. She shakes her head, trying to wake up.
Pushing herself onto her feet, she can't help but find it creepily cold and far more echo-y than she remembered.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
She pauses to pat herself down, looking for her journal. where is it? Where's her room, anyway?
Considering the plan is to learn how to survive, they take what they can carry back to the castle. Over the next days, between cram sessions about farming and trips back to the city to look for anything useful, Steph relaxes. Their food situation is decent enough, they have shelter, and nothing's really happened. Stephanie rediscovers her room in the castle, in one of the towers, and even finds her journal--but the pages are faded and worn, and separate from the binding when she opens the cover. Oh, well. At least she has her clothes.
It's Ezio's room they stay in. It feels more comfortable to her. Stephanie's sitting on the floor one evening, digging through a bag she'd found in the city, apparently forgotten by the door of a home. She's found some little tools in there that might be useful with no rhyme or reason as to why they were in this bag, especially when she reaches in and pulls out a little wooden box.
"Well, this is kind of sad," she says, tipping over the box into her palm. "Look. They kind of look like wedding bands."
Two simple, golden rings.
"I'm going to tell myself these were purposely left behind."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
good morning, sunshine.
Then again, she's not entirely certain of anything but the fact that her back and butt ache because they're on a cold stone floor, and when she sits up, she's greeted by the familiar sight of her suit when she looks down at herself.
Okay. Cool. Not bound or missing a limb. That's always a good start.
Except she doesn't remember suiting, or falling asleep, or getting knocked out. She touches her head--cowl's down--and doesn't feel any injury, but her head aches like she's not been drinking enough water. Slowly, the neurons fire, and she abruptly and frantically looks around her.
"Wait. Seriously?"
The castle. Paradisa. Wasn't she just here? Or... no. Not just here. Gotham? Something's not quite right, but that doesn't really tell her much because when was it ever, here? Oh, but she remembers. People passing through this lobby, going to the stairs, going to the different rooms. The kitchen, the pool. The city beyond.
Was she just here, or...? It feels longer. She shakes her head, trying to wake up.
Pushing herself onto her feet, she can't help but find it creepily cold and far more echo-y than she remembered.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
She pauses to pat herself down, looking for her journal. where is it? Where's her room, anyway?
my only sunshine!!
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sometime later
It's Ezio's room they stay in. It feels more comfortable to her. Stephanie's sitting on the floor one evening, digging through a bag she'd found in the city, apparently forgotten by the door of a home. She's found some little tools in there that might be useful with no rhyme or reason as to why they were in this bag, especially when she reaches in and pulls out a little wooden box.
"Well, this is kind of sad," she says, tipping over the box into her palm. "Look. They kind of look like wedding bands."
Two simple, golden rings.
"I'm going to tell myself these were purposely left behind."
Re: sometime later
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