How long had they been gone? An hour? Several hours? A whole day, perhaps? At this point, there was no way to tell. There was no sun to set for them, nor watches upon their wrists to tell them. In the endless gray of their world, there was no such thing as time. It was fleeting, miserable, and unimportant. It was a reminder that the unknown could not be kept from their borders, and existed between them, around them, and inside of them. Time, in actuality, was a four letter word they hadn't a name for. Its existence was acknowledged, its definition was known, but its terminology was a foreign thing to them-- just as foreign as their world's name, the existence of other species, races, cultures, and all things beyond the limited knowledge their walls allowed them.

When the Unreal was all you knew, the Real became the true mystery. It was a cruel irony of swapped mysteries that would bereft you of happiness if you so much knew a twist of the Real . . .

But these were ignorant times.

These were happier times.



Attis awaited the arrival of Dagan and the Seeker; he'd been there for some _____. Dagan and the Seeker, in actuality, were gone for _____--but Attis awaited them for the entirety of the duration. By the moment of their return, he was on the brink of sleep, perched upon a wooden chair set within the middle of the northern gate. Against his better judgment he kept it open, even if it had been ______. He was disheveled but not dirty; his hair was a bit of a mess and his undershirt was half unbuttoned. His jacket was long since removed and hung on the back of his chair.

At the end of the ______, however, he bore witness to the approaching shadows in the gray. Attis wiped the sleep from his eyes just in time to see them: Dagan and the Seeker, fully in tact, carrying with them a third existence, one hoisted over the Seeker's shoulder-- their charge. Attis's eyes lit up, but he refrained from leaving his seat; he waited patiently for them to come closer, knowing full well that he was the only one at the gate right now, and leaving and walking into an ambush would have no one available to shut the gate in case a predator were to come.

It was only when the two strolled through the north gate and approached Attis that the red haired suited man stood quickly and approached them with energetic clumsiness.

"A-are you guys okay? I-is h-he okay? How was it out there?" Attis spouted off the three questions one after another, practically leaving no time to form a genuine answer. He was just as concerned as he was stricken by scientific curiosity.

Dagan would be a few feet behind Seeker, his sweater, which had been a darkish green, was caked in dirt, and some spots were stained black from the odd layer of blood that had come from both himself, and from Lance. Likewise, from when he had tumbled across the ground, there were rips in both his sweater, and his pants; he had forgotten to pick up his jacket, as well. Despite the circumstances of his condition, however, he was incredibly at ease with himself, and didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“It was an experience, man!” Dagan’s eyes lit up as he shot past Seeker like a bullet, his tattered clothing flipping about in the wind, but coming to a stop at the same time as he did; truthfully, with Attis' approach, Dagan didn't have far to travel. “He’s fine, but a little confused and he tried to hit me, with a rock, but I talked him out of it! We’re okay, I got hurt, but I’m better now and I met these other people and they tried to eat me, but I took care of one of them - - Seeker helped with the other,” he gestured behind him towards Seeker, “it was a trip, man. And those things ... Those things, man, they were something.”

It would be at this point that the dark-haired man would begin retelling the entirety of what had happened outside the city, from the smallest detail, to the largest, most unsettling one, and it may have even taken some time, as Dagan decided which part to embellish and which parts not to describe in too much detail.

How long this went on would be up to Attis’ discretion or maybe even Seeker’s, as he had the annoying habit of interrupting people mid-conversation, but the story would eventually be told in full to Attis, at some point, no doubt.

Attis listened intently; were he still sitting, he'd have been on the edge of his seat. He'd never been out that far, clearly. The Seeker had, but that didn't mean Attis knew anything about it. The Seeker was a fairly secretive person, after all. Attis couldn't get a thing out of him.

"Take him," the Seeker declared in interruption.

Of course, he interrupted Dagan at approximately the moment that Dagan was about to mention that the Seeker actually knocked the young man out.

The Seeker took several steps forward, passing by Dagan from behind and closing the gap between Dagan and Attis. Attis was visibly surprised with the Seeker hoisted the unconscious body of the barely clothed young man from his shoulders and, with one arm, shoved his limp body into Attis. Although confounded, he still took the body in both arms, but regarded the Seeker with a concerned expression. This was not returned, as the Seeker shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets and began down the dusty gray street, leaving Attis and Dagan alone, with only an unconscious new arrival in their possession.

“And then he--” Dagan looked to Seeker as he interrupted, but didn’t bother continuing even after the unconscious young-man had been handed off to Attis. “Friendly, isn't he?” Dagan chimed in as he walked to Attis’ side, “need some help with him? Oh, and I‘d be careful when he wakes up. He‘s going to freak.”

There was a mischievous tone underlining Dagan’s words, but one couldn’t say he was wrong, either. The red-haired, unconscious young man had quite an awakening outside of the city and it could fully be expected that he’d probably be a little shocked when he came to and he had already demonstrated the will to protect himself, as well. Still, Dagan figured Attis had enough experience with all kinds of new arrivals and that he was probably prepared for it, but it didn’t hurt to warn the man, did it?

Unsure of what else to inform Attis of, Dagan had half the mind to make like Seeker and head off to do his own thing, most likely rest, as his body demanded, but for whatever reason, he didn’t feel like it just yet. Soon, though, he’d have no choise, regardless of what he felt, or desired. Truthfully, despite his limitless reserves of energy, his body screamed to slip into sleep-mode; there was a need to do as much as possible before that was allowed to occur, however.

"Y-yeah . . ." Attis grew silent.

The Seeker was perhaps one of the most unfriendly people he knew, and not even because he felt any sort of genuine disdain for others. Rather, he just didn't care about them, not on any level to denote friendliness. Social and moral conduct were both somewhere in the vein of things that the Seeker had no care for. As someone who had no need of companionship, he didn't outwardly seek it, and cared little if his bluntness or rudeness made it difficult to like him. To some extent, that might have even made social encounters a little easier.

Attis repositioned himself and the youth so that he was holding him in both arms. It was a lot easier, and definitely better for the youth than just being carried over someone's shoulder! Attis would've had it in his right mind to scold the Seeker for that were the Seeker the type to care.

"Um . . . h-hey, Dagan?" Attis asked to get his attention first.

Asking someone of something, as always, was a difficulty. He had such problems asking Dagan if he'd go out looking for this boy, and now he had another question regarding Dagan and the boy. Or, rather, a request that might call for Dagan to go out of his way just a little more.

"Are you, ummm . . . are you going to be available for the next couple of days?"

“Huh? Oh, oh! Yeah. I shouldn’t be doing much, I think. Nothing more than usual and that isn’t much at all,” Dagan scratched the back of his head with his right hand as he spoke. “Why? Do you need anything?”

Although unknown to Attis, what with his limited exposure to Dagan, he would soon find out that, regardless of what he asked, the black-haired man would almost always be willing to help out, whenever needed. In fact, he wouldn’t even so much as hesitate when answering Attis and would speak cheerfully enough that any doubts on the matter could potentially be tossed aside.

"W-well, um, well, you see . . ."

Attis trailed off. Darn! It was difficult to ask for the first favor; this second one was much less taxing, but perhaps just as difficult to request of Dagan! No, no, it was actually harder to ask, but only because Attis already had Dagan out in the wilderness once before, and the wilderness of socializing could, perhaps, be just as bad if not worse-- Attis certainly felt that way, at least.

"I might need some help with him," Attis admitted bashfully, "S-see, most people don't remember their first few days here, b-but still-- if I had someone else around to talk to him, he might get acquainted with the city faster, you know?"

“I, … Well, I don’t know too much about the city, either, but I’m always happy to make a new friend!” Dagan would lean in closer to Attis and seem to look down towards the man’s face, but not aggressively so. In fact, Dagan wasn’t much taller than Attis was, an inch or so, but the men were incredibly close to each other in height; regardless, it may have still been somewhat unsettling for Attis to have someone get this close to him. “It’s fine,” he leaned even closer. “I’ll do it.” They were almost touching … “Stop worrying about it!”

He reared back and started to laugh, “it’s fine, really! It isn’t a bother, man. Don’t stress about things like that. -- If you’re going to ask, ask!”

Although Dagan could have handled it better, he really was trying to get it through to Attis that he didn’t mind helping, not in the least, in fact, and could be counted on. It didn’t upset him, but he didn’t like that Attis had to struggle to ask him something as simple as helping out the new arrival.

“I like to help,” he said plainly. "So don't worry about asking me anything. Actually, worry about not asking me things. I get mad," he shrugged and laughed again.

"W-well, I mean, ummm . . ."

Attis began to speak meekly, only to trail off and fall into an intimidated silence as Dagan spoke--as he moved closer and closer to him with each statement, until Attis was shrunk down with his head tilted back, his forehead nearly placed against the forehead of Dagan looming over him.

That could have ended in twenty kinds of bad. Attis felt a wave of relieve that he'd never felt before when Dagan stepped back and laughed. Attis, too, returned this laugh, but with the utmost nervousness.

"S-sor--."

Instinct told him to apologize. Better instinct told him not to. The best instinct told him to vent his appreciation of Dagan's current help and his willingness to assist in any further ventures, had Attis any such ventures he needed assistance in. And so, Attis smiled, this time devoid of nervousness. Dagan really did just want to help. He wasn't used to that. Considering his main source of company, such as the Seeker, he didn't have much around him that assured him of the potential for genuinely kind souls.

"Thanks, Dagan."

“No problem, Attis,” Dagan replied again to the red-haired Attis, but this time with a bit more calmness. It may have been over-kill, the way he reacted, but his point got across, at least.

Yawning, he turned his attention from Attis to the sleeping, unconscious young man, and then back to the man who was holding him.

“Well, … Huh, I was going to walk around for a bit, but I guess now would be a good time to rest, instead,” even as he spoke, he rubbed his eyes and swayed a bit. “Should I, uh, meet you and him,” he pointed at Attis and then down towards the new arrival. “At the hall-place, tomorrow? I‘m a bit more tired than I thought I‘d be, but I had quite the adventure, I guess.”

Truthfully, Dagan was running on fumes and had probably overestimated his ability to stay awake; it was now, with things having died down a bit, that he was feeling the sudden wave of exhaustion seeking to overwhelm him, and buckle him to his knees. He persisted, however. For now.

Tomorrow . . . it was so surreal, that concept, and yet more surreal than this was the fact that they could utter the word without the slightest idea that they hadn't a clue what it meant. It just made sense. Tomorrow, perhaps, meant some time beyond the present moment--yet it was unlikely that any of them had ever truly given the term any thought. In fact, most hadn't a clue what the term was, but if they heard it, it'd sound natural, and they might even understand what it meant in the most basic of forms. Attis did. Dagan was going to sleep and then look for them in the Great Hall. That's what tomorrow meant to him.

"Yeah," Attis replied with a smile.

Attis was cheery; nervous, but still much happier than he was earlier--happier, perhaps, than he'd been for awhile. Dagan might have carried himself in a kind of intimidating way, but he meant perfectly well; in fact, he seemed like the type to be harmless to his fellow person.

Attis simply talked to people when they first arrived; he never got to see what they became over time. Feeling that Dagan became a good man, Attis couldn't help but be all smiles.

"We'll be waiting for you there."

Dagan had left without another word and immediately headed back to what could only be described as an apartment; the small and scarcely decorated room in which he preferred spending his ‘off-time.’ Truthfully, he hadn’t wasted much time on the trip, either. He leapt and ran in much the same way as when he was outside of the city, unable to contain himself, it would seem, and few of the small number of residents in the city would probably have even noticed him, had they even the capability to do so.

Amazingly, despite how tired he was, he was nowhere near slow, and his energetic disposition was as great as ever. No, what ailed him wasn’t a physical exhaustion in the least, though he wouldn’t have known the difference; it was a mental exhaustion, a tiredness that could not be explained because he lacked the knowledge on himself, and the feats he could perform. Indeed, within moments of reaching his home, climbing through the window that was never closed, and lying against the floor, his knees brought to his chest; he was asleep. There was no restlessness and no thought given to the horrors he had seen or done prior to returning to the city. He was simply out.

Dagan was long since asleep when the new arrival awoke. At first, all he could regard was darkness--eternity of shadows, with nothing more than one small blinding light to obscure any further details. Second, he could only regard the dryness in his throat. Third, he at last regarded the dryness of his mind--the hollow, empty feeling he experienced. It was the feeling of nothing. It was such an obscure sensation, that-- nothing, nothing at all, the experience of Unreality for the first time.

"Oh! You're awake!" an anxious, yet friendly voice called out suddenly."Can you tell me your name?""Oh, it's okay. J-just take a moment to rest, o-okay?""It'll come back to you, d-don't worry.""S-so . . . y-you really had a hard time getting here, huh?""A man name Dagan brought you here, you know?""H-hey, can you look up for a second?""J-just a second, I promise.""H-hey?""Hey, are you okay?""H-hey, here, lift your head. D-don't worry about the light; just don't look directly at it, okay? Just look at my face, okay?"". . ."". . ."". . ."". . . huh . . . y-your eyes are . . . different from the others' . . ."

Time would pass; it could have been an hour or seven hours, Dagan wouldn’t know, and neither would anybody else. Time was incomprehensible and seemed to be gauged by personal experience, but without descriptive terms, at that. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how much time would pass, though, because the black-haired man, still in his torn clothing, would awake, and lean himself against the wall behind him, from where he had fallen asleep. His head was brought back, neck resting on where the window opened, and a slight arch in his back where his hind-end met the floor, legs folded atop one another.

“ … “

A sleepy haze still filled his eyes and a tense soreness of his body could be felt. If he focused on it, it seemed to reside, though, and the sleepiness was lifting even as he sat there and did nothing.

“ … Huh …”

He lifted his arms and felt about himself and his ripped clothing. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t seem to figure out what. His clothing was ripped, but why? Oh, that’s right. Lars and Lance. He remembered them. Did he have more clothing? Where was his hat? Didn’t he have a spear, too? Where was his jacket?

He placed his fingers at his temples and slowly moved them in circles.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

He shot up and turned to face his window, leaning out of the small rectangular opening, and peered over the expanse of the city.

“I was supposed to do something, wasn’t I? Oh! … No, no. Lost it. I know!~ Attis will know!”

Dagan leaned out of his window until his body fell from it, doing a full rotation before hitting the ground, and him rolling to a sitting position.

“A hall. A central hall, right? Yeah!”

And then he was gone.

The two of them were alone until Dagan's arrival. Attis was standing before a bench on the far east side, near where Dagan struck the wall some period of time earlier. The wall, however, seemed to be perfectly fine, as if Dagan never punched it at all-- or, maybe . . .

There was a little bit of chipping in it, but not much--visible, but not a prominent part of the whole wall. It retained some damage.

Seated upon the bench was the new arrival. His bushy red hair was as unkempt as when Dagan first met him and he looked about as dirty, but he was actually clothed this time. He wore some of Attis's clothes, a black dress shirt and gray slacks, whilst Attis wore similarly nice clothes (a gray blazer, white dress shirt, and gray slacks; dress clothes seemed to be the only outfits in his possession).

The new arrival did not seem at all responsive, though. Attis was clearly talking to him, but the new arrival did not make eye contact; he was slumped forward with his elbows upon his knees and a glazed look in his eyes.