(Okey, the bio is on the doc.)
Time to get up already? He wasn’t sure how long it had been due to a point where the steady current of time had dissipated, indicating they had most likely teleported or some such nonsense. Philistines, he thought as he contemplated how much he hated people that used teleportation tech. It was wasteful, polluting, and just plain harmful to the universe. However long he was out, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours meaning he wasn’t going through another regeneration…
Lovecraft’s eyes slowly opened as the dark nothingness of unconsciousness gradually took shape, a stone-cold cell forming around him as he jolted awake. He groaned, holding his aching head as he got to his feet.
He leaned against the rocky wall, waiting for the pounding to subside as he surveyed his surroundings. A cell. How original. He patted his pockets until, with relief, he felt the familiar cylinder shape in his breast pocket. At least they didn’t take his pen which was very unfortunate for them.
The tall figure stepped to the door and pressed his face to the bars, his grayish eyes scanning the outside. No guards… how… convenient, he mused. It was quite obvious they wanted him out. But why? He slipped his pen from his pocket and fingered it.
Oh well, first thing’s first. He twirled the pen, placing the end of it against the lock. He blinked as nothing happened. “What the-” he shook it vigorously and tried again. Still nothing. “Wait a minute…” Swiping a finger across the stone face, he gingerly touched his tongue to the grayish residue. “Of course it is,” he groaned, slamming his fist against the bars. “Of course it’s Blotchstone.” He clenched his teeth against his still aching head as he peered once again through the bars. “So,” he called rather loudly, his voice reverberating down the corridor, does anyone have a bobby pin?”
(XNXP I'm not joking)
Writ·ing: Creative Schizophrenia
Know the Scarlet Band