[ Lev doesn't seem to be particularly alarmed about finding himself in the Temple. He wanders around, running one pale, delicate hand over the walls and the rocky outcrops and occasionally craning his neck to get a better look at a bubbled gem. His other hand rests at his collarbone; his shirt is open and a gem -- livid carnelian -- peeks through. He worries at the edges of the gem, where it fuses with his flesh. The skin there is irritated and bleeding in a few places -- he's been picking at it for some time. A walking stick hangs off the crook of that arm, but he's not making use of it right now -- and so his gait is a little unsteady, a little wavering and drunken.
He stays away from the glowing gem at the centre. He doesn't trust it -- and even though he's convinced this is a particularly vivid dream, brought on by accidentally double-dosing his medication, or failing that, a hallucination brought on by forgetting his medication, some murky part of his brain is insisting it's all too real and too solid to be a phantom of the mind. But he ignores that.
He's trying to stay calm. Panic will only make things worse, he knows that through bitter experience.
Seeing another person enter the Temple, he turns to them with an absent, dreamy smile and waves. ]
Evening. Afternoon? I've kind of, um, lost track of time here. But hello, anyway. Can you tell me what this place is?
b. farmer's market
[ Lev is at a fruit stall, leaning heavily on his walking stick, the fingers of his other hand tapping aimlessly at the surface of a pineapple. He's feeling a little clouded today; thinking is hard. But he's out of food and fruit is easy to eat.
After some more thought, he picks up the pineapple and turns to the nearest passerby. ]
Um. Excuse me? Sorry, um. Sorry to bother you, but I can't seem to figure this out and if I stand here any longer, I'm going to, um, starve. Does this pineapple look ripe to you?
[ He holds up the fruit in question, eyebrows raised quizzically. His long fringe falls to the side, revealing that his forehead bears three glowing eye-spots, arranged in a sort of triangle. They're as bright red as the regular eyes that peer from behind thick glasses. ]
Lev V. Kagan | Original Character
[ Lev doesn't seem to be particularly alarmed about finding himself in the Temple. He wanders around, running one pale, delicate hand over the walls and the rocky outcrops and occasionally craning his neck to get a better look at a bubbled gem. His other hand rests at his collarbone; his shirt is open and a gem -- livid carnelian -- peeks through. He worries at the edges of the gem, where it fuses with his flesh. The skin there is irritated and bleeding in a few places -- he's been picking at it for some time. A walking stick hangs off the crook of that arm, but he's not making use of it right now -- and so his gait is a little unsteady, a little wavering and drunken.
He stays away from the glowing gem at the centre. He doesn't trust it -- and even though he's convinced this is a particularly vivid dream, brought on by accidentally double-dosing his medication, or failing that, a hallucination brought on by forgetting his medication, some murky part of his brain is insisting it's all too real and too solid to be a phantom of the mind. But he ignores that.
He's trying to stay calm. Panic will only make things worse, he knows that through bitter experience.
Seeing another person enter the Temple, he turns to them with an absent, dreamy smile and waves. ]
Evening. Afternoon? I've kind of, um, lost track of time here. But hello, anyway. Can you tell me what this place is?
b. farmer's market
[ Lev is at a fruit stall, leaning heavily on his walking stick, the fingers of his other hand tapping aimlessly at the surface of a pineapple. He's feeling a little clouded today; thinking is hard. But he's out of food and fruit is easy to eat.
After some more thought, he picks up the pineapple and turns to the nearest passerby. ]
Um. Excuse me? Sorry, um. Sorry to bother you, but I can't seem to figure this out and if I stand here any longer, I'm going to, um, starve. Does this pineapple look ripe to you?
[ He holds up the fruit in question, eyebrows raised quizzically. His long fringe falls to the side, revealing that his forehead bears three glowing eye-spots, arranged in a sort of triangle. They're as bright red as the regular eyes that peer from behind thick glasses. ]