[By the second day, his and Crowley's cabin had begun to be cluttered and cramped with bits of pilfered, wooden fixtures and furniture that he had managed to sneak past the other passengers and the crew in his frantic attempts to cobble together makeshift rafts for what he knew was coming, and it had begun to sink in just how futile it would be to try and keep all of it confined to their cabin, how much more they would need to do and how impossible it would be to make enough in time for the ones he knew would go down otherwise. And so his panic had taken on a different sort of outlet.
It had brought him down below, sticking out like a sore thumb in his obviously first class finery, where he had sought out the masses of people and lingered at the edge of the crowd and looking out over the crowd to try and find anyone he recognized from Deerington. Maybe if he could find them, help those to remember what they'd forgotten and convince the ones who already remembered to help him help them. Anything to make him feel like he wasn't "running his wheels," as Crowley would say, and maybe, just maybe, save more lives then would have been possible otherwise.
Any face that triggered a glimmer of familiarity was analyzed as he worked through the fog of amnesia that was beginning to threaten to cloud even his own actions. But truthfully, the longer he stood, the harder it was to remember, and so it was that well into the night, he mostly stood, pensive and anxious and at times not even sure quite why, fighting to keep the reason at the forefront of his thoughts when he did. Curse Deerington, curse this ship, and damn whomever had brought them all to this realm in the first place.
Which was perhaps why he stared a little longer then intended at the young woman who seemed familiar, but whom he was sure he had never met, so that she approached and held out her hand in greeting and offered him a dance.]
Oh, I-...I, well... [Oh, dancing sounded like such a lovely distraction from the anxiety, a traitorous part of his mind cooed at him. There's nothing to be worried about, you silly old fool, everything is fine, enjoy the holiday! The look he gave her was melancholy at best and deeply troubled at worst as he shook his head as if to clear it.] I'm sorry, my dear, I'm not much of a dancer. Only learned the one, and it's been out of style for a very long time. I'm...I'm trying to find friends. People who come from the same town as me. Perhaps you've heard of it? Deerington.
[He smiled at her, but it wasn't very convincing. She did seem so strangely familiar, though he still couldn't seem to place her face. At least she seemed a sweet enough young woman. Which made the part of his mind that was still able to hold onto the reality of their situation just a little more upset.]
Memory Loss
It had brought him down below, sticking out like a sore thumb in his obviously first class finery, where he had sought out the masses of people and lingered at the edge of the crowd and looking out over the crowd to try and find anyone he recognized from Deerington. Maybe if he could find them, help those to remember what they'd forgotten and convince the ones who already remembered to help him help them. Anything to make him feel like he wasn't "running his wheels," as Crowley would say, and maybe, just maybe, save more lives then would have been possible otherwise.
Any face that triggered a glimmer of familiarity was analyzed as he worked through the fog of amnesia that was beginning to threaten to cloud even his own actions. But truthfully, the longer he stood, the harder it was to remember, and so it was that well into the night, he mostly stood, pensive and anxious and at times not even sure quite why, fighting to keep the reason at the forefront of his thoughts when he did. Curse Deerington, curse this ship, and damn whomever had brought them all to this realm in the first place.
Which was perhaps why he stared a little longer then intended at the young woman who seemed familiar, but whom he was sure he had never met, so that she approached and held out her hand in greeting and offered him a dance.]
Oh, I-...I, well... [Oh, dancing sounded like such a lovely distraction from the anxiety, a traitorous part of his mind cooed at him. There's nothing to be worried about, you silly old fool, everything is fine, enjoy the holiday! The look he gave her was melancholy at best and deeply troubled at worst as he shook his head as if to clear it.] I'm sorry, my dear, I'm not much of a dancer. Only learned the one, and it's been out of style for a very long time. I'm...I'm trying to find friends. People who come from the same town as me. Perhaps you've heard of it? Deerington.
[He smiled at her, but it wasn't very convincing. She did seem so strangely familiar, though he still couldn't seem to place her face. At least she seemed a sweet enough young woman. Which made the part of his mind that was still able to hold onto the reality of their situation just a little more upset.]