♬ 001 { accidental video }

[leavemariaalone]

[He's woken up in Salkia Park, just as injured and bruised as he was after the war, granted his wounds have been dressed with the exceptions for the scrapes and splotches on his face. Amidst all the layers he's wearing, he's yet to notice that he's sitting on a strange, not-18th-century object that has turned on and is taping the grass, hello grass, nice to meet you.]

--on Earth am I?

[He shifts around, moving to get up but lord he is much too tired to do it right the first two times, groaning when he tries.] This is ridiculous! That pompous idiot couldn't have done that much damage! [Frustrated, he at least pushes himself up, switching to sitting on his knees--ow, bad idea, the thighs, they aches--and leaning forward against a bench. Now the video can see this, his bent back and heavy breathing.]

Ngh...that wheelchair wouldn't be too terrible of an idea right about now. [Now he looks back, just to take in his surroundings, when he notices the LP. He reaches for it, grimacing as he does, and lifts it from the ground, staring at it all puzzled-like.]

Such an odd object...one of England's, perhaps. [His eyes flick to the corner, and his brows furrow together tighter.] A key? I've never seen one like it... [He makes to put it gently on the bench, but moves too fast, ouch war wounds, and drops it on the wood instead, ending the transmission.]

Comments

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Yeah, but all you Euros are a bit special. [Finishes bandaging! And pokes it for good measure.] There you go, mate!

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

In much better ways, I would hope. [Have a small huff-pout aimed your way. But then he looks down and finds that it's much better off than before.] Hm, I'm impressed. My thanks. [And have a courteous nod, now.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Sure, but you're all a lot more alike than you act. You're welcome.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[He scoffs, but it's light-hearted.] Now that I doubt, especially. [He folds his hands on his lap, looking off to the side.] You've been here longer, I suspect. Where would I hire someone in the proper trade to build me a walking cane of some sort?

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

There's shops in town where you can buy stuff, someone there'll have one. If they don't I can try working something out for ya, but you might wanna stick to resting for a little while still.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[He nods, making note of that. Shops aren't entirely foreign to him, so less culture shock there getting there and back without a map, on the other hand...] That would be best. And what am I supposed to use as currency, if it exists?

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

There's a currency! I got a job to get my hands on some cash, far as I can tell that's what everyone does. [So good luck living the aristocratic lifestyle here, mate.]

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

A job? You mean you're a member of the working class? [Oh, he looks so, so confused. What is this working for money.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Most people are, mate. [Is mostly amused.]

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

In your time, I assume. [Of course, he means 'nations' in response to 'people.' He sighs and straightens up, rubbing at the bandages. Still impressed, here.] If you'd like to leave, you may. I do appreciate your help.

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

You want me to go?

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

Not...necessarily, but if you are needed elsewhere, don't feel obligated to stay here. [Not making direct eye contact while saying that, nope.]