rather, he's not the kavinsky that belongs to this world anymore. he awakened to find himself in the belching, damaged porter and couldn't remember what the fuck he did to die this time-- last he remembered, he was hanging out at the limbic system house in de chima. only to realize, suddenly, that he had far larger problems than what if a piece of ceiling fell off during renovations and murdered him.
and people here keep asking him for orders. instructions. logistical information. a couple even asked if he was all right, and mentioned david alleyne is wearing his 'armor?' (what the fuck is 'white tower?')
an hour in and he's managed to get away from the followers, onto the death train. people have cut him a break at this point, giving him a wide berth: they know he's just resurrected because apparently he died in a fairly public very gross mess? hella uncool. with those fifteen minutes of breathing room, he's put one and one together; after all, the dimensional rift to the city taught him a thing or two about parallel worlds.
one and one. that only leaves a million unanswered questions.
he's sitting aboard the death train as it clicks and clacks along, his head plugged into earphones and his comms device. dual purpose: first, earphones universally signal 'don't fucking talk to me right now;' second, he's voraciously catching up on as many of 'this kavinsky's life experiences as he can find. after all, his first instinct is always to lie.]
death train (for josh & ota);
rather, he's not the kavinsky that belongs to this world anymore. he awakened to find himself in the belching, damaged porter and couldn't remember what the fuck he did to die this time-- last he remembered, he was hanging out at the limbic system house in de chima. only to realize, suddenly, that he had far larger problems than what if a piece of ceiling fell off during renovations and murdered him.
and people here keep asking him for orders. instructions. logistical information. a couple even asked if he was all right, and mentioned david alleyne is wearing his 'armor?' (what the fuck is 'white tower?')
an hour in and he's managed to get away from the followers, onto the death train. people have cut him a break at this point, giving him a wide berth: they know he's just resurrected because apparently he died in a fairly public very gross mess? hella uncool. with those fifteen minutes of breathing room, he's put one and one together; after all, the dimensional rift to the city taught him a thing or two about parallel worlds.
one and one. that only leaves a million unanswered questions.
he's sitting aboard the death train as it clicks and clacks along, his head plugged into earphones and his comms device. dual purpose: first, earphones universally signal 'don't fucking talk to me right now;' second, he's voraciously catching up on as many of 'this kavinsky's life experiences as he can find. after all, his first instinct is always to lie.]