[Davesprite's not sure whether to view it as luck or misfortune when he wakes into a world like an M.C. Escher drawing with even less structural integrity. Maybe if he and some other strange artist had an architecture baby. Like Cubism, the blocks and shapes essay the form of a room, but they hardly match the angles he's used to. Euclid would be having fits.]
[But no, the conflict comes in the debate: is it better that this is happening now that he has his memories back, or is it that much of a pain to have to deal with it so soon after their return? He feels tired, sore still with what his returned memories have impressed upon his emotions, and now additionally burdened with the task of Andromeda. With the dead friends he's missing, it's hard to tell where his grief ends and hers begins.]
[But the rest pushes him. Find the Prophet, help them, and gain their help in turn to seek the light from the invisible monsters that roam this place. He's going to have to be quick and careful if he's not to be caught on the way, and the lack of any ability to tell where these monsters are prickles uncomfortably at the back of his mind.]
[He pushes forth into the environment. It carries him strange ways. He finds himself sliding down a wall that slopes and curves despite looking flat. He climbs staircases comprised of misshapen steps that hang inverted from what should be the ceiling, held on by gravity but feeling certain he will fall until he makes it into the next room. He finds somewhere that looks like the floor has been extruded up into twisting, tangled noodles, and floats along the surface of one until the gravity shifts, pulling him to land against another in the loose knot. There's even one space he passes through that looks almost normal, if not for how anyone in it stands at a 45 degree angle to the floor.]
[Wherever he goes, he keeps his eyes peeled and his ears open as he makes what haste he can. Whoever he sees, Prophet or fellow Andromeda, is greeted by calling over to them:]
Hey! Do you need help?
[He knows the Prophet does, but anyone here could.]
Davesprite - Andromeda
[But no, the conflict comes in the debate: is it better that this is happening now that he has his memories back, or is it that much of a pain to have to deal with it so soon after their return? He feels tired, sore still with what his returned memories have impressed upon his emotions, and now additionally burdened with the task of Andromeda. With the dead friends he's missing, it's hard to tell where his grief ends and hers begins.]
[But the rest pushes him. Find the Prophet, help them, and gain their help in turn to seek the light from the invisible monsters that roam this place. He's going to have to be quick and careful if he's not to be caught on the way, and the lack of any ability to tell where these monsters are prickles uncomfortably at the back of his mind.]
[He pushes forth into the environment. It carries him strange ways. He finds himself sliding down a wall that slopes and curves despite looking flat. He climbs staircases comprised of misshapen steps that hang inverted from what should be the ceiling, held on by gravity but feeling certain he will fall until he makes it into the next room. He finds somewhere that looks like the floor has been extruded up into twisting, tangled noodles, and floats along the surface of one until the gravity shifts, pulling him to land against another in the loose knot. There's even one space he passes through that looks almost normal, if not for how anyone in it stands at a 45 degree angle to the floor.]
[Wherever he goes, he keeps his eyes peeled and his ears open as he makes what haste he can. Whoever he sees, Prophet or fellow Andromeda, is greeted by calling over to them:]
Hey! Do you need help?
[He knows the Prophet does, but anyone here could.]