A boy named Sous

Priestly lay flopped across his bed as the sun made its way slowly across the room. Not sleeping, no, he still hadn't done any of that since waking up in Fandom, but just lying there, chin buried in his pillow, staring at the wall.

The talk with Tish . . . had not gone well. He'd known it wouldn't, but he couldn't help but hope. . . .

( There was a knock at the door. )

[ooc: Establishy again, though Priestly will be available for phone calls later in his day.]

Priestly woke up gasping so hard he choked, his hands clenching in the sheets. He jerked himself upright, grabbing at his chest, body still in panicked escape mode.

. . . resistancetheMadriKarlaMomokoarrowscan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe. . . .

He tried to bolt out of the way of . . . something . . . only to tangle his legs in the sheets and topple out of the bed onto the floor. He let out a strangled, breathy scream.

. . . can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'twhyaremynailspurple?

He stared down at his fingers, still hyperventilating, while his brain caught up to the fact that he was staring at his slightly chipped purple painted finger nails. And there was the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. He sobbed once, feeling the slight shift of his labret piercing as it shifted in his lip, a movement he normally didn't even notice, any more, then heaved in another breath while he stuck his hands into his long, bleached out, flatted hair.

The last thing he remembered was choking to death on his own blood.

He shoved himself into the corner formed by the nightstand and the bed, curling in on himself while he tried to get his body to catch up with the fact that he wasn't dead, he wasn't dying, he was safe, and no one was going to try to kill him just for drawing attention to himself. So if no one minded, he was just going to curl up here for awhile and cry, okay?

[ooc: open to any out to find my kilted wonder. He's gonna be a little wrecked for awhile.]

Tish, it seemed, had gone the way of Trucker and Priestly's parents and Japan. Priestly tried not to think about it.

All travel between countries appeared to have ceased. He wasn't sure if boats and planes and things actually didn't exist any more, or if maybe the people running them had noticed they were having issues the same way Portalocity had, and honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

It was all just too creepy. He couldn't handle it.

"I know you think I'm losing my mind," he told Jen in his now daily phone call. "I wonder that, too, sometimes. But come on. Why would you work in a sandwich shop with no other employees and no customers? Jen, you're a computer geek!" Jen didn't respond. Priestly sighed. "Look. I just. You know I love you, Jen. I just wish you could see what's happening all around you."

Jen still didn't say a word.

"Jen?"

Silence.

"Dammit, this isn't funny."

That was when Priestly noticed that the quiet wasn't just from the phone. The whole bar he'd been sitting in had gone silent. Priestly looked up, spotting the last of his fellow patrons going out the door. He frowned.

"I'll call you back," he told Jen, hoping against hope that she was still somewhere on the other end of the line. He hung up the phone and went over to the door. He clenched the phone in his fist, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

The street was full of people, all eerily silent. They all stared east, towards the coast. Priestly walked between them, out into the middle of the street, afraid to look. Afraid of what he'd see. Finally, he couldn't take it any more. He turned.

The Pacific Ocean was gone. The parks that lined the eastern Hong Kong coast were gone. The end of the street was gone.

In their place was simply . . . Nothing.

Priestly swallowed, then raised his phone. He took a picture and set it up to send, then called the only number he had left that he was sure would have someone on the other end.

"I sent you a picture," he said. He closed his eyes. "I know you'll find someone who can help." A breath. "I love you."

And then there were none.