SUMMONING (THORNE) cw: eye injury Soon after Ambrose deemed his welcoming sufficient, Lord John finds himself seated on the bench on the edge of what he believes to be a royal garden. Unless everything in this place is so decorous, he would not put it past them.
To be honest, if not for the throbbing in his head and in his eye, he would be convinced he had fallen into some ridiculously elaborate sort of fever dream. But both are entirely too real for comfort. Raising one hand up to cover his bad eye, he reaches for the scrap of cloth he'd managed to beg off a member of the staff and wrap it around his head. He doubts it helps much in the way of his appearance, but now that it's protected from the light, things seem to have more or less settled down, the tears no longer streaming down his face on that side as they had done before. Small mercies, he supposes, before pushing himself up and start exploring the grounds.
...finding himself at the doors of what appears to be row of stables. He holds a hand out to the creature within, his lips curling into a smile that pulls at the bruising on his face as the horse nuzzles at his fingers. It is good, he supposes, to see that some things remain the same, even despite the most extreme circumstances.
SETTLING IN (THORNE) Lord John squints in the direction of the flashes of light that apparently indicate there are magic lessons in progress. A helpful apprentice informed him that they are working on learning how to produce a defensive light shield, and he is welcome to join, if he would like. Just the thought of standing in a room of bright flashes of light is making his head ache.
Really, he ought to do something about his eye. It's becoming something of a nuisance at this point. He had poked his head into the infirmary at one point earlier, but the healers inside had looked -- harried. Accepting a pain draft, he had let them be. Really, he has had worse than a blow to the head by one James Fraser. That doesn't mean that it's a particularly enjoyable experience, mind. And the makeshift eyepatch is leaving something to be desired, as far as the rest of his outfit is concerned.
"Magic lessons..." he muses to himself, shaking his head before raising a hand to rub tiredly over his face.
NOCWICH Lord John cannot help his curiosity. When he is given a pendant to visit the mysterious portal to this place called Nocwich, he cannot pass up the opportunity to do so.
Whatever he had expected to find here, however, it certainly is not the marketplace of a town square that seems to have suffered the same calamity whatever it is that the people of Castle Thorne are recovering from as well. Unforeseen circumstances, the people here have said. Lord John would say that the circumstances look pretty seen to him.
Nevertheless, he has come this far, and these people have asked for his assistance. Perhaps he might at least be able to learn a little as to what might have happened here while he does?
At least, that is the theory. He hadn't realized it would be quite this difficult in practice until he's standing with the pieces of the tent, disassembled on the ground.
"...oh Tom," he says, talking to himself (and the ghost of the valet he had kept for upwards of a good decade), "I've done it now..."
WILDCARD ((ooc: hit me up here, via PM, or on plurk at lycanthropy101 if you'd like something specific!!))
Lord John Grey | Outlander | Thorne | Justice
SUMMONING (THORNE) cw: eye injury
Soon after Ambrose deemed his welcoming sufficient, Lord John finds himself seated on the bench on the edge of what he believes to be a royal garden. Unless everything in this place is so decorous, he would not put it past them.
To be honest, if not for the throbbing in his head and in his eye, he would be convinced he had fallen into some ridiculously elaborate sort of fever dream. But both are entirely too real for comfort. Raising one hand up to cover his bad eye, he reaches for the scrap of cloth he'd managed to beg off a member of the staff and wrap it around his head. He doubts it helps much in the way of his appearance, but now that it's protected from the light, things seem to have more or less settled down, the tears no longer streaming down his face on that side as they had done before. Small mercies, he supposes, before pushing himself up and start exploring the grounds.
...finding himself at the doors of what appears to be row of stables. He holds a hand out to the creature within, his lips curling into a smile that pulls at the bruising on his face as the horse nuzzles at his fingers. It is good, he supposes, to see that some things remain the same, even despite the most extreme circumstances.
SETTLING IN (THORNE)
Lord John squints in the direction of the flashes of light that apparently indicate there are magic lessons in progress. A helpful apprentice informed him that they are working on learning how to produce a defensive light shield, and he is welcome to join, if he would like. Just the thought of standing in a room of bright flashes of light is making his head ache.
Really, he ought to do something about his eye. It's becoming something of a nuisance at this point. He had poked his head into the infirmary at one point earlier, but the healers inside had looked -- harried. Accepting a pain draft, he had let them be. Really, he has had worse than a blow to the head by one James Fraser. That doesn't mean that it's a particularly enjoyable experience, mind. And the makeshift eyepatch is leaving something to be desired, as far as the rest of his outfit is concerned.
"Magic lessons..." he muses to himself, shaking his head before raising a hand to rub tiredly over his face.
NOCWICH
Lord John cannot help his curiosity. When he is given a pendant to visit the mysterious portal to this place called Nocwich, he cannot pass up the opportunity to do so.
Whatever he had expected to find here, however, it certainly is not the marketplace of a town square that seems to have suffered the same calamity whatever it is that the people of Castle Thorne are recovering from as well. Unforeseen circumstances, the people here have said. Lord John would say that the circumstances look pretty seen to him.
Nevertheless, he has come this far, and these people have asked for his assistance. Perhaps he might at least be able to learn a little as to what might have happened here while he does?
At least, that is the theory. He hadn't realized it would be quite this difficult in practice until he's standing with the pieces of the tent, disassembled on the ground.
"...oh Tom," he says, talking to himself (and the ghost of the valet he had kept for upwards of a good decade), "I've done it now..."
WILDCARD
((ooc: hit me up here, via PM, or on plurk at