(Ardyn has no idea how he wound up in this strange and fanciful world, but for now he'll take it, fully intent on learning what he can about this new world and in what ways he can use it to his full advantage. He'd expected death at the end of all things mere moments before things had shifted, a final and blissful release from a turbulent path over the millennia. Instead he'd awoken in a pool of water with some old mage barely able to keep his eyes open giving some seal of approval even now Ardyn isn't aware of. Was this another twist of the gods? Another game of a certain god for him to be pulled and dragged through? The idea of not being able to rest, even at the end of all things, is a dire enough thought.

Which means Ardyn is all the more dramatic in his movements at the library, his gestures wide and sweeping as he opens a tome and reads the first line with some flair.)

"Once, in a kingdom far away, there was a King with two sons," Oh no no, that will never do, such things never tend to end well when they start like that. Brothers rarely like to share in most stories.

(Ardyn pauses, not looking up from the book as he places a hand to his hat and ducks his head, narrowly avoiding someone's misplaced tome from knocking him out).

Books do have a tendency to embellish such things, but I must admit I do love a good story no matter how dated they are. I daresay in a place such as this we could consider ourselves living in one, don't you think?

(The whole thing had sounded dull, tedious and outlandishly boring when someone had announced the painting session and as Ardyn studies his own artwork he has to conclude that it absolutely was all of those things. He could even consider it to have exceeded expectations in the droll stakes. He'd been lured in by the speech of Thorne's defiance in the face of the "gods" and received an event that could slow sheer prophecy down. Ardyn looks around at the paintings of others, the smile on his face easy enough despite the negativity in his mind. Smiles were easy once one learned to allow it to reach the eyes, though occasionally the odd person could catch the disingenuity there.)

Why, yours is much better than mine! I must admit I'm not much of an artist and it would seem my attempts to not let the brush paint for me has become a problem.

(Ardyn's own artwork is covered in a myriad of splatters across what once could have been a decent painting.)

Then again I could even say it gives mine a bit of charm within all that chaos....

(Eventually Ardyn makes his way to the quarters, having wandered enough for one day. From what he can tell this place seems intent on keeping people captive with the excuse of being unable to understand how to send them home, with the added "bonus" of free accommodation and supplies. Some gave with one hand and took with the other and a change of worlds never changed that.

He sits on an empty bed, the smile dropping from his face as he takes a breath. There's an awareness of just what exactly is missing; powers. No armiger or anything of the sort, even the starscourge felt faint ever since arriving. Not only that but from what Ardyn could decipher there were none of the usual crew to be dealing with, fate having seen fit to not only send him somewhere else but to deal a blow in not providing the free entertainment he'd so enjoyed over the last decade or so.

Thinking on it, said heroes did have a habit of popping up at the most impressive moments. Ardyn has no doubt he'll cross paths with them again; if he can be dragged through worlds then so could they. Rest is, apparently, for the weak. He reaches up to take the hat from his head, a free hand ruffling dark red hair as he places the hat on a nearby table.)

Free bed, free food, what will they ask for I wonder?