Third Person: Another day, another gutter. Grantaire woke up with the distinct feeling that his head was about to explode, a state so familiar to him that it’s quite possible he would have gotten worried had he woken up feeling perfectly fine.
For a few moments as he sat up to lean his back against the wall of the building he’d collapsed against, he thought he was still in Paris, vaguely wondering if the disturbing images of corpses that his imagination wanted to strew all around him were just the remnants of a particularly unpleasant dream.
Then, as his head cleared a little and the dream-specter cobwebs were swept aside he remembered where he was.
Hell.
Or Ruby City, but he remained rather convinced that the two were one and the same, because where else could someone like him possibly end up after death? Granted he had expected a bit more fire and brimstone, but at the end of the day it was quite enough to be here, alone, and knowing that his friends had passed on to a place where he could not go. A good thing Satan at least had the courtesy to supply him with drink to numb the pain. He’d always suspected the old bastard was a decent sort. If someone managed to get that much on God’s bad side, they had to be worth knowing.
With a groan he got to his feet and glanced up to find that he’d actually managed to pass out right by the door to the building he was currently occupying. Well, if one was to find a silver lining in that bit of irony it was at least convenient now.
“Would’ve been more convenient to wake up in my bed,” he muttered to himself as he opened the door and stepped inside.
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Third Person: Another day, another gutter. Grantaire woke up with the distinct feeling that his head was about to explode, a state so familiar to him that it’s quite possible he would have gotten worried had he woken up feeling perfectly fine.
For a few moments as he sat up to lean his back against the wall of the building he’d collapsed against, he thought he was still in Paris, vaguely wondering if the disturbing images of corpses that his imagination wanted to strew all around him were just the remnants of a particularly unpleasant dream.
Then, as his head cleared a little and the dream-specter cobwebs were swept aside he remembered where he was.
Hell.
Or Ruby City, but he remained rather convinced that the two were one and the same, because where else could someone like him possibly end up after death? Granted he had expected a bit more fire and brimstone, but at the end of the day it was quite enough to be here, alone, and knowing that his friends had passed on to a place where he could not go. A good thing Satan at least had the courtesy to supply him with drink to numb the pain. He’d always suspected the old bastard was a decent sort. If someone managed to get that much on God’s bad side, they had to be worth knowing.
With a groan he got to his feet and glanced up to find that he’d actually managed to pass out right by the door to the building he was currently occupying. Well, if one was to find a silver lining in that bit of irony it was at least convenient now.
“Would’ve been more convenient to wake up in my bed,” he muttered to himself as he opened the door and stepped inside.