LOCKED TO alchemicals

[deaftly]

[He doesn't remember anything. All he knows is that there's a bright light in his face and he just wants to sleep. After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning he finally opens his eyes and sits up. The room he's in is perfectly white, without any sort of interesting features. There's a desk and a chair, but nothing on either of them. They're as white as the walls and floor, and on closer inspection, the bed he's in is just as white and spotless as the rest of the room. The sheets are a bit on the stiff side even though he's been sleeping under them, and the bed is kind of hard for his liking, so he finally squirms out from under the covers and stands.

The clothes he's wearing strike him as being wrong, though he can't recall what the "right" clothes would be. They're white - like everything else - and they're very simple. He doesn't have anything to compare them to, but the material is soft and kind of thin and feels a little odd. He shrugs off his confusion about the clothes and starts for the door. Even the doorknob is white, which strikes him as strange for about half a second before he yanks the door open.

The room that he enters is spacious. Like the room he woke up in, everything is white. There's a sofa, a small table in front of the sofa, and a couple of plush chairs. There's a couple of doors leading elsewhere, and his first order of business is to see where they lead. One leads to a perfectly white kitchen which isn't interesting right now (though some part of him wonders if the food will be just as white) and the other door he comes to is locked. There should be a front door around here somewhere though, right? He doesn't want to be here. He can't remember why he's here (or anything, really) but being here doesn't seem right.]

Comments

[alchemicals]

[...What the hell.

Okay, he'll...kind of...look he's not exactly yelling at the guy, but he is being decidedly louder, goddamn.]

Is this better?! Shit, I don't know what's going on either, but I'm not doing anything.

[deaftly]

[That causes him to brighten up immediately.]

Yeah! Yeah, that's a lot better. For a moment there I was really worried I just couldn't hear shit at all.

[He relaxes easily, but after a moment of thought he poses another question.]

...So who are you? I don't recognize you. I mean, I don't remember anything so maybe that's why.

[alchemicals]

[Oh, hey, there we go. Apparently we're just going to be living life at the top of our damn lungs today.]

...Yeah, I could ask you the same question. Do you remember who you are?

[It's not really answering anything, but it's likewise a totally valid question.]

[deaftly]

Nope.

[...]

Shit, I don't even remember my goddamn name.

[That's definitely not a good sign and once again he moves to push his bangs back. They don't stay in place, but that's not really bothering him right now.]

So you don't remember who you are either?

[alchemicals]

Not really. I mean, I know I don't like being in here, I have no idea who you are, and I guess I let someone with a fuckin' nerve disorder hold a pair of scissors and whack at my hair at some point?

[He runs his hand through the front of his hair; he isn't really sure what to do with it in general so he'd just left it down, though that doesn't do anything for the shorter locks at the top.]

But I don't remember anything.

[deaftly]

...Yeah, your hair does look kinda fucked up.

[Was that really necessary?]

Same here. I should have plenty of memories and I should know what the fuck I'm doing in here, but I can't recall and it's pissing me off. But the first thing I'm doing is getting out of here!

[He turns back to that door again, pounding a hand against it. It seems pretty solid. He doubts he can just break it down, though for some reason that's his first instinct.]

It's locked, so unless there's a key somewhere in here, I don't know how we're getting out. I don't think I can break it.

[alchemicals]

...Okay, look. Maybe we should figure out who the hell we are first - maybe if we work that much out, we'll figure out what the hell someone would want with both of us. Make sense?

[deaftly]

...I guess, but how are we supposed to do that?

[alchemicals]

Check your hands and see if there's a mark on one of them. It should say something under the stupid design, if it's like mine.

[Granted, he's got no idea what a fucking barcode actually is, so he'd just focused on the letters.]

[deaftly]

[He immediately looks down at his hands, finding the barcode and name on his right palm. He studies it for a long moment. The barcode is familiar at least, but the four letters under it...]

I can't read this.

[That doesn't surprise him any for some reason. Maybe he can't read at all. He holds out his palm to the other man.]

What does it say?

[alchemicals]

...What, did they fuck it up?

[He'll come closer, though; he's not going to touch, he's just going to get a better look.

He glances at the guy after a moment, as though he's not sure if he's being fucked with.]

Really?

[deaftly]

What?

[He does get defensive then, though he doesn't pull his hand away.]

I can't read it.

[alchemicals]

[...Dude. Seriously?]

...'Naki' - that's what it says. Is that you?

[deaftly]

Naki...

[He repeats it slowly, still staring at his hand. He can't remember anything about that name, but there's something about it that's almost familiar, like he can almost remember something.]

I think that might be it. It's a pretty damn great name, anyway!

[alchemicals]

See, there you go. If you like it, we'll assume that's you, then. Making me...

[He glances down at his own hand for a moment.]

Well, I've got no idea who named me Zolf but I guess I had mean parents.

[deaftly]

"Zolf"? Yikes.

[He winces. That's probably the worst name he's ever heard. It's definitely worse than "Naki", but right now that's all he has to compare it to.]

So you're Zolf and I'm Naki. Okay. I guess that solves that. Though I still don't remember anything and I'm guessing you don't either.

[alchemicals]

We've also got "Naki can't fucking read" and "apparently Zolf J Kimbley fucking can," whatever that tells us.

[...]

Could you not read the word, or do you not know what the letters even mean?

[deaftly]

"Zolf J Kimbley" is that seriously what's on your hand? You're totally fucking with me.

[Right??? No one has a name that hideous!

He pauses to consider the question, tipping his head slightly as he stares at his name again.]

Well it's... I can kinda recognize the letters a bit? I know that's an A, but... I don't really know the others? Like I get that I should and they feel sort of familiar, but I can't put them together and make a word or a name out of it or anything. I dunno. I guess I can't fucking read.

[He doesn't sound frustrated by it, just confused.]

[alchemicals]

Okay, but if I were to ask you to write something down - assuming we can find something to write on - do you think you'd be able to?

...I'm trying to figure out if we should even be understanding each other right now or if this is some fucking magic shit happening.

[deaftly]

I dunno. Maybe? I can't remember. I mean I can try, but I wouldn't be surprised if the pens in this house have white ink or something.

[That said, it gives him something to do, so Naki begins to search. There's a small table beside the couch that has a lamp on it and in the drawer he finds some paper, but finding a pen is proving to be a bit more difficult.]

[alchemicals]

[...At least it's gotten him to stop banging on the fucking door. Maybe...in the kitchen there'll be something...

...Oh, hey, there we go.]

Among the things I have no damn idea about: Why the hell anyone needs that many drawers.

[deaftly]

Was there anything in the drawers?

[Naki approaches with the paper, setting it down on the table just outside the kitchen. It's probably supposed to be a dining room, though the table is only large enough to fit the two of them. This place is both weirdly spacious and pretty cramped. Naki's really not sure how it manages to be both at the same time.]

Let me see that pen. Hopefully I wasn't right about the white ink.

[alchemicals]

What, like a key to the door? I'd tell you if I found something valuable.

[Let's just...kinda sit, then, and he'll pass that pen over.]

I don't care what you write, just put something down. Though if you're right about the ink I'm going to be pissed.

[deaftly]

[That makes sense to Naki, so he doesn't question it. He doesn't know this guy at all, but he doesn't think twice about believing what he's told.

Naki takes the pen and sets the paper down, staring at it for a long moment. When he finally decides to uncap the pen and set it to paper, it doesn't take long for him to find something to write. Thankfully the ink is black, so what he's writing can be clearly seen.]

ヤモリ

[He stares at it for a moment, but it's not because he doesn't recognize what he's written. He can read it perfectly - or maybe it's not that he can read it, but he just inherently knows what it means.]

...Yamori.

[Naki tilts his head. His expression darkens as he thinks, but he doesn't seem angry.]

Yamori... I think I've heard that somewhere before... Why would that be the first thing to pop into my head...?

[alchemicals]

[And for a good long moment Kimbley just stares, and he leans forward a bit to get a better look, and after that moment passes he's still headtilting so hard he looks about to fall over.]

...What the fuck's a yamori?

[...Because clearly he's asking the important questions.]