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

[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.]

[deaftly]

I think it's a name. I don't know who Yamori is though.

[Naki puts the cap back on the pen and sets it down, shaking his head.]

Well, maybe I'll remember whenever we get our memories back.

[If they get their memories back.]

So uh, I guess that's why I couldn't read my name. I'm used to writing in... whatever this is.

[alchemicals]

How the hell do you usually write it?

[Because no really, that looks like a clusterfuck and a half and he has no idea how it even makes words.]

[deaftly]

What do you mean? I just wrote what came naturally, so I think that's how I usually write.

[Hang on, he's lost.]

[alchemicals]

[Fortunately, Kimbley is finding that this isn't something that he has absolutely zero patience for today.]

Your name. Show me what you usually do when you're writing it.

[deaftly]

Oh!

[That makes sense. Naki picks the pen back up and writes again. There's a bit more hesitance this time since he actually has to think about it, but eventually he manages to write something down.]

ナキ

I'm pretty sure that's it.

[alchemicals]

Huh. That...doesn't look like anything I recognize at all.

[...]

This is weird as hell.

[deaftly]

It's definitely familiar, but I don't know what it's called.

[He puts the pen back down and pushes his bangs back again. Unsurprisingly, they fall back in his face.]

Oh, wait, hang on-- Maybe the writing on our hands is in a different language!

[...he's a little slow.]

What language do you speak?

[alchemicals]

[...Good question, actually.]

...I don't...

[Mnnnngh. After a moment he'll just be taking that pen.]

Zolf J Kimbley

It looks like that.

[deaftly]

[Naki studies what Kimbley wrote, tapping a finger to his chin in thought.]

...I recognize a couple of letters, but that's it. I definitely can't read it. But it's the same as how our names are written, so...

[So what?]

...I dunno.

[He shrugs helplessly. This has been nice, but he really doesn't understand what it's told them, other than apparently they write in different languages.]

Ah, wait, hang on-- if we're writing in other languages, how are we understanding each other? I mean unless one of us knows two languages and can only write in one, I'm not really seeing how we're able to understand each other.

[alchemicals]

[...Honey, you're a little slow, aren't you.]

Yeah, I don't get it either. I don't think you'll recognize anything else about what I usually speak, either.

[He pauses for a moment before writing down a few other phrases.]

Befolgen Sie das Militär.
Sie nicht verwandeln Geld.
Verwandeln Sie nicht den Menschen.

That's what it looks like, if it tells you anything.

[He kind of linefaces for a moment before something seems to occur to him.]

...So if we can't understand each other at all, we probably didn't know each other at all before waking up here, right?

[deaftly]

[Naki stares at the words for nearly a minute, but he can't make out any of them.]

...How come that A's got some weird dots over it?

[Well, apparently he's got his priorities in order. After a moment he lets the question go and returns to the more important matters.]

I think you're right. I can't read whatever that is and you can't read whatever I was writing in, so we probably wouldn't have known each other. We're still speaking the same language which is... weird, but I doubt we knew each other. Hell, we might not even be from the same country. But that raises a lot of questions. If neither of us are responsible for why we're here then who is?

[alchemicals]

...Because that's how the stupid word is written. I'm not a linguist, I don't know.

[SIR...]

But that...yeah, I don't know, but it's going to piss me off. You don't remember anything about what you were doing before this?

[deaftly]

...Liquidist? Is that even a word?

[Well, at least he wasn't too far off...]

I don't remember anything. I don't even really remember if Naki's my name. It sounds familiar and I feel like it fits, but... It's like I don't have any memories. I dunno.

[alchemicals]

[...Wh...]

...Okay. So let's just assume for now that we don't have each other's names written on our hands for whatever stupid reason, just to keep from doing our heads in. Do you recognize the stupid design above it?

[deaftly]

Oh, yeah, that's a barcode. What, you don't recognize it? It's on everything you want to buy, isn't it?

[alchemicals]

No...? Why the hell would it be?

[deaftly]

Huh? Well, it's so that the cashier can scan it and bring up the price and shit, then you pay for it. You really don't have those?