Your plane had landed about two hours ago and after quickly going through security, you're standing out in the rainy air of London, England. Your eyes looked around, the darkness inviting to you as you sighed. Not like you remember, but you didn't expect it to look like how it did so long ago.
Your first instincts were your eyes blowing up in the little light, catching all the light they could so you could see well. Your ears were picking up every little pitter patter and slosh of the rain that was around you, hitting the pavement, trees, buildings, people, cars, and everything else in London.
It took a bit, but you hailed a taxi over to you, having it stop and damn. You forgot how weird this was to Americans, how cars drove on the other side of the road. Honestly you were surprised, well, you had been living away from here for a long time, you suppose you understand why you suddenly think it's weird.
Climbing in, you had just remembered you needed to trade your money in for the currency here, so you told the driver to drive you to somewhere that would allow you to do what you wanted, and he complied with a nod of his head and a turn of his keys.
Lucky for you, it didn't take too long to get there and in a matter of minutes you were at the currency building, telling him to wait here and that you would pay him too before heading inside. It was a nice building, well lit and even the number of people was low, and you only ended up waiting in line about three, maybe four minutes before you were already trading in your American money for British pounds. You nodded at the woman working there, grabbed your cash, and headed out the door and back into the taxi, telling him to bring you to Wolfborrow Street, and he agreed, although hesitantly.
Wolfborrow was a rather well-known street in London, only for the reason of suspected witches living there that would turn your children into pigs and rats. That of course, was centuries ago, but it still lives on as a bit of a legend. You only knew that the prices for a flat there were cheap, and maybe you might even buy a house for yourself, but a flat was better and cheaper, so you would probably go with that. Until then, you would walk three blocks to the hotel and stay there. It would be for the best, plus you could go and check out places to live tomorrow, and look for them tonight with your laptop and phone.
First of all though, you would need to get out of this taxi and on to the street.
As you had been caught off with your thoughts, you had forgotten you were in a taxi and the driver was yelling at your sorry ass to get out and pay him. You groaned, not giving him a tip for that and just paying him for the drive. The man counted the money and drove off, leaving you and all of your things on the dark street, only lit by the moon and the street lights. You just needed to make sure you knew the street name of the hotel you were staying at and you'd be alright from there.
As you looked around, you really didn't recognize this place. You had been here before, so very long ago, but now you barely recognize that you are indeed on Wolfborrow Street.
Where you had to go, though, was Mockingbird Lane. It wasn't too long from here, after checking your phone, only a ten minute or so walk down the street, down Smith Street, and then after that, take a right and you're on Mockingbird lane. Wasn't too bad, forth you go.
It was going great, that is, until you turned down Mockingbird Lane and it started raining. Perfect.
Running, you caught sight of the hotel you were going to be staying at and ran inside, all of your bags in tow as you burst through the double glass doors of the place, soaking wet with your blond bangs dripping in your eyes and your rained on glasses.
Walking the rest of the way up like you weren't just running from seemingly someone trying to harm you (you sort of were, weren't going to lie about that here) and go up to the front desk, you smile. "Any open roomth?" The woman at the desk looks through her computer after looking you over, eyes lingering on what you guessed were your eyes, before speaking.
"We have a few, sir, room 205, room 413, room 118, room 501, or suite 805." That seemed a little too little, but you guessed it was understandable; this was a hotel in London. Of course there would be a lot of people in here. Why wouldn't there be?
Thinking over your choice, you shrug. "413, pleathe." You tell her, not wanting to keep her waiting. She nods and goes over to where they keep the keys to the hotel rooms and grabs the key to 413 for you.
You grab them once she drops them in your hand with a thank you and walk off to the elevator to head up to the fourth floor so you could room there for the night and early morning. You weren't going to head out tomorrow morning, rather, maybe sleep until noon and then head out to go and walk around, eat something (not someone, that would be stupid in broad daylight in public), and go check out homes and flats to buy.
The elevator soon dinged to let you out on the fourth floor of the hotel and you grabbed your things, walking down the halls until you noticed room 413. Checking the key in your hand, you unlock the door and step inside.
The room was nice, a single bed, a television, a nice big window that thankfully had curtains that would cover all of it, a bathroom with a roomy shower, sink, and toilet. There was a desk with a phone on it beside your full sized bed, and you sat down on it, cracking your back and sighing. That felt nice.
Putting your keys on the desk, you went over to shut the curtains and started stripping of your clothes, leaving only your boxers on as you put your clothes in a bag of yours that still had room before turning on the television. Switching it to BBC, thankfully something good was on, you laid down. You checked the clock; already that late? Damn. You got under the comforters of your bed and laid down just as Doctor Who came on. You weren't going to watch it, rather, you had it for background noise.
Actually, you ended up watching it anyways, and once it was over, you laid down, and fell asleep within minutes.
But, oddly, you had the weirdest dream. Eridan was there, and so was someone else that you couldn't place standing over a corpse. You weren't sure whose it was, but you had chills run up your spine.