As I open my eyes, the bright sunlight sears my corneas, driving my bleary gaze shut. I'm not going to open them, so instead I groan helplessly from my grounded location for a good few minutes.
Where was I? I don't recall falling asleep outdoors, but I can tell that the surface under me is hard and it's too warm to be indoors. Mustering up what strength I can, I prop myself up against the surface behind me.
I slouch forward as soon as I shift from laying to sitting. My spine practically creaks in the way an old door would, telling me that I've been on the ground far too long. I regret my lazy whining momentarily.
My whereabouts remain a mystery to me as a blunt pain courses through my cranium, cutting off my current train of thought and replacing it with speculation as to why my head hurts. I attest it to the ground below me's state of extreme solidity.
I go for attempt two at opening my eyes, squinting and utilizing my eyelashes as shade while they adjust to the blaring beams of light. It's sunny outside and exceptionally so. It's a fresh change from the usual smog in my city. I guess I must not be there.
I'm strangely accepting of the warmth and clarity, and even though I wonder why I'm not worried that I can't be home, other things concern me. I raise an arm to the back of my head, running my fingers through my hair until I notice a wet patch. I withdraw the appendage, glancing down at my hand.
A red substance is smeared across otherwise pale skin.
It's blood. I must've hit my head, I conclude, wiping it off on the ground next to me. And I think I'm still bleeding. If I had been knocked unconscious out here, it wasn't long ago. I can at least recognize my own fresh blood.
Before I deal with that, though, it would be best to get a bearing of where I even am. I raise my neck up far enough to get a good look at my surroundings, although my peripheral vision is a bit cloudy.
I had been lying on sunbaked gray stairs that extended for a long climb below me. My eyes focus and I notice it's definitely not any kind of cement, but carefully carved stone bricks, and if I weren't in such a strange situation, I would be admiring the craftsmanship.
Beyond that, the stone bricks fade off into a brown, dirt path, navigating its way through a forest. To the sides of the stairs, there's a bit of grass, then matching stone walls that couldn't be much taller than four feet. They reminded me of dams, keeping the terrain from collapsing on the stairs that I could assume to be dug into the hill, or mountain.
Those would be easy to scale, I note for no reason in particular. My thoughts begin drifting a bit.
Oh, right. What did I hit my head on? I feel that I've recovered well enough to turn around, expecting to see just more stairs, albeit bloodstained.
Instead, behind me is a red-painted structure- no, not painted red with my blood- that gives off a faithful feel, though I can't pinpoint why. There are two red pillars on either side of the stairway, joined at the top by a horizontal, slightly downward arched piece of the same color. These are repeated at a certain interval that I didn't care enough about to discern up to the top of what I now deem a mountain. To call it a hill would be an understatement, maybe even an insult.
The idea of climbing the steps crosses my mind, and I begin to stand before my nerves remind me of the throbbing in my skull. That won't go away for a while, though, so through sheer willpower I force myself to advance to the top of the mountain.
I never was one for stamina, and the climb up starts to wear out my legs. My air supply shallows by a lot, and soon enough I'm exhausted. Thankfully, though, I hit the top of the mountain before I seek the nearest red pillar and press my weight against it. I know that if I sit down again, I won't get back up.
The sight shown to me is a feast for my eyes. The forest that sat to the sides and below the stairs leading up follows and continues to flourish up here, sitting on the edges of the mostly cleared out area that I have been led to.
Behind another larger and inviting red gate, a traditional-looking shrine sits atop the mountain, its architecture ornate and interesting. Details are carved into much of the wood that I can't make out too well from my distance. Based on its size, I assume that it also would serve as housing for someone.
On the front porch of it sits a decently sized wooden box, and a brunette girl wearing rather peculiar red clothes, much like the garments of a typical 'Miko', sitting on top of it, conversing with someone next to her—
People! It takes me a minute to register, but I realize that's what I really needed right now. With what I have on me limited to a simple hoodie, jeans that lack the pockets to hold anything more than a phone or wallet, and generic sneakers, it's not like I can solve the dilemma of my head wound without someone else's help. I'm not savvy enough to carry bandages around.
I push myself off from my support beam and start in that direction once more, crossing about half the distance between us before the girl's head turns to me.
"Something wrong, Reims?" her conversational partner coos. From the voice, the other person is female. The brunette—no, 'Reims', doesn't respond to her.
"Oi. You lost or what?" she calls over to me. I scratch the side of my head. I'm lost, but suddenly I feel baffled at how I wouldn't know of a place like this existing near where I reside. I don't remember doing any traveling. I nod, and then take into account that she can't see subtle gestures from where I am.
"Sort of," I answer, continuing to close the distance between us. She gives me a funny look.
"You look awful," chimed in the voice of the other girl, who I haven't bothered to look at yet.
I don't answer to that one, averting my eyes. I clear my throat. "Can, uh, you tell me where I am? I haven't seen or heard anything about wherever this is in my life."
Her already apprehensive stare contorts even more, as if it wasn't fathomable that I don't know where I am. Reims's gaze shifts to the top of my head, which I guess is still bloody, because the weird look I was getting became somewhat sympathetic. "You're at my shrine," the girl says slowly. "Where'd you come from?"
I truthfully don't have an answer to that question. I know I live in a city, but which one? "…Detroit?" My response came out as more of a question than an answer.
"Where," she reiterates. "What part of Gensokyo?"
"I'm sorry, what's a Gensokyo?"
Her amber hued eyes lower, her features looking now exasperated. She gestures a thumb to the open paper door of the shrine and looks expectantly at me. I don't move.
". . . go in," the brunette grumbles after realizing I didn't understand what she meant.
"Oh. Sorry, I—""Go. In."
I oblige, shuffling on with my eyes towards the floor. "Take off your shoes. You'll be here a while," she adds. I oblige to that as well, taking a seat on the floor inside, next to a low table in the center of the room. The door is shut behind me.
