ROTG is not mine.
Sunlight from the big window greeted Jack in the morning much to his dismay. He groaned and rolled toward the inside of the couch, curling tighter in on himself. The motion caused his staff to fall off the edge of the couch. In an instant, he was up and carefully checking the object over for any damage.
"Had me worried for a minute." A chuckle of relief escaped his lips breathlessly when he was satisfied there was no damage done. He laid back down on his back, letting the staff rest on top of him. "But you're pretty tough, aren't you?" The staff glowed lightly in his grasp. He stayed staring at the ceiling for a moment as he tried to decide if he could get back to sleep or not. Finally he gave up, getting to his feet which were much steadier than the night before.
He swung his staff up over his shoulder and found his way back to the kitchen for another granola bar. This time he controlled himself and only took one. In between bits he wandered around the kitchen, checking the drawers again and collection everything he found on the counter: a spoon, a chipped glass, a tangle of string, and the now half empty box of granola bars.
"Yes, all the essentials to living," he huffed. He dimly thought that maybe it wasn't a good thing he was talking to himself so much, but the dead silence in the house was creepy and thinking aloud helped keep him sane. Grabbing the glass, he turned on the sink and grimaced at the disgusting brown water that gushed out. He waited for the water to clear before catching some in the glass and taking an experimental sip. Slightly metallic, but drinkable. He downed the rest before he could think better of it.
Leaving the glass on the counter with his other supplies, Jack moved back toward the stairs and the unexplored upstairs. He quickly scaled the stairs and peered down the hall. It was much less creepy with the sunlight streaming in from the bedroom door he'd left open at the far end of the hall.
There were two doors on his right, one of which was the room he'd woken up in, and two on his left. He moved to the first door on his right, slowly easing it open, his staff at the ready. The room was a study with a single desk facing the door. Another bookcase like the one downstairs, only empty besides the layer of dust. He wandered to the desk, his staff tapping the bookcase as he passed it, startling a spider. The drawers yielded no secrets, only a pen and a pad of paper that matched the scrap he'd woken up with. He left them behind as he went to the next room across the hall. Another bedroom, this time with a large bed and a dresser. He left the room for later exploration with the promise of one last door to open. No longer worried about something lying in wait, Jack confidently swung open the door and found the bathroom.
Until that moment, he had only known his general skin color and the clothes he had been wearing. Now he was faced by a young man with snow white hair and wide blue eyes. The face in the mirror startled him and he almost bolted, thinking it was another person.
"That's me," he whispered, waving a hand at his reflection. He touched his tousled hair tentatively, plucking a strand so he could see the color. It was obviously his, but it just didn't seem right. He moved closer to the mirror and peered at himself closely. He had a dim sense of Déjà vu but he couldn't remember what he looked like before this moment. Not even the slightest hint. It was more than a little unnerving. His dark brows knit together as he studied his eyes. Something just didn't seem right. Suddenly it hit him. His eyes were glowing. Not brightly, but definitely emitting a bit of light like the staff he held. He blinked and leaned closer, letting the staff hook itself on the sink as he let it go. Without the staff, his eyes lost the glow.
A breath escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the tub. "Okay. So. I touch the staff and it glows. And apparently I glow." He shook his head and let out a laugh. "This is crazy." He grinned as he picked his staff back up and headed for the door. He glanced back at the mirror one last time, his blue eyes flashing.
Jack returned to the room he woke up in for a moment, retrieving the piece of paper he had dropped on the floor when he'd found the staff. The new bedroom was next. He left the staff on the bed, pulling open the heavy curtains to let the light in.
Unlike the stark white sheets on the previous bed, this bed had nice blue comforter with matching pillow. Already he could feel a nap calling to him. He yawned as he began searching through the drawers of the dresser. Surprisingly, these drawers actually yielded useful objects. A few shirts, a couple pairs of pants, some underwear, and a blue hoodie. He grabbed an outfit and headed for the bathroom, leaving the staff since he wasn't sure how it reacted around water.
Like the faucet downstairs, the water took a minute to run clear in the shower. Jack waited patiently, returning to the mirror. Without the staff, there was nothing unusual. His eyes were a brilliant, normal blue. His skin was pale, just a shade or two darker than his hair. He just couldn't get over how new he looked.
Steam began to fog the mirror and he pulled himself away before the hot water ran out. Despite looking all over the bathroom, no bathing supplies were found. At least he could rinse off. He tugged the long sleeved white shirt he'd awoken in over his head and dropped it to the ground. For the second time, he found that he didn't know himself. His fingers traced the starburst scar that marred his left chest near his collarbone and extended halfway down his upper arm. Another scar stretched across his stomach diagonally. He quickly undressed the rest of the way and found twin raised scars traveling both his shins and one more in the center of his back near the bottom of his ribcage.
Only more questions he couldn't answer himself.
The shower was uncomfortably hot and he turned it down to a lukewarm temperature before stepping in. For an old house, the water pressure was surprisingly strong and he vigorously rubbed his hair in lieu of shampoo.
Jack stayed there for a while, enjoying the feeling of being at least semi-clean. It felt good to let his mind go blank, to only concentrate on the pounding water instead of the multitude of questions that were developing every moment he was awake. Eventually he turned off the water and reached for the old white shirt. There wasn't a towel and even though he'd been wearing the shirt, it was better than being wet.
The new clothes fit him reasonably well, just a little oversized. He continued vigorously rubbing his hair as he returned to the bedroom. His staff was right where he left it and the amount of relief he felt surprised him. Jack threw the wet shirt on one of the bed posts to dry and grabbed the staff and the hoodie before heading downstairs. The shower had woken him up and the outside sun was inviting.
The front door stuck at first, but it creaked open in the end. Jack stepped onto the small porch and breathed in the fresh air with a smile. He stepped into the springy overgrown grass and dug his toes in the dirt. The air was a bit chilly making him decide it was early fall and this was confirmed by the brittle leaves on the few trees in the yard. The house he'd woken up in was surrounded by a brick wall as high as the first story and an iron gate that opened onto a dirt road. Without much thought, Jack jogged over to one and easily swung himself up into the branches. He left his staff hooked over a lower branch as he climbed up higher. He got to a comfortable crook in the tree and sat with his back against the trunk, one leg propped up and the other swinging. Through the leaves he could see the skyscrapers of the city. They weren't too far away, he could probably walk there. The rest of the area outside the wall was a wood that eventually thinned out to country. He pulled out the granola bar he'd grabbed on his way out and slowly chewed it. Only two bars left now. He had to find more food soon, and the city seemed like the only option, but it could wait until after a nap. There was no rush. Jack swallowed the last bite and brushed his fingers off on his pants, letting his eyes drift closed.
Rimsky-Korsakov this got a lot more attention than I expected!
I guess I'll keep going. I'm gonna try and update weekly, but no promises. School comes first!
If I'm going too OOC please let me know, it's always my biggest concern and I'd rather hear right away so I can fix it before going on.
OH! And I think I need a better title. I'll try to think of one but if you have any ideas let me know :)
Thanks for reading, review if you can!
~abrokencastiel
