Incomplete

Everfree Forest: Midday.

Time: 1:50 p.m.

Date: Unknown

A young man (is he a young man?) is laying in the middle of a clearing in what is most certainly a dangerous forest of mystical qualities, but in actuality is a slightly mysterious wood of not-so-dangerous if you're a certain Zebra/Shy Pegasus qualities. The clearing was quiet, not like the fear inducing "quiet before the storm" quiet, and definitely not an eerie "quiet like the breath of an assassin about to strike his prey" quiet, but just a normal sort of lack of noise outside the normal sounds of insects, birds, and animals trying to bang one another to death in the vain hope of continuing the propagation of their species. It was about midday, the sun wasn't in that "high noon, duel to the death" kind of position, but more of a "damn, we missed high noon and now we have to try again tomorrow for our duel to the death" kind of position.

But now we're dreadfully off topic, not in the sense that everything that's been said before is totally irrelevant, but more in the sense that we've been rambling on for far too long and should get back to the point of the story.

As was said before, a probably young man sits in the middle of a quiet clearing, unconscious. If one were to look upon him, they would find that they couldn't quite make out his form clearly. He seemed to be fuzzy and almost not there at all. Quite like a half-being, or some kinda of paranormal entity that exists and yet doesn't at the same time. Like some sorta....metaphysical, see-through soul that refuses to leave. But not quite.

All at once, the young, metaphysical being let loose a scream. Not the kind a kid makes when seeing anything shiny, or the kind a demented person makes for seemingly no reason (although the former tends to do the same as well). No, this was a primal, bloodcurdling scream, one that would sear itself into the mind of every creature within the vicinity, and some outside it for no real reason. The young chap from before was now very much conscious, and very much in pain. After what felt like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds, the young man's pain-fueled rage died down into bittersweet unconsciousness once more.

Meanwhile, a few meters from the entrance to this mysterious-ish wood, a small, young bunny with a sore temper is scarred for eternity for reasons it can't even begin to comprehend. After a few seconds of sheer terror, the bunny peruses a rather uncouth looking symbol with his fore paw in the direction of the wooded dungeon, before scampering off to do who knows what kind of uncivilized acts of symbolism and rage.

Back at the wooden clearing, and by this, it is not meant to be a clearing made from wood, the young man groggily awakens to find that he is in immense pain, but not enough to actually resume letting loose his fury. Mostly because he had already overworked his vocal cords, which are not actually cords, during his last duel with awareness and unconsciousness. One which he obviously lost.

Mouth dryer than even raw, powdered cinnamon in the mouth of an impressionable youth with a penchant for giving in to peer pressure the likes of which will eventually lead to a drug overdose and a dead hooker, the young, pained fellow stumbled upright, only to immediately be struck dead in the head with paralyzing vertigo. After a few seconds of falling down repeatedly in his mind, the young man finally ventures forth into the great unknown wood surrounding him. Barely aware of what's going on around him, he fails to notice that several times he has manged to phase completely through several objects in his quest to quench his thirst.

After an eternity with nary a soul willing to show its pitiful, malnourished face, the young man finally happened upon a stream. Not the kind that you could swim in, but one that is so small that fish can barely survive in its murky depths, or lack thereof. All of this simply floats by the youth like a spit bubble during a hurricane on a summer day. Immediately, he bends down to begin lapping up the elixir of life otherwise known as H20 or dirty stream water, only to suddenly realize that he was not actually scooping up the water like he wished.

Upon closer inspection, the water appeared to avoid his presence, entirely. It was not unlike how a rich man avoids the homeless begging for change, or how the other countries tend to avoid Americans at all costs. It was as if the water was denying his presence and simply choosing to flow around him, which considering the bi-polar nature of water isn't all too surprising, except that water is not sentient, only personified as such. Yet here it was doing just that. It was almost enough to break the poor lads mind.

In one last vain attempt to quench his fire-filled throat, he thrust his entire head into the shallow water. As was expected, he just fell straight to the bottom. As was not expected, the stream was deep enough to swallow him whole. As his still functioning brain could be expected to perceive, the youth immediately began holding his breath and trying to swim back up. After a few seconds, he finally became aware that he could breath, and couldn't swim.

Awe-struck and confused, the youth looked around. The water was actively avoiding him, and worse yet, his lungs seemed to not work. Yet he could breath just fine (If you take not needing to breath at all, and simply going through the motions as just fine). He tried to swim once again, only to find that he simply fell down. At least gravity was working just fine. Looking toward the edge of the oddly cliff-like stream side, the youth gripped the edge of the stream and gracefully climbed out (if you define gracefully as a killer whale breaching the surface of the ocean to bloodily swallow a seal whole).

After climbing out, the young man began staring at the water, his throat still as dry and raw as an ass that's been whipped by a salt drenched, spiky dildo. Of PAIN. After a few seconds, the young lad finally gave up, and began staring at the sky. In the back of his mind, at the furthest edge of his consciousness, he wished desperately for something to quench his vital thirst. None came to answer his prayers.

As he finally accepted his fate, the young man looked down toward the ground, only to find a single glass of water simply sitting there, as if it had been there the entire time. It was a simple, clear glass with no intricate designs or shapes, and it was about half the size of an American glass, so standard sized. The water that lay within was the melted remains of the purest snow from the highest mountaintops of the furthest mountains on a distant world. Of course, the man had no way of knowing that. All he knew is that he was thirsty and there was a glass of water sitting there, ripe for the taking.

Gingerly, he reached for the glass of life giving waters, and, to his surprise, found that he was indeed able to interface with it. After this realization hit him, the dehydrated young man began feverishly gulping down the sweet nectar of the gods that lay within. It felt as though the world had suddenly righted itself, and the young person was at his most joyous, savoring every last, bittersweet drop. Bittersweet for it was only so much and thus, was quickly extinguished. With a contented sigh, the young man took his first real look at where he lay. A forest. One in which it seems as though the daylight refuses to be let in. Stranger still, there was a distinct lack of animals and such about. The young man, whose name will now be disclosed for the first time, whirled about, lost, confused, and more than a little frightened.

It was then that for the first time in a long while that Alec spoke aloud, "Where the hell am I?"