COMM: shifted_prompts - darkling
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 914
NOTES: HAHA I AM USING CHARLES WITHOUT XEL'S CONSENT. Because. Granted no one knows when these prompts are set so oooooo mystery.



The light of his bathroom made him look paler than normal. His dark hair was tangled, strewn around his shoulders and face in a chaotic mess. Man, he really had been sleeping rough. There was enough tossing and turning that he had somehow thrown himself out of bed just moments ago, regardless of the fact his bed was some ten feet wide. That, he concluded, was some fucking bad sleep.

Nathan brushed his hair out of his face with one hand; his other was keeping him balanced via the sink. He still felt a bit off- he had spent the past few minutes vomiting bile, and the minutes before, what was left of dinner. His mouth still tasted terrible, and he stuck his tongue out in some measure of disgust. At least that way he'd taste the air or something, not the inside of his mouth.

He fumbled at the faucet, awkwardly splashed some water in his mouth, and stared back at his reflection.

"I look like fucking shit," he said to himself as he pushed himself away, balance now fully intact (and put to the challenge - which challenge wasn't remotely the right word - via him taking a moment to scratch his ass). "Should take a shower... no. Maybe later."

He wasn't sure what time it was, but there was a nagging sense that it was way too early for him to be up. Maybe it wasn't too early for some people - Charles was the first name that came to mind, followed right after by Toki, but him? He made it a practice not to get out of bed until at least 8 am. Then he could get the double bonus of sleeping in and getting breakfast, which all worked out in the grand scheme of things.

No, no, it felt more like it was around six AM now. But he was up, and after that nightmare, he didn't exactly fancy getting his ass back in bed to catch a few more zs. He couldn't remember much about it now; just this fucking uncomfortable sense of whiplash and the sound of warping clocks. Something like that, he wasn't sure.

Once dressed, Nathan made his way to the kitchen. The halls of Mordhaus were dark at this hour, lit only with the orange glow of torches and candles. It was definitely still early; the few klokateers he passed were Graveyard shift members. It was fucking before 6 am. He hadn't woken this early for years, maybe not even since he was a kid and first having the dreams that would become a staple in his life. Jesus, he had to find a clock now. Too bad he didn't carry a watch.

The kitchen was abandoned. It didn't even have the orange glow of flame. It was just cold and dark and alone until he stumbled in there and yanked open the fridge. He sniffed at the milk before drinking that shit from the gallon, finally getting rid of that gross taste in his mouth. At least one problem was solved, now to deal about that fucking time problem. Where the hell was a clock around here, there was one somewhere, they did fucking have clocks after all, didn't they? By god he did not want to have to trek all the way up to Charles' office to see what time it was.

It was what he had to do anyway. It was who the fuck knew what time it was, he wasn't going to spend the extra energy to jump start his memory to figure out where the hell they hid all the clocks. (Or if they were even in a working state, sometimes it was just fun to take a hammer to things that you bought.) Like he had thought, Charles was up; he could see the glow of too many lamps from the frame of the door even when he was what was certainly fifty miles down the hallway.

Nathan stuck his head in. "Hey."

Charles peered up from his paperwork at him. "Nathan. You're, ah, up early. Any-"

"What time is it?"

"It's a bit after five AM," he replied, giving Nathan a bit of a curious look. Nathan could figure that one out, he guessed, even though Charles so courteously vocalized what his expression was already asking. "Is there any... particular reason you're awake?"

He stepped into Charles' office fully and grabbed a chair to flop down into. If he was up, he might as well kill time somehow, or at least for a few minutes. "No," he said automatically. "Yeah. I dunno, just had some fucking shitty sleep, I guess." He reached out to grab a pen to play with as he spoke.

"Mm. You want to, uh, talk about it?" Charles asked awkwardly, as he did 99% of the time when it came to anything of a personal nature.

Nathan grunted. "Nah, it's nothing, just- probably drank too much or something before bed, you know?"

He shot down any conversation from there; he hadn't come to talk, he came for the time, and just because he was hanging around didn't mean he felt like socializing. A few minutes passed before Charles accepted that Nathan apparently had no desire to leave him be - but also no apparent desire to be disruptive. It was something he could work around.

By the time Nathan left, an hour had passed in relative silence; not that there was much to talk about.

Besides, his thoughts were elsewhere.



And they were set to the sounds of an angry machine.