☽ The Path to Nowhere ➳ -- Stri & Hawk & Socks

Walking.
It was the first thing that Macon Ravenwood was aware of.
It seemed the first thing he could remember doing.
The man stopped, the dirt under his feet the first thing that he looked at. Then he tried to think at all.
Macon Ravenwood.
It was the only thing that came to his mind. It was the only words that his mind grasped for when he tried to find them. The rest of it was like a blank sheet of paper.
A hand went to his head and the man hunched a bit, the bridge of his nose pressed into the palm of his hand. There wasn't anything he could focus on other then probing his own mind for what he could almost tell he was missing.
He slowly turned in a circle, the one uncovered eye looking at the surrounding area. Behind him, there was just a road - dirt - leading away into the distance. It wasn't even an impressive distance. There was just the dirt that made up the road, bridged by grass that extended to the left and right, and no sign of a sign or an indication of where he had been walking from.
He turned again. Ahead of him, there was a different vista. There wasn't just grass, though that came up pretty close to the buildings. Instead, there was a destination.
So, thought Macon, the words feeling empty in his head as they rattled in there all alone. I was heading somewhere. But he wasn't sure why. Once again, he pressed a hand to his head. Then he blinked. That was an idea. He took his hand away from his head and started examining himself. Maybe there was a note? Something to tell him who or where he had come from?
He was wearing a suit. And he was at least pleased that he knew what a suit was. But there was nothing in the pockets other than a handkerchief. No pictures, no written records, nothing. There were no defining features on his hands or arms that he could finds. No way to tell if there was a tattoo or anything like someone else's name that might have been at all helpful. All he knew was his own name.
Great.
So, the only option was the town, unless he wanted to try walking back the way he had come. That seemed like a bad idea without knowing where he was going. Maybe, if there was someone in the town, he might find answers.
Seemed the most logical thing he could come up with.
Macon stepped forward, then continued toward the buildings. While he did, his eyes took in the other details. It was dark, but not pitch black. Night, but not that deep into it. None of the lights were on in the town, at least not that he could see. But he couldn't see very many details anyway. So he couldn't be sure if there were people there or if they were just all asleep.
"Hello?" he tried. Then he flinched a bit at the sound of his own voice. He knew that worked then. He just wasn't sure what it might attract.
The first couple buildings he passed didn't even have doors. He checked, but they were missing from their frames. The inside smelled unlived in and dusty.
He kept moving. One hand brushed against a wall as he went, but there was very little to see.
He seemed to be the only one here ...

One. Two. Three. Four.
This counting was the very first thing the thirteen year old boy was aware of, and as he became aware that he was aware, he realized that that was because he was moving.
Walking, he was walking, because he had legs, which wasn’t a surprise so much as new information. He searched around his head for something else, and come up with nothing but two words stuck together,
Pierre Chernova.
A name. His name. There was a lot of information trapped in a name, wasn’t there? He knew it was his and not someone else’s because he just knew, the same way he just knew that if he tried to speak his brain would remember how, and that he was supposed to have two legs and two arms and it was a good thing he did. What a strange thought that was.
He forced himself to stop walking. It wasn’t easy, perhaps he’d been doing it for so long that his body didn’t really remember how to do anything else. Or perhaps the connection between his brain and his legs wasn’t quite up to date. Either way, he did manage to bring himself to a halt, and as he did he turned and looked behind him.
Nothing. Nothing but his footsteps, leading back farther than he could see in a perfectly straight line. He blinked, perplexed by that somehow more than he had been when he first became aware of himself, and turned back to the way he’d been facing before.
There was a town there. It wasn’t close, but it wasn’t exactly far either, and he thought he could make it there if he tried. He slowly realized that he was tired, but he pushed that thought away, because it wasn’t helpful. Of course he was tired, how long had he been walking before he’d become aware of it?
“Pierre Chernova.” He said out loud, testing his voice. It was significantly higher than he’d expected it to be, and he almost flinched at the shock of hearing it, but he held himself steady and waited for something to happen.
Nothing happened. He licked his lips, thoroughly unsettled. Maybe there was something more at the town. Maybe there would be answers there, or at least...something. He turned and began to walk faster, towards the buildings in the distance.
He was thinking as he walked. Why couldn’t he remember anything? Why was he here, in the middle of nowhere? How old was he? He didn’t feel that young, but then again he probably wouldn’t. He wanted answers, more than he wanted anything else. Who was he?
The town was close enough for him to see it better now, and he stopped and stared. The houses he could see didn’t have doors. Some didn’t even have frames. It was too dark out to see many details - oh, was it night? He realized he was probably late evening - but he could see that the place looked abandoned. He walked slower now, tiptoeing like he didn’t want to wake the ghosts he could almost feel, and stopped again right at the edge of the town.
If ever a place had felt haunted. He peered around, wide-eyed, at the old homes. The dusty dirt roads. The....lack. It was so dead he felt unwelcome being alive, like if he stayed too long he’d become just another ghost. He swallowed, licked his lips...and headed in. What else was he supposed to do?
It wasn’t better inside the abandoned town. In fact, it was worse.
He was being quiet still, and he found his eye taking in the dust like it was an antique painting. He sketched out the shadows in his head, stopping at the least aesthetically pleasing buildings to try and imagine what they were like when they were new. He probably could have gone on like that for quite a while if he hadn’t heard the echo of a human voice.
He didn’t move. How first idea was that there really were ghosts, but he shook that thought away as best he could, because so what if it was? He still had to go see. And if he died, at least he had a place that seemed to welcome the dead.
He considered calling out, but decided against it. Instead, he moved softly towards the two hello?s, and stopped when he saw the first shadow of another human. Did ghosts have shadows? He didn’t know. Maybe he was a ghost....

Orpheus started as the voice he had heard came into view. He didn’t know what he had expected. Another person, perhaps, but for some reason he hadn’t expected it to be a person that looked like Macon. He didn’t know for sure that anything he knew was true, though, and he didn’t know what he looked like, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised by Macon. Either way, he didn’t think that the man in front of him was being exactly honest. There had been a moment of hesitation before he had asked his question, as though he had been about to say something else and then decided better against it. Nonetheless, Orpheus didn’t feel too scared. If Macon were really a threat, he wouldn’t have been so quick to call out and alert others about his presence.
The young man hadn’t been aware of the third person lurking in the shadows, however. He frowned as Macon addressed them, squinting as though he could make out the form, when really he couldn’t quite. Was that person a threat? Macon didn’t seem to think so, and Orpheus saw no reason to distrust him as of yet. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could trust himself. It wasn’t as though he were a valid source of information, what with the ‘not knowing anything except his name and maybe a few vital pieces of information’ thing.
“No,” he agreed softly, his voice still sounding quite strange to him. “No, I don’t believe anyone lives here. If you’re looking for someone, and it’s not one of us, then they’re probably long gone.” Orpheus hoped that answer didn’t prompt the man in front of him to start asking questions. Orpheus knew for sure he wouldn’t be able to answer them, but that didn’t mean the others here knew it either.
“I’m Orpheus, by the way,” he offered, a small smile on his lips. He was awfully quick to share the only part of himself that he had ownership of, and he seemed to think nothing of it. What could be the harm anyway? It wasn’t as though he knew for sure that it was the name he had held before he had found himself wandering that road. He could easily have been given an alias, or it could be his real name. But whoever Orpheus had been before, he was gone now. “I’ve never been here before, I don’t think.” He met Macon’s gaze for just a moment, unsure if he was doing the right thing by speaking, by letting himself be known, by opening himself up in a world that was empty and cold and so lacking in anything that felt even vaguely human. It was so silent it almost hurt, and Orpheus wanted to break the silence. How, though? His voice seemed to be naturally quiet, and even if he could fill the town with sound, he didn’t think the two others that had ended up here would welcome that.
“You don’t have to be afraid, if you are. Of me, I mean,” he told the figure that was still lurking in the shadows. He didn’t get the feeling that either of the people here were afraid of him. It wasn’t like he was intimidating, based on first impressions of himself. Would it be worth it to try to chance that? Orpheus, for whatever reason, found the idea repulsive.

Much like Pierre, Macon was taking everything in like a sponge desperately trying to sop up water. There wasn't enough information and all three of them were dancing around each other throughout the whole conversation, so even Macon wasn't certain if he was being lied to or not. He could hear heartbeats, and something told him the small interruptions in their beats meant lying, but he wasn't sure. How could he really even be sure about assumptions when he wasn't even sure about facts.
"Nice to meet you," he said, words almost curtly delivered to Orpheus in favor of paying more attention to Pierre. He didn't like him.
Most of the reasons Macon could find for not liking him was because he'd asked a question he didn't know the answer to.
"Here?" he questioned instead. "There's no-one here but you two." If they were the only two here, that was. At least Pierre's answer proved that Macon wasn't looking for him and Orpheus' lack of answer proved the same. Macon had decided he was looking for someone. Whoever knew anything about him, that was who.
Pierre's question hovered. "No idea," Macon said languidly after a second. His voice had dropped into a lower pitch, as if that made him sound calmer. It at least made his face seem more so. "I don't think this is the town I'm looking for." How could it be with no people in it.
"Macon Ravenwood," he finally added. "My name." Then he added, because honestly how could he be sure? "What I'm called." That at least could be true for now.
"And you," he said, body dipping a little as he indicated Pierre. "What's your name?"
He looked at Orpheus then, doing exactly what the man hadn't wanted to do. "And how long ago would 'long gone' be? As in ... could I catch up with anyone?" If he just had some idea where he was from or wherever he was going then maybe someone could take it the rest of the way.

Pierre didn’t answer right away. He was thinking, his eyes darting back and forth between the two older people as he tried to read them.
He got the distinct impression that Macon was lying about something, and that Orpheus was not. He didn’t know why he thought that, or what to do with it, but he did angle his body slightly so that he could run if either of them tried anything. Trust issues? He thought he had a decent excuse for it at the moment.
Should he give his name? For some reason, the idea was terrifying. Maybe it was because it would be giving away the only thing he knew about himself, the only thing he had to cling onto his identity with. Assuming it was even the name he’d originally had, of course.
That sent a shiver down his spine, because what if it wasn’t? What if the only thing he had in his head was a lie? He didn’t know how to deal with that at all.
But if it wasn’t real. Then what was the harm in giving it away? He looked at Macon, assessing the other man carefully. The other two strangers had given their names apparently freely. Did that mean they had their memories?
He was overthinking this. The best thing to do was pretend he was fine, act natural, and look for an opportunity to figure out some answers.
“Pierre Chernova.” He said as boldly as he could, dipping his head to Macon in acknowledgment? He didn’t smile, but he didn’t exactly not smile either. His expression was guarded, but fairly neutral. These weren’t his enemies yet.
“I’ve never been here before, either.” He added, Orpheus’s confession giving him some encouragement. Maybe they didn’t know what was going on either, after all. He wanted to believe that, but he didn’t want to believe it without a good reason. For now, he knew nothing at all, not even whether he had a real name before he was given “Pierre”, so he would assume nothing. For now, he just wanted to find somewhere safe, whatever that meant.
He sighed, deflating slightl. Someone had to ask the obvious question here. He didn’t want it to be him, but he didn’t want it pointed at him either, and he could tell someone was going to ask it sooner or later. Why not him?
“Where are you guys from?” He asked, them took a quick step back, as though he expected them to attack him for it. Even he wasn’t sure what reaction he expected. Just that the air was tense enough to be cut and he wanted it to stop.

Orpheus looked almost taken aback by Pierre’s question. It wasn’t that he was offended or anything, it was just that… well, he hadn’t been expected to have been asked that question. It hit home in the worst way possible, the knowledge that at one point he had probably had an answer, but he wasn’t from anywhere anymore. At least not that he could remember. He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to put any burden on these people if they found out they were dealing with someone who didn’t remember anything about who they were or where they were from or what they were doing here. The last thing Orpheus wanted to do was place any strain on these strangers, because that would ruin his chance to make a good first impression. It would certainly ruin any chances of getting information if they thought he was a burden from the outset. He was fishing around for an adequate answer when Macon’s words cut him to the core.
I don’t know. Simple enough words, but not in regards to that question, not to something you were supposed to know. Orpheus waited for the other shoe to drop – maybe Macon was just accustomed to moving around a lot and therefore didn’t have a place that he considered himself “from.” There could be any number of possible explanations, it wasn’t right to assume they were in the same boat. Until he heard what else Macon had to say.
“I don’t know anything,” he whispered, voice soft and light, floating in the air like a bubble just waiting to be popped. He glanced between Pierre and Macon. “Other than my name, I mean. I know that, and I know that this is a town that seems to be abandoned, and that whoever I was before, I was heading here. For some reason.” Was that even an assumption that could be made? Whatever had caused him to lose his memory may have set him on a track he would never have taken of his own volition. He had no reason to believe that the Orpheus from before would ever have ended up here. “I’m sorry I can’t be much more help.”
It was disappointing, sure, that Macon couldn’t give him all the answers, but part of Orpheus didn’t care. It meant he wasn’t alone in what he was experiencing, it meant that they were on even ground and they could figure this out together. It also meant that what had happened to him probably wasn’t just a freak accident or a fluke or anything lik that. If there were two people with no memory in the same place, then there could be no coincidence. Right? Orpheus realized he had no idea whether this was normal or not, but he did have a feeling that humans weren’t supposed to just lose their memory and wind up in abandoned towns. Of course, he had no proof of that – it could have been incredibly common for all he was aware.
It wasn’t until then that Macon’s tone registered. Orpheus was beginning to realize he may not be the best at reading people’s tones. He took a step back, hoping that Macon wasn’t about to attack. While Orpheus had been rejoicing in the fact that he wasn’t alone in whatever they were dealing with, Macon seemed to be preparing to either attack or defend – and Orpheus wasn’t sure which one.

It was as if the tension had drained out of Macon. The relief he felt that he wasn't alone was palpible. There wasn't a really clear sign from his face that this was the case, but the set of his shoulders seemed to ease a bit.
If he was compared to the other two people in front of him then it would have been clear that he was far more capable of regulating the emotions which appeared on his face. That didn't mean he didn't have any. It just meant that he was more effective at keeping the same neutral expression on his face that he might have warn otherwise.
He didn't know if that was normal for him. Or even if he had a normal.
"Yes," Macon confirmed, not really apologizing so much as stating an unfortunate fact. "I was lying."
Curiously, he looked at Pierre, his eyebrows arching just a bit more than usual to express the fact that he was doubtful.
"I assume it is your name," Macon pointed out. "If you have no memory of who you were before coming here, then why not claim it as your own. At least until another outcome presents itself."
It seemed like a logical conclusion, but it was also a way for Macon to stall. He wanted to wait a couple seconds to get his thoughts in order before he addressed Pierre's question. Then he said, "I was walking down a road, facing in this direction. When I looked back, there was nothing other than grass to see."
His statement was almost soft and he looked over at Orpheus. Orpheus probably hadn't noticed he was fidgeting, but Macon had. He made a mental note of it but made no effort to call attention to the actions.
"Interesting though," said Macon, turning his head so he could take in both Pierre and Orpheus at once. "What language are we speaking?"
He knew the concept of language. The fact that creatures had different ways to communicate. He knew how humans communicated and that it varied. But he couldn't for the life of him remember what language was coming out of his mouth.
He gestured at Orpheus. "What is your opinion on the matter?" He was quiet. Which usually meant someone was thinking. Macon wondered how he knew that. Did he have experience with thinkers? Or was it simply that he could tell that Orpheus had something about him that desired to be heard.
"I don't suppose there is any sort of ..." Macon couldn't believe he was saying this word, though he didn't really know why it annoyed him. "Clue around this place."
As it stood, it was getting colder as the sun set.

Pierre nodded, neither surprised nor offended that Macon had indeed lied to his face. It wasn’t like they knew each other (anymore, anyway) and he’d done the same thing, hadn’t he? He had the impression lying wasn’t really socially acceptable, but neither was having no idea who you were. He didn’t feel like he had a lot of room to be indignant. Besides, he had other things to think about.
The thirteen-year-old considered the other two, both of whom were quite a bit taller than he was. He wondered what they saw when they looked at him, what sort of impression they got of him, and whether it was right. His green eyes flicked between their faces, gauging their expressions as best he could with no idea what expressions meant.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had some instinctive knowledge of basic expressions, and he could tell that Macon especially was tense, although less so now it seemed. Pierre, too, was less tense now. It helped, apparently, knowing you weren’t lost alone. Knowing someone else was struggling along beside you, no idea which way was up.
He shook his head. He needed answers, not companions. Where was here? Why were they in this abandoned town, with no memory of how they’d come to be there? It was frustrating, not being able to solve the mystery of your missing memories because you, well, lacked memory. He couldn’t remember what was normal or what to expect, anyone he knew who could have done this. It was maddening.
“Because I don’t know if it was my name before.” He pointed out, slightly annoyed that this hadn’t been obvious to Macon. “I don’t like not knowing. It feels...like I don’t really have a name at all.”
What a lonely concept, being nameless. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any this, but that....may have been one of the worst parts, if he was being honest.
“I don’t think this is normal either.” He agreed, nodding at Orpheus, his dark brown curls bouncing with the movement. “We are communicating somehow, though, right? Unless only one of us is actually real, and the other two are just figments of their imagination. Maybe one of us is in a coma and dreaming the other two.”
He was questioning everything now. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but he wasn’t sure it was exactly helpful right now. Then again, could he stop?
Apparently not.
He exhaled loudly. “Maybe we should explore.” He suggested. “At least figure out what ‘here’ is like. Maybe we’ll find more people like us along the way, or at least confirm that we’re probably the only ones here.”
It seemed like a good first step, and Pierre didn’t want to stand around anymore. It was getting colder and darker, but instead of wanting to sleep, he felt very, very awake. Side effect of....whatever this was....maybe. Or maybe he was just a night person.

Orpheus looked between Pierre and Macon, trying to figure out what was going on in each of their heads. He had to admit that Pierre’s theory rang true with some of the thoughts that he wasn’t particularly keen on acknowledging. The ones that told him that even what little he thought he knew was a lie, he just needed to stop fooling himself. He shook his head to try to clear it. Orpheus was his name now, whether or not that had been the case before. He would be Orpheus until he learned otherwise, and if he got attached to the name he would continue to be Orpheus regardless.
“We don’t have to be the people we were before,” he murmured, hoping that it was a gentle reminder to Pierre. “If we spend all of our time trying to be who we were before, we’re going to waste the time we have now. We might as well establish ourselves here as who we want to be, with no constraints on us based on who we were. It might not be the reason we’re here, but it might be nice to have a second chance. To make ourselves the way we wish to be instead of the way we were made beforehand, right?” Even if his two companions didn’t agree with him, Orpheus knew that dwelling too much on who he used to be would just cause more heartache than anything else. He wasn’t particularly inclined to worry about it when there were more important things they could be doing. Like figuring out what image they wanted to put out in the world, and who they wanted to be now that they had the chance to be anyone. Or perhaps Macon was right and they were both going a little too quickly. Perhaps the best immediate course of action would be to try to find somewhere safe to spend the night, as it was getting darker. Orpheus didn’t exactly feel tired, but he didn’t think he felt safe in the town with the sun going down so quickly. There was no guarantee that any of the streetlights would light up tonight, and he wasn’t keen on being trapped in pitch darkness. If they were to be stuck here awhile – and Orpheus was fine staying as long as he didn’t have anywhere better to go – they would have to find a way to make sure the streetlights worked and some of the doors in the abandoned houses closed. At least Orpheus hoped they were abandoned, because if they weren’t… he didn’t look forward to meeting anyone who willingly lived in a place like this. He could tell that the town, at one point, had probably been nice, but it must have been a very long time before.
Orpheus tensed as Macon suggested that they follow him. Well… offered to allow them to. Of course he would be more comfortable if there were others with him walking around the place, but he didn’t feel particularly inclined to follow Macon around and let him choose where they went.
“Maybe we should split up, to cover more ground,” he suggested with a small shrug. “We can have a signal to let the others know that we’re alright, or if we’ve found anything of import. The town seems small enough that we can probably get to each other if something happens, and I don’t want to have us still poking around by the time there’s no light left.” He didn’t think the others would necessarily consider his suggestion, but it was what made the most sense to him. He didn’t want to be poking around in the dark even with other people. There was too much that could catch them by surprise. As it was, the lengthening shadows of dusk were sending chills down his spine. He just wanted to know for sure that they were alone. Or he wanted to find someone friendly who would be able to help them out. And as great as it had been to realize that he wasn’t alone in what he was struggling with memory-wise, he didn’t think he wanted the find many other people in the same situation. Too many people that were lost and confused just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Orpheus' idea was curious to Macon. But also very unsettling. Caught up in his own thoughts for a second and already several yards away from the other two, he paused. He looked down at his hand. Could there have been something bad in his past - something which he would want to forget.
Without having the memories he would never know for sure, but he knew one thing ... as he was now, the idea that he was missing something was nearly nightmarish. He couldn't think about it, not without panicking just a little.
He pushed the thought away, looking away from his hand, and said over his shoulder, "Skye it is." He blinked owlishly a couple times. "I will stick with Macon Ravenwood." He glanced at Orpheus, not because he was suggesting the man would want to change his name, but because he was about to comment on the rather nerve-wracking idea of splitting up. Then Skye voiced the same opinion that Macon had on the matter.
"That," he said, nodding at the younger man. "Is exactly why I would find it rather distasteful to split up."
He hadn't really thought too much about what might happen to him if they split up. He was only considering Orpheus and the much younger Skye. He didn't want them to be injured by anything outside their control. As it was ... he didn't think that he would be in any danger.
Which was a thought that was odd in itself. What gave him the idea that he would be any more safe than Orpheus or Skye?
"We can at least go in the same direction to start with," Macon said. "It is getting dark and it seems likely that there might be some issues from that we might want to avoid. At the very least the cold."
He waved down the block. He could see fairly well in the dark, but didn't think much about it. "There are some houses down there that look like they might be in slightly better condition. One has a door, for starters."
He turned away again, beginning to walk forward.

Skye nodded, smiling in relief as the other two accepted his name change without so much as batting an eye. He was touched, really. They could have told him to just stick with what he’d introduced himself as, and then what would he have done about it? They were the only people around who could call him by any name at all, he couldn’t exactly go find someone else.
He was glad he didn’t need to.
That settled, he turned his attention back to the other matters at hand. “Do you think there are other people around here?” He asked Orpheus, blue eyes wary as he watched the other man, then glanced at Macon. He got the sense that Macon was the unspoken leader of their little group, though he wasn’t sure why he thought that. Maybe it was just because the older man seemed more on the decisive side than the other two....
He also wasn’t sure what he thought about the idea of other people living here. For one thing, that meant there was some reason why they were keeping to themselves, assuming they were conscious and able to move.
Oh dear. He didn’t like that thought. He knew he couldn’t assume anything, which meant the only thing to do was....
“I agree.” He said simply. “I think we should look in the houses. There could be anything in there, including information about who and where we are. One with a door seems best.”
He moved, beginning to walk after Macon. Maybe he didn’t know anything, maybe he wasn’t even sure he wasn’t just a brain in a bottle of liquid in some lab somewhere, but he was going to find out as much as he could. He glanced at Orpheus. “Coming?”

Orpheus looked between the two, hesitating before following. He was discovering quite quickly that he wasn’t much a fan of following other people. Because there was no denying that Macon’s idea was a good one, but because he seemed so confident that was the only step he could take and he had decided for the group that they were going there.. well, Orpheus didn’t want to. But saying that would just cause trouble, and he didn’t exactly want to split up. Distantly, he wondered if he’d been the leader of something, before. It seemed unlikely given what else he’d discovered of his temperament, but this aspect of himself was likely to cause issues later down the line if he didn’t suppress it. He didn’t want to start a fight. Not over something as stupid as not wanting to follow Macon just because Macon seemed to want them to follow. And he had a bad feeling about the house. He had a bad feeling about the entire town. Deep down, he knew that they were probably alone.
“We’re not only looking for people,” Orpheus murmured after a moment, brushing past Macon to go further inside. He was grateful that Macon opened up the offer for them to go inside as well. The house felt… dead, in a way. Orpheus didn’t know how he could tell that, but it felt like there hadn’t been people in a very long time. He didn’t know what he expected from the small house – a map pointing out where they had all been born and where, exactly, they were now was a bit far fetched, but it would’ve been nice. The young man’s fingers tapped on the side of his pant leg again in a silent rhythm as he moved from room to room.
“There’s nothing personal in here anywhere,” he commented, sure that the other two had also come to that conclusion. It was like if this had ever been a home, it had been a long time since. There were no cooking materials laid out in the kitchen from the last time the family had a meal, there were no books lying open on tables or anything else that suggested that the house had ever been lived in. The chairs at the table seemed to have been moved slightly from a perfect setup, but Orpheus was more ready to attribute that to rats or a particularly strong draft than to the presence of other humans here. “I’m going deeper in,” he said quietly, moving through the kitchen into one of the other rooms of the house. There were still bedsheets on the bed, but the desk was barren and empty. Disappointed, Orpheus peered back at Skye and Macon.
“I was hoping to find some paper and a pen, or something. To write something and leave it here, so if anyone comes back they’ll know someone was here looking for them. Or… well, if anyone else like us comes, they’ll know they aren’t alone.” It was a nice thought, but it wouldn’t mean anything if they couldn’t find any paper or a place to stay for the night. “Or so we could make a map of the town as we go. I’m not keen on the idea of getting lost,” he admitted softly, tugging at the bandana around his neck. He felt like he was missing something. It nearly tore at him, but he couldn’t figure it out. He pushed the thought away. “Unless either of you has any better idea what to look for here maybe we could try a few more houses.” Unspoken was the thought that Macon was also keeping to himself: they were completely alone here. Which would have been fine if they had any idea which way to head to reach another town that could help them. Surely, if they had all arrived by walking, there was something close enough to walk to.

If it had just been him making the suggestion, than Macon was pretty sure that Orpheus would have overruled him at once. Orpheus did not seem to like him at all, though that might just be the feeling that Macon was getting from him.
Skye, however, was the one who really made a convincing proposition to stay where they were.
"I'd be willing to do that tomorrow," Macon said to Orpheus. He looked around, wondering for a very brief second if he was the sort to placate another. He decided in very quick order that he was not. If Orpheus wanted to locate pen and paper, then Macon was willing to let him find it himself.
"Thank you," he said to Skye, his voice almost stiff, but at least respectful. He didn't overlook the fact that Skye was the one offering to look out for them. If Macon was going to trust, he needed to trust these two. There wasn't much of a choice, though he would do his best to make a different one if he had one presented to him.
"I will be over here," he said, walking in the direction of what must have been a living room. From there he sat down in one of the chairs. He didn't think there was anything else which could be done for the time being, though he did suppose that there might be something else in the building that was not a living human.
Macon crossed his arms and leaned his head back. The concept of sleep was familiar to him. Skye had mentioned it and Macon knew what it was, though he couldn't help staring at the inside of his eyelids and trying to work out the steps. None of it came. There was nothing which hinted that he should fall asleep either. No tiredness in the limbs or a fuzziness behind his lids. Those were vague notions that he felt like he should be experiencing, but he wasn't ...
Macon sat there, thinking about it, eyes closed. He wasn't aware that not only had he approached the whole situation hastily, but that he was also incapable of sleeping. But he was trying to anyway.

Skye blinked, startled as the other two took to his suggestion without so much as a nervous you aren’t going to kill me in my sleep, are you?
He wasn’t complaining, though. He almost actually smiled in spite of their unfortunate circumstances, then stopped as he realized that it probably just meant he was paranoid. He didn’t really feel paranoid, but then again, what did paranoia feel like? He thought about it, but nothing came to mind and he was forced to conclude, yet again, that he didn’t know what he was talking about.
Once the shock of having no memories had...not faded, exactly, but died down a bit, it seemed more like an annoyance than anything. He wanted to know who he was, who he knew, who knew him. He didn’t want to be trapped in a town with two strangers his instincts couldn’t make up their mind about. That was just unsettling.
He wondered whether the other two felt the same way. How were they really taking this? They looked fairly calm, sure, but they might be completely freaking out on the inside and no one would know. No one would probably know, he corrected himself, because that was a leap he wasn’t willing to make now.
He nodded at Macon, then Orpheus, as they each picked a place to settle down. Interestingly, neither of them took the couch, which he immediately inspected in case there was some obvious reason for that that he’d missed.
There wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he supposed they had their reasons. And how did he even know that couches were meant for sleeping on?
No, that one was obvious, they looked comfortable. It was common sense to sleep on something soft, he supposed, unless that was personal preference. Then he shook his head, trying to stop himself from being completely absorbed in his own thoughts. He got the impression he was capable of doing nothing but thinking for hours on end if he wanted to.
Which, in this case, he didn’t. Skye half turned, sitting so he could see both his companions and outside at the same time. Maybe he was paranoid, maybe he wasn’t, but he was not about to get stabbed in the back because he was stupid enough to stop paying attention. That just wasn’t happening.
It sounded like Orpheus, at least, had fallen asleep. Skye listened, but he couldn’t tell about Macon. Well, could he blame him is he hadn’t? Falling asleep in this situation was going to be tough no matter how tired you were, and Skye didn’t expect himself to do it easily when his turn came.
Speaking of, how was he supposed to know when a couple hours had gone by?
He frowned in the dark. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d just have to wing it, apparently.
He wished Macon would fall asleep.