#notyourpocket o7

     He’d felt trapped by a dream at first. To wake up somewhere foreign yet so painfully familiar, left to sit upright in a bed not quite your own, yet pleasantly soothing no less, with eyes wandering from corner to corner to every oddity and every carefully placed piece of furniture presenting itself in comforting, gaudy forms. He was careful in freeing himself from the confines of an all too warm mess of blankets, noting vague imprints beside his own though dwelling no further in entertaining maddening thoughts through those little details. A blind guess made half in hopes of providing comfort and half thanks to mere ignorance; this was simply another portion of his Keep. One he’d simply not yet explored given the lack of blinding golden walls streaked with sunlight.

    It made sense for the moment... An illusion destroyed the very instant he’d pushed through that slightly ajar door, entering the hallway, staring down a spiral staircase then following its shape, step by step, to the first floor. This was no castle and certainly no home of his in which he could recall. The hefty weight of his scepter soon summoned into his hold. Turning the corner, expecting something equally as horrific to appear, joining the strangely shaped luxuries scattered throughout rooms causing a further cacophony of confused theories to litter an otherwise “empty” mind.

     To see another wasn’t entirely out of the question, yet still no less startling given that intimidating height. Instincts holds true in presenting that carefully crafted facade towards the face of danger; stance oh-so-cocky, chest jutted forward and chin held high, judging wears before facial features.