[Liem has reached the point in his explorations of Venera where his lucidity tends to come and go. One moment he’ll be stopped at an intersection, writing notes in the small journal he’s taken for this trip, and then the tide of idyllic vagueness will come back in and he’ll lose long minutes standing in place, or wandering aimlessly as his feet amble on without any fixed destination. He knows by now that the encroaching confusion will only get worse, and that he should find assistance to purge him of its effects. The problem is that he only knows these things some of the time. It’s difficult to track down much in the way of help when you’re too scrambled half the time to even recall when or where you were hoping to meet any.
At the moment, his awareness has definitely reached a low ebb. Liem is meandering down a side street with his journal held loosely in one hand, squinting dozily in the watery light of early dawn, and he doesn’t seem to be particularly aware of his surroundings. This is evident enough in the way he wanders unthinkingly out of the shadow of the gabled buildings, flinching faintly when the sun hits him, but making no effort to return to the deep shade on the other side of the street. He looks wraith-like in the dawn, his dark robes dusty and unkempt as though he’s been wearing them all night, his feet leaving not so much as a shadow behind him on the cobbles.
But more evident is the way an opportunistic Veneran local, taking advantage of the glut of spaced-out victims wandering around the streets, walks up behind Liem and shoves him bodily into the side of a nearby townhome, keeping him squashed against the stone without fielding so much as a complaint. The journal flutters to land messily on the cobbles as Liem blinks in confusion, struggling back to awareness as though from a deep sleep. He only catches half of what his assailant is saying as the man pricks him encouragingly with a pocket knife.]
Lumine
At the moment, his awareness has definitely reached a low ebb. Liem is meandering down a side street with his journal held loosely in one hand, squinting dozily in the watery light of early dawn, and he doesn’t seem to be particularly aware of his surroundings. This is evident enough in the way he wanders unthinkingly out of the shadow of the gabled buildings, flinching faintly when the sun hits him, but making no effort to return to the deep shade on the other side of the street. He looks wraith-like in the dawn, his dark robes dusty and unkempt as though he’s been wearing them all night, his feet leaving not so much as a shadow behind him on the cobbles.
But more evident is the way an opportunistic Veneran local, taking advantage of the glut of spaced-out victims wandering around the streets, walks up behind Liem and shoves him bodily into the side of a nearby townhome, keeping him squashed against the stone without fielding so much as a complaint. The journal flutters to land messily on the cobbles as Liem blinks in confusion, struggling back to awareness as though from a deep sleep. He only catches half of what his assailant is saying as the man pricks him encouragingly with a pocket knife.]
—your jools. Now, you dozy moron!