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[Jk. It's short.]


((Janus))

The travel wasn't too bad, actually [read Magellan Wannabes for how non-event travelling normally works]. Smooth sailing, no battles (surprising!), and the old bird got him there in one piece.


And then there was the hotel.

It was always funny, really, how one little tiny hotel could attract so much big business. It only had 4 stories! Now, granted, it was a very nice facility. One of the best, truly. With its innovative tube-like design, gleaming white-glassed exterior, several gold adornments, and an inside rivaling any nobleman's palace, the place sure did have class.

But why the name "Grand Dakota"? They weren't even in a Dakota state, or at least where it had once stood...so strange. No matter what it looked like, thie place sure did rake in the dough. And without any main roads or sense of direction, that was saying something.

Hm. That's a new one. How did those big-business New Yorkers get here? Huh. Odd.


As soon as you pulled up to the diamond in the rough, Jona rushed out of the revolving crystal doors, donning one of his most comfy-looking leisure suits. His arms were wide open, and a smile was emblazoned across his well-aged, silvercapped head.


"Janus, my boy! What's the news!?"

((Janus))

The old man's mood changed not to one of anger, but more of...sadness.

"Well, then...it seems I'll have to have her killed. Shame. Anways," he continued with a sweeping gesture towards the lobby, "come inside! We'll make our way to the LeStrange. You know, our restaurant here? My treat? You must be famished! Come now, Janus, there's much to talk about!"

And with that, he turned on his heels and headed inside, bearing right towards a hallway that most definitely was not there before...

((Janus))

The place was very similar to its previous layout...everything was gold-adorned...real gold, too. The man had some kind of fetish for it. It was built much like a palace on the inside; roomy, glistening floors, large ornate pillars stacked next to the left-bound reception desk, a jovial air about it, worship corner to the Rozens...and elevators ahead. There was a small lounge are to the right now, decorated with comfy-looking leather sofas and the like. Also starboard was that hallway Jona headed off into. It bore no sign of a restaurant, but as Jona disappeared quickly by, a man strode past, donning a tuxedo and sporting a towel draped casually over his arm.

Probably...a waiter?

Hm. Well, it couldn't hurt to check, right?

((Janus))

Most definitely a waiter. Either that or it was a cheesy James Bond knockoff.

Which would be cool.

But sadly, this man was definitely a waiter.

Azreal tried his legs, wobbling to his feet. They seemed reasonably stable... enough for now, at least.

Pain was not an issue for Azreal right now so much as absolute disorientation. Teleportation itself did not cause much physical discomfort, but being ripped from the fabric of reality without the intention of doing really throws one off.

A forest. That was a start. But with no reference point, he couldn't exactly teleport to where he wanted to be...

Azreal tried to work out his choices through the magic of logic and reason.... not the easiest thing, when you have an altered perception of time and space.

The way he saw it so far, he needed to get north; that much was certain. But he could in no way, shape or form teleport all the way to the Arctic, and even if he could he still had no idea where exactly he was going.

He had to find civilization first... he needed a map and a least a bit of supplies. For now, it seemed like the best plan of action. Though he had to hurry.... before long, Subania would realize he was missing, and when that happened his face would be plastered on every store with but one word underneath it: WANTED.

Without hesitation he set off into what he perceived to be the least rough portion of the woods, hoping he would find something akin to a road.

The appearance of the bunnies ferocious forest beasts startled Azreal greatly, causing him to take a step back.

His vision was no longer holding true. The long ears slowly but surely bent and hardened, taking the appearance of daemon horns.

"Away, foul creatures! REALIZE!"

Focusing greatly, he vividly pictured a bus, concentrating on the teleportation of said bus directly above the heads of the diseased little monsters.

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