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Jordan had given the Silver a little time to think, gone to talk to the concierge and give orders that any of the Silvers or Blues who had returned from the Miasma gathering missions were to be allowed access to showers and fresh clothing; the moment of unconsciousness had caught him on the way back.

He opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling in the hallway. Ferros, he automatically called, then remembered that in this place Ferros was separate from him. s**t. He picked himself up and straightened his clothes. The Jordan that had lived here was fastidious to a fault, and appearing anything less than immaculate could be suspicious. A glowing mark had appeared on the back of his hand. That could be bad; he pulled his fingerless gloves out of his pocket and took a moment to pull them on.

He let himself fall into his other's confident stride as he returned to the room where he had left Ferros and the others, reminding himself as he entered that in public, he needed to look as if nothing had changed. Everything had changed, but he could fake it. This was a mission.

Ferros rose from one of the couches at the side of the room and moved to Jordan's side, staring down at him with subtle distress written across his face. "Jordan," he said quietly. His own moment had gone unnoticed, seated as he was.

"I know," Jordan said quietly. It was an effort to keep himself from pulling Ferros into a hug, comforting both of them, but his other would never have done that.

There was an edge to Candace's smile that hadn't been there before, and Jordan remembered seeing her waking up as well; the overlay of memories that told him about the other Candace struggled against his real memories for a moment, then subsided. How was he doing? He looked up to the stage, where Harrison sat; he'd need to go and make his report.

They had to -

It wasn't Harrison. Not the real one. They were here to bring the real Harrison home.

He pulled his attention back to Candace. "We've got a lot to do," he said. "We'll have to talk to the Boss, see what he thinks about the new instructions."

Ferros nodded to Po, giving the other weapon a grim smile. "I remembered something," he said. "Gotta talk to you sometime." He looked around the room, a worried frown appearing on his face. Tracey ... they needed to talk too. Soon.

Jordan shook his head. "He won't do it," he said, just as quietly. "Suggesting it - " He stopped, his mouth twisting down for a moment as his stomach sank. Harrison might trust his Advisor to send him to the battlefield. It was possible. The other Jordan would never have thought it; the echoes of his other's fierce pride and determination to see his King safe and their Kingdom whole were still hard to push away. "Maybe," he conceded. "But I'd have to be very convincing. I'll need to talk to the Silvers and to Rep and Jerry."

He could understand all too clearly how the other Jordan had become what he'd become. It was sickening and chilling. Himself, twisted just a little into something recognizable and yet utterly alien.

"I think you might have remembered something like it," Ferros said. He looked to Candace, then to Jordan. His mind was too quiet. This was strange and not right; he needed to be in Jordan's head - but out here, this way, he could touch ... He gave Atropos a tight smile.

Cee stayed settled at the bar and continued to watch the room. To her the strange antics of everyone present were not so strange considering she'd seen a tiger on drugs, ravens eating from a buffet and other such insanity on her first day here. People fainting and walking out didn't seem like it was out of the ordinary for this gang.

She'd occasionally mutter to Snap, odd since for all appearance the guardian didn't speak (at least not to anyone else). The gravity of sacrifice had no affect on the dark haired woman. She was not the type to volunteer herself to die. She hadn't signed over to this kingdom, taken on a rank, just to be used like a sacrificial lamb. She had no love, or care, to throw herself down to save anyone.

So she remained quietly waiting to hear which sucker threw themself on the pyre. Maybe this could be an opportunity for advancement. That would be nice.

At some point Jordan wandered off, it must have been when he was distracted with Olivia. He wandered over to get food when people started passing out. That was really odd. He sat and drank the rest of the wine he had on him while nibbling on some crackers. They were acting really oddly after words, was it the drugs? They seemed unstable.

And then he heard the voice, the black kingdom has fallen, already? Well he was glad it wasn’t the one he was in, but the next words chilled him to the bone. The voice asked for a sacrifice of pawns. Would this king also sacrifice pawns? He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to die… but it seemed he didn’t have a choice. It was go to the battle field now. If he didn’t pick a side, he would disappear, and the only option now what this one. But something was amidst, they were yelling at each other, and some where freaking out. Was this really the best side to choose? He would not have the chance to choose a side later, many of the kings would not show up and there would be nothing but fighting. He could either fight with this kingdom, or try to survive alone. He was very good at running away, but that meant no back up what so ever. He wished his brother was alive to help him, to tell him it was ok, but he wasn’t, and there was no turning back the clock on that. His only option of protection was in front of him but that came with the possibly the losing team, and this one was starting to fall apart, loyal or not. The panic in their eyes, he recognized it. Several had passed out. Something was wrong here.

He tried to think. He didn’t trust the voice, or them, or anyone. He wanted answers, but none were forthcoming. Hi mind mauled over his few clues. All he knew is it had something to do with the crowns, and maybe some items and clearly the kings who were made to war each other by the voice. The fighting was too much, pointless. There was no reason for it because if there were no survivors, there would be no one to rule. This was a blood bath, not a trial. And he didn’t want to die. He really didn’t want to die. He trembled under the realization that he may not make it through tomorrow, no matter what he choose.

Jordan set a hand on Rep's back, giving him a long look. He recognized the change in body language; the Rep that belonged to this bizarre world radiated arrogant confidence, an absolute certainty that he could do whatever he wanted. But Rep had woken up, and Jordan could see a familiar anxious tension, a drawing-in that didn't match the flashy exterior. He nodded to Rep, a silent reassurance. I know you're there; I understand.

He turned his attention back to the group then, nodding to Andrew. "Did you still want to speak to me?" he asked, trying to match the confidence of his other's voice.

Ferros looked gravely down at Tracey, unable to breathe for long moments. He didn't want to stay in this world, couldn't have stayed if he wanted to. But this was impossible anywhere else. It hurt. "Tracey," he said almost inaudibly.

Rep needed the contact and assurance so acutely it had been impossible to ask for, but Jordan was his Jordan, and he had never had to ask. He wanted to hug him, to hold him close and draw in the strength he needed to do this. He hadn't been strong or stable before they went in, too much waiting and worrying, and now those what ifs returned, what if Harrison never woke up, what if they failed, could he live with himself? He seemed to relax slightly under the touch, but his confidence levels would never equal those of his blue counterpart.

He looked on quietly as Jordan addressed the other man, one of the silvers he thought, trying to draw upon previous events and keep up to speed.

Tracey eyed Ferros with wide red eyes, not slitted like they should have been but that exact same colour they had been before. He was a mirror of Ferros' thoughts, impossible to stay but a place without golems or barriers. Carefully in-keeping with his other self's personality, he leaned up on absolute tiptoe to plant a kiss on his jawline. He didn't let go.