Work Text:
—out of time, out of place—
So long did he find himself outside of his time, outside of the place he should be—
Frozen in time, lost to one’s own thoughts, left with memories detached at the tip of his fingertips, the echoes just out of reach, always as if there were important things to remember, that he needed to remember.
—nameless—
Whatever name he went by, whatever name someone once called him, it needed to be found.
He found himself lost and in need of care.
And somehow—
What was lost to time, what was out of place, found itself back in the flow of time, in an actual physical place, a place that evoked feelings of remembering.
He couldn’t explain.
Name forgotten, he couldn’t explain why the place looked familiar, why the place brought on the feeling of longing, the need to discover whatever lay missing in that head of his.
Fingers pulled the hem of the cloak, the cloth worn and tattered, gotten from who knew where and when, as he attempted somehow to find his way home, to come all that way, for his homecoming.
He wandered the place, mind registering the familiarity of the place, seeing people while people didn’t notice him, wanting—
He didn’t know.
But then someone—
Certain people he saw from a distance drew his attention, yet he kept a distance, names not coming to his mind despite knowing he should know them. Approaching in turn felt wrong; something felt bad in the grand scheme of things, as with everything that felt so right about being in time and place —the time and place he thought right.
Hunger grumbled in his belly, reality of time setting back in, hitting him there in the center, yet he didn’t make a move, unsure of how to react, but as hunger grew, his mind became less keen, less able to—
—to go unnoticed.
And then someone did.
He thought he’d discovered a friendly face, even as the person frowned and walked towards them, as there seemed to be some form of recognition from them, as there existed some form of recognition on his part, though he couldn’t place names.
But then—