Fights Like The Devil, Dressed As A Man

All right. 'Twas the end of the semester, and Edward would not be signing up for further classes from here on in. But as he had no interest in leaving the island - at least not until he had something lined up in the modern world, if they returned to it - and he wanted to earn a rather grander wage, he was browsing the class list regardless. Surely one of these teachers would still need an assistant?

Professor Lecter had seemed agreeable when he attended the man's classes, though he knew precious little about music. Or... hm. Professor Parker? Did she have another class this semester? Whatever she came up with had to be perfect...

Aye, the summer would shape up to be just fine.

[[ ed's last post on fandom for a while, though he has no idea. open! ]]

"Gnghghghghhhh," Edward said intelligibly, to the sun.

"Nrghghglkjgk," he added, a minute later. The sun continued to behave irrationally regardless.

"Mghghk," he sighed. The sun made a point of jabbing him repeatedly in the eyeballs.

He yanked the blankets over his head. It seemed like a sound compromise.

[[ ... can be open, yes. don't drink pan-galactic gargle blasters, children! ]]

Edward couldn't rightly say he'd thought he'd regret putting up the frills for Christmas, but he was swiftly turning back on that opinion. He'd caught the image of old, hungry holidays past spent bent over in a church pew several times yesterday. And while those memories had become a thing of the past, today brought whole new other surprises.

Some weren't so bad - bloody hell, in some he seemed to be living in the lap of luxury. In others, he saw himself walking about in strange clothes, blue and white, with a hood; like something a dandy would wear, except somehow more dangerous. There were redheads and raven-haired beauties and a large black fellow with scars on his face in others.

But the one that troubled him was this one: himself, bent over, rotting away in what looked like the worst bloody prison cell the devil himself had shat out.

He held it in his hand as he sat upon his bed, studying it. Perhaps there was some secret to it, or some meaning. Whatever it was, it left him unsettled.

[[ open! ]]

Edward hadn't been in the best of moods these past few days, since Isabelle's bizarre and insulting display at the beach had set his pride off on an angry tangent. Gone were the grins and the laughter-- he'd been all frustration and glares for a bit now. But by Wednesday, it was starting to fade - somewhat, and with the aid of yet another upsurge of his childhood sight.

It had been playing up more of late, since at least the carnival, if not the months before that. And it wasn't that he was unused to it, just... it had a tendency to be a relic of his dreams, a bit of leftover strangeness that left him smelling and hearing and watching better for a short while after waking. Now, though, it was starting to come up more often... and it was turning out to be more than simply an annoyance.

In evidence: Edward, sitting on his bed with his chalkboard in his hands. A skittering of something across the floor. His gaze, turning that way and catching the tail end of something his senses tagged as wrong, red. Except it wasn't just the tail... it was all of it, crawling up from its initial position by the doorway, trying to hide behind walls and furniture as it crept up on him. He could follow its movements the entire way, by sound and by... something else, he wasn't certain.

A loud thud, and the creature came falling straight out of the ceiling on top of Edward's bed-- but he was no longer there. Instincts combined with the sight sent him rolling off it, turning and lashing out...

... punted the bloody gremlin straight out the window.

"What in--" Edward said, staring at said window. He blinked once, twice, and then the reality of what had just occurred settled. "... That was amazing."

If he did say so himself.

(Outside, the gremlin landed relatively peacefully in the leaves of a tree, fired off a few curses, and shook his little fist at Edward's window. Vengeance would be his.)

[[ creaked door, open post! ]]

"Oh, I know what you are," Edward said. "I'll have no part of this."

There he stood, hooded modern shirt on over his breeches and chair in hand to fight off the beast that had taken refuge on the table in his room. His opponent: a small green beast holding a machine of some sort from which flooded loud music, of a kind he had never heard before.

"Out!" he called, pushing the chair at the creature in hopes of scaring it off.

The gremlin hissed at him and smashed the volume button on his Eye Pad device, which shouted something about Em Tee Vee, whatever the bloody hell that meant.

"I mean it!" Edward called.

This was looking to become a debacle, it was.

[[ door and post open! ]]

It had struck Edward that he looked somewhat out of place here. The clothes he wore, especially. So he had gone to the bank to trade what little coin he had on him for the local tender - which was not enough, but he was trying to remain on the right side of the law instead of defaulting to a brief fascination with pickpocketing from his youth.

It had taken some haggling - they had insisted they did not haggle, but that just meant you had to haggle harder - but he had at least managed to buy a shirt... and now that it was the next morning and he had to get dressed, he was giving the shirt a decent examination. It had a hood, that much was familiar, and it was white-- but he couldn't tell what kind of fabric it was made of.

He cast it back onto the bed and contemplated his choices: look a bit silly with this odd shirt pulled over his breeches, or look a bit backward - and rather smelly, for a place like this, which was just ridiculously pristine - with his old clothes.

That this meant he was standing shirtless in front of the open door, he didn't particularly care about. It was warm in here anyway.

[[ open post, open door ]]