Continued from here.
Zi'da 58, Arc 721
Doran stopped dead in his tracks for a moment. He was not overly sentimental, and he was pretty sure – no, he knew – that the stranger was not him, not the same man that he had loved several centuries prior, but he could not help but look at him for a moment regardless. He couldn’t help but wonder why he looked so much like him, whether he was a relative, or whether that resemblance was just coincidence, another strange twist of fate in a row of strange twists of fate that he had experienced recently. When it seemed as if the man was about to turn around, he quickly pulled his gaze away again though.
He didn’t want to confuse him or make him uncomfortable; and besides, this was not the right time to look into such matters further. That man – as well as the other passengers of that ship – needed help, a warm place to stay, food and drinks more than anything else. For some reason, they seemed to believe that it was 521. Their clothes were exceedingly old-fashioned, as if they had indeed come from the past, but he was not inclined to consider time-travel right now.
He did not think that travelling back or forth in time was impossible – there likely was a way - but he would only think about that further when all other possible explanations had been disproved.
There was a hall close to the docks where the passengers could stay until the Order of the Adunih had arrived, taken a look at them and decided what to do, one of the men that were working there said. It was where the dock workers spent most of their breaks. It was not overly comfortable, but it would at least be warm. Since nobody else seemed to have taken charge so far, Doran thanked the mortal and approached the passengers in order to take them there, calmly assuring them once more that it would all be sorted out soon.
Those were not empty words. He was positive that he – or someone else - would figure out what was going on.
Regardless, he was aware of the fact that assuring the passengers that it would all be sorted out would only work for a limited amount of time. When they weren’t as tired anymore, when the first moments of confusion had passed, and they had had time to think, the questions would come, and they would likely come before an explanation had been found. He hoped that he would get some support soon, more than a couple of port workers and spectators that had offered to help, but were ultimately ill-qualified to deal with such matters.
(Not that he wasn't grateful for their presence. He definitely was!)
“Thank you”, he said to the baker he had talked to before and inclined his head. She had quickly procured a basket with various baked goods from her shop that was located nearby.
“If anybody’s hungry, feel free to take something. I believe that someone’s also making tea and bringing coffee, and if any of you have health issues that can’t wait until the Order of the Adunih has arrived – I’m a doctor as well”, he said to the passengers that were gathered inside now and let his gaze drift over them once more. None of them seemed to be in immediate need of healing. The curly-haired woman that had been talking so animatedly to one of the port workers before was sitting in a corner and watching the other passengers now. Miss Berensen on the other hand was watching him with interest.
He was just about to walk over to her because it seemed as if she might want something from him when he suddenly heard a voice behind him. “I always thought that Vhalar is the season when strange things happen. Someone said that it’s 721 and not 521. What’s the reason for this confusion in your opinion, and who of us is confused in your opinion, doctor?” a man asked him in a curious tone of voice.
When he turned around in order to find out who suspected him of having a problem (He was not mad about that; in on the contrary, it was a perfectly reasonable question in his opinion.), he suddenly found himself facing him. The man that looked so much like his dead lover – like his lover had looked in his youth – was standing there and looking at him expectantly.
Zi'da 58, Arc 721
Doran stopped dead in his tracks for a moment. He was not overly sentimental, and he was pretty sure – no, he knew – that the stranger was not him, not the same man that he had loved several centuries prior, but he could not help but look at him for a moment regardless. He couldn’t help but wonder why he looked so much like him, whether he was a relative, or whether that resemblance was just coincidence, another strange twist of fate in a row of strange twists of fate that he had experienced recently. When it seemed as if the man was about to turn around, he quickly pulled his gaze away again though.
He didn’t want to confuse him or make him uncomfortable; and besides, this was not the right time to look into such matters further. That man – as well as the other passengers of that ship – needed help, a warm place to stay, food and drinks more than anything else. For some reason, they seemed to believe that it was 521. Their clothes were exceedingly old-fashioned, as if they had indeed come from the past, but he was not inclined to consider time-travel right now.
He did not think that travelling back or forth in time was impossible – there likely was a way - but he would only think about that further when all other possible explanations had been disproved.
There was a hall close to the docks where the passengers could stay until the Order of the Adunih had arrived, taken a look at them and decided what to do, one of the men that were working there said. It was where the dock workers spent most of their breaks. It was not overly comfortable, but it would at least be warm. Since nobody else seemed to have taken charge so far, Doran thanked the mortal and approached the passengers in order to take them there, calmly assuring them once more that it would all be sorted out soon.
Those were not empty words. He was positive that he – or someone else - would figure out what was going on.
Regardless, he was aware of the fact that assuring the passengers that it would all be sorted out would only work for a limited amount of time. When they weren’t as tired anymore, when the first moments of confusion had passed, and they had had time to think, the questions would come, and they would likely come before an explanation had been found. He hoped that he would get some support soon, more than a couple of port workers and spectators that had offered to help, but were ultimately ill-qualified to deal with such matters.
(Not that he wasn't grateful for their presence. He definitely was!)
“Thank you”, he said to the baker he had talked to before and inclined his head. She had quickly procured a basket with various baked goods from her shop that was located nearby.
“If anybody’s hungry, feel free to take something. I believe that someone’s also making tea and bringing coffee, and if any of you have health issues that can’t wait until the Order of the Adunih has arrived – I’m a doctor as well”, he said to the passengers that were gathered inside now and let his gaze drift over them once more. None of them seemed to be in immediate need of healing. The curly-haired woman that had been talking so animatedly to one of the port workers before was sitting in a corner and watching the other passengers now. Miss Berensen on the other hand was watching him with interest.
He was just about to walk over to her because it seemed as if she might want something from him when he suddenly heard a voice behind him. “I always thought that Vhalar is the season when strange things happen. Someone said that it’s 721 and not 521. What’s the reason for this confusion in your opinion, and who of us is confused in your opinion, doctor?” a man asked him in a curious tone of voice.
When he turned around in order to find out who suspected him of having a problem (He was not mad about that; in on the contrary, it was a perfectly reasonable question in his opinion.), he suddenly found himself facing him. The man that looked so much like his dead lover – like his lover had looked in his youth – was standing there and looking at him expectantly.
