Tommyinnit Oneshots

Lost Time (part 2)

He woke up, scared and alone. He was in a room that he had never seen before, and his senses were being overcharged with so many unfamiliar things. Memories danced around in his head, darting away before he could clearly see what they were. There was a moment that his thoughts began, but it was more like restarting a car engine. He knew things- basic human etiquette and whatnot- but there wasn't memories about how he came to know.

All he had was his name, Tommy, and the instinct to, above all else, survive.

He looked around the room. He was in a bed, the sheet sweaty against his bare legs like he had woken up from a nightmare. There was a small, wooden chest at the foot of the bed and a window revealing sunlight. That was it. It was a small, square box of a room without stylization or decoration. Tommy had never been in a room like this before. The other room he remembered was dark, basked in a blue light with a stage that separated a metal machine from desks.

Comparing the two rooms, the one he was in now definitely seemed homier and warmer. The room he originally woke up in had been a laboratory of some sort. This room may have been tiny and nearly empty, but there was a certain air of undeniable comfort that radiated off the walls. Tommy knew that someone had lovingly built this room. Maybe it was for someone they had loved once, or it had been abandoned when a child grew away from their parents. Tommy touched the wall behind him. A tingling buzzed through his nerves before forming a thought in his mind. This room had been built by an old craftsmen for his daughter, who had died when a plague ravaged the land. The man couldn't stand to stay in this house, so he sold it to a young couple... Karl, S...

The door opened slowly, inch by inch with a creaking whine. Tommy rolled off the edge of the bed with easy agility. He leaned down, eyes peeking over to keep watch on who was entering. Tommy instinctively reached into a pocket dimension to remove the one item he carried with him, no matter what. An item that he didn't recognize, but knew was there because something in his soul knew it was there instead of his memory.

Laevatien, the name card reads. Tommy shivers at the title. An epithet accompanied the chilling feeling: slayer of the beloved. The sword bore that extension to its title, but Tommy had the sinking feeling that he was once a slayer of the 'beloved'. Whose beloved, he wasn't sure. The double sided blade was like glass, entirely see through and sharper than that. The hilt was wrapped in red leather, something sewn into the ribbon. Tommy could sense that this sword had killed hundreds, and dread spiked in his heart as he remembered the face of someone pressed against Laevatien, their body slack and eyes empty against the bloodied blade. Tommy didn't like the sword, but his instinct to survive wouldn't allow him to let it go.

"Calm down, kid. I brought food," The man said, speaking in the tongue that Tommy thought in. The other male, Tommy remembered him now, communicated in garbles like a Mob monster. This man, with his matching blue beanie and jacket with white and black accents across it, was speaking in the words that Tommy could put a definition to. That made him feel better about the situation.

Food. Tommy felt his stomach lowly growl. Tommy placed a hand against the cloth of his gray shirt, the warmth seeping to the skin on his lower abdomen. Tommy licked his lips in an attempt to taste the food before it was placed in front of him. The man eyed Tommy warily before putting the plate on the edge of the bed. The man took two long steps back, hands up to show he was weaponless. Tommy crawled back onto the bed hesitantly, sword raised before him. His eyes flicked from the man to the food as he slowly made his way over, shuffling sideways across the bed. Tommy let out a low growl as he grabbed onto the food on the plate. It was some form of meat, and Tommy's hand was covered in something brown that reminded him of darker colored blood. Once he had a firm hold of the food, Tommy leaped off the bed again. He held the meat close to his chest while shuffling beneath the bed. Tommy sniffed the meat to identify any poisons. His sixth sense informed him that it wasn't poisoned. Tommy was thankful for that. He shoved the meat in his mouth. Pain jolted along his jaw forcing Tommy to realize how long it had been since he last ate.