Trapped. That was one word Jack could use to describe his current predicament. In fact, it was the word he was able to use to describe his situation a few weeks ago, but this time it was anger that consumed him.
He had woken up with a massive headache, as most of his mornings usually started off with. The main difference this time was that his whiskey was now missing. Jack groaned as he struggled to pull himself upright, looking around his room and coming up with a plan. Usually if his whiskey was missing, that meant that he either dropped it somewhere or ran out, both of which were pretty easy fixes. The real problem came when he realized his staff wasn't anywhere near. Typically he kept it within arm's reach with a pouch of stardust tied to it so that he could easily enchant the piece of wood first thing in the morning. Even when drunk, Jack made careful precautions to make sure he woke up with it close to him. Having to throw himself off the bed and drag himself across the floor wasn't exactly what he would consider to be fun.
His drowsy eyes scanned the room, trying to find either of his missing objects. It was oddly still in the room, with even the air sitting unstirred. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread filling him as he continued to look around, even trying his best to look around on the floor from where he was at. Something wasn't right here, the air felt dry, the way it would when lightning was expected to strike.
Lightning.
He briefly remembered seeing licks of lightning last night, but he couldn't quite remember when or why. It was one of the few cons he had found about being drunk, he could hardly remember a thing that happened, but he was fine like this. What were a few lost memories if it meant being able to exist in peace? There was one thing he did know though, and that usually if there was lightning, that meant that Wren was around. Jack sighed as he started piecing together what probably happened. She had most likely come in to check on him, he got violent, which now resulted in his missing whiskey. It wasn't completely surprising, just more annoying than anything. But that didn't explain where his staff disappeared to. Wren would have never taken it from him, she just wasn't cruel like that.
After spending a couple more minutes of looking around the room, he finally sighed heavily and prepared to push himself off the bed. It wasn't going to be great, in fact, it was going to be more painful than anything, but the last place to check was under the bed. Jack clenched his jaw, knowing what had to come next. With a deep breath, he braced his hands against the edge of the mattress, the muscles in his arms straining as he pushed himself up. His legs were dead weight, useless beneath him, but he ignored the familiar frustration. Using his arms and shoulders, he maneuvered his body toward the edge of the bed, every movement deliberate and heavy with effort.
He carefully allowed himself to slide off the bed, still holding onto the mattress as long as he possibly could, but eventually he had to allow his hands to break his fall as he fell head first down onto the ground. He landed with a thud, pain shooting through him and causing him to wince. His head was already hurting from the alcohol induced headache, and this venture sure wasn't helping any. He just needed to get to his staff already so that he could get back to his usual routine of keeping his mind numb.
But now, with the staff still nowhere in sight, his frustration turned to cold, creeping terror, consuming every corner of his being.
He was trapped in place, unable to move and was left with no one coming for him. He felt as if he had been instantly transported to another point in time, someplace he was desperate to forget.
He found himself back in the woods of Everett, with the trees standing tall over him, keeping him hidden from the sky above. His skin started to feel itchy at the memory of the bugs that would constantly crawl over him, with the stench of death drawing near to him. He was desperate to leave, desperate to get up and run, but nothing would change the fact that he was stuck in place, like a relic lost to time.
