Designation: Orcus.

[Skrymer]

1 : Markings.

A figure is sat in the room, quietly so, his small form curled up in the furthest corner from the door. Idly, he chews at his thumbnail, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. He just seems to stare as if he is lost. It's strange how a man full grown can look almost child like. When he is quiet, he looks innocent. His very being, his very presence speaks of fragility and confusion. Calloused fingers reach up to his hair, becoming entangled amongst the long and messy dark brown curls, and for a brief moment, his silence breaks. Not outwardly, but internally. He forces himself back, further into the corner, his blank expression creasing with fear and sorrow. Burying his head in his arms, he allows himself to sob. He allows himself to feel again.

It's the third time since he has woken. An hour has passed... And the cycle will continue throughout the entire day, and well into the night.

Sami is a man, broken. He cannot remember so much of his life and feels too much for everything he does not know. He wants to remember, but he fears what might be. He sits in silence and stares at nothing hoping that something will reunite him with everything he has lost. The things that people take for granted in their every day lives. Memories... Love... Friendship. Family.

His curled form unfurls and he picks himself up, using the wall as a means to balance. As he picks himself up, his fingers grasp at an object on the floor. He clutches at it and turns to the one wall in his apartment that isn't blank.

The wall is white. White and marked in red. Sami adds another mark to the strange array of scribbles and odd letters. Numbers and lines, patterns and trails. It's a jumbled mess with arrows and markers and frustrated claw marks. Intricate shapes and circles, sweeping lines and occult symbols. Dark warnings, things half scored out and smeared... The wall is not a pretty thing, but it is fascinating.

He steps away when he is finished and stares at what he has done. He doesn't understand any of it, he can't make sense of the lines but they mean something to him. He is sure of that much. The home made bone pen falls from his shaking hand as he stares at the wall, his mind lost to the darkening red marks. And soon, all he can see is red...