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[markedformore]

In the end, he evicts himself from his own home despite the disdain for his surroundings and the terrible costumes he's been made to wear by some greater power seemingly well-invested in having a laugh at his grief. His hands continue to tremble and he tires of watching the shadows his fingers make in the dance of the lamplight. He tosses on an

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[chasinghumanity]

At first, Mitchell had been happy with the change in scenery. He had been a child when Queen Victoria died and it had taken him another decade to make it to London, and even then his time there had been brief before shipping out. But there was something familiar to the streets nonetheless, and the cold, he thought bitterly, matched his mood

[markedformore]

"I feel far more than 'a bit'," he echoes, stringing the words together as he turns enough to see who's speaking to him. Mitchell, then. Erik feels a strange dissonance. Nina has helped him a great deal in his troubles, but Mitchell seems to understand them well enough to not simply quash them away and kill whatever inkling of justice must be served. "It's been a trying number of days and I don't suspect the end is in sight."

[chasinghumanity]

"London got you down?" Mitchell ventured, brow furrowed. But the truth was he knew it was something worse, just by looking at the man.

Uninvited, but he didn't think unwanted, Mitchell climbed onto the bar stool beside Erik. Misery did love company, and Erik had given him an ear once. "The island fucking with you?"

[markedformore]

"The latter," he replies curtly, lifting his drink to his lips. He considers it there a moment before taking it back wholly, pushing the glass towards the bartender for another, given that he's now of a mind to enjoy such a thing all over again. Youth and innocence have been shaken off of him both decades ago and so very recently. He can do what he likes. "Have you heard of people waking up in their pasts, before?"