a: The Rift He must have dozed off at his desk back at the headquarters. The aftermath of the fight with Veneno and then Curious had incurred a mountain of paperwork over the last few days and Klaus had vowed to tackle the brunt of it to spare Steven another... well, they just referred to it as an Incident now. But even Klaus was not immune to exhaustion, and the comfort of his office chair and the warmth of Gilbert's tea had lulled his eyes shut. He dreamed his dreams, the chaos of Jerusalem's Lot merging strangely with places from his youth. And then he felt a strange tug as though he'd forgotten about a stair, and suddenly he was tumbling through thin air.
Landing face-first in mud which smelled distinctly like one of the phosphorus rich fertilizers he used in his greenhouse woke him right up.
Dazed, confused and hastily trying to scrub the muck from his spectacles with a clean section of his sleeve, Klaus almost didn't see the spindly, gangling monstrosity speeding towards him.
Almost.
He caught the blur of movement out the corner of his eye, and with skill and reflexes born of years of training, he he slammed his fist directly in the center of the demon's face.
The creature was sent flying several feet into the air from the force of impact where it arced as gracefully as a ballerina, before landing face down in the mud, skidded for a few yards and finally came to a rest in a tangle of limbs at the feet of its brethren.
b: Aftermath
His spectacles seemed to be a lost cause until he got to some clean, fresh water so he'd tucked them neatly into his breast pocket. And his mobile phone seemed to be gone - either sitting at his desk in the office or lost to the mud of the field. He approached one of the reasonably friendly seeming blobs of colour.
This wasn't the first time he'd been in one place and woken up in another without the aid of a considerable amount of alcohol - Jerusalem's Lot had all manner of strange quirks and the city changed itself on a whim.
But even then, he knew something was Wrong. Jerusalem's Lot didn't have sprawling farmland - maybe further along in upper New York state - which would mean that the strangeness of the city would have spread beyond the fog. He also hadn't missed the peculiar attire of those he'd fought beside, but he hadn't yet given it too much thought. The outfits looked like something out of a well-researched fantasy film - plausible for the technology, but historically inaccurate to actual clothing worn in analogous eras. But he'd also taken into account that Renaissance Fairs were a thing.
He'd never had guessed the participants were such skilled combatants.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft, his tone polite and a broad hand raised in greeting. "Can you perhaps tell me where I am and what's going on here? I need to get back to Jerusalem's Lot right away."
c: Journey
i.
He'd done his best with the clean(ish) water from a nearby stream, but it looked like his dress shirt and tie were done for. At least one of the members of the inquisition had seen fit to provide him with an ill-fitted, albeit clean and dry, tunic and some boots that were a bit more suited to trekking down the muddy road than his brogues. It hadn't been out of a sense altruism but rather the more pragmatic notion that bringing new Rifters to Nevarra caked in mud and smelling like manure probably wouldn't do much for diplomacy or dispelling rumours they were savage demons.
He wasn't a stranger to long treks or living rough, and when night fell he volunteered to help keep watch. He kept his back to the fire, watching the treeline for... anything really.
ii.
It had taken a little while for the news to sink in. Fortunately, Klaus could generally operate on automatic, but in a sort of distant way. What was going on back at headquarters, he wondered. Steven and the others must be worried. He kept largely to himself as he processed this new situation, but sometimes he stopped being anxious long enough to ask a question, or help with some heavy lifting. He had certainly been handy when he'd single-handedly pushed a heavy supply cart out of a ditch with all the apparent effort of someone pushing along an empty wheel barrow.
no subject
He must have dozed off at his desk back at the headquarters. The aftermath of the fight with Veneno and then Curious had incurred a mountain of paperwork over the last few days and Klaus had vowed to tackle the brunt of it to spare Steven another... well, they just referred to it as an Incident now. But even Klaus was not immune to exhaustion, and the comfort of his office chair and the warmth of Gilbert's tea had lulled his eyes shut. He dreamed his dreams, the chaos of Jerusalem's Lot merging strangely with places from his youth. And then he felt a strange tug as though he'd forgotten about a stair, and suddenly he was tumbling through thin air.
Landing face-first in mud which smelled distinctly like one of the phosphorus rich fertilizers he used in his greenhouse woke him right up.
Dazed, confused and hastily trying to scrub the muck from his spectacles with a clean section of his sleeve, Klaus almost didn't see the spindly, gangling monstrosity speeding towards him.
Almost.
He caught the blur of movement out the corner of his eye, and with skill and reflexes born of years of training, he he slammed his fist directly in the center of the demon's face.
The creature was sent flying several feet into the air from the force of impact where it arced as gracefully as a ballerina, before landing face down in the mud, skidded for a few yards and finally came to a rest in a tangle of limbs at the feet of its brethren.
b: Aftermath
His spectacles seemed to be a lost cause until he got to some clean, fresh water so he'd tucked them neatly into his breast pocket. And his mobile phone seemed to be gone - either sitting at his desk in the office or lost to the mud of the field. He approached one of the reasonably friendly seeming blobs of colour.
This wasn't the first time he'd been in one place and woken up in another without the aid of a considerable amount of alcohol - Jerusalem's Lot had all manner of strange quirks and the city changed itself on a whim.
But even then, he knew something was Wrong. Jerusalem's Lot didn't have sprawling farmland - maybe further along in upper New York state - which would mean that the strangeness of the city would have spread beyond the fog. He also hadn't missed the peculiar attire of those he'd fought beside, but he hadn't yet given it too much thought. The outfits looked like something out of a well-researched fantasy film - plausible for the technology, but historically inaccurate to actual clothing worn in analogous eras. But he'd also taken into account that Renaissance Fairs were a thing.
He'd never had guessed the participants were such skilled combatants.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft, his tone polite and a broad hand raised in greeting. "Can you perhaps tell me where I am and what's going on here? I need to get back to Jerusalem's Lot right away."
c: Journey
i.
He'd done his best with the clean(ish) water from a nearby stream, but it looked like his dress shirt and tie were done for. At least one of the members of the inquisition had seen fit to provide him with an ill-fitted, albeit clean and dry, tunic and some boots that were a bit more suited to trekking down the muddy road than his brogues. It hadn't been out of a sense altruism but rather the more pragmatic notion that bringing new Rifters to Nevarra caked in mud and smelling like manure probably wouldn't do much for diplomacy or dispelling rumours they were savage demons.
He wasn't a stranger to long treks or living rough, and when night fell he volunteered to help keep watch. He kept his back to the fire, watching the treeline for... anything really.
ii.
It had taken a little while for the news to sink in. Fortunately, Klaus could generally operate on automatic, but in a sort of distant way. What was going on back at headquarters, he wondered. Steven and the others must be worried. He kept largely to himself as he processed this new situation, but sometimes he stopped being anxious long enough to ask a question, or help with some heavy lifting. He had certainly been handy when he'd single-handedly pushed a heavy supply cart out of a ditch with all the apparent effort of someone pushing along an empty wheel barrow.