"Oh." Visiting, I guess?

That must mean he's a friend of Seras or Nike's. Probably Seras's. The young woman decided not to think too much of it.

"No, I, uh," the young woman trailed off, shortly before reaching her hand up to scratch the back of her neck, "I don't live anywhere yet."

And with that, the young woman pulled her hand away from a nervous tic that commanded her to scratch the back of her neck, whereupon she put her hand out to invite Dagan to shake hers. Whether he did or not was not too important. He would not be the first person to refrain from shaking her hand. Or, rather, he wouldn't be the first person to misunderstand the gesture. The young woman was a bit confused about the gesture herself; all she knew was that it felt right to do whenever she was meeting someone new.

"I'm Suiriu. Seras saved me," the young woman, Suiriu, introduced herself accordingly--regardless of if Dagan shook her hand or not. "Seras calls me Suri. I guess that means my friends call me Suri."

"Dagan," he said as he smiled wide and met her hand with his own. His grip was firm, but the gesture was momentary at best. "I'm, uh, a friend of Sera, too, I guess."

A half-frown for a half-second moved across his face, but he changed the subject just quick enough that only a scarce moment to notice would be given:

"Saved you, huh? How'd she do that?"

Memory flashed through Dagan's mind, as he briefly thought on his and the Seeker's venture outside of the city, and the thought that, that was how Seras had saved this other; after all, Dagan hadn't really seen her before... So it was pretty likely, he guessed. Regardless, for a moment, he forgot why he had even come here in the first place, and was happy enough to just stand there and speak with this new person, this Suiriu.

"Uh, well . . ." Suri scratched the back of her neck. She smiled sheepishly and averted her eyes from Dagan; she was a wee bit embarrassed. "It's a crazy story. You won't believe me."

Of this she was convinced. After all, how many people here went through something like she did? What Suri went through-- it was the craziest experience of her life!

What she could remember of her life, that is . . .

"But, well-- I was just . . . walking. I don't know why. But I was walking this straight path between these two huge walls of rock." A cavern. This was one of few words that she couldn't recall-- or maybe never even learned to begin with. "I really can't remember why I was there. Or anything before it, even. There's some hazy stuff, but nothing really . . . solid, I guess? Well, anyways, I was out there, just walking, and--"

Right next to them, a door was pulled open by half of a foot. Suri nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Seras-- all disheveled and stricken with bed-head --poke her head out from behind the door.

"And you met a guy named Vince that wanted to snack on your insides," Seras took off where Suri was interrupted. Unlike Suri, she was a lot shorter with her descriptions. Much less dramatic. "I just so happened to be looking for you, stopped him before he could get a hand on you, and ran you back here. And that is why you should only trust pretty strangers."

She was joking with that last bit. Seras wasn't naive enough to believe something like that. But no, really, what Seras remembered of Vince was pretty horrific. That guy was ugly as sin.

Although Dagan believed her more than she would have thought, he didn't bother mentioning the fact that it was (probably) quite a bit more common a situation then she knew, and instead he turned his attention to their mutual friend, who was interjecting herself into the conversation with ease.

H-eh, Lance, he reflected for a moment on his encounter with Lance, a (former) denizen of the grey wastes, and quite incapable of snacking on anybody else's insides ever again.

“A good thing you were looking for her then,” he offered edge-wise, “and how have you been, Sera? Good, I hope?”

"A-ah! Um-- Sera, hey," Suri said to her friend sheepishly.

She looked down at her feet soon after, inconveniently missing the half-smile that Seras directed to her. Seras soon took a step back and opened her door all the way. Just looking inside from the hall, her room appeared to be twenty kinds of a mess. There were articles of clothing littered about everywhere, and books scattered everywhere from two bookshelves that had either fallen or were ripped to the ground.

Seras herself wasn't really in that great of shape, either. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing what could only be described as oversized pajamas. Her long sleeved sweater and sweatpants were gritty and tattered, though. She looked like she'd come out of a storm and was wandering the wastelands for months on end.

"I've been alive," Sera shrugged her shoulders.

Not good. Not bad. Just living. But maybe that still was bad. Seras didn't look like she was doing that great. She was a mess and didn't even pretend not to be.

"What about you?" she asked, "Get that whole memory thing taken care of?"

As could be expected, Dagan frowned and shook his head; he wasn't shy or bitter about it, but no, he hadn't quite fixed his memory problem. Who would have guessed?

"If only, h-uh?"

He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, possibly considering on what to say or do next, but more than likely simply stalling; however, he was never one to hold back, was he?

"Got a question that maybe you can answer,” he shrugged and hoped Suri hadn’t come here for a specific reason, because Sera might probably be in a pretty foul mood once Dagan’s visit was over...

"Heh. Figures." Seras said with a sad smile.

The drop in Suri's mood felt lethal to the young new arrival. It felt like her heart had sank down so far that it would never come back up. She half felt the urge to cry. It was bizarre how that all happened, and how it all seemed to be cued by Seras's sad smile, but Suri managed to swallow all those horrible feelings back.

"S-Seras . . ." she whispered. She wanted to say she was sorry, but what was she sorry for? She didn't know the backstory behind this thing about Dagan and his loss of memory or whatever the situation seemed to be. There was absolutely nothing she could say right now.

Seras stepped back and held her door open for them. "Come on in, you two. We can talk inside over drinks. I, uh, haven't had company in awhile."

It was almost like she was excusing herself for sounding desperate, but hell, it was true. She hadn't had any serious company since her bad experience with Dagan, and maybe she was still bitter about that, but all her bitterness was for herself, not him. It was her fault he didn't remember her. At least, Seras believed it to be that way, even if Dagan might have disagreed.

"Yeah, sure," he said and followed Seras instruction to enter the apartment; he plopped down on the nearest designated sitting area (or at least what was not covered in clutter).

Sadly, he did not really have much to say in terms of small-talk, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to appear to be rushing the situation, either. Plus, there was the matter of Suri, too. Indeed, Dagan thought it’d be best to at least wait for everyone to be sitting down before he brought up why he came to visit.

There was only one decent place to sit, and that was a couch on the left side of the main room. The main room actually comprised most of this little apartment, though it wasn't like Seras couldn't go spread out to other places. Nine tenths of this city was unoccupied, after all. Regardless, the couch was of a tacky color and the leftmost cushion was missing, leaving only the middle and right cushions available. Dagan had sat on one and Suri sat on the other.

It was decidedly uncomfortable.

Seras closed the door behind her once they were in and seated, only to turn away from them and move on to the very corner of the room, where a thin glass cupboard stood, oddly unbroken. There were two bottles of clear liquid within the cupboard, and several small glasses surrounding them.

"So, anyone want a drink?" Seras asked with her back turned to them.

She was already pouring one. It was just a matter of if she was pouring two more or not . . .

"A drink?"

The definition of the word "drink," was known to Dagan--no, more precisely: the action associated with drinking was known to Dagan; however, that was it. He had no context of the action, he had no examples of what to drink floating about in his head.

In the end, Dagan had no idea what to reply with other than: “No, no... Thank you.”
If Seras pressed on it, he’d relent, but only if she really, really wanted him to drink. But that was the best he could do her...

"Okay," Seras shrugged her shoulders, "Suri, what about you?"

Suri looked to Dagan next to her, as if quietly asking him if this was all right. She didn't need an answer, though. She already had a bad feeling about this "drink" thing.

"Um . . . no thank you," Suri shook her head.

"Guess it's just for me, then," Seras sulked her head and shoulders, yet even still, she returned with a glass full of clear liquid in hand.

She approached the couch for a few steps and dropped to her knees on the floor, spilling a fifth of her glass. The liquid carried a strong odor, pungent and almost painful to the nostrils. Seras already smelled a bit like it at the door. Chances were she'd already had a few drinks in her system by now. She took a long drink from her half-glass, paused at length, and rearranged herself so she was sitting upon her rear and her legs were folded out in front of her.

"So, what's the big question?" Seras asked sardonically.

Resting an elbow atop his knee and his chin on his hand, Dagan thought for a second; it wouldn't do well to go saying things that would confuse Suri, or get her panicky; at the same time, Dagan had no idea why he was so concerned. Odd.

“I spoke with the Legionnaire,” he said simply enough. He was sure that Sera would probably understand what he meant, but he further elaborated: “I need to know where the entrance is. Can you tell me how to get there?”

There was something different about Dagan’s voice, it wasn’t that his voice changed, it wasn’t that he became a different person, but there was a warmth and kindness about him--which wasn’t odd, but it was much more intense than usual. Like the normal, naive and happy go-lucky Dagan had momentarily sobered up.

He waited; he was not sure what to expect, but he expected something.

Seras nearly dropped her drink. She stared at Dagan in sudden disbelief, watching his face as if trying to find a hint of joking that wasn't there.

"Y-- you . . ." Seras trailed off.

She suddenly sounded like she was going to cry. She was wide-eyed and meek. Enunciation was difficult. Breathing was labored. Without a second thought, she threw her drink to her lips, tipped her whole body back, took down the strong smelling liquid in one quick swig, and slumped forward with her whole body. The glass was heavy. Her shoulders were heavy. Her head was heavy. But at least she didn't feel the need to cry so heavily.

Suri watched Seras intently. She felt that same horrible feeling as before, where her heart felt like it was sinking into oblivion. This one was vastly different, though. It was much more intense. Tears had welled up in her eyes-- though Suri didn't notice it yet. She heard something-- no, she felt something. The feel of a sound-- of an action-- of an experience.

"North," Seras spat out this information like a dam bursting against a flood, "North as far as you can go. Until the rock drops off forever. You only have to . . ."

---

Seras stood alone. She felt a surreal pit in her stomach, but even this wasn't enough to make her feel her heart again. It was gone, lost somewhere within her memories and crushed by her own heel. Behind her, smooth rocks collected up a continuous hill. It was difficult to see here the hill itself crested, but that mattered little to her. All that mattered was what lay before her:

Nothing. A pit. A vast expanse of cliffside to her right and left that fell into the horizon, and a continuous blackness below it.

The perfect place.

She'd wandered here, lost and alone. She had her orders: to scout out this region, but that barely mattered anymore. Nike was too far away to help her. To distant to tell her this was a horrible idea. But she'd done something horrible, and horrible was all she could feel. She wanted it to go away.

Seras placed her feet against the edge. Half her shoes hung off, yet her body still protested. It was a moot point, though. This was happening. This was the only thing left that could happen for her. Seras shut her eyes and took in a deep breath.

---

". . . jump."

Dagan had said nothing in reply to Sera; in fact, he did less then that and left her home almost immediately after getting an answer to his question. In complete honesty, he didn't want to cause anymore problems or hurt feelings then absolutely necessary, which his actions may have been in contrast to, but no more then if he had stayed, regardless.

So he left.

He hadn’t gone directly to the Legionnaire, Attis, The Seeker, or the New Arrival, either. No, Dagan had instead stayed at his home with no contact with anyone for a considerable length of time. Exactly how long was impossible for Dagan to know, however.

Regardless, at some point during his self-imposed isolation, Dagan decided to, once again, venture out of his modest room, in a building he shared with no one else, and take to the streets of the grey, unnamed city. Much like the very first day he met Attis, he wore a dull green sweater, relaxed fitting trousers, and a pauper’s hat that was slightly too big. The determination and sheer force of presence that normally radiated from him seemed to offset his poor clothing.

Although knowing the entrance to this other world, this world the Legionnaire had informed Dagan of, this world that his ... former... friends had actually visited, there were still a great deal of things that Dagan needed to do, he had got the location from Sera, but he hadn’t asked her for any details. Why? Well, that was pretty obvious. He still did not feel comfortable talking to her, she brought feelings and problems he wasn’t ready to deal with. This was pretty selfish of him, but he had earned a freebie...

Nike, he thought the name to himself. He wasn’t really sure where to find this guy at, but maybe Attis would; he needed to check on the New Arrival anyways.

He casually sauntered off to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was empty, sans one body. The New Arrival stood facing the far eastern wall, opposite to where Dagan had entered. He was alone and appeared to be standing on his own and without even the slightest support. That was probably a good sign. Probably.

He still wore some of Attis's clothes-- a tan jacket and slacks that both seemed to be a bit too large on him. Well, Attis wasn't a huge guy, but he was tall and fairly muscular whilst the New Arrival was short and mostly scrawny.

It seemed as if he was hunched over some, enough to push his face close to the middle of the wall, just above the bench. He was reading something-- which was a bit odd, but then again, Dagan hadn't gone so far as to examine every wall in the Great Hall in the last few months.