Oh, for the love of—

[ You may not be familiar with this stranger, but it's clearly not the first time he's been through here. He doesn't go looking for clues; he just marches directly over and angrily yanks one of the torches off the wall.

Arthas takes his evident frustration out on the poor torch, grinding the embers into the stone floor like it had insulted him personally. He appears so focused that it's unclear how exactly he realises someone else is in here; he simply speaks up. ]

The key is in one of these. It would help if you have a way to cool it off faster.

[ Technically, he has a way he just can't remember. And if his new companion doesn't know how either? Well, he hadn't been counting on having any help anyway. ]

[ Eventually, Arthas manages to escape the escape rooms.

If he looked rough in the uncertain lighting inside the rooms, he looked even worse out under the desert sun. No amount of sleep could lighten the deep shadows around his eyes, and his corpse-like pallor and stringy white hair were clearly unfit for these conditions. Curiously enough, he doesn't ever seem to sweat. Not wanting to find out the hard way whether or not that resilience extends to sunburn, he eventually finds a wide-brimmed hat to keep the worst of it off his face.

Arthas thinks nothing of the heat haze he spots heading out of the General Store because it's not the first time he's seen it happen. He doesn't understand the science behind the phenomenon, but he knows it's a perfectly natural occurrence. There is no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe he notices you on the other side, an image distorted by the ripples in the air, or perhaps you were minding your business inside the store. Either way, you're not in Wellstone any longer.

Arthas knows at once that he's been here before, but that is all. As he looks around at the pale stone structures and the banners on the walls gently swaying in the breeze, he knows he should recognise the symbols they bear, but nothing comes to mind. There is a strange tightness in his chest, but Arthas has never been good at articulating his feelings, and the lack of context makes it impossible to guess, so he turns away before that pressure can become more painful. He's already figured out what happens if you try to think about something you shouldn't.

Despite the beautifully sunny day, there is a strange chill in the air. The courtyard is decorated lavishly as if for a parade or a celebration and the ground is littered with red rose petals that swirl along the cobblestones whenever the cold breeze stirs them up. Perhaps it's simply the lack of people that lends this place such an eerie quality. Maybe with a crowd, you wouldn't hear the mournful howling of the wind through gaps in the stone.

A marble statue stands in the courtyard's centre, looking proud and formidable despite only being draped in loose fabric and resting his hands on an intricately carved longsword. Something about the statue's bearded stone visage resembles the man squinting up at it despite what the ravages of necromancy have done to him. Arthas hardly seems to notice, looking instead at whoever has ended up here with him. ]

I don't know what's happening, but at least you can thank me for getting us out of the heat.

[ The town seems determined to make his life difficult in every way.

It's what he deserves, a beetle sneers while walking across the table one morning. Arthas smashes it beneath his coffee mug and tries to ignore it, even as the liquid starts seeping out of the bottom of the cup. There's no damage; the cup just feels like having a slow leak this morning.

He often opens doors to places doors shouldn't open to. Sometimes, it's to other people's rooms — in which case, he's quick to apologise, even as he grows irritated at some unseen force making him look bad.

Sometimes, he finds a doorway to a dark, frigid place that seems to draw in whoever looks upon it, beckoning with deathly cold fingers and a voice calling Obey! on the wind. You eventually realise it is more in your head than a thing you can hear.

Other times, it's to a place that smells of mould and rot, some distant dim bioluminescence sketching out the shape of a tunnel in sickly green shadows. Suddenly, dozens of eyes catch the light pouring in from the open doorway, and something hungry chitters and rattles ominously in the dark.

He is quick to pull the door closed again in every instance, keeping a hand on the knob a minute or so longer — just in case.

This time, he is truly fed up and gives whichever door has earned his ire a good hard kick. It doesn't matter that the door might've returned to normal by now; it's the only way to feel marginally better about this. If he realises he's being watched — or, worse, someone opens the door — he looks surprised and mildly embarrassed. ]

What? I fixed it.

[ ooc; hi henlo it's min (koutenko) and i finally had to scratch this itch and voicetest because i wanted to put my favourite raid boss in cowboy boots. I'm borrowing prompts from the events, but he is regaining 0 memory points from them because he doesn't get to cheat and deserves to suffer!!! Feel free to wildcard me if nothing does it for u~ ]