1; A white haired wanderer | Open

[rote_augen]

 [The castle stretches on making yards were he would make feet. It makes him tired, not physically, but mentally to keep moving with no exit or sign of a break in the long running stones for another hall or room. Light is no longer  an annoyance with a pair of sunglasses. The man that offered them had no clue as to whereabouts and the light haired teen either. That left Heine in a position to seek his answers instead of trying to find them by mouth from others or by the barrel of a gun.

Others that do not include people he knows. Magato is not there or in hiding. He hopes for the later so his business with him can come to a completion without the burden of worry of those around and below him. The people he has seen here are not from the underground or his city. Strangers they are and will remain. He has no need for bonds with strangers.

Stone work makes shadows across the floor. Figures are expanded and widened in black, so much taller than they actually are. The sleeve on his right is rolled up as is the left creating a sense of balance to both mind and body. It feeds his unstable mind and puts the barking of madness away. The aching of his head has gone down, but not away making his teeth bind tighter.

Rounding a corner he comes to a open area, slots ending in a few paces to more hallways with no foreseeable exits. This makes him stop and look about. Some green has found way into the area and light breaks in from the ceiling in tiled patterns.]

01; open

[sagacity]

[Trying doors until one opens is tedious work. His old hands are throbbing. (No, really, don't give him that pitiful look.) But his efforts aren't in vain; Serge grins when a room finally allows him entrance, only to arch a brow at the decidedly bare and boring interior. The one thing that manages to sustain his attention is the smartphone, which he pockets. He figures he can take it. It doesn't look like anyone has been living there, much less own anything in it.

He doesn't stay for long. There isn't much to see. Not even a place to clean . . . After that sarcophagus business, he feels gross.

Then he's at the spring, and it's hardly an encouraging sight. Stepping inside, Serge sighs.]

Are they serious? I know communal baths used to be a thing, but that's in the past!

[ . . . Maybe he can get a nice view or two in the future. Provided they're nothing like Leslie, he's sure he'll be safe. Hopefully. Oh, who's he kidding; this is silly.

He pulls the smartphone out.]

What am I supposed to do with this, anyway?

[He manages to boot it up -- wow, it has his name. That means it's his, right? And it even has a list of other names. He recognizes a few. Serge proceeds to mess with someone while tapping his foot expectantly. And then some.]

( ooc: You can catch him at any part of the post! If you want Serge to call your character, let me know or hit up his phone post. He's hitting up names that sound like those of girls, but that doesn't mean his judgment is foolproof, or that he didn't click the wrong name, or that he didn't decide to diversify. )