[ He refused to allow himself to be afraid. That he was confused was understandable; much of this place that he'd experienced since waking up- first, washed upon the beach covered in small cuts in bruises- and next, in a hospital of flesh; was more than enough to be disorienting. Had he been a man more prone to panic, he certainly might have.

Instead, he'd taken stock. Not only what he had on his person, but what he could use in his surroundings. Next, his focus was on gathering information. The locals had proved to be less than hospitable; some even openly hostile, but that didn't mean for a moment that Laurent was going to give up. That he was the soon to be King of Vere didn't matter to these people- no one had even heard of it. The circlet around his elegant forehead still rested there, though now seemed like a piece of costumery. Well; at least the gold and sapphires had value. They could be sold, or bartered with.

He was thankful for that.

Now he sat upon a bench- looking as though he belonged there, despite the strangeness of his dress compared to the locals. The fine brocaded silks he wore, the golden lacings along the front, right up his throat. Even his shoulders, down the arms of his midnight blue outfit had tight gold lacing. Clipped to his shoulders was a fine cloak, with a golden starburst emblazoned upon it. Everything about him spoke of a princely air.

He had one leg crossed over the other, his elbow resting upon the arm of the bench, arm up and hand curled delicately. His blue eyes cool and almost passively bored looking as he watched people pass him, his other hand resting on his ankle.

If he was startled by the monsters who passed him, he did not allow himself to show it. ]

You, with the grotesque accoutrements- [ The hand on his ankle rose, wrist flicking delicately in gesture to draw attention his way. ] Perhaps you would be half-so-useful as to tell me where I am.

[ The pain had started in the morning.

Laurent had ignored it; for all the good it did him. The skin of his back felt stretched, and ill fitting. It had been hard to breath doing even the slightest actions, and beneath the fine silks of his clothes, his skin itched.

Everyone had told him in depth that he ought to expect this, and yet now that it had begun it was unlike anything he'd expected. Laurent's tightly wound control was fraying with every hour that passed, no relief to be found from the unfocused aches running through him. He walked, aimless and misguided through the fog of pain- before the awful feeling of splitting sent him to his knees. He cried out, the pain of his feet incredible- the pressure of his boots agonizing as his feet changed. He fell to his back, reaching ineffectively, trying to wrench his boots off, to no avail. Screaming, his talons burst free as the leather gave, claws pushing out from the twisted remains of his former feet. The itching beneath his skin reached crescendo- feathers pushing out, barbed quills trapped beneath silk, splitting through seams.

Laurent could only lay there, panting, and wait for it to pass. ]

[ Guns they had called them. Guns were new.

Hobbled, one wing dragging behind, flecked full of holes from shot gun pellets. Furious, Laurent dragged the massive grey and blue dappled appendage behind him, trailing blood. The other flapping for purchase to speed his progress as his talons scraped against the cobblestone, pulled him forcibly along. Tactical retreat- he needed higher ground. Needed to regroup, needed to reconsider his options, but most of all he needed to get one of those guns. And then they could see how they liked it, to be littered with holes.

He ducked down an alleyway, scanning his surroundings, making sure he had not mistakenly forced himself into a dead end- before scrambling along. Determination furrowed his brow, his eyes ablaze with furious indignation. Keep moving; it was all that mattered. He would lose them eventually- or he would get the jump on them. Tear them to shreds with his bare hands, if he had to. ]