Colter's feet ached as they pounded into the damp pavement. Slowly down to a trot, he soon found himself collapsed against a wall in some obscure alley. He drew deep breaths as he tried to calm his pounding heart which threatened to burst from his chest. If he could throw up, he would've.
'Thankfully, I already threw up everything beforehand'.
Only then did he realize the source of his discomfort. He leaned downwards, gingerly taking off the shoes and flipping them over, allowing a handful of water to splash out onto the ground, rewetting the pavement with a new coating of water.
'Ah, that's much better.'
Colter's scrunched face finally loosened as his felt his drenched, humid feet start to air out in the cold but refreshing air. Thankfully, it was still dark out otherwise he probably wouldn't have been able to escape the crime scene so easily.
Frowning at his growling stomach, he realized that in his haste, he failed to at least ransack the house he was in for any valuables, or even a bit of food. Colter couldn't help but curse himself for being an amateur. Though, now that he thought about it, any food he ate would've probably have come back out by now.
Still, his aching body told him all of this was real. A second chance, like something out of a novel.
He patted the coat down, perhaps the previous owner of the body had left some spare change for him? After a careful search, he produced three silver coins, and a tattered and bloodied notebook, and some sort of identification card.
'Great. I can starve slowly...'
Colter scanned the card:
'Renn Alstar. 17 years old a citizen of the Dusken Empire. Living on 25 Berch Street. 2th Floor Apartment 23'
Colter frowned. His head throbbed in an odd sort of pain as he sorted through Renn's belongings.
'Perhaps this is a side effect of transmigration...'
At least he thought it probably was...
The sun had begun to rise, and the street outside his makeshift hiding place had began to lighten up as it's traffic began to increase, as if waking up from a deep slumber. Colter slowly picked himself up. He should at least find somewhere to stay. Bonus points if he could find a way to get into Renn's... no... his house.
Colter ran his fingers through his messy hair as he slowly walked over to the bustling street, patting down his body half-heartedly before suddenly noticing the stains across his face and coat. Turning around, he found a puddle that had formed from last nights rain.
'This will have to do.'
With a grimace, he plunged his gloved hands into it, before splashing it across his coat, managing to rid most of the aftermath of the night before. Splashing the water against his face, he slicked back his hair as he quickly stole a glance in the reflection.
'Not bad...'
Sharp sleek features, messy black hair. Although he wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, Colter couldn't help but feel satisfied with his new appearance.
He'd have thrown away the coat if not for the revolver that would be otherwise to conspicuous to carry. He'd rather still keep the revolver... plus it was a murder weapon.
Smoothing the creases of the coat, Colter slipped into the growing crowd.
....
Northern Cross Street
Colter sat on the edge of a fountain in front of 'Estus Hotel' as he sorted through sheets of wet newspaper he had picked up from footpath a few hours ago. Suddenly, a firm grip landed onto his shoulder. Colter jumped as he shook his shoulder and jumped to his feet, attempting to break the grip.
"Ah... ah..." he yelped out in a mixture of pain and shock. "I was just trying to get some rest mister, if you let go I promise to le-"
"Renn? Is that you?" Colter felt the tight grip loosen slightly.
Slowly, Colter turned his body, hands still raised in the air. He found the owner of the voice a kindly old man. As he stared at the old mans face blankly.
"I'm sorry... I uh, I don't remember you. I hit my head a few days ago and now my memories are scattered around and.. and... I-" Colter stammered, adopting a frightened expression.
The man cut him off, a slight knowing smile on his face.
"No need to explain, son. I figured something was wrong when I saw your face. You always had that same look when you were lost."
He paused, eyes slightly narrowing at Colter's confused expression."
"...You... It's me. Marco Kiddard, you know... you're Dad and I used to be buddies..."
Marco sighed.
"You really don't remember anything, do you? Do you at least-uh.. remember your name?"
"Co- Renn Alstar."
"Heh, at least you remember that much, I'll let you into your place"
Patting Colter firmly on his back heartily, the old man gestured for him to follow.
...
25 Berch Street. 2th Floor Apartment 23
The apartment sat on an old carpenters shop, the stairs creaked as they made their way up. It reminded Colter of his Dad's room: Tobacco and tea leaves. His dad had always drunk herbal tea after smoking, though Colter doubted it actually did much...
Whilst Colter's mind wandered, Marco fished in a small crevasse in the brickwall, pulling out a small bronze key.
It was cramped inside. But cosy. An old couch sat in the small living room next to a small window that splattered in the little light of the cloudy dusk sun.
Colter followed Marco through a doorway into the kitchen. Marco ambled over and lit the stove with a match.
"Sit. You're shivering," the old man said. Colter happily obliged.
Moments later, he returned with an old phone and a chipped mug of something steaming. He handed Renn the phone first.
"Doesn't have much, but it still calls. I was going to sell it today, but I figured you might need it."
Colter nodded, cradling it awkwardly. The man sat across from him.
"Your mother used to work the docks, remember?" He stirred his own drink absentmindedly.
"Strong woman... a pity she's not with us anymore. Especially with you like this..."
Colter stayed silent.
"Don't you remember any of that?"
Colter shook his head.
"Well. Memory or not, you still look like hell." Marco stood, rummaging through a drawer, and before scribbling something onto a scrap of paper.
"I live two blocks over. Give me a ring if you need anything." He patted Colter on the back again before making his way to the exit, leaving Colter sitting at the small table, watching the steam from the mug slowly rise into the frigid air.