How long has it been since you were conscious?
Perhaps the better question is: "Were you ever conscious to begin with, and are you now?" You let the words sink in for what might be a second or an eternity and you realize that you barely remember what it means to be conscious.
You find yourself floating through a sea of swirling darkness.
Or maybe you're not IN the darkness at all. You might as well be the darkness itself, because you can't find a way to make yourself distinct from it.
Every little word shaped in your mind echo out through the infinite void surrounding you, repeating itself over and over in a meaningless choir. Even then, you have difficulty keeping a coherent thought, as if you were barely awake, or even barely alive.
"Alive." This one word sticks to you, as though it would hold some form of significance. You don't remember the meaning of the word, but you remember that it is considered very important, and is very desirable.
And whatever it is, you are not right now.
As though a complex piece of machinery had been turned on, your mind is suddenly inundated with memories and thoughts. No details come up, but you still REMEMBER. You once had a life, a home. There were others that you cared for, and now everything is gone. The experience is, needless to say, unpleasant.
You start searching the darkness in distress, desperately attempting to find a way to return what you have lost. After looking around in what feels like 720 degrees, you see something in the distance. Or maybe it isn't distant, but just really small. It looks like light, but it doesn't shine, fluctuating in the middle of the abyss you have found yourself in. Whatever it is, you reach towards it, and a sensation floods through you, as though you were beings cleansed by immaterial water. As you touch the lightless thing, which you are unable to comprehend the form of despite clearly feeling it, your senses are overwhelmed and you're robbed of your consciousness once more.
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"Oi, you."
The voice you awaken to is coarse, but clearly feminine. A cold three-fingered hand places itself upon your head and shakes it softly.
"As much as I hate interrupting your little nap, you have to get up now if you value your freedom."
Gathering the mental and physical strength to open your eyes, you are greeted by the sight of a orange reptilian creature with shed skin decorating its shoulders and legs and a red crest upon its head.
"You're awake, then? Good for you. You're lucky you appeared at night, or the pale ones would have found you. Now get up, we gotta bail."
Just by moving, you can feel that your body is alien to you. Whatever it was you once lived as, it was not this. Looking around, you find yourself in a forest of seemingly impossible structures of steel, stone, glass and wood. Realizing that you've yet to actually move, the reptile sighs at you.
"Listen pal, I know you're confused about the situation and I'd love to answer your questions. But this ain't the time, alright? The pale ones don't understand you, and there are others out there who hunt Dustborn- I mean your sort. What I'm saying is that I am helping you and you better get off your behind and follow me if you want your answers.
As she talks, she pushes a wooden beam, causing it to fall and move a large bin, revealing an opening in one of the structures. She crawls into it, and you having no better option, decide to follow her.
