It wasn't home, but it was close enough.
Daniel Dean sat on a bench at the edge of a park, grassy expanse behind him. He would never have guessed how good it would feel to see traffic. That accursed place he'd been stuck in had cars, but not nearly so many, and the roads weren't made for them. The smell exhaust was an embrace. He hadn't come from this world, but it was almost the same as his own. Modern technology was the standard, everyone he saw was human, and, most importantly, there was no magic. Flat soda, a sandwich with stale bread, and the blare of a taxi's horn as it was cut off. It felt like heaven to him.
Some of the agents wanted to keep him locked up when they dragged him with them, running away from that speedster. Adams had overruled them; Dean wasn't a threat when there was no magic for him to use. He liked Adams; the man worked with people who trafficked in magic, true, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and stuck to mundane solutions whenever he could. It was more than Dean could say about most of the people he knew in Rhy'Din.
He could feel the muscles around his shoulders grow taught, and took a deep breath to calm himself. He hadn't managed to rid that world of magic, true, but he was free of it. That would have to be enough. Adams had created a life for him, had gotten him started on a path to live a real, human, mundane life. All the agents wanted in return was his cooperation if magic came here - and he'd gladly destroy anything threatening his new life with the contamination of magic.
He was hit with a mild wave of nausea, and frowned. A thumb lifted a corner of bread and he peered down at the meat in his sandwich for a moment before throwing it away. He assumed the meat had gone bad, or perhaps the mayonnaise. The thought brought a smile to his face: how delightfully ordinary a problem.
---------------
((Daniel Dean's information is preserved here.))
Daniel Dean sat on a bench at the edge of a park, grassy expanse behind him. He would never have guessed how good it would feel to see traffic. That accursed place he'd been stuck in had cars, but not nearly so many, and the roads weren't made for them. The smell exhaust was an embrace. He hadn't come from this world, but it was almost the same as his own. Modern technology was the standard, everyone he saw was human, and, most importantly, there was no magic. Flat soda, a sandwich with stale bread, and the blare of a taxi's horn as it was cut off. It felt like heaven to him.
Some of the agents wanted to keep him locked up when they dragged him with them, running away from that speedster. Adams had overruled them; Dean wasn't a threat when there was no magic for him to use. He liked Adams; the man worked with people who trafficked in magic, true, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and stuck to mundane solutions whenever he could. It was more than Dean could say about most of the people he knew in Rhy'Din.
He could feel the muscles around his shoulders grow taught, and took a deep breath to calm himself. He hadn't managed to rid that world of magic, true, but he was free of it. That would have to be enough. Adams had created a life for him, had gotten him started on a path to live a real, human, mundane life. All the agents wanted in return was his cooperation if magic came here - and he'd gladly destroy anything threatening his new life with the contamination of magic.
He was hit with a mild wave of nausea, and frowned. A thumb lifted a corner of bread and he peered down at the meat in his sandwich for a moment before throwing it away. He assumed the meat had gone bad, or perhaps the mayonnaise. The thought brought a smile to his face: how delightfully ordinary a problem.
---------------
((Daniel Dean's information is preserved here.))