[ His first coherent thought, when he realises he's drowning, is that he can't feel Cabeswater. It's there and gone in a flash, a quick flicker of consciousness before panic sets in and Adam kicks up with his legs desperately. He has no idea which way is up, he can't even remember how he got here, but somehow he breaks the surface of the waves with a splash, pulling in a heaving breath. He has to blink repeatedly to get the salt water from his eyes and when he does he almost wishes he hadn't.

Everything is on fire.

Adam swears brokenly and pushes himself towards the shore, thankful that even though he never tried out for the swim team he did spend one too hot summer learning how in a shitty creek. His bones feel heavy when he stumbles onto the sand, smoke making his throat ache as he steers himself towards the nearest crashed wreckage and whoever is trying to escape. ]

Hey. [ This is not Adam Parrish's usual polished accent, instead it's sore and raw and worried and he sinks to his knees to reach for questing hands. ] I got you, come on.

[ For all he had worried in the beginning that it would own him, Adam finds the absense of magic under his skin as terrifying as the deadness in his ear. He can't stop trying to reach for it in the very same way he'd originally felt out the skin at the side of his head, flushed hot with dread. The forest around him offers no comfort, even though he presses a hand to the bark and breathes in anyway, trying to connect. His daemon, a rough looking thing, flea-bitten and clearly a mongrel, keeps talking, rattling off information that Adam can't, or won't, hear right now.

He needs to know if he's the only one, he needs to know if the others are here. He doesn't want to be alone. He needs to survive, and it's an odd thought, because hadn't that been what he was doing all these years? Helplessly, he thinks of Ronan and Gansey and Blue, taking heavy steps towards the camp. Someone is struggling with getting a fire lit and while it isn't a skill he likes to brag about, the dead of winter can be cold in a junkyard. ]

Let me help. You have to do it like this.

[ Adam has been arguing with his daemon for what feels like an eternity. He'd been picking his way through the vines when the ... he doesn't know what to call it yet, and thinking of it as a dog just makes him feel crazy ... had informed him they had the keys to his apartment. Adam had obviously denied that, seeing as the only home he has his name on is St. Agnes, and then after repeated protests he can feel his temper rising. ]

Listen --. I'm not from here. I don't live here. I don't have a fucking apartment.

[ Usually he's much more controlled than this.

Usually he hasn't just fallen through a portal to another world with no sight nor sound of his friends anywhere.

The daemon repeats the address and Adam runs a dirty hand through his dirty hair and sighs. ] Jesus Christ, okay, show me.

[ Anything goes! ]