[@metagros][@supertinyking][@Tyki][@thewizardguy]


Mithias folded his arms and tapped his foot. He could have sworn he was flying a fighter spacecraft only moments ago. Maybe he was dreaming. Actually, how did he get here? Did he die again? No, no he didn't. He knew about the clones and that he no longer needed to drink blood, but he also realized that whatever universe he was in didn't "make sense." It seemed like he was always finding himself surrounded by aliens in unexplained wars. Time and location barely had any meaning. The faces around him also always changed. He tried to think of anything he could that had remained consistent in his memory. 

As Mithias was thinking, some asshole in white came along dragging two badass looking swords. The ex-vampire tried to ignore him, but he was unfortunately getting closer. Mithy turned his bright golden eyes on him and exhaled a sigh with folded arms. His new psychic attunement allowed him to mind-read Ark's name and the fact that he was confused and searching for something. This distraction was really not helpful if he was looking for consistency and meaning. It was with an unsatisfied craving for order that Mithias reluctantly spoke to the person in white, "Can I help you, Ark?"