[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=a0522d]Gilbert Summers[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/7ce4ca94-0d5e-43f5-8071-e86d5da5d2c1.png[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] PE Fade Between <~[i]SNAP[/i]~> Plains Between River & Cave
[b][color=a0522d]Skills:[/color][/b] Locate (Emendator) [hr][/center]

	Being put into this place, with new and interesting concepts knocking around his skull, did pique Gilbert's more intellectual and philosophical interests. Comparatively few people had referred to him as a philosopher (though he was), and even fewer had ever accused him of being an intellectual (it was understandable). These facets of his personality were real, however, and did make up the complicated fellow that was Gilbert Summers. Or whatever he called himself these days. Mostly though, in this moment, Gil's dominant traits centered around one of the oldest of humanity's professions, the one to which he had dedicated countless lifetimes. 

	[i]Soldier[/i], not prostitute. Minds out of the gutter, people. 

	(ahem) Anyway, with their very surroundings altering from the pastoral to the hellish, Gilbert's concerns moved away from the existential implications of an afterlife, final judgement, punishment vs peace, and centered more on the extreme here and now. There were Paradoxes with them that, while talented enough, had not received the full measure of training that he would have preferred them to have had before sending them into something completely unknown like this. Hence, Gilbert was already shifting his thoughts to defensive measures they might take, ideas on maximizing effectiveness their marching order, such as the had one, and the fluid nature of anything that resembled planning, when the very lands around them was subject to alteration.                                                  

	The question that came from Andromeda didn't exactly give him pause. It was something that he had contemplated himself, many times over. Of course, the circumstances of [i]his[/i] coming into consciousness as an Emendator was a little different than the others, though that could have just been a matter of timing lining up coincidentally. He would probably never know. And so much was he agreed with Gio's assessment that more important things were afoot, he did believe that some light conversation that might lead to an educational experience wasn't such a bad idea. If nothing else, it gave something to occupy the more logical portions of their thought, lest it turn to panic. Nobody needed that. 

	One more scan of the horizon before he turned to Andromeda, intent on giving her the short, short version of his coming to consciousness as an Emendator.

[center]*****Snapping*****[/center]
	Gilbert saw Andromeda there still, and yet she was the only thing that was immediately familiar about what used to be around him vs. what actually was. Silently, instantly, Gil was in another place, as if someone had neatly incised away a portion of cellulose film and seamlessly rejoined it, else he was simply removed to this new spot without so much as a ruffle of wind to indicate that a change was taking place. 

	His arrival was heralded by a very random seeming man stating the obviousness of his and Andromeda's height disparity. He eyes the man curiously for a moment, almost ([i]almost[/i]) cracking a smile at the "piggy back" comment. The recent memory of James shapeshifting into his Boar Form to give Andromeda a ride in hopes of giving her a breather and something else to focus on was touching. It seemed like a James thing to do. But the uncertainty of his situation - living, dead, or other - kept Gil from fully accepting the speech from the strange man and taking any levity from it. 

	All in all, it was very confusing at first. But the strange man and Andromeda aside, there was a young lady in garb of an era and location that Gilbert had lived. London, 19th century. He couldn't tell offhand if it was during the Georgian period, the Regency, or the Victorian; but he did recall the basic cut and styles, and remembered that he had stopped killing lots and lots of people for a little while to become a teacher, and a well respected one, adopting the name Gray Hawkins. His professorial lectures and private tutelage about world history always took on a stirring narrative form and his descriptions of battles both ancient and contemporary were regarded as brutal, emotional, and highly detailed; as if he had, impossibly, been physically present for them.

	There was another that he personally knew here. And a huge, white tiger that seemed to be responding to the odd fellow's ramblings; he was going to come back to this in a bit. No one seemed hostile, so he took a second to focus his concentration onto the location of the other Emendators. Quietly, he smiled and whispered, [color=a0522d]"[sub]...Nancy...[/sub]"[/color] casually looking in the direction he felt the pull (and letting Andromeda see him do it). While Gilbert took cautious note of the others, it was Faith that he addressed in an inquisitive, wearied tone: [color=a0522d]"How were things in New York, Faith?"[/color] as if he already had an idea of what might have happened.