Filthy Existence (Chapter 2)
Darkness. Nothingness. A void. Brief non-existence.
Then he was awakened by the most gentlest of voices. "Get up, wanderer," the kind voice said. Mark gracefully opened his eyes, and picked himself up, now sitting Indian-style with his right hand playing with his long, dark, somewhat scraggly brown hair. His vision was rather blurry, but he could make out a slim and elegant figure. Mark rubbed his eyes vigorously for a solid three seconds, then cautiously opened them back up. "...Who?" he absent-mindedly uttered, not even completely sure what he originally intended to say. "Hi there," the female stranger said with mandatory glee. Mark popped and stretched his neck, then looked her straight in the eyes, still not knowing who he was in the presence of. "My name is Heyoné. H-e-y-o-n-e, with an acute accent over the final 'e'," she said, getting down on his level. "Look, I appreciate the friendly attitude, but could you, like, explain to me what the hell