How are you thinking of this place?

Do you think you're a prisoner of some sort of powerful magic or do you think you're dead? Or is it something else?

If it's death, were you close to dying when you then woke up here? Because I know I wasn't. I cannot die so if this is death, I have some questions.

( though marc spector is relatively newly arrived, it is not his first, nor his second, or even his third experience with something like this. he's dressed in his clothes — or vestments, as he likes to call them: an all-white three-piece suit decorated with small crescent moon details and a larger crescent moon embroidered on the forehead of the mask he's wearing.

when he speaks though, the voice is fairly ordinary — adult male, chicago-accented with hints of new york here and there. )

Good evening. Some of us have met, but for those of us who haven't, my name is Mr. Knight. ( is it? no, of course not, but it's the only name he's sought to provide anywhere. ) I'm the high priest of Khonshu — one of the gods of the moon. Formerly, I ran a mission out of Manhattan. ( beat. ) For the protection of those who travel at night. ( is he going to elaborate on what that means? no. not really. ) A status of being that includes all present here.

( punctuated by a breath of a pause and a slight, fleeting glance to one side. )

While I lack all the resources I had previously, a preist does not need much. If anyone finds themselves in need, from the mundane through to the weird — quests, protection, investigations—. ( marc unfurls a gloved hand and lifts a shoulder in a minute shrug. ) Please, don't hesitate to get in touch.

This isn't my first rodeo, as they say.

( ooc— marc will absolutely be looking at running a version of his midnight mission out of stygia. for the time being, he'll simply want to raise his profile a touch, make sure he's known. he operates predominately at night but keeps irregular sleeping patterns so can and will be contactable during the day. )