~Your name is Loaz Whittman. You are agender and go by they/it. You are 22 years old with the mental capacity of someone half of that. And you... have no idea where you are. What's new?~
Loaz snaps awake, eyes shooting open as they push themself to sitting against the rough, cracked asphalt. It takes in a sharp breath, air startlingly cold. That's when their eyes start to process what's around them. It's dull here, not bright like where they were before. The warm yellows and oranges and pinks of their room are absent, replaced by looming, cold buildings. It's such stark contrast they wonder for a moment if they're hallucinating it all. As if they'd taken in so much light and color that their brain just. Stopped processing it. But as they roll a pebble from the street around beneath their fingers, they understand that must not be the case.
"Where..." It mutters, unable to croak up anything more.