River blinked his eyes open, surprised to find himself staring at a blue ceiling. His own ceiling was not blue, it was white. Regulation white with the odd little bumps that always managed to remind him of smashed bugs, as though strange little corpses were lurking under the paint. He was quite certain the ceiling hovering over him, in all it's bright blue glory, was not his ceiling. Moreover, he was quite certain that he had fallen asleep under his own white monstrosity.
As River moved to sit up, he was jerked to a stop. On closer inspection he realized that he had been handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. This raised a number fo questions since River had gone to bed without handcuffs, and without a bed with a headboard. This meant that he was not only in a new bed and a new room, but in a very strange situation.
River took a moment and reviewed his situation thus far. He looked himself over carefully. Blond hair, still in need of a cut, green eyes, everything still intact. His clothes were gone, for the most part. He maneuvered himself into a sitting position and took a look at the damage. Shirt, pants and shoes gone, as well as his kelly green socks. His bunny print boxers were -mercifully- still present. The only thing that seemed off, besides the "being tied up to a bed in a strange place" thing, were the bruises on his arms and hips. He could only guess that they came from his attacker.
Looking around the room, River couldn't quite decide what to think of his new surroundings. The ceiling was not the only blue in the room, the walls were a shade darker than a robin's egg and the lamps were covered in royal blue shades. The bed was a large, king size affair with white cotton sheets and a whit duvet. The room was fairly large, and amply furnished. Victorian chairs upholstered with silvery fabric, a large chest of drawers and a standing wardrobe with a mirror hanging on the outside.
River was distracted from his inventory when the door leading into the room burst open, and a tall young man ambled in, haphazardly balancing a tray of food. He was dressed in what River recognized as his own blue wife beater and loose white shorts. His hair was a shaggy mess of white, streaked with blue and his eyes were large and grey.
"Good to see you woke up, sleepy head! For a bit there we were worried we had given you a bit too much chloroform. And that's no good, is it?" He grinned widely, snake bites clicking against his teeth. He was almost albino pale and covered with silver piercings, ears, bottom lip, eyebrow and a stud in his nose. His thin arms were covered in silver bangles and his fingers were glittering with silvery rings. What really cought River's eye were his tattoos. Waves and stars and flowers crept up his arms and legs in a rising tide of black ink.
"We?" River raised an eyebrow, sitting up as best as he could. The idea that he had more than one attacker had occurred to him, and he was eager to learn as much as he could of his situation.
"Yeah. I'm Aisling and he's Ash." Aisling set the tray down in front of River, smiling as if he were the server at a bed and breakfast. "Ash is a symptom of my MPD, multiple personality disorder." He grinned.
River stared at the boy, a feeling of dread creeping up his spine. It suddenly occurred to him, he had been kidnapped by a crazy person.