Swamped

You don't even know what to tell them. That the ocean god sent you back in time for reasons you don't know? You doubt they'd believe you, and the gods didn't seem thrilled at the idea of you talking openly about time travel anyhow.

But you also want to get out of here with minimal fuss, and that means not raising any suspicions. Not that you know what you're going to do once you're out, but you're fairly sure you won't be able to accomplish anything in this bed.

Well. One thing that's clear is that you should ask for your robes back, whatever shape they're in. You don't want them leaking temporal energy.

First, though, you need a cover story. You suppose acting more dazed and disoriented than you actually are might help, but it would be good to come up with at least a few details...

The nurse comes in and glances over you. You suppose you're improvising.

"Good, you're awake," she says. "You feeling okay? We didn't notice any injuries, but it's hard for us to tell if you're aching or something."

You put your hand to your head.

"I'm sorry, I don't really understand. What happened? Where is this?"

"This is the hospital. All I know is, you washed up on the shore of the beach and ended up here. Could you tell me your name?"

You were vaguely aware the question would come up, but you hadn't really thought about it. So your current state of mind isn't entirely an act. You strain to remember if you ever changed the name on that patient file...

Yes. You did. But to what?