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[deathsdoctor]

[It is cold. It is so freaking damn cold out up this mountain, even by the standards of a North Blue native…]



[To backtrack a little, sometime between last night and the early morn, some vague ill defined time when the journals were quiet and most were asleep, Trafalgar Law awoke. In a copse of trees, at the bottom of a gorge surrounded by towering cliffs of rock, and completely naked except for a ridiculously thin pair of white cotton pants.

And wings. Small but sleek raven black wings ending with yellow tips. That twitched painfully with every inhalation and exhalation of salt free air.

He can feel them. It’s wrong, on so many levels. He’s been kidnapped, this is obvious (the how escapes him for now, the near impossibility of this act staggering), he’s probably been drugged (no matter how he tries, he can’t clear the fog obscuring his senses), but the mutilation…

Revenge? No. Not a job like this. This is surgery beyond the skill of any he knows are practicing on the Line. He doubts even Vegapunk can knit flesh and bone, nerve and muscle fibre quite like this, and the rumours of what he can do are...

Enough.

Law extends the wings slowly, testing, ignoring the flames flaring. Flex, flare – such fine muscle control, so quickly, so naturally, should be impossible as well. It takes the brain years to refine coordination like this. He delicately prods the base of the wings. There aren’t even scars.

Who did this?

No matter. Not now. The payment for these services rendered would be the same.

Blood.

Head spinning, senses muffled, back a mass of seething fire, Law finds the curious book first. Then his boots and socks next, and only those. Gee, thanks bastards. You mean for him to walk, but where? His frown only grows more pronounced as he finds the pages of the book blank. And wouldn’t you know, he hits upon that rare moment of utter silence. The book is just that, an empty book. He closes it before there is a chance for anyone to make a noise or appear on its pages.

He discovers the rocks after that. They look like flint and they brightly spark when he strikes them. Excellent. The temperature is dropping as the night wears on and he has to do something fast before anything more severe than mild hypothermia sets in. Now there is a solution.

And faced with the choice of losing a still potentially valuable source of answers and getting through the night alive, and without facing the additional ironic joy of losing limbs through frostbite, when he had gained extra already…

… paper makes excellent kindling.]



[Daylight finds Law making his way through the mountains, bookless, armed with a torch (for warmth now – the best he can do) and the rocks tucked securely in his pockets. It’s still cold, but with light the temperature has risen to a point where it’s just irritable and painful in turns to someone of the shounen persuasion.

He’s so grateful for the boots now.

The pirate knows now he’s been drugged. Not because the fog’s still there, because it is. But because he has a guide. If voices in your head constitute a guide.

It doesn’t really talk. Not through words. More like impressions – like the feel of the wind in the sails on a warm summery day – that make their point clear anyway. But it’s chatty and friendly and somehow steering him around the greatest of dangers in these difficult mountain heights. And for a voice in his head, it’s not half bad. It’s certainly helpful.

It – or he – the voice insists on being called he – his name is Kipinn. Law thinks anyway. He chatters back. It’s all he can do besides keep moving and hope to find civilization. And wonder what has happened to his crew, if this is what happened to him.

The day’s so breezy. He waves his hand like Kipinn suggests (suggests, not demands, they had established that early on) and the breeze feels slightly stronger.

These are insane drugs.]



[Nightfall, and the threat of anything more than mild hypothermia returns. He’s almost made it out of the mountains – he can see trees in the darkening gloom and lights pooling beyond that but he won’t go any further tonight. Law knows that the hypothermia promotes poor decision making. And the dark hides dangers better faced in the light.

He’s already bearing the marks of his trip through the mountains, you see.

Time brings him to a cave. It looks to have belonged to a bear. It might still belong to a bear. It certainly will be interesting to find out either way. It’s a cozy thing, for a cave, and one crackling fire makes it even cosier.

And then…

And then he sees it.

That book. In perfectly pristine condition. Lying upon a stone shelf like someone had followed Law in and placed it there. It’s exactly the same book he burned to stave off the cold.

Maybe it’s not drugs. But it’s definitely someone fucking with him. He grabs the book without a second thought and NOW he hears the voices as it falls open.]



[Which brings us back to this: It is cold. It is so freaking damn cold out up on this here mountain, even by the standards of a North Blue native, even with a fire, and the window displaying the feed from the journal occasionally seems to be shivering. There is light flickering in the background, visible as the journal’s pages are flipped, but a face doesn’t come into view, just yet. Whoever’s on the other end is trying to make sense of all this, and right now ‘sense’ means sitting down and listening to you talk on this crazy den den book. Finally though, he’s had enough…]

[VOICE:]

Luceti? …is that what this place is called? But where exactly is it? I’ve never heard of any place like this before.

[It’s mildly said, but… answers. He wants answers. You can hear it vibrating in the inflection of his tone.

Can you really blame him?]

((OOC: Putting this up tonight. Will answer tags tomorrow evening after work.))

Comments

[risingspirit.livejournal.com]

[There's something familiar about that voice. Hold on, it's coming to him... Ah. Nope. He can't place it.

Coby just sits scratching the back of his head for a few moments while he tries to place a face with the words and ends up drawing a blank. Maybe it's just one of those voices? Can't be anyone he knows well...

Finally, he does what he probably should have done from the beginning and just answers back.]

That's right. This is Luceti! You must have just gotten here.

1/2

[deathsdoctor]

…

[Now where has he…?]

[deathsdoctor]

[Wait…

That voice. He knows that voice. After what happened, it would be impossible to forget it. Because there is a debt owed – even if that young Marine never intended to help his crew or his patients or Law himself.

But why is it here?]

Something like that. It’s been an interesting day so far... at the very least.

[risingspirit.livejournal.com]

Can you find your way into town, or have you already?

...Oh! My name's Coby. I can help you with any questions you might have if they haven't been answered yet.

[sofar-sogr8.livejournal.com]

You must be a new feather! Hi, I'm Sonny!

I wish I could tell you where this place is, but I don't really think anyone knows!

[deathsdoctor]

[Have a face peering back at you]

No one, Miss Sonny? I take it that everyone else is in the same… [He gestures to the wings. Also New Feather = new arrival, yes?] predicament more or less?

[… oh, he does not like this. But, first, answers and finding out what happened to his crew, his hat, and his sword. Those are the priorities. Worry can wait.]

Do you know why?

[sofar-sogr8.livejournal.com]

It must be because everyone just got snatched up from home and just... woke up here.

[mikangirl.livejournal.com]

[Nami doesn't actually find his voice familiar at all. Which isn't all that surprising; she answers because that mild voice makes her grin without much humour, journal propped open on her desk while she puts the finishing touches on the map she's been working on. The journal window picks up precious little on her end. Maybe a shoulder and some orange hair backlit by a lamp, if he's lucky.]

It's in hell. Welcome aboard.

[deathsdoctor]

[The journal’s picking up precious little on both sides then.]

Hell? Hm… yes. [a chuckle with as little humour returned as given] A cold one.

…

[Again a familiar voice. He can’t recall where exactly, though that flash of orange hair teases at memories of not too long ago, but he knows he’s encountered you somewhere in The Line before.]

[Welcome aboard. That gets another one of those soft chuckles.] Well, thank you, Miss...

[mikangirl.livejournal.com]

Nami. [She's not even looking at her journal, though that's liable to change soon. The New Feather flood isn't something she pays that much attention to. Though after a brief pause, she does add:] Do you know how far from the village you are? It's not the best weather to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere, especially given the clothes they tend to leave you with.

[Voice]

[gomugomunopwn.livejournal.com]

[HEEEY IT'S--! Um. That guy he very vaguely kind of remembers from that one time. It's been a about a year since he's seen him when you include Luceti time. But anyway prepare to have a Luffy on the screen.]

That's the name of it... but you'll probably never figure out where it is though. [He's been here for two years and he hasn't. Anyway there are more important matters at hand now!]

Oi, I got your hat.

Re: [Voice] 1\5

[deathsdoctor]

…

Re: [Voice] 2/5

[deathsdoctor]

!!!!

Re: [Voice] 3/5

[deathsdoctor]

[They got you away from Dark King Rayleigh? Who are these people?

… he likes this less by the second.]

Re: [Voice]

[deathsdoctor]

[Face in the screen now. Hi there, it is indeed that guy from that one time.]

Mister Strawhat? [Something is not adding up… and the feeling of utter wrongness is growing. He needs to tread carefully here.] Won’t figure…

[Hold on.]May I ask how long you’ve been enjoying this chilly little paradise here?

Re: [Voice] 5/5

[deathsdoctor]

…

You have my hat?

Thank God.

[That’s one down.]

[Voice]

[ninthforgiven.livejournal.com]

I don't think anyone knows exactly where, beyond it being a different world than the one you know.

Re: [Voice]

[deathsdoctor]

Different world? That's...

...

... quite something. [Give him a moment. He's processing this.]

And our gracious [Oh the dry sarcasm] hosts... do you know anything about them?

[Voice]

[ninthforgiven.livejournal.com]

[A rueful little smile at that.]

Only as much as I could find out from the people here as well as the guide. They're called the 'Malnosso Organization'. They seem to be scientists--and they keep us trapped here to perform experiments on the populace.

[Voice]

[soulbait.livejournal.com]

Would you believe me if I were to say a form of "purgatory?"

Re: [Voice]

[deathsdoctor]

[Hmmm...]

I might.

[markofthebrave]

[Oh, hello, New Feather. Katara's in a desperate need of distraction, so she piles on.]

Luceti's the name of the town. Finding out where anything else is? ...that's not as easy.

[deathsdoctor]

[Hi there, Katara. Law will happily distract you with questions. He has lots.]

As folks have been saying. [shiver, shiver, moving closer to that fire... did we mention it's cold?] I must admit to being slightly overwhelmed. This is...

... well. Not something that would happen every day on the Grand Line.

[Voice]

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[Sanji was planning on passing this entry over, truth be told. Seven lovely replies already and this New Feather isn't a woman.

But he stops. And listens. And files away every reply the moment he realizes this guy knows his captain.

Got another one, huh? Trafalgar Law...]

Looks like everyone else has the questions covered. [He keeps his face out of sight on purpose, but there's the soft exhale of smoke teasing the edges of the journal window]

Unless you've got more.

Re: [Voice]

[deathsdoctor]

They've been very helpful, Mister...

[He knows your voice as well, Sanji. And now, being alerted to your presence, he's been picking through his memories for what you all were like. And it helps, just a bit, that there's a specific memory attached to you.

There was a dancing girl onstage at the time you came in. You asked your navigator (he's flipping through the bounty posters in his mind) Miss Nami if she could be bought alongside the mermaid. You are blond, you resemble your bounty poster only slightly, and you always, always -

smoke.

Like the smoke curling at the edges of the journal window.

It's not hard. And as the captain protects the crew, the crew protects the captain. Right?]