Oft got without merit, oft lost without deserving

[There’s such a depressed pall hanging over Luceti recently. Coming and goings from the village are common, but the disappearances have really taken their toll recently. So many in such a short period of time – mainstays and pillars of the community – just gone and the wave of them does not feel like it has subsided quite yet.

It sucks whatever joy there is to be had from a birthday. And Luceti? Today is one for Trafalgar Law.

He barely remembered. Not that he expects anyone else will. He’s told few and those few are all dealing with their own losses as he’s dealing with his. And with McCoy now gone, there isn’t much time to dwell on anything much as he takes over the other doctor’s share of shifts and sorts through whatever he left and was working on at the Battle Dome clinic.

Maybe it’s for the best no one will probably remember. He is in no mood for a party. But Law takes the day for himself anyway.

You can catch him in the morning around town fetching various things (namely booze), and from eleven thirty onwards into the afternoon at the docks, tending to the Shinonome so she’s ready to sail.

And before the afternoon is done, one 100% filtered message goes out over the journal to Uchiha Itachi:]

Care to join me down at the docks? Dress warmly and you might want to set out Amaya’s dinner for the night… and the next morning. There’s a nice wind tonight for a trip.

[He promised you a sail, remember?]

Oh, and Itachi? Would you bring along a bottle or two of your favorite drink? I figure it’s a night for it.

[Godfriggin’ experiments.

Of course there’s one. The New Feather cycle seems to be winding up (It’s a morbid wonder what they’ll get next batch) and it’s a perfect time to rattle the cages a bit. It’s chaos… and while some of it is amusing as hell to watch over the journals… most of it is just exasperating, and some plain mentally traumatising.

And it’s all so. Damn. LOUD.

… if this keeps up, he’s going to have an addiction to headache medicine. He just knows it.

So it’s a hot shower for him in an effort to ease the migraine and any lingering soreness from the intensive training from earlier in the day. A shave to clean up the stubble sneaking in around his goatee and a note to find a barber in Luceti, because, damn he needs a haircut.

It’s when he’s getting dressed and just looking through his closet for a shirt when it hits and his headache just got 100% worse

Possibly because his head just went through the roof - literally. ]

WHAT THE------!!!!!!!!!!

…

?????

[…

…that’s not his voice. That's--

… and… everything feels way too tight around him. Constraining. Before he twitches and he feels plaster just shatter around him.

…

… oh, oh fuck.

FUCK.]

…

… Bepo?

[He has no idea that his journal has landed open and the whole thing is now transmitting.

Because he has bigger concerns.

Starting with the floor beginning to creak ominously under him.]





{{OOC: replies will be coming from notwhitebeard and all tags will be answered tomorrow evening.}}

[Blissfully unaware of Admirals stalking the village in search of him, Trafalgar Law is taking a few hours away from nosing around the village and through the journals... though it’s still open – he likes to listen to the background noise from the book. Today he must attend to some of life’s tedious domestic necessities. Mainly cleaning the apartment, cooking dinner, and sitting down on the couch to alter some new shirts and sweaters to accommodate his wings.

Boring, but it’s not going to get done by itself.

Sword maintenance comes next on the list, and that’s when the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise as he sights down the blade looking for imperfections and fractures. It’s a loud day for the journals, what with the floods of new arrivals (and no voices of crew yet), but he’s got the uneasy feeling the fun’s about to visit him in turn. 8| ]

… it’s really going crazy out there…

[… a really uneasy feeling.]