![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
014 [Action/possibly voice]
Dec. 19th, 2011 07:37 pm[ Not too long before the draftees are returned to Luceti, all snug and cosily tucked in their beds (or in random and embarrassing drop-off points in the enclosure – whatever works), a figure cloaked and hooded in black staggers into the village. Weaving like he’s dead drunk – reality? Dead tired – he occasionally trips and catches himself…
… and then…
… and then just faceplants in a snow drift when it becomes one trip too many. He’s just going to just stay there for a moment. He feels like shit.]
Ughhhhh.
[Yeah. That’s enough of that. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, the figure reveals himself to be Trafalgar Law, freshly returned from one month full of missions.
Armed to the teeth. Worn to the bone and bleary eyed. And apparently lei’d.
… no, you aren’t imagining things - there is a tacky plastic floral garland hanging around his neck. Like you’d get on some cheap tropical vacation.
Don’t you dare suggest he’s been on one, folks.
And when he looks around, finally registering the Christmas lights and the general emptiness of the village, he mutters…]
Oi… what I’d miss?
[Go ahead. Spoil histriumphant tired return and tell him about all the draftees about to drop in. The draftees that possibly and quite probably need medical attention.
It isn’t like he desperately wants to find a bed and get some sleep. And it isn’t like he desperately needs that sleep either.
Not at all.]
… and then…
… and then just faceplants in a snow drift when it becomes one trip too many. He’s just going to just stay there for a moment. He feels like shit.]
Ughhhhh.
[Yeah. That’s enough of that. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, the figure reveals himself to be Trafalgar Law, freshly returned from one month full of missions.
Armed to the teeth. Worn to the bone and bleary eyed. And apparently lei’d.
… no, you aren’t imagining things - there is a tacky plastic floral garland hanging around his neck. Like you’d get on some cheap tropical vacation.
Don’t you dare suggest he’s been on one, folks.
And when he looks around, finally registering the Christmas lights and the general emptiness of the village, he mutters…]
Oi… what I’d miss?
[Go ahead. Spoil his
It isn’t like he desperately wants to find a bed and get some sleep. And it isn’t like he desperately needs that sleep either.
Not at all.]
