Post by Konaa on Sept 24, 2013 15:00:54 GMT -5
It was high noon, and Loguetown was more or less the same as always. The weather was sunny and pleasant, with a warm breeze that carried the smell of the sea. Bustling and energetic, from townspeople to tourists, people were both milling about and rushing from place to place, with the sound of activity carrying a constant rising hum no matter where you were.
Where Konaa happened to be, of course, was as far away from the den of activity as possible. Not very likely, but he was well practiced in getting away from people and finding a quiet place to nap. In particular, the angle of the rooftops meant that he was unlikely to be spotted from the ground so long as he kept to the center of the roofs.
It was a more active side than most people ever saw in him, hopping from roof to roof in search of a good patch of shade. It was his main form of exercise, after all, seeing as his training exercises weren't really anything he focused on beyond the typical bland compliance with which he showed most official procedure and orders.
Today, for example, he was supposed to be attending a briefing for known pirates in the immediate area, in order to keep a vigilant eye on the town. Loguetown, after all, was a famous area, and between that and its close proximity to Reverse Mountain, plenty of idiot pirates thought that this was the perfect place to start their quest for the Grand Line, being where Gold Roger was born and executed. You would think they would learn by now, the Marines were pretty wise to that line of thought. At any rate, he was supposed to be there, but whatever. They wouldn't miss one grunt.
Finally, he found a comfortable spot right under a raised section of roof and settled down, arms folded behind his head, before neatly dozing off. The roof was more slanted than he'd expected, though, and over the next half hour he slowly drifted towards the edge, until his leg was hanging off the side of the building, quite visible from the street level.
Where Konaa happened to be, of course, was as far away from the den of activity as possible. Not very likely, but he was well practiced in getting away from people and finding a quiet place to nap. In particular, the angle of the rooftops meant that he was unlikely to be spotted from the ground so long as he kept to the center of the roofs.
It was a more active side than most people ever saw in him, hopping from roof to roof in search of a good patch of shade. It was his main form of exercise, after all, seeing as his training exercises weren't really anything he focused on beyond the typical bland compliance with which he showed most official procedure and orders.
Today, for example, he was supposed to be attending a briefing for known pirates in the immediate area, in order to keep a vigilant eye on the town. Loguetown, after all, was a famous area, and between that and its close proximity to Reverse Mountain, plenty of idiot pirates thought that this was the perfect place to start their quest for the Grand Line, being where Gold Roger was born and executed. You would think they would learn by now, the Marines were pretty wise to that line of thought. At any rate, he was supposed to be there, but whatever. They wouldn't miss one grunt.
Finally, he found a comfortable spot right under a raised section of roof and settled down, arms folded behind his head, before neatly dozing off. The roof was more slanted than he'd expected, though, and over the next half hour he slowly drifted towards the edge, until his leg was hanging off the side of the building, quite visible from the street level.