Post by Konaa on Jun 11, 2017 13:34:42 GMT -5
His eyes opened, slowly, reluctantly. A quiet groan escaped him in those few precious moments where he hoped beyond hope that he'd fall back asleep without delay and return to that wonderful world beyond obligations and effort...but alas, reality was not quite so merciful. It was a cruel and unforgiving place and here Konaa was, yanked back into it once again.
To twist the knife further, it was his own damn instinct and routine by now. Once, a furious drill instructor or officer or squadmate would be the one to rouse him out of his well deserved oversleeping, but now his body almost seemed to move by itself in the morning. At least as far enough to throw off the covers and roll over out of his bunk.
A dull thud, followed by a quiet curse, and he was up, running his hands through his matted wasteland of hair and grumbling under his breath. As per usual, a few others were still loitering behind in the dormitory, snickering at his gait. Morning people. Was there a more irritating kind of person? He was pretty sure not.
The start of his day continued in that very same, systematic sort of way. Nothing out of the ordinary. After forgoing even a halfhearted attempt to make himself presentable, he slogged down the corridors to the laundry room, pushing the door open with his shoulder and stumbling past the few others inside. Eyes flickering to the side, he reminisced briefly about a certain night in here...Striggs was long gone, though, transferred off to some godforsaken hellhole was his best guess. Undoubtedly she was having the time of her life risking it nigh-repeatedly for some symbolic patch of dirt off in the Grand Line.
Or she was dead. But with that other 'her,' he found it a little unlikely. And unexpectedly, Konaa couldn't help but hope that it was true. Weird and alarming and irritating as she was, Striggs was a person who was trying to do her best at what she'd chosen to do. The complete opposite of him in every way...Somehow, he couldn't really find it in himself to hate that.
"Hey, sloth. You're on dock duty today." growled his squad's staff officer, elbowing his shoulder 'lightly' as he passed by. Konaa just grunted in response, though he did note how strangely light that DID feel. The first time he'd gotten one of those it had knocked him flat on his ass. Boy, had everyone gotten a kick outta that. This time, though, he barely budged. Was the officer laying off...? That wasn't in keeping with what he knew of him at all. Oh well. Probably not really worth the time spent mulling it over.
After throwing on a fresh uniform and grabbing a bite to eat, it was time. Sighing heavily, he snatched up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, hand tightly clenching at the strap and striding out of B-3 on his usual patrol route.
As always, it was too sunny and warm, too crowded, too noisy. Townspeople he'd known half his life, sailors on leave, a scattering of obvious pirates doing their damnedest to blend in. Bless their black hearts. He shoved his way past anyone who walked into his path, ignoring any squawks of protest. Upon first glance, Konaa was hardly the picture of an exemplary Marine. Missing his cap, tie hanging loose, shirt untucked...not to mention his slouching posture and unfathomably moody expression.
He certainly didn't care to fix any of that, as he winded his way down toward the docks, pushing his way through the usual crowd. It wasn't like he needed to make a good first impression on anyone, right? This was just a normal day, like any other...
To twist the knife further, it was his own damn instinct and routine by now. Once, a furious drill instructor or officer or squadmate would be the one to rouse him out of his well deserved oversleeping, but now his body almost seemed to move by itself in the morning. At least as far enough to throw off the covers and roll over out of his bunk.
A dull thud, followed by a quiet curse, and he was up, running his hands through his matted wasteland of hair and grumbling under his breath. As per usual, a few others were still loitering behind in the dormitory, snickering at his gait. Morning people. Was there a more irritating kind of person? He was pretty sure not.
The start of his day continued in that very same, systematic sort of way. Nothing out of the ordinary. After forgoing even a halfhearted attempt to make himself presentable, he slogged down the corridors to the laundry room, pushing the door open with his shoulder and stumbling past the few others inside. Eyes flickering to the side, he reminisced briefly about a certain night in here...Striggs was long gone, though, transferred off to some godforsaken hellhole was his best guess. Undoubtedly she was having the time of her life risking it nigh-repeatedly for some symbolic patch of dirt off in the Grand Line.
Or she was dead. But with that other 'her,' he found it a little unlikely. And unexpectedly, Konaa couldn't help but hope that it was true. Weird and alarming and irritating as she was, Striggs was a person who was trying to do her best at what she'd chosen to do. The complete opposite of him in every way...Somehow, he couldn't really find it in himself to hate that.
"Hey, sloth. You're on dock duty today." growled his squad's staff officer, elbowing his shoulder 'lightly' as he passed by. Konaa just grunted in response, though he did note how strangely light that DID feel. The first time he'd gotten one of those it had knocked him flat on his ass. Boy, had everyone gotten a kick outta that. This time, though, he barely budged. Was the officer laying off...? That wasn't in keeping with what he knew of him at all. Oh well. Probably not really worth the time spent mulling it over.
After throwing on a fresh uniform and grabbing a bite to eat, it was time. Sighing heavily, he snatched up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, hand tightly clenching at the strap and striding out of B-3 on his usual patrol route.
As always, it was too sunny and warm, too crowded, too noisy. Townspeople he'd known half his life, sailors on leave, a scattering of obvious pirates doing their damnedest to blend in. Bless their black hearts. He shoved his way past anyone who walked into his path, ignoring any squawks of protest. Upon first glance, Konaa was hardly the picture of an exemplary Marine. Missing his cap, tie hanging loose, shirt untucked...not to mention his slouching posture and unfathomably moody expression.
He certainly didn't care to fix any of that, as he winded his way down toward the docks, pushing his way through the usual crowd. It wasn't like he needed to make a good first impression on anyone, right? This was just a normal day, like any other...