Joel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
i_swear) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-04-14 09:04 pm
i_swear) wrote in legionworld2017-04-14 09:04 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] Endure
Who| Joel and you
What| Gettin' hammered on account of there actually being supplies here
Where| in the fever dream that is him clearly imagining the Legion, specifically the observation deck
When| After getting sworn in
Warnings/Notes| swearing, drinking, zombie-talk, mentions of death
He's had time to get used to it. Half a day, it feels like. Maybe more. There's no sunlight to use as a mental map on Legion World, his watch has been busted for years; even in a dream, seems like he can't catch a goddamn break.
His mind could have at least fixed the damn thing.
But the beer's not bad. Better than boiled backwash. The view— aside from being surreal— is pretty enough, though unsettling to think about. Some kind of metaphor for the limbo he's found himself in while the seconds tick on, pulling a long, bitter sip from the bottle in hand. Hard not to imagine the reality of his situation: somewhere outside of his head, he's probably bleeding out, stuck in a coma. Dragging Ellie back from hell hadn't been easy, and he sure ain't as young as he used to be. Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together and—
Christ, he's been staring at those comic books of hers for too long.
Another scoff. Another drink.
"Hell of a way to go."
What| Gettin' hammered on account of there actually being supplies here
Where| in the fever dream that is him clearly imagining the Legion, specifically the observation deck
When| After getting sworn in
Warnings/Notes| swearing, drinking, zombie-talk, mentions of death
He's had time to get used to it. Half a day, it feels like. Maybe more. There's no sunlight to use as a mental map on Legion World, his watch has been busted for years; even in a dream, seems like he can't catch a goddamn break.
His mind could have at least fixed the damn thing.
But the beer's not bad. Better than boiled backwash. The view— aside from being surreal— is pretty enough, though unsettling to think about. Some kind of metaphor for the limbo he's found himself in while the seconds tick on, pulling a long, bitter sip from the bottle in hand. Hard not to imagine the reality of his situation: somewhere outside of his head, he's probably bleeding out, stuck in a coma. Dragging Ellie back from hell hadn't been easy, and he sure ain't as young as he used to be. Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together and—
Christ, he's been staring at those comic books of hers for too long.
Another scoff. Another drink.
"Hell of a way to go."