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lt_safe_house2010-07-02 02:34 am
excunningthief.livejournal.com) wrote in lt_safe_house2010-07-02 02:34 am
Entry tags:
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Date: May 2, 2003, morning
Place: Trilby's room, third floor
Status: Public (Trilby, Raphael)
Summary: Trilby wakes up.
The young man at the workbench looked at the object before him with a triumphant smile. He had a good feeling about this prototype. It was one thing to build a grappling hook gun; it was another to reduce it to this size, with all the little add-ons that he needed... All he had to do now was name it.
A noise from across the room made him look up. A pale stranger was standing in the workroom. "You have given a great service to Dream of the Endless," he said...
Some time later—it was hard to say, his internal clock must have gone out for lunch—he woke up. Someone had thrown the curtains open and the morning light hurt his eyes. It was difficult to discern that much, though, every muscle in his body hurt. His skull seemed two sizes too small for his head.
All in all, Trilby felt as if he had been thrown headfirst into a waterspout. Which, broadly (broadly) speaking, was close enough to the truth.
"Hmm," he said to the ceiling. His voice was annoyingly faint. "Am I dead?"
Place: Trilby's room, third floor
Status: Public (Trilby, Raphael)
Summary: Trilby wakes up.
The young man at the workbench looked at the object before him with a triumphant smile. He had a good feeling about this prototype. It was one thing to build a grappling hook gun; it was another to reduce it to this size, with all the little add-ons that he needed... All he had to do now was name it.
A noise from across the room made him look up. A pale stranger was standing in the workroom. "You have given a great service to Dream of the Endless," he said...
Some time later—it was hard to say, his internal clock must have gone out for lunch—he woke up. Someone had thrown the curtains open and the morning light hurt his eyes. It was difficult to discern that much, though, every muscle in his body hurt. His skull seemed two sizes too small for his head.
All in all, Trilby felt as if he had been thrown headfirst into a waterspout. Which, broadly (broadly) speaking, was close enough to the truth.
"Hmm," he said to the ceiling. His voice was annoyingly faint. "Am I dead?"