♠ And If Anyone Wants To Grant You Warmth When Everything Is Cold ♠
Who: dontcallmegol, baratiesbest, prodigal_axe and going_to_change
Where: The Northern Lights Bar
When: Sometime after midnight
Rating: PG-13 for language and half-nudity to keep a pirate from dying of hypothermia. Suggestive themes? IDK
Summary: Ace passes out at the NL after his round about the city. The crew at the lights is faced with trying to keep the man alive.
Notes: This log is effectively open to anyone else who would be taking refuge at the NL.
the log:
Ace could barely drag himself through the snow anymore. It was like each one of his boots was filled with lead, or that he dragged a seastone ball and chain attached to each ankle. His joints ached to move, but he forced himself forward, forging a path through the snow.
He never thought in his wildest dreams that the cold could permeate so completely. He had left home thinking that the layers of clothing he wore would be enough to keep him warm. A jacket, a turtle neck sweater and a t-shirt. The neck was pulled up over his face to save his nose from getting frostbite. He wrapped some extra cloth about his head to save his ears from the cold, putting his ever-present orange hat on top and fitting it snug. He managed to find some thick jeans and a pair of sweatpants with holes in the knees, but it worked for layering. Two pairs of socks, thick gloves and his boots. But after being outside for four hours, trudging through three foot drifts and growing soaked from his trek in and out of buildings, he was beginning to freeze.
His teeth had been chattering for a while but now...it stopped, the shivering too. Instead he was light-headed, exhausted and it was getting harder to focus. He could see the Lights blearily ahead, it wouldn't be much longer till he was at the front doorstep. His original plan to walk in there and quietly deposit the food was definitely going out the window.
He staggered just feet from the door, losing his grip and cursing as the bundle of food sunk through the snow. He huffed, finding it harder and harder to breath. He felt constricted, strangled by all the damn cloth. He angrily tugged his jacket off and tore the neck of his turtleneck away from his face. He had to breath... his hot breath came out in short pants, barely making wisps in the air anymore from low body temperature.
He managed to get the turtleneck off and lastly his t-shirt. Tossing it to the snow and feeling the cool air bite his skin. Snow flakes pelted his back and melted on contact, rolling slowly till the breeze cooled and froze them against his skin. He didn't care, it didn't matter anymore. He felt better somehow. But he was tired. So tired. He'd just...take a nap here in the snow. No one would mind.
Down went the freckled vigilante, laying lifeless a few steps from warmth.
Where: The Northern Lights Bar
When: Sometime after midnight
Rating: PG-13 for language and half-nudity to keep a pirate from dying of hypothermia. Suggestive themes? IDK
Summary: Ace passes out at the NL after his round about the city. The crew at the lights is faced with trying to keep the man alive.
Notes: This log is effectively open to anyone else who would be taking refuge at the NL.
the log:
Ace could barely drag himself through the snow anymore. It was like each one of his boots was filled with lead, or that he dragged a seastone ball and chain attached to each ankle. His joints ached to move, but he forced himself forward, forging a path through the snow.
He never thought in his wildest dreams that the cold could permeate so completely. He had left home thinking that the layers of clothing he wore would be enough to keep him warm. A jacket, a turtle neck sweater and a t-shirt. The neck was pulled up over his face to save his nose from getting frostbite. He wrapped some extra cloth about his head to save his ears from the cold, putting his ever-present orange hat on top and fitting it snug. He managed to find some thick jeans and a pair of sweatpants with holes in the knees, but it worked for layering. Two pairs of socks, thick gloves and his boots. But after being outside for four hours, trudging through three foot drifts and growing soaked from his trek in and out of buildings, he was beginning to freeze.
His teeth had been chattering for a while but now...it stopped, the shivering too. Instead he was light-headed, exhausted and it was getting harder to focus. He could see the Lights blearily ahead, it wouldn't be much longer till he was at the front doorstep. His original plan to walk in there and quietly deposit the food was definitely going out the window.
He staggered just feet from the door, losing his grip and cursing as the bundle of food sunk through the snow. He huffed, finding it harder and harder to breath. He felt constricted, strangled by all the damn cloth. He angrily tugged his jacket off and tore the neck of his turtleneck away from his face. He had to breath... his hot breath came out in short pants, barely making wisps in the air anymore from low body temperature.
He managed to get the turtleneck off and lastly his t-shirt. Tossing it to the snow and feeling the cool air bite his skin. Snow flakes pelted his back and melted on contact, rolling slowly till the breeze cooled and froze them against his skin. He didn't care, it didn't matter anymore. He felt better somehow. But he was tired. So tired. He'd just...take a nap here in the snow. No one would mind.
Down went the freckled vigilante, laying lifeless a few steps from warmth.