(no subject)
Characters: Stoneface (stonyfaced and Martillo (camoerrista)
Date/Time: November 15th, late afternoon
Location: Hatchery
Rating: PG-13 for naked manbits
Summary: Martillo is born in the Sphere, and has a grumpy guard to greet him.
Stoneface remembered the times when it was simply his job to guard, not to sit by the cocoons and actually greet. With shortages everywhere, however, this didn't seem to be the case anymore. People were flooding in every day, repeat offenders, and unfortunately, new ones to add more pressure to the already uneasy rationing system.
Despite the inconvenience of those who were new, there was a different reason for his vehement hope that they wouldn't arrive--this was no place for newcomers. It wasn't ever, but particularly not now, where everybody was on edge, and it seemed far more vicious on the outside than it had previously. Besides that, the pile of towels was beginning to dwindle, and, well, the one he was holding had a few unfortunate holes in it.
Unsurprisingly, his hopes seemed to fall short as he heard the all too familiar cracking of the cocoon. He lifted himself to his feet, towel in hand and journal tucked underneath his arm and eyed the cocoons around the one most visibly under turmoil, wondering if he would have the pleasure of greeting triplets once more.
Date/Time: November 15th, late afternoon
Location: Hatchery
Rating: PG-13 for naked manbits
Summary: Martillo is born in the Sphere, and has a grumpy guard to greet him.
Stoneface remembered the times when it was simply his job to guard, not to sit by the cocoons and actually greet. With shortages everywhere, however, this didn't seem to be the case anymore. People were flooding in every day, repeat offenders, and unfortunately, new ones to add more pressure to the already uneasy rationing system.
Despite the inconvenience of those who were new, there was a different reason for his vehement hope that they wouldn't arrive--this was no place for newcomers. It wasn't ever, but particularly not now, where everybody was on edge, and it seemed far more vicious on the outside than it had previously. Besides that, the pile of towels was beginning to dwindle, and, well, the one he was holding had a few unfortunate holes in it.
Unsurprisingly, his hopes seemed to fall short as he heard the all too familiar cracking of the cocoon. He lifted himself to his feet, towel in hand and journal tucked underneath his arm and eyed the cocoons around the one most visibly under turmoil, wondering if he would have the pleasure of greeting triplets once more.