(no subject)
Who: Franklin Mott & Luke Cage
What: Bondage is not fun when its forced on you.
Where: Franklin's room.
When: Karma Flood. Night 1.
Warnings: None I can think of beyond the usual cursing.
Franklin had awoken to the flood with his hands tied behind his back. Oh sure, real funny, Admiral. A simple tug, he figured, and it'd be done. Then he could roll his eyes, retrieve some blood from the fridge, and go on to bitch about the Admiral's drunken driving yet again.
Except that hadn't happened. No, instead the rope didn't budge. It wasn't like cuffs, where he might have some room to maneuver. His hands were bound together, tightly. If he had blood that flowed in his veins, he might've worried about circulation.
He had managed to turn on his communicator enough to send a message to Luke, all the while cursing his choice to leave the communicator on the corner of his desk. He'd somehow managed to lose his balance and wind up on the floor, an impact that shouldn't have hurt but did. He also spoke briefly with Snape. That old(er) wizard was always good for a chuckle. At least the gossip passed the time. Too bad he couldn't have learned more.
He managed to half-crawl, half-slide (on his back, thanks, not on his front like a worm) to the closest wall. It took some struggling, but he managed to end up in a sitting position, and from there, standing. Most baffling of was how much he was exhausted by the end of it.
Thankfully, the door was already unlocked. He waited against the wall for his warden to arrive and, hopefully, sort out this mess.
What: Bondage is not fun when its forced on you.
Where: Franklin's room.
When: Karma Flood. Night 1.
Warnings: None I can think of beyond the usual cursing.
Franklin had awoken to the flood with his hands tied behind his back. Oh sure, real funny, Admiral. A simple tug, he figured, and it'd be done. Then he could roll his eyes, retrieve some blood from the fridge, and go on to bitch about the Admiral's drunken driving yet again.
Except that hadn't happened. No, instead the rope didn't budge. It wasn't like cuffs, where he might have some room to maneuver. His hands were bound together, tightly. If he had blood that flowed in his veins, he might've worried about circulation.
He had managed to turn on his communicator enough to send a message to Luke, all the while cursing his choice to leave the communicator on the corner of his desk. He'd somehow managed to lose his balance and wind up on the floor, an impact that shouldn't have hurt but did. He also spoke briefly with Snape. That old(er) wizard was always good for a chuckle. At least the gossip passed the time. Too bad he couldn't have learned more.
He managed to half-crawl, half-slide (on his back, thanks, not on his front like a worm) to the closest wall. It took some struggling, but he managed to end up in a sitting position, and from there, standing. Most baffling of was how much he was exhausted by the end of it.
Thankfully, the door was already unlocked. He waited against the wall for his warden to arrive and, hopefully, sort out this mess.