2nd Slip | GIlbert Nightray
Who: Gilbert Nightray and YOU!
Where: On the edge of the Shopping and Residential District
Style: Third person bracket or prose!
Status: Open
Backdated: to the morning of the 20th
The light spray of rain splashing his face was a most unwelcomed wake up call. Nor was the rock digging into his side as he turned over, pushing himself off the ground and shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs. What in the world...
Oh. There was goo all over his hands.
And his clothing.
... and he was in his nightclothes! Gil quickly pulled his coat closed, looking around furtively before ducking underneath the awning of a nearby shop front. It's when he steps soundly into a small puddle that Gilbert, alas, realizes he also appears to be missing a shoe. Swearing, Gil stared at his foot and shook it free of water. He was bewildered, cold, and definitely wishing he was anywhere but here.
But first, the facts:
... He was dead.
Frantically feeling around in his coat pockets, Gil unearths his dreamberry and rattles off a quick call to Oz. Nothing much, pure gibberish! How in the world could he explain to Oz that he wasn't there to wake up the master, lay out the clothes and arrange the breakfast? Such a scandal!
Even if Oz was perfectly capable of doing all of the above himself and had for sometime already.
That aside, Gil grimaces at the tar stuck to his arms and, feeling a sense of unease settle in his stomach, Gil took a step out into the rain, limping thanks to his lack of a shoe. It was cold, and miserable and...
glop
He walks right into another tar pit and sinks straight down to his knee. At least that explains the shoe.
Where: On the edge of the Shopping and Residential District
Style: Third person bracket or prose!
Status: Open
Backdated: to the morning of the 20th
The light spray of rain splashing his face was a most unwelcomed wake up call. Nor was the rock digging into his side as he turned over, pushing himself off the ground and shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs. What in the world...
Oh. There was goo all over his hands.
And his clothing.
... and he was in his nightclothes! Gil quickly pulled his coat closed, looking around furtively before ducking underneath the awning of a nearby shop front. It's when he steps soundly into a small puddle that Gilbert, alas, realizes he also appears to be missing a shoe. Swearing, Gil stared at his foot and shook it free of water. He was bewildered, cold, and definitely wishing he was anywhere but here.
But first, the facts:
... He was dead.
Frantically feeling around in his coat pockets, Gil unearths his dreamberry and rattles off a quick call to Oz. Nothing much, pure gibberish! How in the world could he explain to Oz that he wasn't there to wake up the master, lay out the clothes and arrange the breakfast? Such a scandal!
Even if Oz was perfectly capable of doing all of the above himself and had for sometime already.
That aside, Gil grimaces at the tar stuck to his arms and, feeling a sense of unease settle in his stomach, Gil took a step out into the rain, limping thanks to his lack of a shoe. It was cold, and miserable and...
glop
He walks right into another tar pit and sinks straight down to his knee. At least that explains the shoe.