Raiden ∆ 004
Who: Raiden, Snake, Otacon
Where: Courthouse Roof, Government District, Somni
Style: Third or First
Status: Open... if you can get to the roof.
Raiden once again found himself atop the coldly comforting courthouse roof.
It was a daily ritual for him to spend a couple of hours up there alone. Most of the time it helped to clear his head and wipe his slate clean. But unfortunately, he found himself having less and less time to do it these days. He knew Snake would interrupt him soon, as his comrade (so to speak) was prone to do in the mornings. Snake often gave a silent nod to Raiden in the mornings, an acknowledgment that they both survived another day. Raiden certainly welcomed the company, but he also needed to blank his mind every morning for the sake of his own functioning, particularly in a place that made as little sense as Somarium.
Raiden crouched at the edge of the roof, his trench coat billowing out around him, snow settling in his light hair. This morning he focused on the sound of the wind and how it reminded him of the icy Alaskan mountains. If he closed his eyes, he could almost envision the time he spent there; the smell of the tribesmen's sweet tobacco, the tickle of the campfires on his skin, the trickle of sweat on his brow during the most trying trials, the scent of wild roses in the forest, the crying squalling sound of healthy infants--
Raiden furrowed his brow in deep concentration against the gusting wind.
Fighting the war, completing the mission. That's all that mattered to him now, he told himself over and over again...
Where: Courthouse Roof, Government District, Somni
Style: Third or First
Status: Open... if you can get to the roof.
Raiden once again found himself atop the coldly comforting courthouse roof.
It was a daily ritual for him to spend a couple of hours up there alone. Most of the time it helped to clear his head and wipe his slate clean. But unfortunately, he found himself having less and less time to do it these days. He knew Snake would interrupt him soon, as his comrade (so to speak) was prone to do in the mornings. Snake often gave a silent nod to Raiden in the mornings, an acknowledgment that they both survived another day. Raiden certainly welcomed the company, but he also needed to blank his mind every morning for the sake of his own functioning, particularly in a place that made as little sense as Somarium.
Raiden crouched at the edge of the roof, his trench coat billowing out around him, snow settling in his light hair. This morning he focused on the sound of the wind and how it reminded him of the icy Alaskan mountains. If he closed his eyes, he could almost envision the time he spent there; the smell of the tribesmen's sweet tobacco, the tickle of the campfires on his skin, the trickle of sweat on his brow during the most trying trials, the scent of wild roses in the forest, the crying squalling sound of healthy infants--
Raiden furrowed his brow in deep concentration against the gusting wind.
Fighting the war, completing the mission. That's all that mattered to him now, he told himself over and over again...