Forty-Ninth Tunnel
[It's half past midnight, Christmas Eve. In a dark, isolated cell lays Simon, on what passes for a bed that the prison provides. He can't sleep. It's been happening a lot. His mind just goes other places. Right now, it's on his friends and allies at the base and how they're going to spend their Christmas. He closes his eyes...]
Huh?
[Only for them to shoot open when he hears a noise behind him. He whips around and leaps to his feet. Nothing's there, except moonlight filtering in through the lone window, and...a piece of paper on the ground? He picks it up and notices writing on it. He reads:]
Dear Simon,
I know how bleak things look. Believe me, I've been watching you ever since you began to believe in your own abilities. But don't think this is the end. Allow me to pass on a prayer of the Irish:
Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Remember those words well. And know that I have faith in you.
- C. Cringle
[Simon's eyes widen as he reaches the end of the letter and dashes to the window. Against the now-gigantic moon in the night sky, a small silhouette can be seen traveling through the air. Straining his eyes, he can almost see it waving, and he can swear that he heard a faint "Ho ho ho!" as the silhouette disappears into the night.]
[[OOC: So Simon isn't getting visitors and hasn't been getting them since his arrest, so no comments of that sort. But what he IS allowed to get are letters from his loved ones. So if you'd like, use this post to have your character(s) compose letters. He'll get them -- and it might just make his Christmas not unenjoyable.]]
Huh?
[Only for them to shoot open when he hears a noise behind him. He whips around and leaps to his feet. Nothing's there, except moonlight filtering in through the lone window, and...a piece of paper on the ground? He picks it up and notices writing on it. He reads:]
Dear Simon,
I know how bleak things look. Believe me, I've been watching you ever since you began to believe in your own abilities. But don't think this is the end. Allow me to pass on a prayer of the Irish:
Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Remember those words well. And know that I have faith in you.
- C. Cringle
[Simon's eyes widen as he reaches the end of the letter and dashes to the window. Against the now-gigantic moon in the night sky, a small silhouette can be seen traveling through the air. Straining his eyes, he can almost see it waving, and he can swear that he heard a faint "Ho ho ho!" as the silhouette disappears into the night.]
[[OOC: So Simon isn't getting visitors and hasn't been getting them since his arrest, so no comments of that sort. But what he IS allowed to get are letters from his loved ones. So if you'd like, use this post to have your character(s) compose letters. He'll get them -- and it might just make his Christmas not unenjoyable.]]