[ active, open ]
Characters: Algy Lacey and YOUUUU. Open.
Location: The library.
Time: Late afternoon, around 4:30PM
Content: Algernon has been researching modern planes. He hasn't done any respectable form of reading beyond his mother's letters to him for almost a year, and the process of pouring through books is terribly overwhelming.
Format: I'm starting off in prose, but whatever you like.
Warning: ... Algy. Amusing language. Also if I seem to be dropping tags, IM me and tell me off for doing so at any point ( besides Thursday evening 8'D;; ), because it's becoming a bad habit of mine. :|b
Reading had never been a forte of Algy's. His attention span was hideously short to an extent where unless he was in mortal danger or perhaps adequately amused by someone or something, he was entirely likely to drift into some vague state of daydreaming. He had arrived in the library some hours earlier, however, with a decidedly determined spring in his step and the faintly grim expression of a man about to cross enemy lines for the first time. He supposed that being a young man in a brave new world, he ought to take it upon himself to work towards some sort of goal that would ultimately distract him from the fact that he was not in 1918 and the sheer absurdity of it.
Yet for the past half hour or so, in the little nest that he'd made himself of books and hastily scribbled-on pieces of paper, Algy had been quite happily asleep. A distinct benefit of being in the war was the latent ability he had discovered in being able to sleep just about anywhere, so long as it wasn't entirely flat. His head was propped up on a rather large and modern atlas that he'd curiously consulted - just in case the shape of the Earth had changed in the last ninety years, you never know - and an open tome that went into great detail about the history of piloting and flying aircrafts was spread across Algy's face, covering most of his nose and his eyes. He had his hands comfortably laced across his stomach, his mouth slightly open, breathing light and even. It was probably the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months. No dreams, no memories and no middle of the night bombings to wake him.
The book he had been reading was certainly fascinating, there was no doubt about that; a good sixty five percent of Algy's brain was focused and devoted to planes at the best of times, so reading about their development had been much easier to delve into than he had expected. Modern kites were such curious contraptions, in his opinion. He had little understanding of the mechanics behind the machines, but they'd certainly come a long way from fabric and string. The abundance of metal was both amazing and ridiculous to Algy, but he could not complain. He supposed that these cockpits, fully-encased and protected, were far warmer and comfier than those of a Camel, even if he privately thought that they looked terribly severe. Camels were so much... prettier. Naturally Algy wasn't about to voice this sentiment aloud, but it remained nonetheless.
The harsh appearance of these modern planes did not damage Algy's longing to try them out in the slightest. If it flew, it was exciting and thus commanded his full attention.
Location: The library.
Time: Late afternoon, around 4:30PM
Content: Algernon has been researching modern planes. He hasn't done any respectable form of reading beyond his mother's letters to him for almost a year, and the process of pouring through books is terribly overwhelming.
Format: I'm starting off in prose, but whatever you like.
Warning: ... Algy. Amusing language. Also if I seem to be dropping tags, IM me and tell me off for doing so at any point ( besides Thursday evening 8'D;; ), because it's becoming a bad habit of mine. :|b
Reading had never been a forte of Algy's. His attention span was hideously short to an extent where unless he was in mortal danger or perhaps adequately amused by someone or something, he was entirely likely to drift into some vague state of daydreaming. He had arrived in the library some hours earlier, however, with a decidedly determined spring in his step and the faintly grim expression of a man about to cross enemy lines for the first time. He supposed that being a young man in a brave new world, he ought to take it upon himself to work towards some sort of goal that would ultimately distract him from the fact that he was not in 1918 and the sheer absurdity of it.
Yet for the past half hour or so, in the little nest that he'd made himself of books and hastily scribbled-on pieces of paper, Algy had been quite happily asleep. A distinct benefit of being in the war was the latent ability he had discovered in being able to sleep just about anywhere, so long as it wasn't entirely flat. His head was propped up on a rather large and modern atlas that he'd curiously consulted - just in case the shape of the Earth had changed in the last ninety years, you never know - and an open tome that went into great detail about the history of piloting and flying aircrafts was spread across Algy's face, covering most of his nose and his eyes. He had his hands comfortably laced across his stomach, his mouth slightly open, breathing light and even. It was probably the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months. No dreams, no memories and no middle of the night bombings to wake him.
The book he had been reading was certainly fascinating, there was no doubt about that; a good sixty five percent of Algy's brain was focused and devoted to planes at the best of times, so reading about their development had been much easier to delve into than he had expected. Modern kites were such curious contraptions, in his opinion. He had little understanding of the mechanics behind the machines, but they'd certainly come a long way from fabric and string. The abundance of metal was both amazing and ridiculous to Algy, but he could not complain. He supposed that these cockpits, fully-encased and protected, were far warmer and comfier than those of a Camel, even if he privately thought that they looked terribly severe. Camels were so much... prettier. Naturally Algy wasn't about to voice this sentiment aloud, but it remained nonetheless.
The harsh appearance of these modern planes did not damage Algy's longing to try them out in the slightest. If it flew, it was exciting and thus commanded his full attention.