We are the named and we are known

[lucetimods]

Who: All Draftees
What: Arriving at the dorms
When: 26th
Where: Dorms, location unknown
Summary: Dorm information is here. This is your room!
Rating: PG... we hope?

Your characters are shuffling off to their rooms. Each room has their name beside it and only they can open the door. People can only enter their room if they're allowed in (or they leave the door open). Characters will find any requested items in their room already. If they have a requested vehicle, there will be another door in their room that will take them to the hangar to inspect their equipment.

((Mod note: Extra draftees won't experience their Shift Incompatibility handicap in their dorms. :|a))

Comments

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood's taking a break in his room from readying his weapons--across the table is at least 8 handguns, disassembled and cleaned, and on the bed is the extended cross, alongside a large box of ammunition for it. He sits in a chair with a cigarette between his lips, looking surprisingly calm for someone about to go off to war.

The door'll open for people he knows on the draft list (if he likes you, of course). Otherwise, he won't be popping out except to check out the hallways and perhaps visit some people he's familiar with.]

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

[Mihai hasn't been overly social since finding out about the draft, so he'll stop in front of the door with Wolfwood's name. How ironic that their conversations are so often about walking the line between man and ruthless killer, only for the both of them to end up here. It makes Mihai grin a bit as he knocks on the door.]

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood stands up with a yawn, and then proceeds to open the door a crack—oh!]

Old man! [at this point, it must be his playful nickname for him; Vash understands the importance of a nickname. get it? 'nick'name? 8D] I'd heard you were on the draft list, but I hadn't seen you around...

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

[Yours and everyone else's, Wolfwood. Just be glad that Mihai isn't overly touchy about his years.]

Yeah. There was a bit of drama going on at my house. Being the only rational adult in a live soap opera is a time consuming role.

[And since they're by the door, Mihai will point out your name.] Nicholas doesn't really suit you.

[notabluesbro]

[F-face-fault.]

... I've heard that before, yeah.

[How many people have said it's a kid's name, he isn't sure.]

... soap opera?

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

Must be why you don't give it out. [Don't worry. Mihai will be sure to remember it for special occassions.]

Well, there was a poem a short while ago comparing someone's soul to kraft macaroni and cheese. That started it--one on my housemates stole another's journal to write it. Then that guy got another of our housemates to hide the first guy's cigarettes. Then the first one got the third one to sew horrible bow-and-lace colored clothing, to make him less scary. Or something like that.

[Keeping up there, Wolfwood?]

Now the third housemate, a girl named Nill, has run off to our neighbors' until Badou and Haine--the first two idiots--make nice. And I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure our fourth resident, Naoto, said something to make things worse just before I left.

[notabluesbro]

...

Wow.

I don't know what to say to that, except I feel bad for you. All this over a poem about macaroni and cheese, huh?

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[You totally like this guy, right? Knock knock]

[notabluesbro]

[Bah, fuck standing up, Wolfwood's busy reloading this pistol. Something joking masked behind a dry voice:]

Come on in. Unless I hate your guts.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Maaah, in that case - [Opening the damn thing and slipping inside]

I'll keep the booze to myself.

[notabluesbro]

[He just grins, at that. He'd heard you got the shitty end of a deal, being drafted after the drafting. What bullshit. But ah well. Nothing anyone can do about it.

He sets the gun down next to the disassembled others, casually putting a cigarette out on his heal that he'd been puffing away on.]

Aw, have a heart. You walked in, so I clearly like you, right?

... Then, with this magical room of mine, I guess I could ask for alcohol that's better than yours. Without even a 'please' or a thank you, I'll bet.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[A snort of amusement. He hangs by the wall, just wanting something to lean on]

Heh. The only thing this shitty room is good for.

And just imagine - going off to battle less sober than when you wake up.

[notabluesbro]

Aha, that sounds like a dream come true.

[He talks and works at the same time--picks up the Punisher, taken apart to a degree, and slides the long line of rounds through the bottom. How many times he's done this, who knows, but he sure as hell hasn't kept track.]

And not to mention, all the cigarettes your heart desires.

[The metal snaps shut, before he gives Sanji his attention, leaning his weight on the cross's height.]

You feel okay? I heard about them not knowing whether or not you'd guys come through clean or not...

Don't have a third thumb or something, do ya?

[markofthebrave]

[Katara is just passing by and catches this out of the corner of her eye.

Oh. Wow. So that's why he carries it everywhere.]

[notabluesbro]

[Mid-gun-cleaning and—

Oh. Uh. Eheh.

Might as well just wave and smile.]

Katara, good to see ya!

Touring the hallways, huh?

[markofthebrave]

[...So, mutually busted, then. She pauses at the doorway and leans against the frame.]

Yeah, it's a sight to see. There's doors, doors, and more doors, with the occasional break of a white wall.

[.../staring at your cross, yo.]

[notabluesbro]

[/staring at you staring at the cross gun of death. He smiles a little, looking at the gun for a moment.]

... Not really that surprising, is it?

[markofthebrave]

What was it you called it? A symbol of faith?

[She wasn't expecting it to be a weapon.]

[notabluesbro]

[He sighs.]

Not your usual symbol of faith, I know...

[He pats the arm of it.]

But it was what I had to believe in, for a long time.

Pretty sad, I admit.

[mikangirl.livejournal.com]

[Knock knock. :| If you don't like her, she'll clearly cry forever.]

[notabluesbro]

[Geeez, everyone bothering him while he's preparing for WAAAR.

...

...]

Who is it?

[mikangirl.livejournal.com]

I'd say "room service", but that might give you the wrong impression.

[notabluesbro]

Ah, come on it, then! [And while she's doing that--] You giving me the wrong impression is downright impossible, Nami; besides, I'm a clean-souled man of the cloth, you know.

[He slides the gun in hand back together, one leg perched across the other's knee casually.]

Routine check-ups on familiar faces?

[mikangirl.livejournal.com]

Oh, a clean-souled man, huh? [Grin. Comin' on in, then.]

You could say that. Always nice to see friendly faces just beforehand, anyway.

[notabluesbro]

[He's sticking to 'clean-souled' forever and always, Judge Nami.]

I hear you there, ma'am. I've been meaning to run around and poke at people myself, once I'm all ready to go. Nothing worse than sitting around tapping your heel, right?