Categories > Anime/Manga > One Piece > "Let it snow": Christmas Cycle
Pirates of Christmas
Prompt 05. Footsteps
One can tell a lot through the sounds a ship makes. Just listen to this particular ship, and she will create a map of emotion based solely on sounds.
First of all, there is the soft, not-quite-inaudible sound of falling snow. It lives on the deck, accompanied by the buzzing of Christmas lights and the murmur of frosty mikan leaves and boughs swaying in the sea breeze. This is serenity and calmness.
Then, under the deck, there is a soft creaking of hammocks under the weight of male bodies, snoring, sometimes coming in soft, high-pitched hums, other times booming out and inciting grumbles of annoyance from others, annoyed sleepy mumbling and sometimes, out of nowhere, a thud and discrete munching. This is innocence and experience, peace and rejuvenation, and simple, pure-hearted goodness.
Poor Kitchen, on the other hand, is distressed. Plates pile in a mess in the sink, one more cigarette dies in the ashtray, water boils angrily in the kettle. But then, there is also a rustling of pages and clink of a tea tray. The lilt of a warm, pleasant female voice, slow, careful, cautious movement of hair being brushed aside and skin hesitantly touching skin as heartbeats increase and breathing shallows. And then sadness, a light disappointment, and a hope, perhaps, that there will be more touching.
But then — Oh then! — there are dull heavy footsteps in the gallery, a quiet clink and a soft knock on the door. Uncertain whispering questions, creaking of lock and opening of door. A hand shoots out, stretching material as it grabs the front of the shirt, bodies stumbling back into the room and door locked behind them. Now, behind the door, there is touching of a bolder nature, loud breathing and shallow moaning, and hearts skipping beats from unspeakable intensity. Cloth rustles, wood creaks, and small cries escape.
This is the mood of the ship and time, because that is what Christmas is about: love and warmth that you can share.
Prompt 05. Footsteps
One can tell a lot through the sounds a ship makes. Just listen to this particular ship, and she will create a map of emotion based solely on sounds.
First of all, there is the soft, not-quite-inaudible sound of falling snow. It lives on the deck, accompanied by the buzzing of Christmas lights and the murmur of frosty mikan leaves and boughs swaying in the sea breeze. This is serenity and calmness.
Then, under the deck, there is a soft creaking of hammocks under the weight of male bodies, snoring, sometimes coming in soft, high-pitched hums, other times booming out and inciting grumbles of annoyance from others, annoyed sleepy mumbling and sometimes, out of nowhere, a thud and discrete munching. This is innocence and experience, peace and rejuvenation, and simple, pure-hearted goodness.
Poor Kitchen, on the other hand, is distressed. Plates pile in a mess in the sink, one more cigarette dies in the ashtray, water boils angrily in the kettle. But then, there is also a rustling of pages and clink of a tea tray. The lilt of a warm, pleasant female voice, slow, careful, cautious movement of hair being brushed aside and skin hesitantly touching skin as heartbeats increase and breathing shallows. And then sadness, a light disappointment, and a hope, perhaps, that there will be more touching.
But then — Oh then! — there are dull heavy footsteps in the gallery, a quiet clink and a soft knock on the door. Uncertain whispering questions, creaking of lock and opening of door. A hand shoots out, stretching material as it grabs the front of the shirt, bodies stumbling back into the room and door locked behind them. Now, behind the door, there is touching of a bolder nature, loud breathing and shallow moaning, and hearts skipping beats from unspeakable intensity. Cloth rustles, wood creaks, and small cries escape.
This is the mood of the ship and time, because that is what Christmas is about: love and warmth that you can share.
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