Patrollogs
(Emmanuel's nightmare battle with Tom)
[Thu Aug 15 2024]
In the dining area of a generous studio space
The dining area is designed with both functionality and elegance in mind. Bathed in natural light from expansive skylights along with high ceilings, give the space a feel of being open and airy. A sleek, modern dining table made of polished wood stands at the center, surrounded by comfortable high-backed chairs upholstered in neutral tones. Minimalist pendant lights provide focused illumination, casting a warm glow over the table. The polished wooden floors are complemented by a stylish rug beneath the table, while a sideboard offers additional storage and a touch of greenery with potted plants. The open layout allows for seamless flow between the dining area, the kitchen, and the rest of the studio, making it an inviting place to share meals and entertain company.
It is dawn, about 73F(22C) degrees,
"..Well." Emmanuel blurts out in mild surprise, and peers about in the dark of the nightmare. "Who is out there, hm?"
Nodding aside to Emmanuel Cara takes the time to check the fit of her gas mask, then begins running through pre-combat drills.
Absolutely shameless Emmanuel leans down and starts rooting through the various belongings that had been sucked into the nightmare with he and Cara. "Aw, nothing interesting." He laments, as it's full of boring books and pens. Though there is a bottle of liquor, or something.
"Not a lover of the arts?" Cara asks of Emmanuel once she is done, her voice somewhat muffled by the mask.
"I appreciate the art of loving, hm?" Emmanuel quips back around a smirk, and then gestures towards the canvas left lying about, "This is.. well.." A beat or two, "It is not the lourve, hm?"
"Everyone starts somewhere. There is a charm to a newer artists sketchbooks I think. We forget the best artists once drew stick figures like the rest of us." Cara replies, rifle now in low ready. "How long do we wait for the dance?"
"Until they-" Emmanuel's sentence cuts off as he catches sight of Tom, and then clicks his tongue softly. There's a mild grimace that catches at his features and has it's way with them. "..I do not feel good about this, hm? Like shooting a puppy." There's a beat before Emmanuel does exactly this, raising his sawn-off rifle and firing it toward Tom, "Which society is he in bying the by?"
Tom fades out of the nightmare.
Emmanuels Nightmare Battle With Tom 240828
(Emmanuel's nightmare battle with Tom)
[Thu Aug 15 2024]
In the dining area of a generous studio space
The dining area is designed with both functionality and elegance in mind. Bathed in natural light from expansive skylights along with high ceilings, give the space a feel of being open and airy. A sleek, modern dining table made of polished wood stands at the center, surrounded by comfortable high-backed chairs upholstered in neutral tones. Minimalist pendant lights provide focused illumination, casting a warm glow over the table. The polished wooden floors are complemented by a stylish rug beneath the table, while a sideboard offers additional storage and a touch of greenery with potted plants. The open layout allows for seamless flow between the dining area, the kitchen, and the rest of the studio, making it an inviting place to share meals and entertain company.
It is dawn, about 73F(22C) degrees,
"..Well." Emmanuel blurts out in mild surprise, and peers about in the dark of the nightmare. "Who is out there, hm?"
Nodding aside to Emmanuel Cara takes the time to check the fit of her gas mask, then begins running through pre-combat drills.
Absolutely shameless Emmanuel leans down and starts rooting through the various belongings that had been sucked into the nightmare with he and Cara. "Aw, nothing interesting." He laments, as it's full of boring books and pens. Though there is a bottle of liquor, or something.
"Not a lover of the arts?" Cara asks of Emmanuel once she is done, her voice somewhat muffled by the mask.
"I appreciate the art of loving, hm?" Emmanuel quips back around a smirk, and then gestures towards the canvas left lying about, "This is.. well.." A beat or two, "It is not the lourve, hm?"
"Everyone starts somewhere. There is a charm to a newer artists sketchbooks I think. We forget the best artists once drew stick figures like the rest of us." Cara replies, rifle now in low ready. "How long do we wait for the dance?"
"Until they-" Emmanuel's sentence cuts off as he catches sight of Tom, and then clicks his tongue softly. There's a mild grimace that catches at his features and has it's way with them. "..I do not feel good about this, hm? Like shooting a puppy." There's a beat before Emmanuel does exactly this, raising his sawn-off rifle and firing it toward Tom, "Which society is he in bying the by?"
Tom fades out of the nightmare.