disclaimer: i don't own any of these characters or places:]
note: im sorry this didn't turn out as good as my first one...I've been having a bit of trouble writing lately :\
Nami squatted near the water. The turtle that resided in Turtle Pond was a ways behind Nami, eying her suspiciously. Nami was used to the reptile's glares, though. She spent enough time here to not care anymore. She played with a flower she had picked, a moon mist. She rubbed the petals between her fingers a bit before putting it into her pocket. Lately, Nami had felt sort of empty – more so than normal. Maybe Gustafa could help – they had been getting closer, lately. She stood, brushing a strand of red hair out of her eyes. Gustafa's tent wasn't far; she might as well swing by.
"Knock knock," she said, a hand on her hip, when she reached the tent.
"Door's open," Gustafa called from inside. His peaceful music only got louder when she opened the fabric door to the tent.
She smiled dully at him, sitting on one of the cushions stationed around the room. She closed her eyes and inhaled the thickly scented incense. Nami liked it here, listening to Gustafa's lute and breathing in his hippie scents. It was peaceful. It was just what she needed. Her eyes heavy with tire, Nami slowly was lulled to sleep by Gustafa's playing.
Gustafa only chuckled to himself when he saw Nami asleep. She needed to sleep, he thought. Better sooner than later. Gustafa continued playing, only stopping to rest his fingers every once in a while. Gustafa only smiled to himself as Nami mumbled in her sleep and swayed in her sitting-position. After some time, her eyes opened drowsily.
"Goddess," Nami mumbled, rubbing the tire from her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Oh, it's well into the evening," Gustafa mused, strumming his lute. "You were asleep for an hour and a half."
"Goddess," she repeated, stretching her arms. "I'm...er, sorry about falling asleep."
"Oh, it's nothing. Naps are healthy."
Nami reached into her pocket. "Oh," she said, taking a crumpled Moon Mist flower from her pocket. "I picked this for you...It's sort of, uh, smashed, though." Nami extended the flower to him, her blue eyes blank.
Gustafa smiled – something he did often. "That's alright," he replied, taking the flower from Nami's hand. He stuck it in the band around his hat. Nami offered a weak smile.
"Well, it's getting dark. I should probably go," Nami told him, standing. Her legs were stiff and sore, but she left anyways. Gustafa waved good-bye before picking his lute back up and starting a happy tune. Nami could feel the sweet sound lulling her back to sleep as she walked away, but she shook the tire from her head and quickened her pace. She was headed for the Blue Bar.
Just as she could hear Gustafa's lute playing before entering his tent, she could hear the happy bar music before going into the Blue Bar. She didn't smile about it like she did when she heard Gustafa, though. Her frown only deepened as she wrenched the heavy door open and sat at the counter.
"Moon Mist," she muttered to Griffin, pulling coins from her pocket and dropping them onto the counter with a loud clink.
"...That's a flower, Nami," Griffin explained, a bushy eyebrow raised. Nami looked up at him.
"So it is. Make me one anyways."
Griffin shrugged, pulling various bottles off of a shelf and pouring them into a glass. The concoction turned an amber sort of yellow color – perfect for the name. "Here you are. The first Moon Mist." Griffin set the glass in front of the red-head, swiping her coins off of the table and pocketing them.
"Oi Nami," Kassey, a small fire-works maker, hiccupped from across the room, raising his glass to her in a drunken stupor. "Chee-hic-eers."
"Cheers." Nami downed the glass of Moon Mist after clinking her glass against Kassey's. It burned in her throat, but gave her a soft sort of warmth in her belly. She ordered another from Griffin, taking this one down slower. It tasted nice, almost like caramel, but with a sour twang. She ordered another after that one was gone, and another after that. When the night was done, Nami had ordered seven Moon Mists, finished six, and left the seventh half gone.
"Nami I think maybe I should walk you home," Griffin suggested, going around the counter to help the slightly drunken Nami.
"No, no," Nami said, her face slightly flushed. "I can make it by myself. It's only...next...next door."
Griffin let out a sigh. "Guess you're right. Be careful, though. It's dark."
Nami assured him she'd be fine before hopping down from the bar. The door seemed even heavier than usual as Nami pushed her weight against it. Walking back to the Inn was...difficult. Nami stumbled around in the dark with only the light of the moon to guide her. Nami slumped against the well, breathing in the cold night air. She wondered what time it was. It had to be late into the night, judging by the moon in the sky, but Nami wasn't sure about the time. In her drunken state, though, Nami really didn't care too much. She pushed off of the well and stumbled in the dark to get to the inn.
Inside the Inn, everybody was asleep and paid Nami no attention as she stumbled up the stairs. Once in her room, Nami collapsed onto her bed, falling asleep almost immediately. Her clock read 4:18 in glowing red letters.
She slept for a mere four hours, waking up to a dreadful hangover at eight. She spent the most of her morning trying to cook through her hangover, but resorted to helping Ruby around the inn when that failed. Around two p.m., she took her leave and headed for Turtle Pond.
Nami squatted near the water. The turtle that resided in Turtle Pond was a ways behind Nami, eyeing her suspiciously. Nami was used to the reptile's glares, though. She spent enough time here to not care anymore. She played with a flower she had picked, a moon mist. She rubbed the petals between her fingers, careful not to let the petals fall off as she played with them. Lately, Nami had felt sort of empty – more so than normal. Maybe Gustafa could help -- they had been getting closer, lately. She stood, brushing a strand of red hair out of her eyes. Gustafa's tent wasn't far; she might as well swing by.
"Knock knock," she said, a hand on her hip, when she reached the tent, the Moon Mist in between her first finger and thumb.