Post by Steve on Jul 13, 2014 20:56:07 GMT -6
The air inside the ranger's office was stuffy and stale, almost suffocating. The generator that powered the building was currently being tinkered with, everyone left to their own devices while the operation was in effect. The captain sat at his desk, his boots propped up on it as his feet baked inside them. Although he wished dearly to take off his boots, he couldn't risk the time. His help could be needed at any moment, he might need to rush outside to fight at any time.
So far, the day had been lazy and hot, without much happenings at all besides the generator modding. It seemed as if the desert was an ocean and all the things in it were peacefully waving about, not a care for miles. Steven sighed, sweat beading down out from under his ranger hat, rolling off his sharp cheeks to continue down to his neck and there to soak into his shirt. He cast a long stare out the small window across the room, watching the sky for signs of clouds. Nothing rolled past however, the sky was an empty, blue abyss. The heat outside could be seen, scorching fumes from the sand.
Steven despised days like this, even if the uneventful times were a good sign for the rangers. They were terribly boring, rendering him to the point of madness. The man took off his hat, setting it on his chest and raking both his hands through his dark, short hair. He grabbed a hankerchief from one of his lower desk drawers, wiping his brow free of sweat. How he longed for just a breeze!
The captain threw his cloth down on the desktop, tossing his hat back on his head. He rose from his seat, walking slowly toward the door. Steven retrieved his trench coat from the rack beside the exit, slipping into it as if into a second skin. The routine was natural to him, he'd done it too many times to count. For good measure, he took his rifle from the rack as well, strapping it around his back comfortably, the weight of it felt like an old companion. Touching his holster for reassurance that his pistol was still in it, Steven opened the door to the desert outside, closing it behind him briskly.
He did not know what good being outside would do him, since he hadn't heard any word of suspicion at all. But, Steven felt as if he needed a good walk, and by the time he would return the generator should be fixed. Coming back to a cool office would be a nice treat, he thought. He'd had enough of sitting around waiting for nothing. Perhaps he would find something while he was out.
So, the lean, muscular man trekked his way out toward the desert, past the sand bags and fences that kept ranger station Foxtrot safe from its enemies. He hesitated along the last row of barbed wire fences and sand bags, gazing out toward the horizon wistfully. He reached into his trench coat, pulling out his favorite pair of large lens sunglasses and put them on, unsquinting his hazel eyes in the harsh sun rays. With that pleasantry, Steven continued on his patrol, searching for anything or anyone who needed his help out here in the unforgiving, dry desert.
So far, the day had been lazy and hot, without much happenings at all besides the generator modding. It seemed as if the desert was an ocean and all the things in it were peacefully waving about, not a care for miles. Steven sighed, sweat beading down out from under his ranger hat, rolling off his sharp cheeks to continue down to his neck and there to soak into his shirt. He cast a long stare out the small window across the room, watching the sky for signs of clouds. Nothing rolled past however, the sky was an empty, blue abyss. The heat outside could be seen, scorching fumes from the sand.
Steven despised days like this, even if the uneventful times were a good sign for the rangers. They were terribly boring, rendering him to the point of madness. The man took off his hat, setting it on his chest and raking both his hands through his dark, short hair. He grabbed a hankerchief from one of his lower desk drawers, wiping his brow free of sweat. How he longed for just a breeze!
The captain threw his cloth down on the desktop, tossing his hat back on his head. He rose from his seat, walking slowly toward the door. Steven retrieved his trench coat from the rack beside the exit, slipping into it as if into a second skin. The routine was natural to him, he'd done it too many times to count. For good measure, he took his rifle from the rack as well, strapping it around his back comfortably, the weight of it felt like an old companion. Touching his holster for reassurance that his pistol was still in it, Steven opened the door to the desert outside, closing it behind him briskly.
He did not know what good being outside would do him, since he hadn't heard any word of suspicion at all. But, Steven felt as if he needed a good walk, and by the time he would return the generator should be fixed. Coming back to a cool office would be a nice treat, he thought. He'd had enough of sitting around waiting for nothing. Perhaps he would find something while he was out.
So, the lean, muscular man trekked his way out toward the desert, past the sand bags and fences that kept ranger station Foxtrot safe from its enemies. He hesitated along the last row of barbed wire fences and sand bags, gazing out toward the horizon wistfully. He reached into his trench coat, pulling out his favorite pair of large lens sunglasses and put them on, unsquinting his hazel eyes in the harsh sun rays. With that pleasantry, Steven continued on his patrol, searching for anything or anyone who needed his help out here in the unforgiving, dry desert.
