Logan Graves misses the quiet (![]() ![]() @ 2014-08-02 01:01:00 |
![]() |
|||
![]() |
|
![]() |
|
![]() |
Entry tags: | carly, logan |
WHO: Logan and Carly
WHERE: Joey Basso's Pen
WHEN: August 4th, 2014; night
WHAT: The cousin's discovering they're in some kind of cage.
There was an unpleasant taste in her mouth that she couldn't place or get rid of. Probably because it felt like she'd swallowed the entire fucking Sahara at some point while she'd been sleeping, her throat aching with the dryness. Which was another problem, since Logan couldn't remember having laid down to go to sleep either. Not entirely impossible, but it usually took her awhile nowadays to pass out, so she remembered all the asinine things she'd thought about when she woke up the next morning. Usually rolling her eyes at the shit that had popped into her mind at the time. Then she realized she wasn't actually in her bed either. Which wasn't enough of a reason to panic either; she'd shared a bed with some of the other survivors, or fallen asleep in one of the beds in the infirmary before. Adding it all up made her wary as she finally opened her eyes and sat up, but didn't prepare her for the truth of the situation. Grogginess held tight as Logan tried to blink away the sleep. It was dark and she was outside, both more then enough reasons to feel on edge. It made her hackles rise, brown eyes scanning the area tensely. There was no way she had decided to take a nap outside, in the middle of the jungle from the looks of it, so how the hell had she gotten here? Where the hell was here? Fuck, why did her mouth feel like it was full of cotton? Logan really hated being confused, more so when she was groggy too. It made her cranky, which made her want one of her guns. Which weren't in their holsters. Or maybe they were, but she wasn't wearing them so who could be sure. "Fuck." |