#ragobeard

[ragobeard-red]

((Sometimes I just have to draw what's in my heart))

[ragobeard-red]

Things felt slow today. More specifically, he felt slow--there was a sluggish hesitance to his actions as he woke up that morning for the second time, not sure how long he had slept in. 

9am. Well, okay. Definitely much later than his usual waking time, but at least not unreasonably so for battle preparations.

He sat up in the bed he hadn't bothered to dismantle yet, and immediately reached over for the small glass jar on his desk, as he had found himself doing for the past few days since the transfer. He rattled its contents--a four-inch, battered shard of bomb casing, curled slightly to fit its container. He was never one for keeping objects around, but the significance of the shrapnel quickly earned it a place in the few belongings that he did keep. 

Marcus had found that shard, and right now it was the closest Ragomir could be to the man.

Quietly, he placed the jar back on its spot on the desk, and stood up to get dressed. The blue of everything was disorienting, and getting dressed in his newly-issued uniform was almost painful. Still, he made it to the bathroom, and as he glanced up at the mirror above the sink he stopped, running a hand over the stubble that was already showing up in the places around his beard that he kept maintained.

His razor was still with the belongings that had yet to be unpacked. He paused, glancing at his face once more before sighing, quietly, putting his shoes on and leaving to check over his weapons.

Not like he needed to impress anyone here.