MissingPiece (Trafalgar Law x OC)

I'm Gonna Like it Here

|Back Bedroom of Shakky's Rip-Off Bar: Sabaody Archipeligo|

The late afternoon sun peeks through the slats of Sorna's blinds, preventing her from enjoying her sleep any longer. Her eyes flutter open, offended by the intrusion of the golden rays. She glares at the single sliver of sunlight that manages to shine directly across her face.

Lying comfortably on her side, she sports nothing but a black high-waisted bikini thong, with a blanket wrapped tightly around her hips and legs. Her upper body remains bare, securely ensnared in a pile of her wavy, pale blonde hair.

One arm is tucked snugly under her pillow. Using her free hand, she swipes rather aggressively at her face, removing the drool-drenched strands that managed to invade her mouth during her sleep. She scrunches her nose and flicks her forked tongue out, dislodging the excessive amount of hair she chewed throughout the night.

'Is there any hair left I didn't manage to eat?' she sighs, thinking to herself.

Once more, confronting the intrusive sunbeams with a dissatisfied huff, Sorna pulls her pillow from beneath her head. Swiftly, she slams the pillow onto the exposed side of her face, creating a makeshift barrier against the unwelcome brightness. Inhaling deeply, she releases a muffled growl of irritation into the plush embrace of the goose down, audibly expressing her annoyance with the morning light.

"Uuhhgggg, I must make rise and shine." she scolds out loud.

Her unusual speaking rhythm once again bothers her, making her conscious of how ridiculous she must sound. Regretting every life decision that led to this moment, Sorna quickly forces herself up, secretly hoping the speed of her actions will outpace the impending exhaustion sure to follow. She swings her blanket-bound legs over the side of her bed and immediately stands up, stretching her arms up to the ceiling as every joint in her body makes one popping noise after another, each one locking back into its proper place. Spreading her black hands wide, her inch-long claws reach out for the perfect stretch. The solid charcoal pigmentation colors her skin from her fingertips to halfway up her forearm before fading into her standard dark tan—the most obvious genetic marker of a Chimeran. She takes one step forward and...

CRASH!...

Sorna tumbles face-first onto the unforgiving hardwood, her irritation escalating into anger. She directs her frustration at the floor, punching it as if blaming it for her fall. Extracting herself, she flips over to sit on her butt, discovering the chaotic entanglement of blanket and hair ensnaring her. With a low growl, she impatiently kicks her limbs, liberating herself from the fabric's grasp, then rises to an upright position.

Examining her equally clawed, though shorter, feet, Sorna assures herself of her newfound freedom from the confining binds. She then shakes her body vigorously, like a dog shedding water, prompting her exceptionally long hair to relinquish its hold and gracefully descend to its intended place, its length delicately brushing the floor when not attempting to ensnare her.

Needless to say, a graceful sleeper she is not, and mornings—or technically, afternoons in most instances—are not her forte, given her work as a barmaid in the bustling heart of Sabaody Archipelago during evening hours. She confidently strides to her window, where a quick flick of the wrist unfurls the blinds, finally accepting the warming embrace of the sun.

Sunlit rays dance upon her bronze skin, accentuating the contrast between the intricate webbing of scars on her body and her underlying natural tan. The scars, numerous and evidence of a history of many surgeries and amputations, are mostly hidden by her cascading hair, which strategically conceals her breasts, allowing her to maintain some semblance of modesty while she basks in the sunlight of the unblinded window nearly nude.