Air. Space. Food. Grass, and trees, and birds hung in the branches, it’s…
… he finds it hard to believe. Between the Captain’s illusory worlds and Number 2’s liberal application of hallucinogens, he’s… it’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it? Even if he is dead; even if this place is faltering, it’s still a living place. He hasn’t heard birdsong in… in many years.
And look.
Company. Food. There’s some strays from the recent voyage here, like him, although he finds himself hesitant to talk to both the locals and the passengers he seems to have arrived with. A hand goes to his chest, in the spot where his silver crucifix should be. At least he’s settled in enough to have put in for a new pair of glasses.
Mulcahy hovers at the square’s edge, picking at his plate while he observes the ongoing mingle, everyone recognizing one another and no one to recognize him.
Father Mulcahy | M*A*S*H w/CRAU | OTA
Air. Space. Food. Grass, and trees, and birds hung in the branches, it’s…
… he finds it hard to believe. Between the Captain’s illusory worlds and Number 2’s liberal application of hallucinogens, he’s… it’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it? Even if he is dead; even if this place is faltering, it’s still a living place. He hasn’t heard birdsong in… in many years.
And look.
Company. Food. There’s some strays from the recent voyage here, like him, although he finds himself hesitant to talk to both the locals and the passengers he seems to have arrived with. A hand goes to his chest, in the spot where his silver crucifix should be. At least he’s settled in enough to have put in for a new pair of glasses.
Mulcahy hovers at the square’s edge, picking at his plate while he observes the ongoing mingle, everyone recognizing one another and no one to recognize him.
It’s a lovely party.