Title: A Concept Of Peace.
Characters: Brooke, Strawhats, ref Rhumba pirates.
Word Count: 273 (After some extremely vicious rather thoughtful editing.)
Brooke had seen much of the world in his long life, even if most of it was spent faffing around the Florian Triangle.
Drifting through the misty waters, in a parody of the life he had known and loved, Brooke grew to know silence.
His nakama had been boisterous and noisy; their ship had always been filled with the sounds of songs, fights, chores and instruments. It was a constant riot of cacophonous noise cascading across the waves. Now that it was silent, Brooke realised that he despised it.
He found no peace in the dull silence broken only by the slosh of the waves against the hull and the tap of his own footsteps.
He had never understood those who prayed for solitude; it was his idea of hell.
Where was the peace in loneliness? Where was the solace in silence?
Brooke admitted to Franky once that without his promise to keep him going he would have gladly succumbed to madness long ago.
Leaving the mists of the Triangle was beyond joy, it was being pulled from the deepest depths of his own personal hell.
Sitting on the deck of the Thousand Sunny he listened.
The tap of many feet upon the deck, the rustle of pages being turned, the clatter of dishware, the clang of weights and the shouts of many voices rising and falling with the waves.
He leaned back and watched the clarity of the sky for the first time in years as he raised his violin.
Yes, this; with the sounds of life surrounding him and his violin adding to their composition. This was where Brooke found peace.
A/N: I just realised that 'faffing' is a rather colloquial term but I think most of you could guess what it means.
These are reposts of my entries to the OP_300 on livejournal.