Charles (Orc) Merriman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paidinbeer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-12-14 09:32 am
paidinbeer) wrote in thecapitol2013-12-14 09:32 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Orc and you
What: Drinking to forget and failing
Where: The Bar in the Training Center (With special bonus thread set in his room later)
When: During the finale of the Arena
Warnings: Well he's a suicidal, depressed, short tempered drunk 15 year old boy trapped in a rock monster's body. I'm sure something will come up.
The bartenders and serving staff had gotten used to Orc over time. They knew if they kept the booze flowing and put him in a dark corner somewhere he would keep quiet...mostly. And the other customers wouldn't be as bothered by any rude sounds he made or if he was disgustingly slopping drink on himself or mashing food into his maw like a pig.
Orc had gotten used to the bartenders and serving staff. He knew that if he kept quiet and didn't shout they would keep bringing him drinks and not tell his handlers to get him out of the bar.
It was a semi-functional relationship that allowed Orc to try and numb every last feeling he had with alcohol and food.
That part was not as functional.
Part of the problem was there was a TV facing him. Normally the staff was smart enough to change the channel but today they had forgotten and he was watching the coverage of the games, complete with some of their top 10 kills so far.
His death at the point of Ellie's spear was number five.
Then there was the hot topic of who was dating who, some woman in a suit that looked like it was made from those fancy Christmas flowers...whatever they were called, was commenting on the possibility of Orc and...Eponine?!
"What the hell does Porcupine mean?" He muttered as the word was pasted under a picture of the two of them drinking together in the arena.
What: Drinking to forget and failing
Where: The Bar in the Training Center (With special bonus thread set in his room later)
When: During the finale of the Arena
Warnings: Well he's a suicidal, depressed, short tempered drunk 15 year old boy trapped in a rock monster's body. I'm sure something will come up.
The bartenders and serving staff had gotten used to Orc over time. They knew if they kept the booze flowing and put him in a dark corner somewhere he would keep quiet...mostly. And the other customers wouldn't be as bothered by any rude sounds he made or if he was disgustingly slopping drink on himself or mashing food into his maw like a pig.
Orc had gotten used to the bartenders and serving staff. He knew that if he kept quiet and didn't shout they would keep bringing him drinks and not tell his handlers to get him out of the bar.
It was a semi-functional relationship that allowed Orc to try and numb every last feeling he had with alcohol and food.
That part was not as functional.
Part of the problem was there was a TV facing him. Normally the staff was smart enough to change the channel but today they had forgotten and he was watching the coverage of the games, complete with some of their top 10 kills so far.
His death at the point of Ellie's spear was number five.
Then there was the hot topic of who was dating who, some woman in a suit that looked like it was made from those fancy Christmas flowers...whatever they were called, was commenting on the possibility of Orc and...Eponine?!
"What the hell does Porcupine mean?" He muttered as the word was pasted under a picture of the two of them drinking together in the arena.
Re: In the bar
She looked at the scream and wrinkled her nose. "Those things are horrible. I am glad I did not eat one of those. It is not nice to be eaten alive."
Re: In the bar
"A porcupine is like...like a little rat with pointy needles. It eats bugs and stuff." More to his confusion as to why people were calling them that.
"I got eaten by a sand worm." He commented unhelpfully. He didn't think the raptors had strong enough teeth to bite through his hide.
Re: In the bar
"That is a bad way to go. I perhaps killed Monsieur Alex in such a manner as well, Sir. But I didn't mean to, if I did."
She had just refused to open the tent for him.
"But I have not been eaten by a porcupine though. And neither have you. These people I do not understand. What they think of death, now this I cannot follow at all."
Re: In the bar
Re: In the bar
Re: In the bar
"We had a candy back home called skittles. They were colorful. The Sheep is like a rainbow." He tried to explain. "She's pretty nice. Gentle. Doesn't hate anyone. Doesn't judge."
Re: In the bar
Re: In the bar
"Very peaceful."
Re: In the bar
She finished her drink, and handed over her Tribute Card, before sliding off her bar stool.
"Now - might we go now?"
Re: In the bar
Finishing his own drink he led her in an awkward sway and shuffle to the elevators, escorting her up to his floor.
The tabloids would have a field day with this one.
His room itself was cleaned up and tidy thanks to the Avox of the floor, his few scant possessions were placed on the dresser in front of a vanity mirror that had been covered in a sheet.
Orc didn't like looking at himself.
And there she was, a sheep with rainbow colored wool. She was chewing on a bundle of sweet grass that had been brought for her and gazed up at Orc and Eponine with dull but peaceful eyes and let out a bleat.
"Skittles, Eponine." He introduced them. "Eponine, Skittles."
Re: In the bar
But still, it was strange to see a living, breathing sheep. And she looked at it apprehensively.
"Will it bite, Monsieur? Is it's fur soft? It looks like a cloud - but with colours. A cloud under a rainbow, perhaps. It should be in the sky, not your bedroom."
Re: In the bar
Skittles to her credit waddled over letting out another bleat and waiting patiently for expected petting. Orc took a few steps towards his dresser and drew out a baggie with little colorful balls.
"These are her treats. You can give her one."
Skittle's eyes instantly moved to the bag knowing what was inside.
Re: In the bar
"It's like a cat, but bigger! Or a horse, but smaller." She laughed in delight.
"Can I touch her? Oh, her fur looks soft enough to sleep in. That is what I should do, Sir."
Re: In the bar
Skittles was delicate when she ate from Eponine's hand. Not that the sheep had to be delicate when eating from Orc's hand, it was just how she was. A peaceful gentle creature. Everything that Orc had come to idolize since his transformation.
Once Eponine touched the almost silky clean wool Orc seemed to shuffle uncomfortably before finally asking something that was on his mind. "What does it feel like?" His condition meant that only the most sharp of touch sensations were felt through his pebbled armor.
Re: In the bar
"It is like... Like hair. Not like my hair now, Sir. My hair, it's all greasy and matted and it breaks. But his hair, no. It is springy, a bit, like when you walk on grass with no shoes. Or like a pillow. It's thick: you can bury your hands in it, but it is tangled like my hair underneath. And itchy, a bit, too. It is a bit wiry, perhaps, Sir..."
She trailed off again, quite aware that her description was lousy.
"Can you feel nothing at all?"
Re: In the bar
"I can feels things. Just not...very well." For the first few weeks not at all. But he had developed the ability to feel through his stones like it was skin.
"It's just part of being a freak."
Re: In the bar
"You're not a freak, you know. Or perhaps yes - yes you are. If I were in Paris, I should think I was so hungry I had imagined you with the other monsters. But you are not a monster, you know. Can you feel my hand in yours? Can you not smell my hair - I do not think you want to, but I can smell it, so you must be able to as well. You are just someone that bad things have happened to."
Like her, if Howard had been believed. But then, no. He had changed his mind, and she was simply cheap again, and deserving of what life doled out to her. Eponine sighed, and squeezed Orc's hand.
Re: In the bar
"I can feel it." He muttered "And I can smell just fine." He didn't want to comment on the scent of her hair...that felt weird.
"I am a bad person. I've done bad things and this is how god punished me." He reminded her.
Re: In the bar
Re: In the bar
"You may not be smart...or nice. But neither am I." He decided. "And if I think you're nicer and smarter then me...and you think I'm nicer and smarter then you that's...gotta count for something right?"
Re: In the bar
"Come. Your sheep is looking at us as if we had two heads and ten arms. I have never felt so good as I do in this place, you know. I have been here more than a full year, and hardly anyone... Well. It is good. I find I can smile some now. And you must too."
Re: In the bar
But he settled in to pet the sheep as well who bleated happily and nuzzled into Eponine's hand.
"This place ain't so bad." He agreed.
Re: In the bar
"I do not know. Here - well, it is a place of miracles. There is a lady who wants to look after me, and a man who tries to keep me safe, and - and I have a friend who looks like he is a statue come to life. But I hate it also. I hate that they can click their fingers and my face is different, or they can send me in clothes which are not decent. I hate that they make me a murderer." She squeezed his hand again.
"But there is nothing to be done, so I ought to be quiet and go on with it all, no?"
Re: In the bar
"I guess if we can't do anything about it...there's no sense in letting it make us sad." He reasoned carefully. Like every time he had a large thought it had to be maneuvered just so delicately or it might explode.
Re: In the bar
"This is what I want - but a cat, perhaps. Or a dog. Anything, Sir. Just something to cuddle when it is at night and I am all alone. A warm body, you know?"
(no subject)