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thecapitol2013-12-27 08:56 am
isthistheregion) wrote in thecapitol2013-12-27 08:56 am
Entry tags:
So throw on the black dress, mix in with the lot [OPEN]
Who| The Creature and Open
What| Testing the boundaries of his "freedom"
Where| The Training Center
When| Sometime between Christmas and New Years
Warnings/Notes| No initial warnings. In terms of tagging in: Avoxes and District 8 Mentors are welcome to tag him in his room. Otherwise, your character is the other person to call the elevator at the end.
Once he had been taken from the room he'd woken up in, once he had been brought to the training center and evaluated, the Creature had spent days in his room.
At first, it had been out of despair and confusion. They had taken him away from his master, from his purpose, brought him into a city greater than any he had ever seen even at a distance. The scale of it, the sprawling man-made structures and the teeming population had been oppressive, unable to be faced except by viewing it through his window -- and even then, at times, it would overwhelm him, and he would be unable to bear the sight of it.
Hours passed. A day. Despair and anger melted into a sober confrontation of reality. Frankenstein was lost in more ways than one. Even if the Creature could escape this place and navigate north and somehow locate his creator, there would be nothing there but a frozen corpse.
Probably. The remote possibility that he might stumble upon some outpost, be given aid and be drawn away from his pursuit was enough to make his rage flicker back to life. He consoled himself with the thought that Frankenstein would not allow himself to linger in one place for too long. Even without the signposts the Creature had been leaving him, his need for revenge was too strong. He would take up the search again. And he would die on the ice.
The Creature mourned. The sun set and rose again.
Over time, he began to consider his current situation more closely. He discovered how to work the device that made flickering images come to life, and the things it showed him were in turns illuminating and confounding and an assault on the senses. He examined the smaller device his captors had given him, discovered how to make the map appear.
The room began to feel small, the walls too close. Where he had at first been determined to stay put until they came to collect him for these 'games,' he wanted to wander.
They had told him he was free to do so, after all. He wondered, if he made his way toward those mountains... how far would he get? What would they do once he got there?
He chose clothes that would cover him as well as possible. Trousers made of rough blue cloth. A hooded shirt. A scarf, which he wrapped around the bottom half of his face before putting the hood up. Simple, canvas slip-on shoes. He had never had a need for shoes, but until he got to the mountains, he wanted to stand out as little as possible.
He slipped out of his room, toward the small room that moved -- the elevator. He remembered enough to know how to call it, and stepped in when the door open.
And then he was faced with the other buttons. He had thought the floor he would want in order to leave the building would be obvious. But -- no. Floor 1? Central Commons? What was a sublevel?
He hesitated, but then there was an electronic tone, and the door slid closed before he could enter a command. Someone else had called the elevator.
The Creature put his back to the wall, his head and eyes angled downward.
What| Testing the boundaries of his "freedom"
Where| The Training Center
When| Sometime between Christmas and New Years
Warnings/Notes| No initial warnings. In terms of tagging in: Avoxes and District 8 Mentors are welcome to tag him in his room. Otherwise, your character is the other person to call the elevator at the end.
Once he had been taken from the room he'd woken up in, once he had been brought to the training center and evaluated, the Creature had spent days in his room.
At first, it had been out of despair and confusion. They had taken him away from his master, from his purpose, brought him into a city greater than any he had ever seen even at a distance. The scale of it, the sprawling man-made structures and the teeming population had been oppressive, unable to be faced except by viewing it through his window -- and even then, at times, it would overwhelm him, and he would be unable to bear the sight of it.
Hours passed. A day. Despair and anger melted into a sober confrontation of reality. Frankenstein was lost in more ways than one. Even if the Creature could escape this place and navigate north and somehow locate his creator, there would be nothing there but a frozen corpse.
Probably. The remote possibility that he might stumble upon some outpost, be given aid and be drawn away from his pursuit was enough to make his rage flicker back to life. He consoled himself with the thought that Frankenstein would not allow himself to linger in one place for too long. Even without the signposts the Creature had been leaving him, his need for revenge was too strong. He would take up the search again. And he would die on the ice.
The Creature mourned. The sun set and rose again.
Over time, he began to consider his current situation more closely. He discovered how to work the device that made flickering images come to life, and the things it showed him were in turns illuminating and confounding and an assault on the senses. He examined the smaller device his captors had given him, discovered how to make the map appear.
The room began to feel small, the walls too close. Where he had at first been determined to stay put until they came to collect him for these 'games,' he wanted to wander.
They had told him he was free to do so, after all. He wondered, if he made his way toward those mountains... how far would he get? What would they do once he got there?
He chose clothes that would cover him as well as possible. Trousers made of rough blue cloth. A hooded shirt. A scarf, which he wrapped around the bottom half of his face before putting the hood up. Simple, canvas slip-on shoes. He had never had a need for shoes, but until he got to the mountains, he wanted to stand out as little as possible.
He slipped out of his room, toward the small room that moved -- the elevator. He remembered enough to know how to call it, and stepped in when the door open.
And then he was faced with the other buttons. He had thought the floor he would want in order to leave the building would be obvious. But -- no. Floor 1? Central Commons? What was a sublevel?
He hesitated, but then there was an electronic tone, and the door slid closed before he could enter a command. Someone else had called the elevator.
The Creature put his back to the wall, his head and eyes angled downward.
no subject
"I am going to climb to the top of it," he said, before finally turning toward the doors.
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Mostly because people in this place could sometimes be kind of crazy. There were a lot of ways someone could get into trouble from the top of a very high place, especially in a place like this.
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That was more or less the end of his thought, but it was interrupted, cut off by the front doors of the building sliding open in front of them, and the rush of sound and motion from the street outside hitting him with full force. A couple more cars zoomed by, and the Creature started back, nearly colliding with a couple of women dressed head-to-toe in purple. They let out small sounds of alarm before continuing on, chattering to one another like birds.
no subject