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shambler) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-01-06 06:58 pm
shambler) wrote in thecapitol2014-01-06 06:58 pm
Entry tags:
The rotting Pinnochio.
Who|| R and OTA
What|| R’s been given a Capitol “Cure” for his zombification, in preparation for the next Arena. There are side effects and growing pains involved. It’s also everything he wanted. He’ll be looking for handholding on the returning bodily functions or just general hand-holding. Advice, also. Give him all the good and not-so-good advice. He’s riding high on an overall good mood despite the side effects.
Where|| Around Tribute Tower. In cafes and alleys if he’s getting sick. The closer to the Arena, the more he’ll look and act like a normal human.
When|| Between now and the next Arena. It's catch all post.
Warnings| Zombie references, also descriptions of bodily functions
By now he’s definitely seeing results from the Cure. R’s sure it’s got a specific, science-y name, but in his head he’s been calling it The Cure: short, no frills, elegant in its simplicity.
It means his body is playing catch-up. Trying to relearn basic functions. The nausea isn’t that bad at first. R’s had it before when he tried to eat anything that couldn’t talk back: deer, dog, wolf. Canned peaches. Beer. You ate one, you basically ate all of them. He’ll end up puking it up anyway. It’s the other stuff that he’s struggling with. He’s already ruined several shirts with the excessive drooling. The rash that’s popped up red as fresh blood on his arm has spread (he thinks it itches. Like, a lot). The pus it oozes is clearer by the day. The black poison that used to be his body fluids flushes out. And he’s already figured out that his bladder seems to be working – funny, that. He thought his sense of taste would’ve come first.
R can be found wandering around the immediate Tribute Tower area. Sometimes he’ll wrangle the first Living person he sees, ask them to for advice. Other times he’ll simple stagger into them, two seconds away from drooling or needing a fast escort to the nearest bathroom. The lucky ones will sit R down, try to teach him the basics of hand-eye dexterity, reading. Writing. Appreciating the finer things in life.
The muzzle, though, stays on. It’ll stay on even right before the Arena, when he’s nearly indistinguishable from a real Living, breathing boy.
What|| R’s been given a Capitol “Cure” for his zombification, in preparation for the next Arena. There are side effects and growing pains involved. It’s also everything he wanted. He’ll be looking for handholding on the returning bodily functions or just general hand-holding. Advice, also. Give him all the good and not-so-good advice. He’s riding high on an overall good mood despite the side effects.
Where|| Around Tribute Tower. In cafes and alleys if he’s getting sick. The closer to the Arena, the more he’ll look and act like a normal human.
When|| Between now and the next Arena. It's catch all post.
Warnings| Zombie references, also descriptions of bodily functions
By now he’s definitely seeing results from the Cure. R’s sure it’s got a specific, science-y name, but in his head he’s been calling it The Cure: short, no frills, elegant in its simplicity.
It means his body is playing catch-up. Trying to relearn basic functions. The nausea isn’t that bad at first. R’s had it before when he tried to eat anything that couldn’t talk back: deer, dog, wolf. Canned peaches. Beer. You ate one, you basically ate all of them. He’ll end up puking it up anyway. It’s the other stuff that he’s struggling with. He’s already ruined several shirts with the excessive drooling. The rash that’s popped up red as fresh blood on his arm has spread (he thinks it itches. Like, a lot). The pus it oozes is clearer by the day. The black poison that used to be his body fluids flushes out. And he’s already figured out that his bladder seems to be working – funny, that. He thought his sense of taste would’ve come first.
R can be found wandering around the immediate Tribute Tower area. Sometimes he’ll wrangle the first Living person he sees, ask them to for advice. Other times he’ll simple stagger into them, two seconds away from drooling or needing a fast escort to the nearest bathroom. The lucky ones will sit R down, try to teach him the basics of hand-eye dexterity, reading. Writing. Appreciating the finer things in life.
The muzzle, though, stays on. It’ll stay on even right before the Arena, when he’s nearly indistinguishable from a real Living, breathing boy.
no subject
Inhuman, impure, the very dregs of the earth. Unlike the Capitol there was hardly any pomp to cover it, though that was no compliment to the Capitol. There was only one good thing, one good reason to bother defending Mitakihara at all, in her mind. Just as there was only one good reason not to simply give in and destroy the foul place she was in now.
"Ah, we're here."
no subject
"Been...here before..?" R glanced down at Homura for guidance. This was officially out of his hands now. Shopping just wasn't his thing, the concept of money confusing. When he'd been in hoarding, he'd never paid. Just took something, dusted it off, stuffed it in his pockets. Shuffle on back home. Easy.
no subject
The clerk hesitated, seeing who the 'boy' was. After all, he was one of those maneaters...
"No?" At this, Homura flipped her hair. "Surely you would not be known as a couturier who refused to dress a Tribute?"
...but naturally he would get everything he needed! That clerk might be shakily coming forward to try and take measurements.
no subject
He stayed still as the clerk measured him - the guy was short and he died tall, so the clerk had to stretch to get the last bits. R's head lolled toward Homura, trying to figure her out. He had the vague feeling Howard probably wouldn't like her - then again, he was squirrely and he didn't like most people. Didn't make him feel safe. He probably wouldn't like her quiet confidence. Guess it could've felt too threatening.
"Like...hoodies," R chimed up as the clerk took off. He turned back to Homura. "Thanks for...help."
no subject
She then looked at the couturier.
"So. Hoodies?"