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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
"Me...too..." He stared at Shion some more, working out if he should give him space or just go out and ask. The polite, but zombie thing to do was pretend he hadn't seen anything, let the world pass him by until he got hungry enough to snatch it back. With the Cure running wild through his corpse, he thought he'd try the direct approach for once. "What's...wrong? You don't...look good...?"
He let the towel plop to the floor, turning toward his District teammate and frowning. Was it something he said? How he said it? A wrong inflection of his groaning?
no subject
He took another breath, not even attempting a reassuring smile, he didn't think it would work. "I just worry... about my world, I don't know what is happening while I am here... it might not be good." Probably wasn't good. Especially since Rat was here too now.
At least before he could have helped, even if Rat wasn't in No. 6 he could have returned, but both of them were here now, and had no way of helping the city or any of the people.
no subject
Frowning, he steered Shion away from the sink and to the closest seat-like thing around - in this case, an ottoman covered in District 4 teal leather. When Shion would sit in it, he'd find that it seemed to waft off a carefully manufactured sea-breeze smell. Satisfied, R shuffled over and picked the floor because it seemed a good a place as any, his head craned up to look up at Shion. Time for a pep-talk. R hadn't done many of these but practice made perfect. Besides, Shion had been there for him a bunch of times.
"Want...talk? Have...shoulder," R moaned.
no subject
"It's just..." He gathered his words, dragging them from the confusion of his mind and trying to put them into coherent sentences.
"I was given a job before I left, it was important and... something really bad will happen if I fail and I'm here... so I can't do it and a lot of people might die." Would die, it had been a promise and one Shion would have never broken of his own choice.
no subject
He'd had no idea things were that bad back where Shion came from, or that he'd had that level of responsibility. Shion had seemed like a nice kid, clueless, too nice for the Arena, and not very good at survival things, unfortunately. That'd been R's first impression and it hadn't changed that much over the Arena's they'd run into each other. His lips pursed into a thoughtful line behind his muzzle, sorting out what advice a zombie could possibly give.
"If...win. Can you...go back? Save...them?" R asked. That seemed the best solution, unfortunately. He tried to picture Shion being crowned as Victor and really had to struggle with the mental image.
no subject
"Winning doesn't mean you get to go home." He blinked, because of course that was the other issue. Winning just meant you didn't have to go into the arena, winning didn't free you.
"If it did... Rat could win..." Not Shion, but if Rat won he could help them, he had been Elyrius' first choice after all.
no subject
And who was Rat? R assumed Rat was another Tribute, someone who clearly had better chances according to Shion. R wanted to sigh. Shion really needed to work on his self-esteem. Winning the Arena didn't mean you had to run out there and stab every single person - he'd heard you could win just by running and hiding. Maybe he could get hiding tips from Howard?
R shrugged, his hands limp in his lap.
no subject
"But maybe, you're right. It couldn't hurt to try."