The Initiate Fraysong ♑ (Young GHB) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
carnagecarnival) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-11-04 10:11 pm
carnagecarnival) wrote in thecapitol2014-11-04 10:11 pm
Give thy thoughts no tongue
Who| Initiate and OPEN
What| Initiate got told to go to speech therapy lest he find himself avoxed again. His escort signed him up. He's not enjoying this.
Where| Around any lobby, lounge, cafe, library, or park -- you decide!
When| Wibbly wobbly time -- various points before and after dying gruesomely in the children's arena
WARNINGS| Language.
The books are piled high around him. There's enough he could build himself a small tower, or he could rearrange them into a wall what he could sit inside. Truthfully, he ain't above none of those things, but he's on business right this minute.
Some very frustrating, slightly painful business.
Normally, when he takes to reading-- which is often-- he keeps quiet, letting the words roll all into his skull of their own willing. Reading out-loud just drew attention on things he didn't need attention for. In this case, however, he ain't got a choice. Alex hadn't outfight said, get this done or you'll be made a mute again, but there was still the threat there, and if he had to talk with the motherfucker again, it might not go so well. But the other reason was that he hadn't actually signed up willing. It had been done for him, and it was awful, and he'd be happy to never ever motherfucking do for one of them sessions again, with the Capitolite "speech therapist" making like he was some kind of stupid and couldn't talk just as well as any.
Like he did the fluctuations deliberate. He didn't. Doesn't. But they happen, all scarred on him by the power of his voodoo, and he can't just make it stop. Voodoo scarring don't fade. This is a futile task.
Still, he's here, reading Shakespeare aloud and miserable.
"WHAT-- gh-- what do you read my lord? WOR-- rrr-- FUCK!" His voice has never sounded quite so hoarse. His face is twisted up like he's in physical pain. He breathes deep through his fangs. "Words, words, words. WHAT IS THE M- OTHERFUCKING...! Whatisthematter,mylord, betweenwho!"
He drops the book and let his face fall in his hands. So what if everyone can hear him whine? They can hear him doing this shit, which is even worse. This is never going to work.
What| Initiate got told to go to speech therapy lest he find himself avoxed again. His escort signed him up. He's not enjoying this.
Where| Around any lobby, lounge, cafe, library, or park -- you decide!
When| Wibbly wobbly time -- various points before and after dying gruesomely in the children's arena
WARNINGS| Language.
The books are piled high around him. There's enough he could build himself a small tower, or he could rearrange them into a wall what he could sit inside. Truthfully, he ain't above none of those things, but he's on business right this minute.
Some very frustrating, slightly painful business.
Normally, when he takes to reading-- which is often-- he keeps quiet, letting the words roll all into his skull of their own willing. Reading out-loud just drew attention on things he didn't need attention for. In this case, however, he ain't got a choice. Alex hadn't outfight said, get this done or you'll be made a mute again, but there was still the threat there, and if he had to talk with the motherfucker again, it might not go so well. But the other reason was that he hadn't actually signed up willing. It had been done for him, and it was awful, and he'd be happy to never ever motherfucking do for one of them sessions again, with the Capitolite "speech therapist" making like he was some kind of stupid and couldn't talk just as well as any.
Like he did the fluctuations deliberate. He didn't. Doesn't. But they happen, all scarred on him by the power of his voodoo, and he can't just make it stop. Voodoo scarring don't fade. This is a futile task.
Still, he's here, reading Shakespeare aloud and miserable.
"WHAT-- gh-- what do you read my lord? WOR-- rrr-- FUCK!" His voice has never sounded quite so hoarse. His face is twisted up like he's in physical pain. He breathes deep through his fangs. "Words, words, words. WHAT IS THE M- OTHERFUCKING...! Whatisthematter,mylord, betweenwho!"
He drops the book and let his face fall in his hands. So what if everyone can hear him whine? They can hear him doing this shit, which is even worse. This is never going to work.
no subject
But shit, to be saying that about him, now he's the one getting embarrassed. He looks surprised, then immediately his ears fold back, face scrunching. If it wasn't clear just by looking at him, she can see that indigo color going to his ear tips.
He laughs all coy and rubs at his neck. He can't hardly look at her now.
"NAW," He protests. "It's blood, it's not..." He stops. That would surely be a lie. He loves the colors of blood and the spectrum they present in. "WELL, I GUESS IT'S KINDA NICE..."
He signs back to his ownself. Pretty. He can use that, in future.
no subject
Nill gives him a thumbs up for the sign, because he always picks them up so fast, and bobs her head in agreement. It's very nice, in her opinion. She's never worn much in the way of that color, but she used to have a few hair ribbons that were close. Not anymore, but it wasn't like they didn't have spare money to spend here anyway.
no subject
He catches her thumbs up out of the corner of his eye, along with the bob of her nodding head.
Well, if she does like color, then he'll have to get around to making her them bones for certain. Show her just how colorful such things could be.
"He'll make sure to use such a color then."