thecapitol | There are materials enough in every mind....

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There are materials enough in every mind....

Who| The Ψiioniic

biiowiired & YOU
What| Psii can't sleep and tries to fill in time he would normally spend coding. See Psii doing more than one activity if you wish. Also there are tribbles.
Where| Anywhere in the Tribute Tower. Pick a specific location if you wish.
When| jan 03 and after. Pick a date and put it your subject header.
Warnings/Notes| language (always with Psii), hypomania, talk of death, attempted animal harm (thanks Jason), mention of buckets in relation to troll reproduction (it's canon i swear)

Whether Psii wanted to admit it or not, he only holed himself up half the time. The other half, he needed conversation, some sort of social contact. Psii was a troll of opposites and extremes, avoiding people only to pester them two hours later. After resting from the mental trials of dying for the first time, he finally left the stifling confines of his respiteblock, thoughts racing.

He couldn't sleep, weighed down by the experience of dying only to come back still a slave in Panem. He couldn't code, the Peacekeepers being on the lookout for hackers. He couldn't speak his mind, when even his outspoken preacher friend told him to lay low. So Psii careened down a sleepless path of quietly frenetic activity with whatever else he could get his hands on. At all hours of the day and night he could often be seen doing two things at once to stave off perceived boredom, heavily shadowed mismatched eyes flicking back and forth with equal attention. His lip curled around his fangs in deep thought.

He was a rodent spinning its wheel and going nowhere fast.

Reading; anywhere

He would sit in the common area, the bar, the rooftop garden, surrounded by piles of books from the library. He was rapidly familiarizing himself with the flora and fauna of this planet. Know thy enemy and all that. He'd also checked out e-books and videos, though he opted to insert them in his communicator rather than hog the television in the common area. It chattered information away, mostly general overviews of past arenas.

Psii was mostly interested in what environments and hazards the Gamemakers preferred, rather than individual track records. Suspicious of everyone though he may be, he wasn't ready to turn on his fellow Tributes unless they attacked him outright. He'd seen infighting among slaves in squalid conditions, but it was more useful to work together, at least temporarily. Anyone with half a brain could see that, even without being a fucking genius like him.

He'd hear footsteps nearby and stop drumming fingers on a book to point to some video or other, his words lisping out rapid-fire, "Look, they had an arena in a retail complexth, what the fuck...."

Drawing; anywhere inside

He procured some paper and began to frenetically scribble equations and fractals in red and blue pen. He had enough math and physics to occupy himself without showing too much intelligence. Flight patterns and gravitational calculations were ok, but programming languages were not. He wasn't going to be arrested and executed like that hacker Brainiac. He spent too much time laying low under the Alternian Empire to be caught by mere humans. His hands would tremble slightly, mirroring his head filled with thoughts shouting over each other even without prophetic voices muscling their way in.

Soon he had a growing pile of intricate but ultimately useless chicken scratches strewn about him. He could come up with new codes in his head, but no way was he putting down on paper what could get him caught.

Knitting/weaving; anywhere

His interest in fractals and geometry lead him to knitting, weaving, anything he could teach himself with minimal tools. This also kept his hands steady whenever they would be hit with shaking from his racing thoughts. He perched his communicator on a table to display some tutorials and got busy creating anything but clothes. His interest lay in repeating loops of shapes, not wearable couture. Fashion was Dolorosa's deal, not his.

A simple but oddly soothing esoteric yarn atrocity grew from clever scarred fingers to cascade over his knobby knees to the floor. He could see himself making a hobby out of this, if only it wasn't so useless to him. Perhaps he could find some way to work a code in it, but he hesitated to risk that.

Tribbles; anywhere inside at night

Psii was on his way towards the living blocks. Everyone else was asleep, but he was still on a nocturnal clock, awake as a live wire. It was quiet enough that any untoward noise would be noticed, even by someone who wasn't as paranoid as Psii. A soft coo ululated from the wall.

"Mother Grub'th thecond thphincter, what ith it now...." he groan-whispered to himself.

He stepped lightly to the room on the other side of the wall. Something sat in a corner nearly out of sight next to some crumbs. Certainly no one without nightvision would have noticed, but for the cooing. The furry ball didn't run when he appeared or when he took a step closer. He blinked, then looked around trying to find someone to quickly wave over so they could explain this mystery to him.

Gaming; District 9

Psii missed his husktop with the besotted ache of a stranded lover. His codes, his games, his porn was on there. Though he was hesitant out of pure spite to do what the Capitol provided for him, the siren's call of technology pulled him to the gaming consoles in his district's common area. The heart-racing virtual combat and hidden strategy of a first-person shooter should occupy his over-active mind. He fired up the highest-rated game he saw and wrapped long grey fingers around a controller, adjusting to a shape that was similar-but-not-really to ones he'd used at home.

"....Wow thith shit'th primitive. What kind of two-bit engine are they uthing for thethe graphicth?"

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Psii gingerly took the tribble, not wanting to upset it in some way the human hadn't and risk having his face ripped off. So far, so good. He stroked the furball. It cooed at him, and something tugged at his blood pusher. He looked back up at Phil.

"You mean kick it out of the Tower? But look at it. Obviouthly it wouldn't thtand a chanthe out on the thtreetth. It came in here for refuge, and it'th coming with me back to my rethpiteblock."

Nevermind that he might get in trouble for keeping wild(?) pets in his room, or that he was making a hasty decision. He didn't know anything about this creature, but he was going to care for it. Somehow. Normally he didn't give a damn about animals, bees excepted. But this thing was somehow pushing all his lusus buttons, and he wasn't even a lusus.

Even if Psii was a troll, a being still very foreign for the man, Phil couldn't deny that there was a pet bond between him and the fuzz, causing the Phone Guy to sigh and speak up, "You're right, poor thing could be exposed to the elements and, aside from a few things it's nibbled on, doesn't seem like a threat at all."

That and it really wouldn't matter what Gray said, Psii was keeping the tribble. "Just makes sure no one catches wind of it and you'll be all right, I suppose. Don't want them to think it's a pest."

Which, in retrospect, was a harsh word.

Psii should thank his lucky stars that a night guard was being so magnanimous. He never got any leeway like this when he was a slave on Alternia. Phil was merciful, at least when it came to pets, and Psii filed that information away in his mental databanks.

"Thankth. I gueth."

He shuffled one foot awkwardly as he cradled the tribble. What did he just get himself into? He was responsible for a life, and he didn't even know what it ate. Yet its coos were so soothing....

"I'll thee what it eatth and try to get thome more information on it." Like whether or not it was indeed a pest. He probably should check for that. Whoops. "If it'th well-behaved and in my rethpiteblock, it shouldn't be a problem." He hoped.

Phillip smiled and scratched the tribble where he thought was the head was, "I think we can safely assume whatever was in the fridge is fair game. Unless it's actually a Mogwai then, just make sure it doesn't eat after midnight." Gremlins taught him many things about pet care in retrospect.

He looked around for the cameras and straightened himself up, "Are you far? You can try and sneak away while you can. Not many people will ask about the fuzz in your hand." Certainly not him, that's for sure.

"Don't feed after midnight until I'm thure it'th not a Mogwai, got it," Psii repeated.

He was surprised the human suggested sneaking. Was it a trick question? He was a night guard. Of sorts. Not a very professional one. Psii ruled out deception.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd help me all the way to my block. I'm on District 9'th floor. If you want to temporarily donate your jacket to a noble cauthe, I can carry it under my arm and not look too thuthpithiouth.... That ith, if furry ballth are thuthpithiouth...."

None of the signs or pamphlets could have prepared him for this.

It's because he was a night guard that he suggested sneaking around. Most of that lot would be caffeinated to hell and back, easily distracted or paranoid. He knew what he was, and he knew the animatronics back home exploited that flaw.

"What can I say? I'm new and restless," more like insomniac but that's neither here or there. Phil was a serviceable kind of guy and he was rather curious about the tribble and Psii himself. Which brings him to this question,

"Do you happen to know Karkat Vantas?" How does one NOT know about the crabby (ha) entity in this town.

Psii knew a lot about being paranoid and restless, though he hadn't (yet) discovered caffeine. He was a slave first, outlaw second, and more interested in staying alive than fighting hordes of highbloods head-on like a dumbass. His specialties were precognition (involuntary), hacking, and telekinesis, all of which encouraged tactical thinking.

He paused in his tentative reaching out for the jacket to raise a brow at the human.

"What doeth Shouty McNubkinth have to do with my hairy ball?"

"I met him and you…you seem like the same, um…race?" Please don't kill Phillip, wait until the Arena to do so, "Sorry that was rude of me and if there's any bad blood."

He wasn't that aware of the different types of trolls that existed in Alternia or even here. And even so he apologized.

Ironic, that Karkat's blood was the only thing considered "bad," at least among the troll castes. But Psii never cared for that classist bullshit anyway. He was kind of best friends with Signless, an insurgent who preached directly against it. And Karkat was his descendant.

"Funny you should thay that. There uthually ith a good amount of blood thpillage, given that trollth fight a lot, but he and I are allieth." Sometimes allies called each other stupid names. Trolls were like that. He jerked his head, "Come on, while the furball'th thtill in a good mood."

He stepped towards the hallway that lead to the elevators.

Phillip had no poker face when it came to conflicts, more within the Tower itself. But the disclaimer was quick to settle any doubts about what the Psiionic meant. "Must be some troll traditions then." Watching the Tribble purr and cuddle in his jacket made the man laugh for a bit, "And I doubt he'll be hissy while he's all bundled up. Look at him."

Gray, this is not a toy or a puppy, this is…a possible alien? A pest? Was this the Capitol's version of a rat? Questions ran around his mind but, like his host said, it wasn't actively harming anyone. It would live another day then.

"Traditionth, yeah. The kind that are shoved down our throatth. 'Tradition' would have me kill the tribble for no good reathon."

He gently rubbed the cooing bundle in circles like a goddamn lusus. How the mighty have fallen, especially after the casual way Psii talked about bloodshed. He strode to the nearest corner and peeked his red and blue eyes around it.

"Lucky for you, I don't have crappy human vithion at night. Hallway'th clear. What do you think, elevator or thtairth?"

Phillip stared in disbelief at just how...blunt Psii was about talking of strange furry ball murder. Yeah, definitely getting a bit of cultutre shock here but the swipe about crappy human vision gets him back on track.

"Hey, if you're willing to run up all the stairs back to Nine, be my guest," he shrugged, "But then again, people might take offense to a sentient dust bunny in their elevators." So to the stairs, taking note of security cameras. "You've been here a lot longer than I have, you could run circles around me."

Edited 2015-05-06 17:35 (UTC)

Trolls were pretty blunt about death. It was everywhere, and usually caused by them. Having precognitive visions of death didn't help Psii in the slightest either. He had to be callous and laugh at death, or he wouldn't be able to stay sane.

"I don't think I've been here all that long, but yeth, I probably could? I know I look half wathted away, but I've fended for mythelf and traveled a lot on Alternia."

He opened the door and started hoofing it upstairs, keeping one eye on the landing and the other on his tribble. It cooed happily, unperturbed about the change of environment.

"Thtairth are more private anyway. I'd hate to run into anyone on the elevator and have to exthplain thith. Elevatorth are alwayth awkward. Anyway, you volunteered yourthelf into thith, tho you can't blame me." He smirked and couldn't resist adding, "You can cluckbeatht out anytime, human."

"I'm gonna assume that means chicken out, troll, and...well, what the hey, better go all the way and part ways up on your floor," Phil batted out, mirroring the mischievious little smirk Psii had on his face. "You've been here longer than I have...though people don't always think that's a great thing."

The Tribble gave the ex-guard reason to smile and hell, he even gave it a scratch or two while making it to District Seven's then Eight's. "And staff aren't all nice and proper when it comes to little things they can try to kill with their fancy shoes."

"Ehehehe, don't thay that in front of them or the Peacekeeperth. It almotht thoundth like you're complaining about being here, which we know ithn't true," he chuckled lightly for the benefit of the hidden mics as he mounted countless steps. It was rather like hiking back home, something that made him sore but happy to live another night out of the clutches of highblood slavers.

"But you're right about fanthy footwear. You'd think they'd want to keep their exthpenthive shoeth from getting methed up in the name of mannerth and practicality," Psii grumbled. He huffed the last floor to his district's suites.

"Thankth for thticking thith little journey out with me, human."

"Heaven forbid I'd get snippy with the people I owe my life to," Phil sniped back with a grin then saluted back to Psii, "No problem, troll person, ever need anything, I'm at District 6, ask for Phil Gray, all right?" Well at least he could sleep knowing he helped that Tribble found a good home. A yawn slipped out of his mouth and he knew that even his insomnia was giving out.

"See ya on the flipside and here's hoping for the best." With that, and hands in his pockets, Gray turned tail and headed back into his room

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There are materials enough in every mind....

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