thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| The Psiioniic and YOU! Plus the Initiate.
What| The Psiioniic is in the Capitol. Humans are both disgusting and fascinating, and he has a horrible sweet tooth.
Where| The Capitol! Typically near shopping areas.
When| Todayyy.
Warnings/Notes| The Initiate being a violent, creepy clown.

Closed to the Initiate

The Capitol is large and bustling, and the Psiioniic isn't quite fond of it. He's gotten far too used to being alone, with just the stars and space bending around him to be used to anything like this. He stays close to the Initiate, hoping the large, imposing troll will help keep others away.

And he does, for the most part. Or at least the Psiioniic can believe he does, and it gives him a small comfort. He can focus on the objects around him, stopping at a few small shops so he can pick through things with the Initiate by his side.

Open

The Psiioniic has found heaven. Or, well, something close to the troll equivalent.

He's standing in a stall selling a variety of honey and other sweets, and he looks baffled. He's holding a sample spoon, the woman behind the stall looking nervous as he stares at her blankly. He keeps bring the spoon to his lips, chewing on it briefly before asking for another sample.

If someone doesn't stop him he's liable to eat all the honey in the store, and if anyone gets close they'll hear him making odd chirpy noises and see him blinking rapidly. He's just...he's very confused and conflicted over the honey, and he needs help.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The amount of awkward in the air is as tangible as if it were fear and he had his voodoo back. Its even more frustrating that he can't just turn it off either, even as he tries to ignore it. He wants to cull every single motherfucker what may have saw.

"AIN'T IT MOTHERFUCKING SOMETHING; food here what ain't even require a hunt," He muses. "YOU PICK. Have no motherfucking preference up with I." Well, he might have, but he'd rather say that than that he had no clue where to go.

He's going to die of awkward. He feels like a wiggler with his first pale crush, stumbling and flailing about like a tool.

He hates that he feels like this.

"Well, there'th a lot of platheth here." He takes a step back from the stand, glancing left and right. "Tho let'th go...thith way."

And then he's off, heading towards the Speakeasy.

He follows by the Helmsman's side, and ducks in after him- mindful of his horns- into the speakeasy. It's a whole lot of alien bullshit in there, but at the same time, it reminds him a bit of some of the hive cluster market places back on Alternia. He'd lived far from them, but every so often, a motherfucker had to make a trip for things he couldn't just hunt- like books- and then he'd get swept up just a bit that world. After becoming a Subjugglator, missions and inquisitions starting in Hive clusters brought him to the markets much more often, but this particular place distinctly makes him think of one he'd avoid. Like the one he'd first found Kan- The Signless in back when he was younger.

He very suddenly and sharply feels like he's making a mistake. He recites verse after verse in his head to drown it out. Then eye for eye with socket lye, lead by way of wound, for souls they did supply. Motherfucking decry that which would bleed out sin.

He doesn't seek out a place in the center; he goes to the darkest corner of the room, where they are least likely to be bothered, just as he always had, and there he settles, albeit uneasily.

He follows him quietly, looking around the Speakeasy curiously. He's never been here before, at all. He's never gone into actual eateries much, at all. Or, well, ever. On Alternia he would either be working in the kitchen, or...running through the wild, trying to avoid capture.

He threads his fingers together, resting his hands on the table. It's impossible for him to hide how he looks by this place. It's a whole new world to him.

He does notice the look the Helmsman wears. It's obvious this is all new to him and he's cursing himself for it because of course the motherfucker would know less of how this place works than him.

He taps his claws in the table, spins the salt shaker, tears up napkins all without saying a word. Until finally-

"WHY DID YOU HELP ME?"

His attention gets drawn back the the Initate, and his eyes go wide for a moment. He goes slightly yellow, chewing on his bottom lip.

He shrugs awkwardly, looking down at his hands. He can't look him in the face.

"I don't know. I jutht...thought I thhould."

"Beacause he's a highblood?" Or rather, the Highblood. It would be a good reason; keep from being culled, perhaps even to make alliance so as to be on the side of a subjugglator. The Helmsman did do that sometimes, bend suddenly to the subservient, sometimes even right after a genuine remark on one thing or other. Or perhaps the Helmsman sought to make a fool of him somehow within the arena, reveal himself more powerful or... fuck if he knew.

Part of him would rather not know.

Edited 2013-06-17 09:57 (UTC)

The look the Psiioniic gives him could be described as somewhere between confused and incredulous. He, honestly, had never thought of it that way - and after sweeps of servitude, after being trained for obedience, he knows he didn't do it because he felt like he had to help him because he needs to help his betters.

Slowly, he shook his head. "No, becauthe I thought you...needed it, tho you didn't hurt yourself..." He trails off, clinking at him.

The Helmsman's confusion only adds to his own. He didn't think it so unreasonable an idea, and he can't figure out why else the Helmsman would have done what he did.

"MOST WOULDN'T. Most would all stay at away." Most would try to cull him and then be culled for it and used as paint and warnings for all else what came near. He goes back to tearing up napkins.

"YOU'RE DIFFERENT... is motherfucking all."

They're just going to be confused forever. He stares at him quizzically, taking note of the poor napkins that are being destroyed.

"Motht trollth are not in thituationth like thith," he says simply because, well, it's true. Most trolls aren't dragged somewhere so bizarre and alien and watched.

"Ith...different a bad thing?"