Ψiioniic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xanthous) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-09-03 08:59 pm
xanthous) wrote in thecapitol2013-09-03 08:59 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who| The Psiioniic and YOU
What| The Psiioniic has noticed an influx of new faces. He wants to know why.
Where| Tribute tower common area and the training center
When| Before the crowning.
Warnings/Notes| There's nothing too extreme atm, will add warnings if anything crops up!
Common Area
There are new people. He's seen them, just a handful, not enough to be really noticeable, but they've all just appeared around the same time, and...some familiar faces seem to have left. Maybe it came from sweeps of catering to the whims of highbloods, or sweeps spent evading capture, or the thousands of sweeps spent overseeing the day-to-day functions of Battleship Condescension, but the Psiioniic was observant. He might not be the friendliest, most open troll, but he watched and observed and he knew that there were people who were gone, and people who were new.
And he wasn't sure why. Did the people who left die for good, or had they been sent home? Was it because they weren't entertaining anymore? He imagined that the new people were simply replacements, and while a part of him wondered what they had done to deserve being brought here, he didn't care much for the reasoning of the Capitol, if there was any. Highbloods were highbloods no matter the species, and they couldn't be expected to be logical or reasonable.
Still, he wanted to know why people were chose to be brought here, and he figured now was as good a time as any to find out. He feels better than he has in a while, which might explain why he's approaching people, lisping at them and asking what they did to deserve coming here.
Training Center
He's determined not to die so quickly this time, and he takes a break from his interrogations to make his way down, down, down to the training center. He's still weak - he'll never not be weak - but he's slowly regaining muscle mass. He's determined to live. There's someone he care for, and he's going to do his best to stay with him. To not leave him alone while he wastes away in the Capitol feeling sorry for himself.
So he picks up some throwing knives, and he approaches the target. His aim is...well, it's pretty impeccable, but there's not much force to his throws, and the knife end up clattering to the ground right in front of the target. He sighs, bending down to grab another knife. He's going to try again, and again, because he needs some form of offense with his psionics gone. He'll stay there for hours, and if he doesn't get interrupted soon he's going to work himself to death.
What| The Psiioniic has noticed an influx of new faces. He wants to know why.
Where| Tribute tower common area and the training center
When| Before the crowning.
Warnings/Notes| There's nothing too extreme atm, will add warnings if anything crops up!
Common Area
There are new people. He's seen them, just a handful, not enough to be really noticeable, but they've all just appeared around the same time, and...some familiar faces seem to have left. Maybe it came from sweeps of catering to the whims of highbloods, or sweeps spent evading capture, or the thousands of sweeps spent overseeing the day-to-day functions of Battleship Condescension, but the Psiioniic was observant. He might not be the friendliest, most open troll, but he watched and observed and he knew that there were people who were gone, and people who were new.
And he wasn't sure why. Did the people who left die for good, or had they been sent home? Was it because they weren't entertaining anymore? He imagined that the new people were simply replacements, and while a part of him wondered what they had done to deserve being brought here, he didn't care much for the reasoning of the Capitol, if there was any. Highbloods were highbloods no matter the species, and they couldn't be expected to be logical or reasonable.
Still, he wanted to know why people were chose to be brought here, and he figured now was as good a time as any to find out. He feels better than he has in a while, which might explain why he's approaching people, lisping at them and asking what they did to deserve coming here.
Training Center
He's determined not to die so quickly this time, and he takes a break from his interrogations to make his way down, down, down to the training center. He's still weak - he'll never not be weak - but he's slowly regaining muscle mass. He's determined to live. There's someone he care for, and he's going to do his best to stay with him. To not leave him alone while he wastes away in the Capitol feeling sorry for himself.
So he picks up some throwing knives, and he approaches the target. His aim is...well, it's pretty impeccable, but there's not much force to his throws, and the knife end up clattering to the ground right in front of the target. He sighs, bending down to grab another knife. He's going to try again, and again, because he needs some form of offense with his psionics gone. He'll stay there for hours, and if he doesn't get interrupted soon he's going to work himself to death.
no subject
2o gro22.
He watches with rapt attention, and this time when he throws the nice he manages to flick it just so that it ends up embedding in the target. He brightens visibly, turning to look up at Kurloz for some sort of acknowledgement.
no subject
"It's sign of victory in a cull! IT'S SIGN YOU AIN'T ALL TO BE TOUCHED, THAT YOU ARE OF POWER, BRINGING ABOUT THE SICKEST MIRACLES WHAT ALL IS AMONG OUR OWNSELVES! It's color, brother! IT'S MOTHERFUCKING LIFE GETTING UP ON YOU! And it is goddamn beautiful it all is. NOTHING GROSS ON FOR WANTING TO FEEL LIFE."
The knife embeds and Mituna looks up at him bright, what can he do? What can he do but grin right back?
"Yes! JUST LIKE THAT MY BROTHER! I knew you could," He says with pride. He reaches down for another blade to pass over. "WE GET A MOTHERFUCKER ALL FAMILIAR AT WITH THIS, get all up and held in pan for remembrance all whenever it is to be needed. THEN PRACTICE UP ON A TARGET WHAT ALL MOVES. Motherfuckers won't stand a fucking chance."
no subject
"I think we can agree that you're groth and that'th okay. I'm going to thtay ath clean ath I can."
He's still smiling though, and he takes the next knife with a pleased hum. He feels...warm, pleased and flattered. It's a good feeling. "How long do you think it'll take for me to get that good?"
no subject
Kurloz rolls his eyes. "A LACK OF MOTHERFUCKING APPRECIATION IT ALL IS. Suit yourself. MORE FOR ME," He laughs. He places a hand over Mituna's, the one the holds the blade. He gives a soft squeeze before letting go.
"Can't rightfully say on it for sure," He admits. "LIKE WAS SAID; all a motherfucker lacks is strength and practice. SKILL UP ON AIM AND THE LIKE IS ALREADY ESTABLISHED." He heads on over to the target, pulling the blade out. He turns it over in his hands as he heads back. "It took this motherfucker some part of a sweep to get skilled up on it, but a motherfucker was young, starting from scratch. HE HAS FAITH A BROTHER SHALL BE MUCH QUICKER. If you wish, we could start now."