Orphaner Dualscar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shellfishlovver) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-09-15 07:40 pm
shellfishlovver) wrote in thecapitol2013-09-15 07:40 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who| Orphaner Dualscar and OPEN
What| Dualscar being horrible about death, news at 11.
Where| Central Commons
When| Prior to the funny business in the tunnels
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, blatant disregard for the feelings of others etc
For the first time in a long time, Dualscar is somewhere other than his own quarters or the training center. Having exhausted himself with endless gym sessions and relentless practice out of boredom, he's begun to seek out something more interesting to him. An array of things even, all of them managing to preoccupy him for the moment.
Human alcohol is strange, but it certainly hits the spot. He's content with the liquor that's been served to him, though he wouldn't be able to name it if he tried. It's pungent and it burns when he swallows it, all the essentials are there. The other object of interest is a cigarette that had been handed to him sometime ago. He's seen people with them, but he's not entirely sure he wants to put it in his mouth. However, without a lighter the desire is pointless. He simply turns it over in his hands a few time and inspects it curiously before tucking it behind his fin.
The most interesting occupation for now is the television. He's stretched all six feet and four inches of himself over a couch, not bothered by the fact that his legs are draped listlessly over the sides. Generally he'd have more concern for appearances, but he's currently far from anyone he cares to impress. Despite his leisurely position, his facial expression is that of an alert and fascinated person. His eyes are glued to the screen as the deaths of fellow tributes are repeated on the screen.
He certainly isn't the jovial sort, but occasionally a particularly humorous death will have him snorting into his drink. He clearly isn't the empathetic sort, that much is obvious through only a few moments of observation.
What| Dualscar being horrible about death, news at 11.
Where| Central Commons
When| Prior to the funny business in the tunnels
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, blatant disregard for the feelings of others etc
For the first time in a long time, Dualscar is somewhere other than his own quarters or the training center. Having exhausted himself with endless gym sessions and relentless practice out of boredom, he's begun to seek out something more interesting to him. An array of things even, all of them managing to preoccupy him for the moment.
Human alcohol is strange, but it certainly hits the spot. He's content with the liquor that's been served to him, though he wouldn't be able to name it if he tried. It's pungent and it burns when he swallows it, all the essentials are there. The other object of interest is a cigarette that had been handed to him sometime ago. He's seen people with them, but he's not entirely sure he wants to put it in his mouth. However, without a lighter the desire is pointless. He simply turns it over in his hands a few time and inspects it curiously before tucking it behind his fin.
The most interesting occupation for now is the television. He's stretched all six feet and four inches of himself over a couch, not bothered by the fact that his legs are draped listlessly over the sides. Generally he'd have more concern for appearances, but he's currently far from anyone he cares to impress. Despite his leisurely position, his facial expression is that of an alert and fascinated person. His eyes are glued to the screen as the deaths of fellow tributes are repeated on the screen.
He certainly isn't the jovial sort, but occasionally a particularly humorous death will have him snorting into his drink. He clearly isn't the empathetic sort, that much is obvious through only a few moments of observation.
no subject
Eridan frowns, and he feels like he's being scrutinized. Which, quite frankly, is another thing he's used to, but it's still unsettling to get eyed by a troll who looks kind of like his father.
It's kind of creepy how much he looks like family. Grey, horned, and finned family, but family nonetheless.
"Are they used in communication?" He's going to press on until he gets an answer. He's fascinated. "You're an aquatic subset a' troll, right?"
no subject
"Obviously." He retorts, snarling a little as he does. "Say.." He begins, giving Eridan a perfectly innocent stare as he does. "How about you answer a question of mine and I'll consider indulgin' you." He beckons for him to come closer, as if he wants to keep this between not-family.
no subject
"I think you've already done a pretty good job a' answerin' my question." But he does want to know what question the troll has, so he'll indulge him right back. "But what do you want to know?"
no subject
"Wonderful." His tone is dry, almost as if the fact that he's been helpful makes him annoyed. "I wondered..." He begins, snapping a hand out and grabbing Eridan's ear, tugging him closer with one sharp movement. "Is this the purpose these serve?"
no subject
The hold on his ear hurts, and he lets out the least dignified squawk. That hurt! "No! Let me go!" Please, before he starts flailing.
no subject
He rolls his eyes, giving him a dirty look and another once over. "What's your name?"
no subject
He grumbles, looking suspicious. "Eridan Ampora," he manages to bite out, but he still lacks any real venom.