Matthew 'Punchy' O'Connor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nunpunching) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-09-22 12:51 am
nunpunching) wrote in thecapitol2013-09-22 12:51 am
Entry tags:
Their Souls Dangling Inside Out from Their Mouths [Open]
Who| Punchy and Open
What| Punchvox is in da house.
Where| Training Center
When| Before gas leak.
Warnings| Avox, mentions of torture.
It took a while to break the new Avox in. There was the physical brutality, of course, but the psychological regimen had to be implemented, and that took a while. It's been several weeks since the poorly-formatted message took over all of the network devices and televisions. Punchy hasn't been seen since then.
The boy who shows up in the Training Center now seems smaller, divided by some imperceptible distance from the name he once held so proudly. The spiky red hair is cut short, clean and functional like the other Avoxes. His eyes are lowered, body no longer held with casual swagger but instead like furniture covering, existing only to hide and protect what blunt form is beneath. His hands shake slightly as he takes a sponge and a mop and starts to clean up the room where the weapons are, weapons he flinches at when he sees them. He avoids the glints of blades as if they're the eyes of angry accusers or worse, stern teachers.
His fingers drum for a few beats, just a slice of time, on the handle of his mop. Just for a second, something winks out. Then he's back to work.
What| Punchvox is in da house.
Where| Training Center
When| Before gas leak.
Warnings| Avox, mentions of torture.
It took a while to break the new Avox in. There was the physical brutality, of course, but the psychological regimen had to be implemented, and that took a while. It's been several weeks since the poorly-formatted message took over all of the network devices and televisions. Punchy hasn't been seen since then.
The boy who shows up in the Training Center now seems smaller, divided by some imperceptible distance from the name he once held so proudly. The spiky red hair is cut short, clean and functional like the other Avoxes. His eyes are lowered, body no longer held with casual swagger but instead like furniture covering, existing only to hide and protect what blunt form is beneath. His hands shake slightly as he takes a sponge and a mop and starts to clean up the room where the weapons are, weapons he flinches at when he sees them. He avoids the glints of blades as if they're the eyes of angry accusers or worse, stern teachers.
His fingers drum for a few beats, just a slice of time, on the handle of his mop. Just for a second, something winks out. Then he's back to work.
no subject
Or at least make an educated guess.
"Help...you? You had...nice voice," R says regretfully.
no subject
The compliment should have hit him like a Cupid's arrow, burrowing in his chest and filling him with light. He used to run on compliments, a machine of ego fueled and slicked by praise. But instead R's remorseful comment burrows into his skin slightly, warm for a few moments before it dies somewhere in his flesh, like a worm's corpse inside a rotting apple.
He goes back to mopping.