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)
thearena2014-06-08 11:35 pm
nunpunching) wrote in thearena2014-06-08 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
On My Knees, Saying Prayers in the Streetlight [Open]
WHO| Punchy and open.
WHAT| Punchy wanders around and finds a pharmacy, dissects a walker.
WHEN| Before Hellrena, week one.
WHERE| Near the town green.
WARNINGS| None.
Punchy hasn't eaten in nearly a week. His body, though used to somehow pulling nutrition out of a diet of nothing but gummi worms and sports drinks, is running on fumes. He feels his skin starting to get tight over his cheekbones and his lips starting to chap, and what's worse, he's feeling unfocused. It's a strange and unpleasant feeling for someone who can sit down and hammer out a computer program overnight; it's the way he felt back in class, as if nothing is interesting and nothing matters.
Of course, given that he's in a death Arena, feeling detached and listless isn't exactly a proper response to the circumstances.
He's set up his hideout inside an old pharmacy, one that would no longer be deemed fit to sell drugs due to the sheer amount of mildew sprawling out over every surface. He'd hoped to find candy, but the mints and lollipops he found practically crumbled to pastel-covered dust in his hands. He really only comes here to sleep during the day, catching quick catnaps and escaping from the more suffocating part of the heat.
At night, he goes out and kills these weird machinations the Capitol has put here, these walkers and insects. He has burns all over his hands from one of the giant spiders, but he's dragged a walker back to the pharmacy and is trying to take it apart, to see if there's a machine inside. How does it hunt with no eyes, no nose? If it has a sensor beacon, it could be used to find his allies.
He's hunched over this stinking, hideous corpse and so enraptured with his study that he wouldn't even notice someone coming in.
WHAT| Punchy wanders around and finds a pharmacy, dissects a walker.
WHEN| Before Hellrena, week one.
WHERE| Near the town green.
WARNINGS| None.
Punchy hasn't eaten in nearly a week. His body, though used to somehow pulling nutrition out of a diet of nothing but gummi worms and sports drinks, is running on fumes. He feels his skin starting to get tight over his cheekbones and his lips starting to chap, and what's worse, he's feeling unfocused. It's a strange and unpleasant feeling for someone who can sit down and hammer out a computer program overnight; it's the way he felt back in class, as if nothing is interesting and nothing matters.
Of course, given that he's in a death Arena, feeling detached and listless isn't exactly a proper response to the circumstances.
He's set up his hideout inside an old pharmacy, one that would no longer be deemed fit to sell drugs due to the sheer amount of mildew sprawling out over every surface. He'd hoped to find candy, but the mints and lollipops he found practically crumbled to pastel-covered dust in his hands. He really only comes here to sleep during the day, catching quick catnaps and escaping from the more suffocating part of the heat.
At night, he goes out and kills these weird machinations the Capitol has put here, these walkers and insects. He has burns all over his hands from one of the giant spiders, but he's dragged a walker back to the pharmacy and is trying to take it apart, to see if there's a machine inside. How does it hunt with no eyes, no nose? If it has a sensor beacon, it could be used to find his allies.
He's hunched over this stinking, hideous corpse and so enraptured with his study that he wouldn't even notice someone coming in.
no subject
And without hearing another word of it, Fíli is already pulling some leftovers of the meat he had managed to cook, though over a weak fire and in a bit of a rush. But it looks, smells and surely tastes better than what Punchy is eating right now.
"He is, I know," yet it is of little comfort to him. He has been telling himself those very same things, yet more often than not it is the fear that something might have already happened to his brother that takes over his mind.
Decisively he stretches the piece of meat towards Punchy. "Eat it."
no subject
But hunger is a powerful motivator.
He gingerly wraps a hand around it. "Thanks, homie. For the solid. But only this one, a'ight? No matter how skinny I get."
And he gives a nod that is bereft of smiling but laden with gratitude.
no subject
"I have no more water to offer you, sadly," he closes up his bag again, since he is not so hungry that he would eat any of what little food he has. The meat he does not mind sharing, but the water, that is much greater an issue at the moment, and he has barely enough to last him a few more days, let alone someone else.
Setting the bag down next to his seat, he leans over to poke the body of the walker with his wrench. "What are these creatures, in any case? Do you know them?"