[ amusement park; zombie dad (tw: references to child abuse) ]
The gravity of this situation he was in had only barely begun to sink in. But he was used to functioning on little sleep and had enough common sense to know how to survive (or so his ego told him) in situations like this. Not a fight to the death arena specifically, but he believed he could live through this.
He'd slipped out from the little haven he'd set up along the main street to look for supplies. It was a risk to dig around the buildings of the town too much-- other tributes could be hiding out, could even have the same plan he has--so he headed north to look around. A short walk through the orchard before he moved on to the amusement park. Something churned in his stomach (could have been that dog he managed to trap and kill...), and he wasn't sure if the fruit was safe so he wouldn't risk it. Now, at least. It was an option, if he was desperate.
Edward almost gags on the smell of the wet, rotting wood and old faire food. He covers his nose and mouth, mostly blocking out the smell but it still sits faint in the air that he breathes. He looks around the booths for things like tools, anything like spare wire or string, or just anything that would or could have useful applications. Aggravating as it is, he's not surprised that it's picked over.
That foul rotting smell gets stronger again as he digs behind the counter of a booth filled wall to wall with (now very mangy looking) stuffed toys. Sigh, some screws (still no screwdriver though), but little else. He gives quick glances over his shoulder, before moving up a little to peer over the counter, to check and see if anyone might be around.
What he sees shocks the caution right out of him, and he quickly boosts himself backwards from the counter, boots sliding a bit in the mud before catching and becoming stable in his footing. His heart rate skyrockets, and he can feel in his chest and neck, even down his arms, how hard the blood is pumping through him.
Cold, empty eyes and the familiar face of a man he had grown to both hate and fear gazes blankly at him. He should know better that fear was beyond this man's abilities but there was still a hand wrapped around his heart, worried about the chance that his whole world would fall apart and out of his grasp because of this horrible, violent, drunk, and disrespectful excuse of a father. Beaten and called a liar on his most honest of days, screamed at and called a cheat when he'd worked so hard for some kind of recognition.
But there was no rage or disgust or disappointment in the face, just a void, and it was deeply unsettling. As much as it had hurt to see rage, disgust, disappointment, or a combination of all three almost every day of his life from the first thing he could remember to the time he'd left and never looked back, this lack of anything shook him more. And this empty shell of a man was gravitating towards Edward, stopping when he bumped into the counter. There was not an ounce of him that wanted to be near this shambling ghost of a demon he knew too well, and so Eddie made his way out the little prize shack, keeping as much distance as was possible between them as he crept out from behind the counter.
He was followed from the amusement park all the way back to his little haven in the town.
Perhaps at the very least, there was a spark of wish fulfillment there. Payback for all the things he'd done that had decimated Edward's sense of self worth. For all the times he'd went to school, struggling to see the board with one eye swollen shut. For everything that he'd done.
[ to be continued - main street 2 days later, zombie dad aggro. feel free to be "here but not here" stalking/watching from a distance, happen to be in the same area at the same time, approach if you'd like (maybe even with your own zombie in tow). ]
open 1/2
The gravity of this situation he was in had only barely begun to sink in. But he was used to functioning on little sleep and had enough common sense to know how to survive (or so his ego told him) in situations like this. Not a fight to the death arena specifically, but he believed he could live through this.
He'd slipped out from the little haven he'd set up along the main street to look for supplies. It was a risk to dig around the buildings of the town too much-- other tributes could be hiding out, could even have the same plan he has--so he headed north to look around. A short walk through the orchard before he moved on to the amusement park. Something churned in his stomach (could have been that dog he managed to trap and kill...), and he wasn't sure if the fruit was safe so he wouldn't risk it. Now, at least. It was an option, if he was desperate.
Edward almost gags on the smell of the wet, rotting wood and old faire food. He covers his nose and mouth, mostly blocking out the smell but it still sits faint in the air that he breathes. He looks around the booths for things like tools, anything like spare wire or string, or just anything that would or could have useful applications. Aggravating as it is, he's not surprised that it's picked over.
That foul rotting smell gets stronger again as he digs behind the counter of a booth filled wall to wall with (now very mangy looking) stuffed toys. Sigh, some screws (still no screwdriver though), but little else. He gives quick glances over his shoulder, before moving up a little to peer over the counter, to check and see if anyone might be around.
What he sees shocks the caution right out of him, and he quickly boosts himself backwards from the counter, boots sliding a bit in the mud before catching and becoming stable in his footing. His heart rate skyrockets, and he can feel in his chest and neck, even down his arms, how hard the blood is pumping through him.
Cold, empty eyes and the familiar face of a man he had grown to both hate and fear gazes blankly at him. He should know better that fear was beyond this man's abilities but there was still a hand wrapped around his heart, worried about the chance that his whole world would fall apart and out of his grasp because of this horrible, violent, drunk, and disrespectful excuse of a father. Beaten and called a liar on his most honest of days, screamed at and called a cheat when he'd worked so hard for some kind of recognition.
But there was no rage or disgust or disappointment in the face, just a void, and it was deeply unsettling. As much as it had hurt to see rage, disgust, disappointment, or a combination of all three almost every day of his life from the first thing he could remember to the time he'd left and never looked back, this lack of anything shook him more. And this empty shell of a man was gravitating towards Edward, stopping when he bumped into the counter. There was not an ounce of him that wanted to be near this shambling ghost of a demon he knew too well, and so Eddie made his way out the little prize shack, keeping as much distance as was possible between them as he crept out from behind the counter.
He was followed from the amusement park all the way back to his little haven in the town.
Perhaps at the very least, there was a spark of wish fulfillment there. Payback for all the things he'd done that had decimated Edward's sense of self worth. For all the times he'd went to school, struggling to see the board with one eye swollen shut. For everything that he'd done.
feel free to be "here but not here" stalking/watching from a distance, happen to be in the same area at the same time, approach if you'd like (maybe even with your own zombie in tow). ]