If you ever wondered how I prep for apping....
Prompt: Camp fights.
As far as fights went, it hadn't been great. Yeah, okay, it kind of just sucked. He sat on top of the sappy stump looking over the field of bodies in front of him. Half of them didn't even vaguely resemble human. Another half of those who did were missing enough limbs and organs that they probably should have been in a grave some place. The fact that the pieces were still twitching on the ground was enough to curl his stomach.
Some of the others though, they didn't look in the least human. Purple fur. Whoever heard of gorillas with purple fur? He shook his head. It wasn't natural, but he supposed nothing he'd seen so far had been natural in this place. The plants. The animals. Whatever those things were that didn't look human enough to have been human and didn't look dead enough for his peace of mind.
They had been the biggest challenge of course, but they fought in packs and he couldn't figure out if they were strong themselves or if it had been sheer numbers. And there had been a lot of them. Wrapping a bandage around his arm, he frowned at them and kicked a hand that had been creeping along the ground further away from him. Dead things stayed dead. That was a lesson anyone learned at an early age. They're supposed to stop moving after you kill them. You kill them. They die. They don't come back. It's what made life so exciting.
Of course, this little show was good incentive not to die. Well, better incentive. He doubted anyone really wanted to end up like that. Such a bad way to stick around. Standing up finally he turned towards the buildings he'd seen in the distance and felt his vision darken around the edges.
"Damn it..."
He swayed, feeling light headed and nausious before crumpling onto the stump before hitting the ground hard. Even kindergardeners knew what happened when you lost too much blood, a small part of his mind reminded him. He laughed once, at the the irony, and at the trickle of blood he could feel running down his temple towards his empty eye socket. The blackness that finally took him at least hid the knowing, rotted grin just feet from his face.
Prompt: moving in
All the comforts of home, he thought bitterly, and none of the privacy. He threw his tote into the corner of the jail cell and walked over to flop onto the narrow cot built into the wall. The metal bars of the cell reminded him of a prison more than his comfortable rooms in G-sector had. They seemed like executive suites compared to this place. It didn't even look like it had been used in a while. This place either had no crime, or given the things he'd seen outside, there were better ways to punish people than locking them up.
He chewed absently at a hang nail wondering if there was even a warden here or if he had sole claim on the building. He didn't think it mattered so much, but it was good to know who would be in charge of this place.
He pushed to his feet in a sudden smooth movement. His expression never changed as he crossed out of the cell, locking it and his few belongings inside. There were things to do. He needed the lay of this place if he was to stay here. Training center, clinic, food, and maybe if he was lucky a library. This place had a rudimentary jail. Surely it would have a few books right?
He glanced at the prison keys on the dusty desk and shrugged. He took them with him, locking the outside door as well. If he was going to stay there, he might as well make himself to home. He'd be sure to greet any warden properly when the time came. His lips twisted at the thought. Until then, there were other things to keep a man occupied.
As far as fights went, it hadn't been great. Yeah, okay, it kind of just sucked. He sat on top of the sappy stump looking over the field of bodies in front of him. Half of them didn't even vaguely resemble human. Another half of those who did were missing enough limbs and organs that they probably should have been in a grave some place. The fact that the pieces were still twitching on the ground was enough to curl his stomach.
Some of the others though, they didn't look in the least human. Purple fur. Whoever heard of gorillas with purple fur? He shook his head. It wasn't natural, but he supposed nothing he'd seen so far had been natural in this place. The plants. The animals. Whatever those things were that didn't look human enough to have been human and didn't look dead enough for his peace of mind.
They had been the biggest challenge of course, but they fought in packs and he couldn't figure out if they were strong themselves or if it had been sheer numbers. And there had been a lot of them. Wrapping a bandage around his arm, he frowned at them and kicked a hand that had been creeping along the ground further away from him. Dead things stayed dead. That was a lesson anyone learned at an early age. They're supposed to stop moving after you kill them. You kill them. They die. They don't come back. It's what made life so exciting.
Of course, this little show was good incentive not to die. Well, better incentive. He doubted anyone really wanted to end up like that. Such a bad way to stick around. Standing up finally he turned towards the buildings he'd seen in the distance and felt his vision darken around the edges.
"Damn it..."
He swayed, feeling light headed and nausious before crumpling onto the stump before hitting the ground hard. Even kindergardeners knew what happened when you lost too much blood, a small part of his mind reminded him. He laughed once, at the the irony, and at the trickle of blood he could feel running down his temple towards his empty eye socket. The blackness that finally took him at least hid the knowing, rotted grin just feet from his face.
Prompt: moving in
All the comforts of home, he thought bitterly, and none of the privacy. He threw his tote into the corner of the jail cell and walked over to flop onto the narrow cot built into the wall. The metal bars of the cell reminded him of a prison more than his comfortable rooms in G-sector had. They seemed like executive suites compared to this place. It didn't even look like it had been used in a while. This place either had no crime, or given the things he'd seen outside, there were better ways to punish people than locking them up.
He chewed absently at a hang nail wondering if there was even a warden here or if he had sole claim on the building. He didn't think it mattered so much, but it was good to know who would be in charge of this place.
He pushed to his feet in a sudden smooth movement. His expression never changed as he crossed out of the cell, locking it and his few belongings inside. There were things to do. He needed the lay of this place if he was to stay here. Training center, clinic, food, and maybe if he was lucky a library. This place had a rudimentary jail. Surely it would have a few books right?
He glanced at the prison keys on the dusty desk and shrugged. He took them with him, locking the outside door as well. If he was going to stay there, he might as well make himself to home. He'd be sure to greet any warden properly when the time came. His lips twisted at the thought. Until then, there were other things to keep a man occupied.