Pokey Minch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ceasetoexist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-11-08 01:04 am
ceasetoexist) wrote in towerofanimus2012-11-08 01:04 am
Entry tags:
A Blank White Page
Characters: Pokey and OPEN to anyone
Setting: Room 1-04, Floor 27, Floor 29
Format: I'll match anything, it's all good
Summary: Pokey is not amused to be thrust into a new, deranged hellhole and deals with it the best he can. That is, very poorly and obnoxiously.
Warnings: Obnoxious brattery ahoy
Room 1-04
[To say he isn't happy would be the understatement of a lifetime. Things had been going...well, not great in general but certainly great for him back in Mayfield. And to have waken up in a new place, surrounded by entirely new people - hell, not even getting his own room by the looks of it - is not a comforting or wanted sensation.
For the moment he's hunched in front of his trunk, eyes scanning over the note in his hand. Once. Twice. Again and again and again. He brings the note closer to his face each time, as if he couldn't be reading it right and closer inspection will somehow fix the problem. In the end, Pokey does figure out how to fix the problem.
He takes the note and tears it up into little pieces, tearing each piece smaller and smaller as the bits of paper start to litter the floor, the boy's shoulder's trembling. Once the paper has been savaged to Pokey's satisfaction he gets up and kicks his trunk as hard as he can. It hurts like hell doing that but at the moment he isn't paying the pain any mind.]
This is bullcrap!
[And he'll kick the trunk a second time. And a third. When all other options are taken from him, that he had grown accustomed to, violence falls back on being what he's reliant on.]
Floor 27
[Pokey likes to consider himself very science minded. In fact, he'd go so far to call himself a scientist and while that was quite a stretch he had a surprisingly good understanding of technology and engineering for a boy his age. Under any other circumstances, the lab you would find on floor 27 would be like a playground to him, where he would mess with the equipment and mix chemicals without any regard as to what they were for the sole sake of seeing what would happen.
He's still playing with the equipment in a manner of speaking, but it's a bit more inappropriate than usual. Destruction of property, after all, generally isn't looked on very well. But when you're a recovering sociopath who happens to be thirteen you don't tend to care about what's acceptable or not. The heavier machinery and devices proved to be a bit too much for Pokey to try and throw, so at the moment he's settled for finding any of the test tubes, and beakers, and bottles he can find and throwing them to the floor with abandon.
In all honesty the destruction isn't helping as much as it should. As much as it used to. And that just makes Pokey angrier and feel the need to try and destroy even more.
Enjoy the little moron messing with all the science equipment everyone!
Floor 29
[The hedge maze that is this floor has put somewhat of a roadblock in front of Pokey's pouting little rampage. Pokey would have been quite content to keep going from floor to floor and breaking whatever he could get his hands on to try and satisfy his anger. His rage at this place. His anger at himself for still being alive while the few people he cared about in Mayfield could very well be dead if what the note was telling him was true and not a big fat load.
Pokey Minch is a clever boy, but in the end he's still a child and a very easily flustered one. And the maze isn't doing him many favors. He keeps going one way, stops, and then heads another. Inevitably he keeps heading back to a designated starting point, grumbling to himself about how dumb the place is. Occasionally he aims a kick at the edges of the wall, but he doesn't get much satisfaction of it.
He's going to be wandering the maze a while, trying to hide his look of bemusement and irritation and not doing a good job of it. Occasionally, he mumbles to himself.]
Man. If I only had a chainsaw...
Setting: Room 1-04, Floor 27, Floor 29
Format: I'll match anything, it's all good
Summary: Pokey is not amused to be thrust into a new, deranged hellhole and deals with it the best he can. That is, very poorly and obnoxiously.
Warnings: Obnoxious brattery ahoy
Room 1-04
[To say he isn't happy would be the understatement of a lifetime. Things had been going...well, not great in general but certainly great for him back in Mayfield. And to have waken up in a new place, surrounded by entirely new people - hell, not even getting his own room by the looks of it - is not a comforting or wanted sensation.
For the moment he's hunched in front of his trunk, eyes scanning over the note in his hand. Once. Twice. Again and again and again. He brings the note closer to his face each time, as if he couldn't be reading it right and closer inspection will somehow fix the problem. In the end, Pokey does figure out how to fix the problem.
He takes the note and tears it up into little pieces, tearing each piece smaller and smaller as the bits of paper start to litter the floor, the boy's shoulder's trembling. Once the paper has been savaged to Pokey's satisfaction he gets up and kicks his trunk as hard as he can. It hurts like hell doing that but at the moment he isn't paying the pain any mind.]
This is bullcrap!
[And he'll kick the trunk a second time. And a third. When all other options are taken from him, that he had grown accustomed to, violence falls back on being what he's reliant on.]
Floor 27
[Pokey likes to consider himself very science minded. In fact, he'd go so far to call himself a scientist and while that was quite a stretch he had a surprisingly good understanding of technology and engineering for a boy his age. Under any other circumstances, the lab you would find on floor 27 would be like a playground to him, where he would mess with the equipment and mix chemicals without any regard as to what they were for the sole sake of seeing what would happen.
He's still playing with the equipment in a manner of speaking, but it's a bit more inappropriate than usual. Destruction of property, after all, generally isn't looked on very well. But when you're a recovering sociopath who happens to be thirteen you don't tend to care about what's acceptable or not. The heavier machinery and devices proved to be a bit too much for Pokey to try and throw, so at the moment he's settled for finding any of the test tubes, and beakers, and bottles he can find and throwing them to the floor with abandon.
In all honesty the destruction isn't helping as much as it should. As much as it used to. And that just makes Pokey angrier and feel the need to try and destroy even more.
Enjoy the little moron messing with all the science equipment everyone!
Floor 29
[The hedge maze that is this floor has put somewhat of a roadblock in front of Pokey's pouting little rampage. Pokey would have been quite content to keep going from floor to floor and breaking whatever he could get his hands on to try and satisfy his anger. His rage at this place. His anger at himself for still being alive while the few people he cared about in Mayfield could very well be dead if what the note was telling him was true and not a big fat load.
Pokey Minch is a clever boy, but in the end he's still a child and a very easily flustered one. And the maze isn't doing him many favors. He keeps going one way, stops, and then heads another. Inevitably he keeps heading back to a designated starting point, grumbling to himself about how dumb the place is. Occasionally he aims a kick at the edges of the wall, but he doesn't get much satisfaction of it.
He's going to be wandering the maze a while, trying to hide his look of bemusement and irritation and not doing a good job of it. Occasionally, he mumbles to himself.]
Man. If I only had a chainsaw...
no subject
[He throws his arms up in exasperation, furthering the image of his silly hissyfit.]
And yeah I do cause the problem be it a dumb way to talk.
no subject
Well I do be thinking that your way of talking do be dumber.
no subject
But see. That's where you're wrong. My way is normal. Yours is dumb.
no subject
no subject
Yeah? Does anyone else talk like you here, or do they talk like me?
no subject
no subject
Everyone else is stupid and you're just a special snowflake, huh?
[Not that he was much better in how he considered himself. Or did.]
no subject
Most of the time.] I did be saying mostly, I did be meeting some none stupid people.