Patrick Dawn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bashfulshifter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-07-09 11:35 am
bashfulshifter) wrote in towerofanimus2013-07-09 11:35 am
Entry tags:
Thread dump - First day on the job
Characters: Rick and YOU!
Setting: In order: first floor dorms, floor twenty-six (morgue), floor ten (aquarium), floor twenty-five (meadow), floor thirty-eight (lounge). All take place on July 9th, in order of cuts.
Format: Prose to start, can match as always!
Summary: Rick is assigned cleaning duty at the morgue. He proceeds to distract himself by letting his lesser-expressed forms rampage (or sleep, same difference) on various tower floors.
Warnings: The Dinosaur is going to violently kill and eat a large fish. Also, the morgue.
First Floor Dorms, morning
Rick anticipated that he was going to eventually be assigned a job of some sort, and he was prepared. The notion didn't strike him as at all out of the ordinary; back home he had a job, everyone had a job, and even here, people naturally associated themselves with titles, positions, their skills and other tricks of the trade. It only made sense for someone with his temperament and otherwise unassuming skill-set ("walking petting zoo," he'd thought) to find something more useful to put his mind towards--or even better, to have the tower take the initiative for him.
Or so he assumed.
That morning, having read over the new note next to his bed, Rick was definitely second-guessing his optimistic views on finding work. Cleaning the morgue would certainly distract, yes, if only for the sheer unpleasantness of scrubbing old cells and the strong odor of decaying flesh. He could only hope that, whoever else was working there--if anyone else at all--didn't leave too much of a mess for him to worry over.
He also hoped that whoever organized this job-sorting business didn't mind if he made his own hours. Most of his forms were in agreement that, as much as they all wanted to get this over and done with, they wouldn't be adverse to a quick check of territory before they left. You know, just to make sure the dorms were seen after properly. No harm in that, right?
As was the usual routine, Rusty departed from room 1-16 and began his circuit of the floor, making sure to give all surfaces that smelled too strongly of monsters a thorough rub. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to make the rounds a second time?...
Floor Twenty-six, early afternoon
He could only put it off for so long. But a job was a job was a...massive pain in the ass.
Regardless of his mental pleadings (his own and the others), the prospect of "punishment," supposedly friendly administrator or not, sounded most unseemly, and was eventually enough to get Rick's bum into gear and drag himself to the morgue. Thankfully it was modern in style--a cold room, sterile features, closed lockers and minimum signs of gore--but still it reeked of that old, stale musk, a combination of stunted decomposition and formaldehyde, thick and unnatural. Associating that stench with the stiff bodies undoubtedly lying in the draws nearly made Rick retch over the floor he was about to clean.
Clean. If you don't like what you see, make it go away. Now there was a thought. He repeated it mentally as he wrung out a pair of bloodstained socks in soapy water and began scrubbing at the autopsy table--kept repeating it as he poured congealed blood from the dish next to the counter into the sink and watched it spiral down the drain--and after ten minutes of organizing scalpels, was in enough of a trance that he didn't need to worry about it any longer.
The first resurgences of thought coincided with opening the first empty cabinet. Rick hadn't considered bringing something long to reach the backs with, but it looked grimy enough that it could not be ignored. Feeling an instinctive twinge of apprehension, he hefted himself halfway through the chamber so he could reach.
Floor Ten, mid-afternoon
Unsurprisingly, the only mind that did not mind the notion or sight of being around dead bodies was the newest member of the group, and by extension one of the most persistent. The cats have their own territories, the Dinosaur argued, but why not me, apex predator, strongest creature of the bunch? Why must I share my roaming grounds with the likes of these rats? Why can't I have my own?
To which Rick would argue that he had could have the meadow, which was plenty big and open and lovely, although he would have to share it with Mittens and probably wouldn't be allowed to patrol it often. Though resentful, the Dinosaur accepted this compromise for the time being. But it was a temporary, shaky compromise at best, easily disturbed by the smell of raw flesh and death.
Upon leaving the morgue, the Dinosaur restated his claim: he needed to hunt, and he needed to hunt now.
The meadow wouldn't do--so far as Rick could tell, the only possible prey that could be found there were other people, and that wasn't going to work. After a quick stop in the library terminal to check the current listing of floors, Rick decided that his best bet, though risky (but what wasn't going to be risky?), was the aquarium. It sounded like a large enough place, with plenty of possible meals that could be accessed...well, kind of easily, if they strayed close to the edges.
As was the case with the tuna. At five feet long, the fish was big enough that most terrestrial life frequenting the aquarium halls would not phase it. At seven feet tall at the shoulder, the Dinosaur was feeling rather short and desperate to reinstate his confidence in his own abilities. The tuna swam dangerously close to the border of its enclosure; several feet behind tailed the Dinosaur, massive feet clanking with surprising softness against the tile, crouched low in lumbering steps. In a few seconds, he would close the distance between them and strike.
Floor twenty-five, mid-afternoon
If he could pander to the lizard, why couldn't he entertain the horse?
Laurence was a quiet voice in Rick's head, as he preferred the solace that being enclosed in the minds of many provided (as opposed to being constantly on the lookout for his herd), but every once in a while he yearned to stretch his legs and have a good run. There, at least, the meadow sufficed. Galloping through the tall weeds and flowers, the old trail horse had a spring in his step and held his head high with excitable energy. Here, the unpleasantness of the day could easily be forgotten in the sheer joy of play.
Floor thirty-eight, late afternoon into evening
Laurence's excitement was contagious, it seemed, as it had infected Toby's elderly soul and filled him with enthusiasm to explore. He wanted people most of all--fun companions that would speak gibberish to him and scratch him thoroughly behind the ears, oh that was his favorite part. Where could he find them?
A lounge seemed like the logical choice here; lounges were, after all, made for congregating. But after Laurence's romp and the upward journey through stairwell and elevator, all parties noticed that time was dragging on. By the time the wiry collie entered the lounge on floor thirty-eight, he was content only to wrap himself on a beanbag chair and nap.
Setting: In order: first floor dorms, floor twenty-six (morgue), floor ten (aquarium), floor twenty-five (meadow), floor thirty-eight (lounge). All take place on July 9th, in order of cuts.
Format: Prose to start, can match as always!
Summary: Rick is assigned cleaning duty at the morgue. He proceeds to distract himself by letting his lesser-expressed forms rampage (or sleep, same difference) on various tower floors.
Warnings: The Dinosaur is going to violently kill and eat a large fish. Also, the morgue.
First Floor Dorms, morning
Rick anticipated that he was going to eventually be assigned a job of some sort, and he was prepared. The notion didn't strike him as at all out of the ordinary; back home he had a job, everyone had a job, and even here, people naturally associated themselves with titles, positions, their skills and other tricks of the trade. It only made sense for someone with his temperament and otherwise unassuming skill-set ("walking petting zoo," he'd thought) to find something more useful to put his mind towards--or even better, to have the tower take the initiative for him.
Or so he assumed.
That morning, having read over the new note next to his bed, Rick was definitely second-guessing his optimistic views on finding work. Cleaning the morgue would certainly distract, yes, if only for the sheer unpleasantness of scrubbing old cells and the strong odor of decaying flesh. He could only hope that, whoever else was working there--if anyone else at all--didn't leave too much of a mess for him to worry over.
He also hoped that whoever organized this job-sorting business didn't mind if he made his own hours. Most of his forms were in agreement that, as much as they all wanted to get this over and done with, they wouldn't be adverse to a quick check of territory before they left. You know, just to make sure the dorms were seen after properly. No harm in that, right?
As was the usual routine, Rusty departed from room 1-16 and began his circuit of the floor, making sure to give all surfaces that smelled too strongly of monsters a thorough rub. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to make the rounds a second time?...
Floor Twenty-six, early afternoon
He could only put it off for so long. But a job was a job was a...massive pain in the ass.
Regardless of his mental pleadings (his own and the others), the prospect of "punishment," supposedly friendly administrator or not, sounded most unseemly, and was eventually enough to get Rick's bum into gear and drag himself to the morgue. Thankfully it was modern in style--a cold room, sterile features, closed lockers and minimum signs of gore--but still it reeked of that old, stale musk, a combination of stunted decomposition and formaldehyde, thick and unnatural. Associating that stench with the stiff bodies undoubtedly lying in the draws nearly made Rick retch over the floor he was about to clean.
Clean. If you don't like what you see, make it go away. Now there was a thought. He repeated it mentally as he wrung out a pair of bloodstained socks in soapy water and began scrubbing at the autopsy table--kept repeating it as he poured congealed blood from the dish next to the counter into the sink and watched it spiral down the drain--and after ten minutes of organizing scalpels, was in enough of a trance that he didn't need to worry about it any longer.
The first resurgences of thought coincided with opening the first empty cabinet. Rick hadn't considered bringing something long to reach the backs with, but it looked grimy enough that it could not be ignored. Feeling an instinctive twinge of apprehension, he hefted himself halfway through the chamber so he could reach.
Floor Ten, mid-afternoon
Unsurprisingly, the only mind that did not mind the notion or sight of being around dead bodies was the newest member of the group, and by extension one of the most persistent. The cats have their own territories, the Dinosaur argued, but why not me, apex predator, strongest creature of the bunch? Why must I share my roaming grounds with the likes of these rats? Why can't I have my own?
To which Rick would argue that he had could have the meadow, which was plenty big and open and lovely, although he would have to share it with Mittens and probably wouldn't be allowed to patrol it often. Though resentful, the Dinosaur accepted this compromise for the time being. But it was a temporary, shaky compromise at best, easily disturbed by the smell of raw flesh and death.
Upon leaving the morgue, the Dinosaur restated his claim: he needed to hunt, and he needed to hunt now.
The meadow wouldn't do--so far as Rick could tell, the only possible prey that could be found there were other people, and that wasn't going to work. After a quick stop in the library terminal to check the current listing of floors, Rick decided that his best bet, though risky (but what wasn't going to be risky?), was the aquarium. It sounded like a large enough place, with plenty of possible meals that could be accessed...well, kind of easily, if they strayed close to the edges.
As was the case with the tuna. At five feet long, the fish was big enough that most terrestrial life frequenting the aquarium halls would not phase it. At seven feet tall at the shoulder, the Dinosaur was feeling rather short and desperate to reinstate his confidence in his own abilities. The tuna swam dangerously close to the border of its enclosure; several feet behind tailed the Dinosaur, massive feet clanking with surprising softness against the tile, crouched low in lumbering steps. In a few seconds, he would close the distance between them and strike.
Floor twenty-five, mid-afternoon
If he could pander to the lizard, why couldn't he entertain the horse?
Laurence was a quiet voice in Rick's head, as he preferred the solace that being enclosed in the minds of many provided (as opposed to being constantly on the lookout for his herd), but every once in a while he yearned to stretch his legs and have a good run. There, at least, the meadow sufficed. Galloping through the tall weeds and flowers, the old trail horse had a spring in his step and held his head high with excitable energy. Here, the unpleasantness of the day could easily be forgotten in the sheer joy of play.
Floor thirty-eight, late afternoon into evening
Laurence's excitement was contagious, it seemed, as it had infected Toby's elderly soul and filled him with enthusiasm to explore. He wanted people most of all--fun companions that would speak gibberish to him and scratch him thoroughly behind the ears, oh that was his favorite part. Where could he find them?
A lounge seemed like the logical choice here; lounges were, after all, made for congregating. But after Laurence's romp and the upward journey through stairwell and elevator, all parties noticed that time was dragging on. By the time the wiry collie entered the lounge on floor thirty-eight, he was content only to wrap himself on a beanbag chair and nap.
no subject
An easier option would have been to simply shift back into his human form...as usual, though, Rick felt he'd waited too long in the one-sided conversation to make a move or provide an answer without substantial awkwardness resulting. Instead, the Dinosaur gave a single shake of the head.
...Would she interpret that as answering the first question about being in the tower or talking? Rick mentally kicked himself for his unintentional ambiguity. Too late now!
no subject
Though at this point she was doing idle chit chat as she put on clothes once again. Pulling them off her companion, she put on each individual article with little worry or care until she was all done and she began to brush her hair.
"So, considerin' ya ain't a meal yet. I be thinkin' joo 'ave had it good so far? Or mebe ya be new?"
no subject
Rick's reptilian form chided him venomously as he did mental somersaults of embarrassment. Calm down you silly balding rat, Rick pictured him saying. Can't hardly make out the details anyways--otherwise we would have noticed this earlier.
But no amount of consolation could keep him from very pointedly looking away as Xue got dressed, and thoroughly convincing him that he could never ever let this lady know that he was a human, lest he die of sheer mortification. Of course, the fact that he wasn't willing to watch her change could be indication enough. Rick wasn't thinking especially clearly at that point.
Still unable to look back even after being asked a question, the Dinosaur fixed his gaze on the shimmering tank in front of him and rumbled, giving his torso and neck a relaxed but thorough shake. The gesture was somewhat noncommittal--about as close to a shrug as a T-Rex could manage under the circumstances.
no subject
With one last shake of her brush, she put it inside her bag and hopped on Sweetfang who let out a pleased roar.
"Guess we be lettin' ya be. Jus' don't be stayin' out in da open like dis lil' Devilsaur. Someone mite confuse ya fer a monstah yanno? Last ting ya want is someone 'untin' ya down mon."
no subject
With a small, curt nod, the T-Rex stiffly paced to the side so that the duo had ample room to pass him. Good on them, to take such initiative and leave his realm before he ate them first. That would make Rick happy.
no subject
"See ya 'round lil' devilsaur. Take care now~" she added with a playful wink before making a clicking sound that prompted Sweetfang to dart off at incredible speed. Even going up the stairs without halting, moving with unnatural grace and dexterity.