KNIFE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rudelanguage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
etrayalogs2025-10-14 11:25 am
rudelanguage) wrote in etrayalogs2025-10-14 11:25 am
Entry tags:
vacillating [OPEN]
WHO: Knife (as Antigone/Pending), ota
WHEN: Mid-late Oct
WHERE: Assorted, tagged in prompts
WHAT: the up- and downswings of being overly exposed against one's will while stuck in a bubble zoo
NOTES\WARNINGS: mentions of dissociation & depersonalization, violent/suicidal thoughts, violence (attempted or otherwise), rampant swears/coarse language
i. badgerlike habits
warnings: attempted violence (or actual violence if you're up for it!)
ii. humanlike efforts
warnings: n/a in starter
iii. rabbit-hearted impulses
warnings: n/a in starter
iv. disruptive tendencies
warnings: n/a in starter
WHEN: Mid-late Oct
WHERE: Assorted, tagged in prompts
WHAT: the up- and downswings of being overly exposed against one's will while stuck in a bubble zoo
NOTES\WARNINGS: mentions of dissociation & depersonalization, violent/suicidal thoughts, violence (attempted or otherwise), rampant swears/coarse language
i. badgerlike habits
warnings: attempted violence (or actual violence if you're up for it!)
[the encampment in Dewpoint can, at times, add some interesting ambiance to the frost-laden area, what with its gentle tinkling of chime-like glass shards and bottlecaps dangling from tree branches. it's a nice sound, even if the aesthetics are rather trashy (in that there is a lot of trash about).
however, now and then, someone gets too close and the tinkling of materials takes on a more intentional sound when a length of wire is pulled underfoot. then, then there's a growling and a sudden glint off metal in the light - a scalpel flung close to the offending foot.]
SCRAM! [the voice is muffled behind layers of fabric - from one of those flapping tent-flaps.] Walk around, wherever you're going!
ii. humanlike efforts
warnings: n/a in starter
...
[Maybe...maybe this would feel better if there were more than like. Six fucking people in a place at a time. Right now I feel like the world's shittiest stalker-spy.
...
Maybe I'm THIS world's shittiest stalker-spy.
Yay, me.
Pending's...making attempts to be a person, here. A person doing person-things like...picking up food! at the Otto-Mart! they may or may not be shadowing someone in there and...matching their aisle movements and selections and watching what they do.
or it's simply taking a walk outdoors and stopping short when whomever was ahead of them appears to be doing something of import, watching to see just what that important thing is and whether or not he needs to be making a habit of doing it, too.
or it's just...sitting at a distance and watching someone else read a book or work on something, their own hands empty of distractions. memorizing gesture, maybe slightly twitching a finger here or there to mimic while they memorize features and mannerisms.
apparently people-watching is normal so this? this is normal. this is very normal. Knife just feels like shit regularly so there's no cause for concern that this, too, feels like shit. good job, everyone.]
iii. rabbit-hearted impulses
warnings: n/a in starter
[multiple evenings in a row, Antigone makes to approach a diner or a bar or food shop, stands mere steps away from the entrance, fidgets a bit, leaves, comes back, then leaves again. something about the inviting warmth of their interiors is doing the opposite - making them seem ominous, a threat of a bad time. it's annoying that so many of these places never turn their lights off; maybe it'd feel better if she were actually doing something wrong as opposed to just feeling like she is.
it's the prospect of being seen and asked how she's doing that stresses her out the most: a dozen-plus answers bouncing along the sliding scale of cynicism flit about, but none taste right on her tongue, especially when imagining certain faces on the receiving end of them. guilt? guilt for what! not...doing well? fucking stupid, honestly. who even cares?! aside from the...handful of people who decided to make caring, like, their goddamn jobs. which isn't her fault!
...
well, another amble up, another lingering pause, and another failed effort sends Antigone back out of the borders of the street lights, only to hasten with panic when she hears door hinges squeak open. she scrambles into an alley for cover to hold her breath and try and sort this out again, maybe chalk it up to another failure and settle for garbage again.]
iv. disruptive tendencies
warnings: n/a in starter
[it's the lack of control that's really the problem, isn't it? the overwhelming pressure of tasks too big to accept as their own coupled with the ennui that makes itself comfortable when all those too-big tasks leave mind and hands free. Knife can control the way they appear outwardly, but it changes nothing but that appearance. laying in a miserable stupor works in little intervals, but hunger pangs cut into that quiet idle time and prompt them to move once more.
create or destroy seem to be the most favorable options: they've picked at clothes here and there when the meditative patience lasts, but the futility of the effort always catches up and leads them to abandoning their work to follow the impulse to move. here and there, bits of newly-embroidered jackets or layered scarves or the like can be picked up around Dewpoint and Alcyone's Wake in particular, no owners come to call.
for now, the grocery store's been pilfered of a fair amount of its egg stock for the day, a boxful of cartons toted away to another street.
Pending is sitting on the backrest a bus stop bench, feet on the seat by the cartons, periodically picking one up and lobbing it out at the water, at nearby animals, at passing helper bots, at signage or buildings within range.
the waste is the point - it's change, however brief. this place is a little uglier until the mess is picked up. childish, perhaps, but he's not here to be a model adult. he's not here for any good goddamn reason!]
no subject
Antigone squints, watching him take a seat, and ponders options. this style of place doesn't have the food prep immediately in view, so it's not like going into the cafe, shoving a robot aside, grabbing stuff right off plates and going. this is more like when Jayce sat her down for something at table.
...well, stood. the seating's not really...
whatever. mind wandering. she shakes out of it and pads along to the table, climbing up and standing on the seat like an unruly toddler.]
What do you get here? You gotta say somethin' specific?
no subject
There is no secret call sign, all one must do is choose from the menu. [he plucks up the diner's menu and sets it in front of her] I've been slowly making my way through all their options.
[The food in front of him that he said had been 'getting cold' appears to be pancakes covered in all sorts of fruit and whipped cream. Who could say no to all day breakfast?]
no subject
she regards a helper bot with some barely-tempered contempt before pointing:] All of this from here [top of the page] to here. [bottom.
she gives a little hmph after it stomps off to do as ordered.]
no subject
Sleipnir's eyebrows raise at her order.]
Are you feeding an army?
[Lo' there be sass and skepticism in his tone.]
no subject
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Have you one of those refrigerated ice chests?
[Homie that shit will spoil.]
no subject
[...]
Maybe I do. [she does not.] So what? It's my meal, not yours, yeah? Mind your business!
no subject
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Peace, small one, we are not so jeopardized yet.
no subject