Oh, To Live In Capitol (Extremely Open)
Aug 12, 2009 19:20:31 GMT -5
Post by Irmó on Aug 12, 2009 19:20:31 GMT -5
Reiben trod along the road leading through the center of his district, tapping his foot against the gravel and humming to himself. In his hands was a small box with several knobs and two rectangular pillars sticking out at odd angles. As he fiddled with it, in the unearthly quiet in the early morning fog (at least, he hoped it was fog) of his District, a knob whirred sideways and a third pillar shot out at a disconcerting angle. He cursed quietly to himself.
His face was absolutely emotionless, but his eyes were animated almost feverishly. They flicked back and forth as if the solution was printed in scattered letters across his retina, his eyebrows furrowed. His coat was zipped up tightly against the cold, his head covered in an embarassingly colored hat, which he wore only because it was a gift from his sister. Indeed, the only parts of his body not covered up were his slightly blueish hands — but he did not notice the cold. It was these hands that now did strange things to the knobs, while alternating between tugging one pillar downards and twisting the other two, without any evident pattern. A fourth pillar suddenly shot out, but this time was greeted with a grunt of satisfaction.
There wasn't anything to do here, really. He was certain that if this were a Capitol street it would be bustling with activities, vividly-colored geniuses running from one sidewalk to the other, unnamed vehicles emitting annoyed noises at each other. Oh, what he wouldn't give to live there! To dwell in the same District as the most brilliant scientists and mathematicians, to have full access to deoxyribonucleic strings as complex as he wanted, to walk along the street and wave to Glint Carbon as the famed scientist walked to work. He didn't really understand why anyone hated the place; he hated more the silent, quiet streets of his home District, where people made puzzles but never thought about them, where the most important thing in life was making and nothing else mattered as long as — His train of thought was cut off by the third pillar retracting, which brought on a grin and a renewed flurry of activity around the knobs.
He wondered idly if anyone else was up this early, and if he'd see them before he walked into them, as the puzzle suddenly emitted a startlingly loud clank and fell into five bizarrely-shaped pieces in his hand. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and got to work on putting it back together.
((OOC: Feel free to bump into him, walk past him, or even do something interesting that draws his attention. Though mind you, with his current activity that'd have to be pretty interesting indeed!))
His face was absolutely emotionless, but his eyes were animated almost feverishly. They flicked back and forth as if the solution was printed in scattered letters across his retina, his eyebrows furrowed. His coat was zipped up tightly against the cold, his head covered in an embarassingly colored hat, which he wore only because it was a gift from his sister. Indeed, the only parts of his body not covered up were his slightly blueish hands — but he did not notice the cold. It was these hands that now did strange things to the knobs, while alternating between tugging one pillar downards and twisting the other two, without any evident pattern. A fourth pillar suddenly shot out, but this time was greeted with a grunt of satisfaction.
There wasn't anything to do here, really. He was certain that if this were a Capitol street it would be bustling with activities, vividly-colored geniuses running from one sidewalk to the other, unnamed vehicles emitting annoyed noises at each other. Oh, what he wouldn't give to live there! To dwell in the same District as the most brilliant scientists and mathematicians, to have full access to deoxyribonucleic strings as complex as he wanted, to walk along the street and wave to Glint Carbon as the famed scientist walked to work. He didn't really understand why anyone hated the place; he hated more the silent, quiet streets of his home District, where people made puzzles but never thought about them, where the most important thing in life was making and nothing else mattered as long as — His train of thought was cut off by the third pillar retracting, which brought on a grin and a renewed flurry of activity around the knobs.
He wondered idly if anyone else was up this early, and if he'd see them before he walked into them, as the puzzle suddenly emitted a startlingly loud clank and fell into five bizarrely-shaped pieces in his hand. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and got to work on putting it back together.
((OOC: Feel free to bump into him, walk past him, or even do something interesting that draws his attention. Though mind you, with his current activity that'd have to be pretty interesting indeed!))
