Marsh || Steel Inquisitor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
myironeyes) wrote2013-10-28 03:19 pm
myironeyes) wrote2013-10-28 03:19 pm
Razorpuppet wants to be a real boy
[Open spam - basically anywhere]
[On this barge, Marsh sleeps. Not long and not well, and rarely on purpose. He sleeps wherever he can stumble to when he can no longer continue, curled up with his hood tugged down past the spikes and his axes tucked beside him, in common rooms and empty cabins, in stairwells and doorways and litorral pockets of the library. He doesn't care how exposed he is, anymore. Wardens can ask Ryan to track him down if they want to use him, and he'll oblige them gleefully enough. Any inmates who want to take revenge on him for the brutalities he's committed at the urging of one warden with mental powers or another is, as far as he is concerned, free to do so. And Marsh has no interest in stepping inside his own cabin. When the edge of his exhaustion dulls, he twitches with nightmares, but makes no sound.]
[Open spam, hallways]
[He doesn't look any different as he skulks through the corridors. He has no desire to attract attention to his amorphous but renewed sense of purpose. He pays more attention, to everyone he passes, might waylay anyone who looks out of place with an outstretched hand, not quite touching, and a murmured wait, might scrutinize those he knows a little more closely, but without eyes, it's difficult to tell.]
[Spam for Riddick, backdated to saturdayish]
[When he can, he shows up for the end of Riddick's kitchen shifts. He hates it, which is why Vin generally lets him have the time to himself - begging makes him feel nine again, gnawed open by hunger, useless and doomed. There are fewer scraps now, but whatever he can bring to those too scared or too hurt or simply too mired in despair to leave their cabins is a tiny victory. So he knocks.]
[Spam for Ned, also backdatedish]
[Another knock, later]
It's just me.
[Which doesn't mean there's zero possibility Ned will get hurt. They've forced Marsh to kill his friends before. But it hasn't happened for awhile. He behaves now. He hasn't killed himself in months. He's tempted again, with the toll the way it is - but the consequnces if he fails are too high.]
[Spam for Kelsier, late Sunday or Monday]
[He doesn't bother to knock on Kelsier's door. If it's open he slips in; when Kelsier remembers to lock it, Marsh picks it. It feels almost friendly. He wonders how crazy his brother will be today.]
[On this barge, Marsh sleeps. Not long and not well, and rarely on purpose. He sleeps wherever he can stumble to when he can no longer continue, curled up with his hood tugged down past the spikes and his axes tucked beside him, in common rooms and empty cabins, in stairwells and doorways and litorral pockets of the library. He doesn't care how exposed he is, anymore. Wardens can ask Ryan to track him down if they want to use him, and he'll oblige them gleefully enough. Any inmates who want to take revenge on him for the brutalities he's committed at the urging of one warden with mental powers or another is, as far as he is concerned, free to do so. And Marsh has no interest in stepping inside his own cabin. When the edge of his exhaustion dulls, he twitches with nightmares, but makes no sound.]
[Open spam, hallways]
[He doesn't look any different as he skulks through the corridors. He has no desire to attract attention to his amorphous but renewed sense of purpose. He pays more attention, to everyone he passes, might waylay anyone who looks out of place with an outstretched hand, not quite touching, and a murmured wait, might scrutinize those he knows a little more closely, but without eyes, it's difficult to tell.]
[Spam for Riddick, backdated to saturdayish]
[When he can, he shows up for the end of Riddick's kitchen shifts. He hates it, which is why Vin generally lets him have the time to himself - begging makes him feel nine again, gnawed open by hunger, useless and doomed. There are fewer scraps now, but whatever he can bring to those too scared or too hurt or simply too mired in despair to leave their cabins is a tiny victory. So he knocks.]
[Spam for Ned, also backdatedish]
[Another knock, later]
It's just me.
[Which doesn't mean there's zero possibility Ned will get hurt. They've forced Marsh to kill his friends before. But it hasn't happened for awhile. He behaves now. He hasn't killed himself in months. He's tempted again, with the toll the way it is - but the consequnces if he fails are too high.]
[Spam for Kelsier, late Sunday or Monday]
[He doesn't bother to knock on Kelsier's door. If it's open he slips in; when Kelsier remembers to lock it, Marsh picks it. It feels almost friendly. He wonders how crazy his brother will be today.]
Kitchen
[It sounds dismissive, but Riddick has gotten used to the Mistborn showing up. He's got no use for a mindfucked hunting dog like some other wardens; Marsh doesn't arouse much in him for better or worse.]
Kitchen
[He's pathetic by action, but not particularly by demeanor. Riddick holds no fear for him. He simply waits, with all the dignity and patience of stone.]
Re: Kitchen
no subject
no subject
Aren't you?
no subject
[ That's as straightforward as it gets. ]
What do you need?
no subject
He sits on his bed with his eyes fixed on the wall. He doesn't appear to like what he sees in the wood grain and abruptly shoots a handful of coins into the wall.]
no subject
[Quietly rumbling, very dryly. He talks more to Kelsier than anyone else. He drifts around the room, gathers scattered pieces of clothing, examines them for tears or bloodstains.]