Charles (Orc) Merriman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paidinbeer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92012-05-19 10:13 am
paidinbeer) wrote in trans_92012-05-19 10:13 am
Entry tags:
Alcohol, the alternative to feeling like myself
The world was busy, and so fast. Always moving faster then Orc could move, or think. It seemed like life was passing in the slow solid blinks of his beady little eyes.
Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.
Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.
But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.
And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.
The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.
Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.
Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.
But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.
And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.
The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.
Howard's Warehouse
Then a dull throbbing pain in his head.
Then the aching in his chest, and his stomach twisting about and feeling toxic. He felt sweat somewhere between the cracks of his stone covered skin and wished for an ice cold one.
In his haste to enter the warehouse of loot Howard had left behind he couldn't remember where the key was, so he ripped the lock off and let himself in.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the labyrinth of useful and purportedly useful items that Howard had horded for so long. Now it would all go to waste or be found by the rest of the crew.
But Orc wouldn't be the one to tell them. Maybe that thief that had been stealing things before Howard died would take it all.
As long as they left Orc the alcohol.