Issues (Action)

[ceasetoexist]

[It happened again. Of course it did. It inevitably does, so why did he expect now to be any different then it ever was? People leave. No matter how much he might stupidly care, or put faith in them, they were going to leave him.

And Engie had done so once before, so now shouldn't be a surprise. And he shouldn't feel betrayed by it like he does. He'd come to terms with everyone abandoning him awhile ago, hadn't he? It was stupid to care about it now, and especially here.

So why did he? He couldn't shake it. And he hated it. And all it did was remind him of how alone he felt he was, regardless of the fact that he had personally made the decision to be so. It didn't matter. He needed to do something, anything, to get his mind off how he felt right now. Some kind of release.]

[Welp, folks, Pokey has worked himself into a bitchy little tizzy over Blu Engie getting perma-droned again. Feel free to find him reacting to the news in one of two ways.]

A. Anger

[Hey. Hey see that car right outside? Maybe it's even your car, and you were planning to go for a drive or to work.

Well now you aren't, because that son of a bitch has been smashed into oblivion by a long, large metallic leg. Yeah, it's kind of hard not to notice the large spider mecha, furious little boy standing on top of it as he proceeds to have the mecha smash every car it can find, occasionally picking one of the already ruined cars up and throwing it further. Hey, it's helping his anger. And dealing extensive property damage, but that's another matter entirely.]

B. Grief

[Well, now that Pokey's managed to get his anger out of his system (for the most part), he'll be moping around now.

Feel free to find Pokey apparently aimlessly wandering around town today, head bowed, shoulders slumped. He has honestly never looked as defeated or dejected in Mayfield as he does right now. You even think you might hear a small, shuddering sniffle if you get to close of him.

Of course, thing is, he hasn't really worked his anger out entirely, either. So Pokey'll be kicking down anything he can in his rage that isn't bolted down. Cans, animals, trashcans, these'll all be getting kicked. He might be kicking your mailbox too but, uh, he isn't quite strong enough to kick down that, so enjoy the fat kid kicking at your mailbox only to be grabbing his foot afterwards in pain.]

Comments

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

You're having some either way.

[And there is a tall glass of milk set on the counter a few moments later as Susan busies herself searching for the junk food which she had hidden somewhere she'd managed to forget about.]

Well. What is it you're upset about this time, then?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[He'll just look at the glass for a short moment before taking it. Hey. Free nourishment is free nourishment, right? And it's unlikely you'd give him any poisoned shit.]

Pfft. Why do you care?

[Sip sip sip pout pout pout.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[Aha. Of course. She'd placed the cookies in the wheat bran jar.]

Edward can hardly fix supper, let alone a mailbox.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Not my problem.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

It's my problem. Which also makes it yours.

[Spoken casually enough, but there was a hint of that threat.]

So to make sure you don't go around kicking any more mailboxes, I'd like to hear what's on your mind.

[Cookies are spread on a plate.]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[Pokey just snorts in derision at that. Whatever. But he'll take a cookie or two and start eating them. Then he'll finally give an answer.]

I'm angry. That's it. That's all you need to know.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Then shall I guess?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Go ahead.

[Just nomming on another cookie.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

You don't care about schoolwork or anything silly and insubstantial like that. You don't care much for people, either, from what I hear of your phone broadcasts, so I doubt anyone's broken your heart.

When I hear you upset, you've usually been hurt or you're angry at the town. Would you say that's about right?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[He's just quiet for a moment before taking another cookie and eating it as fast as possible, chasing it with milk quickly afterwards to keep from choking on it like a moron.]

....Someone got droned.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[She was expecting to have to play some more guessing games before he'd admit anything, so his forwardness was a surprise. Susan nods to his words.]

And for someone who doesn't care much for other people, it's much worse to lose one of the few you do care for.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Oh wow tell me something I don't know!

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Alright. You've got a piece of red lint in your hair towards the back.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Oh ha-ha-ha, that's hysterical. Now that you've satisfied your curiosity, can I friggin' leave?

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Finish your milk.

[She pushes the cookies a bit closer to him as well.]

Being angry is about as impotent a reaction as you could have. The most you get out of it is a sore foot.

But if you insist on it, I suggest a pillow. It's much more fun to hurt something that yields so easily.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[And he just finishes the glass and slams it down. And screw the cookies. He pushes that crap away.

After taking a couple more. Then he pushes it away.]

Whatever. Yeah. Sure. Fine. I'll do that.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Off you go, then. I'll see you in class tomorrow.

[The remainder of the cookies are stowed back into the jar of wheat bran as Susan begins to clean up.]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

No you won't.

Thanks for the food.

[And he'll just be stomping off now.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[Well, the thank you was a plus. Susan ponders for a few seconds the thought of an immortal who was forever a child and decides that it's no better than any of the other times she's thought about it.]