"The Deadly Sin of Greed", Undead Ban (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
perma_banned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
epidemiology2016-02-27 12:33 am
perma_banned) wrote in epidemiology2016-02-27 12:33 am
Back on Track
CHARACTERS: Ban, OPEN
DATE: Following the Oska reveal
WARNINGS: None known, yet!
SUMMARY: Choosing to make the worst of the situation he's been placed in, Ban opts to loiter around in public spaces--becoming an exceptional waste of space.
The Dining Hall
Of all priorities possessed by Ban, the inclination to drown himself and lose all sense was one that fell to an immensely important position in his mind. The moment he found the Dining Hall, he scooped up a bottle and popped it open with his thumb, making his way to the kitchen in a relaxed stride. There weren't any staff members at work to interrupt him as he shoved the door open--everything simply appeared on tables, at the ready, the moment someone presented themselves.
Ban wasn't particularly interested in being treated. He looked inside the kitchen, fishing through cabinets and freezers, pulling out what he needed with one hand, while the other funneled a particularly warm bottle of beer down his throat in sloppy, guzzling gestures of his throat. When he was done with that bottle, Ban flung it across the room--the resulting spray of glass covering an outer corner.
He began to lay out his ingredients, briefly puzzled as he turned from one counter to the other to find a plate of steak and mixed vegetables where he initially worked--right next to what he had laid out. Ban gingerly picked up the dish, walked it to an adjacent counter and set it down, before returning to where he had set his things down. He was feeling up for soup--something he could carry with him in a mug as he walked around. It would go well enough with more of that ale, at least.
He began preparing the meal, finding another dish in his way as he went from one station to the other. The next plate was simply a steaming platter of corn-on-the-cob and a side bowl of melted butter. Ban's brow twitched, his reddened face turning a bit pale as he moved it aside, placing it on the same counter as the steak. He resumed cooking.
Another bottle of ale appeared--in the way of Ban's hand as he reached for stock, a brow lifting to suit the surprise. He popped it open and nursed it while moving back to cooking. Again, there was a plate of food in his way. When he turned, looked away and looked back--there was something new for him to move. It continued on and on, to the point that Ban's hands were a blur of activity, new dishes appearing and lasting for a moment before he set them on the adjacent counter.
"Would you let the fuck up!?" Screaming on occasion, Ban blamed the kitchen for his irritation.
He became a haunting phantom, moving back and forth, too quick to be seen as he harried himself with the need to finish the soup. More ale got in his way, seeming to help in delaying him. It was a dirty thing, but Ban made headway. He finished the soup, lifting a ladle from the pot with one hand as dishes of other foods piled up around the stove. Dizzy, Ban found himself staring with some contempt at the soup, not quite feeling up to eating any at that time. He was already full of ale.
The Courtyard
A
The grounds had vastly improved since he last wandered them, looking much more the part of an actual castle's territory rather than a battered ruin. Throwing himself over a little stone divider, Ban sat with a bottle of ale, dizzily regarding people as the milled around. Most other recruits were interested in getting information from Oska, adjusting and making something for themselves. He was more interested in keeping away from possibility of making a meaningful impact on anything in the world. Answers be damned--questions and wants had never gotten anything but grief for Ban.
He could be found in the midst of his loitering, humming and drinking from what he snatched in the Dining Hall and when he wasn't peeling off ale bottle labels to stuff into his pockets, Ban was hurling empty bottles over peoples' heads like little missiles to cause a very dull and senseless sort of mischief.
A
Without any inclination to explore, Ban was left to drink himself to sleep. He didn't care where he sat--falling asleep by a courtyard wall as he had spent a large portion of the day. A rivulet of drool escaped the corner of his mouth, forming an unsightly dark trail leading down his chin--dripping onto his upper body. His hands were slack on his lap as he snored lightly, knocked out from his usual excess. At the very least, the sleep left him quiet--considerably less prone to tease and prod with the usual harrowing annoyance towards his comrades. His nap was probably a fine way to escape him.
Or, to make use of a risky moment to enact a petty sort of revenge.
(OOC: Just some open-ended prompts for the week! If you feel like a thread, I'm at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
dannication! Date it and PM me if you'd like or just write a random prompt.)
DATE: Following the Oska reveal
WARNINGS: None known, yet!
SUMMARY: Choosing to make the worst of the situation he's been placed in, Ban opts to loiter around in public spaces--becoming an exceptional waste of space.
The Dining Hall
Of all priorities possessed by Ban, the inclination to drown himself and lose all sense was one that fell to an immensely important position in his mind. The moment he found the Dining Hall, he scooped up a bottle and popped it open with his thumb, making his way to the kitchen in a relaxed stride. There weren't any staff members at work to interrupt him as he shoved the door open--everything simply appeared on tables, at the ready, the moment someone presented themselves.
Ban wasn't particularly interested in being treated. He looked inside the kitchen, fishing through cabinets and freezers, pulling out what he needed with one hand, while the other funneled a particularly warm bottle of beer down his throat in sloppy, guzzling gestures of his throat. When he was done with that bottle, Ban flung it across the room--the resulting spray of glass covering an outer corner.
He began to lay out his ingredients, briefly puzzled as he turned from one counter to the other to find a plate of steak and mixed vegetables where he initially worked--right next to what he had laid out. Ban gingerly picked up the dish, walked it to an adjacent counter and set it down, before returning to where he had set his things down. He was feeling up for soup--something he could carry with him in a mug as he walked around. It would go well enough with more of that ale, at least.
He began preparing the meal, finding another dish in his way as he went from one station to the other. The next plate was simply a steaming platter of corn-on-the-cob and a side bowl of melted butter. Ban's brow twitched, his reddened face turning a bit pale as he moved it aside, placing it on the same counter as the steak. He resumed cooking.
Another bottle of ale appeared--in the way of Ban's hand as he reached for stock, a brow lifting to suit the surprise. He popped it open and nursed it while moving back to cooking. Again, there was a plate of food in his way. When he turned, looked away and looked back--there was something new for him to move. It continued on and on, to the point that Ban's hands were a blur of activity, new dishes appearing and lasting for a moment before he set them on the adjacent counter.
"Would you let the fuck up!?" Screaming on occasion, Ban blamed the kitchen for his irritation.
He became a haunting phantom, moving back and forth, too quick to be seen as he harried himself with the need to finish the soup. More ale got in his way, seeming to help in delaying him. It was a dirty thing, but Ban made headway. He finished the soup, lifting a ladle from the pot with one hand as dishes of other foods piled up around the stove. Dizzy, Ban found himself staring with some contempt at the soup, not quite feeling up to eating any at that time. He was already full of ale.
The Courtyard
A
The grounds had vastly improved since he last wandered them, looking much more the part of an actual castle's territory rather than a battered ruin. Throwing himself over a little stone divider, Ban sat with a bottle of ale, dizzily regarding people as the milled around. Most other recruits were interested in getting information from Oska, adjusting and making something for themselves. He was more interested in keeping away from possibility of making a meaningful impact on anything in the world. Answers be damned--questions and wants had never gotten anything but grief for Ban.
He could be found in the midst of his loitering, humming and drinking from what he snatched in the Dining Hall and when he wasn't peeling off ale bottle labels to stuff into his pockets, Ban was hurling empty bottles over peoples' heads like little missiles to cause a very dull and senseless sort of mischief.
A
Without any inclination to explore, Ban was left to drink himself to sleep. He didn't care where he sat--falling asleep by a courtyard wall as he had spent a large portion of the day. A rivulet of drool escaped the corner of his mouth, forming an unsightly dark trail leading down his chin--dripping onto his upper body. His hands were slack on his lap as he snored lightly, knocked out from his usual excess. At the very least, the sleep left him quiet--considerably less prone to tease and prod with the usual harrowing annoyance towards his comrades. His nap was probably a fine way to escape him.
Or, to make use of a risky moment to enact a petty sort of revenge.
(OOC: Just some open-ended prompts for the week! If you feel like a thread, I'm at