The Killing Type [Private]

[Capsule]

Muse:
The Killing Type

Notes:
I'm not the killing type.

Tags:
Capsule

Words:
1134

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coded by benetnasch of ET

Ever since she had adapted a regular sleeping schedule, Capsule was being plagued by a nightmare. Despite how real and horrific it felt, she found it to be oddly comforting. That was the only reason her sleeping patterns were not being disturbed. The dream of slaughtering her father was like a warm hand caressing the small of her back. If she woke up in the middle of the night because of it, she would drift back to sleep in contentment. Sure, she felt guilty about it when she woke up, since she wasn't the killing type - or so she told herself.

She loved and hated her father at the same time. The former was out of unconditional love, that which pets and children felt for their masters and parents. That love and want for reciprocation were the only things pushing her to appease her father, and most of all, get him to notice her like he did his sons. Being treated with scorn when she wasn't ignored was incredibly frustrating. It was as if nothing she could say or do for the man would alleviate her status within his eyes or heart; if you could call the lump of ice in his chest a heart, that is. She just wanted to stick her fist into his mouth and tear it out, like in her dreams. 'I wouldn't kill to get you back.'

That night was filled with pain, brought on by accidentally punching the wall beside her in her sleep. Capsule stifled a groan of pain, contorting her body into a little ball. The pain in her hand mirrored the pain she felt inside. She pressed her bruised and bleeding knuckles between her knees, where she applied pressure to slow the bleeding. 'I'm not the killing type, I'm not the killing type, I'm not the killing type…' Images from the dream were still on her mind, and for a few minutes she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't reality. Her hand could have been mangled from wrenching her father's jaw apart, for all she knew.

Patricide was wrong; it was one of those things that nature usually told you of. What parent needed to tell their child not to kill them? How many children would even dare to imagine doing so? But she had to admit that it would be satisfactory, ripping her old man apart like that. If she nothing she usually did could get through to him, maybe...but she wouldn't even kill to save a life. It hurt to acknowledge that part about her, but she was a coward. Cowards lacked the courageousness needed to kill someone directly; they relied on sneaky, underhanded ways instead, like poison or assassins. 'I'm not the killing type, I'm not the killing type, I'm not, I'm not the killing type…' In her head, however, she was free to think what she wished. This wasn't the dystopian world of 1984; there was no such thing as a "thought crime."

Sure, she wasn't the killing type, but in her current state she would kill to make him feel. Wasn't that the premise of her dream, anyway…? She was rocking back and forth on the floor, the tips of her fingers twitching as they reenacted the murder. Part of the dream was a memory from when her father was injured, and confined to a bed for those eight, horrible months. This was after he had fell into a fit of rage and struck her in the face, leaving that side puffy and bruised. He was sleeping...no, that wasn't right. He was doing that thing where he was sleeping with his eyes closed, so it looked like he was daydreaming. Capsule had wished on a star that same night, wishing for her father's death, half hoping it would come true, half hoping it wouldn't. The pocket knife she kept with her at all times (but wouldn't use even when prudent) was out at her side. Years of rejection and anger flicked the knife open and closed, longing to slash into the meat of the man's vulnerable throat. The rational and cowardly part of her was stronger, though, and held back the murderous side of her like a ravenous dog on a flimsy leash. In her dream, that leash snapped, and crimson splashed the grey walls, floor, bed, father and daughter. And yet, Capsule was more concerned with the stain in her clothing that she would never be able to wash out in a million years.

Even after she had left what little of his face that remained mutilated beyond repair, that man had radiated the same indifference he had shown her throughout her childhood. She would rather have him angry at her than indifferent. The opposite of love wasn't hate, after all; it was indifference. Her efforts had proven fruitless, but taking her anger out on that man was very pleasing, which was why she continued the destruction after his obvious death. Shifting back to her partial dream state, Capsule pulled her hand free and slammed it into the wall without hesitation. Her knuckles screamed out in protest, but the pain abated with the third, forth and fifth punch. That first punch had been enough to tear her knuckles open, and the following ones were even harder. 'Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die,' were her only thoughts as she repeatedly bashed her fist into the wall. At some point, she sat up and began pulverizing the wall with both fists. She didn't care about the pain; it was a small thing to exchange for the satisfaction of beating that stubborn man's face in.

An indeterminable amount of time passed, with her hugging and sobbing into the wall at the end. The wall was red with her blood, and her hands were an utter mess. It was the crippling pain and lack of adrenaline that brought her back to her senses. 'I'm not the killing type, I'm not…' She lifted a hand and placed it against the wall. "But I would kill to make you feel…' Just to make his face move an inch. Of course she couldn't do that. It was wrong. 'But I can say it in a song…'

She wanted to cry at the sorry state of her hands, and would have, if not for the tapped out tear ducts. A red smear was left on the wall when she slowly crumpled into a heap onto her makeshift bed, where she stayed, wincing at her dully aching hands. It was clear that she needed some closure (or a combination of that and therapy), but that would be impossible until she was back in her world, where she could confront her father face to face, and let out years of complaints. 'Or deck him.'

[Capsule]

Muse:
Black Sheep

Notes:
I'll send you my love on a wire~.

Tags:
Capsule

Words:
779

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coded by benetnasch of ET

As therapeutic as last night felt, Capsule regretted it in the morning. Her fists were raw and caked with blood. "Aaah…" How long had she lost consciousness last night? It was unlike her to black out like this and injure herself. Tears attempted to will themselves to appear at the corner of her eyes, but to no avail. Had she cried herself out last night? That would explain the sense of déjà vu she felt, anyway.

After a moment of sitting still and feeling sorry for herself, Capsule carefully climbed onto her feet. Moping about would get her nowhere. She needed to tend to her wounds; infections may still be a thing in this world, for all she knew. That wall would also need to be cleaned, just in case she ever had guests to entertain...however unlikely that seemed. The few friends she had might not be too happy to set foot into this hovel that she called a "home."

Boiling water was an annoyingly painful process. One did not truly notice the steps until they were forced to go through them in agony. This was one of the times that Capsule wished she could call a friend (or her mother) and beg for them to come over and take care of her. That never happened outside of this world, though, so why should she hope for it now? Besides - did she really want Adler, Indy, Shira or Weegee fawning over her? The answer to that was "no." Plus, she was the Pharmacist. She could take care of her own wounds.

'Some company would be nice, though,' she thought as she sat beside the small pot of boiling water. She was feeling sorry for herself again, and was too weary to force it off. Her only companions at the moment were Fiver and Duke, despite what her friend's list said. They were guild members, and not really much beyond that. Calling them "friends" was probably way too much. She barely knew them, for one, and they could say the same of her. Would they even want anything to do with her, if they found out about…this? Wishing to kill your father was just...well, it wasn't natural, but nor was her relationship with him a healthy one. Perhaps there was a little wiggle room for forgiveness?

Yeah, right. She was a total freak. Who could sympathize with her? The redhead's body began to lightly shake. The corners of her eyes were burning, and yet the tears still refused to come. She sniffed and wiped the back of her arm against her eyes, and then carefully lowered a tattered rag into the boiling water. Her sniff turned into a low yelp of pain when she dabbed at one of her hands. The knuckle was cleaned rather easily, which was at least comforting. 'Now to do the rest…' It was painful and reopened her wounds, but it took her mind off her depressed mood.

More than a few of the wounds were heavily clotted over, so she had to dab and wipe harder than she would have liked. By the time she was done cleaning the last stubborn clot, the wounds that had bled freely after their cleaning had slowed to a barely noticeable trickle. Oddly enough, cleansing her wounds left her in somewhat higher spirits. She considered using one of her premade potions to heal herself fully, but in the end decided against it; she was still in the safe zone, and unless she managed to harm herself again, her wounds would not worsen.

Instead, she decided to make a quick and easy salve to apply to her knuckles, which she then bound with clean rags. These would be changed in a few hours, after applying more of the salve to her wounds. "Hmm…" Her wounds felt better, too. There was a pleasant, cooling sensation where there once was unbearable pain. She should be able to go about her day without any further interruptions. The question now, however, was "What should she do today?" Leaving the safety of London was obviously out, unless she felt like breaking into her emergency stash of healing pots. She could probably stand to make a few more, but… 'I don't want to be locked up in this room all day.' What she needed was fresh air, and to (maybe) be around other people. Who or where was not really important, as long as it was in London and the people friendly.

"Well, Fiver." The Frenmic Rabbit that had sat near her feet this entire time perked up at the mention of his name. "It looks like you get to be my wingman today, heh."

[Capsule]

Muse:
Shoulder of Orion

Notes:
Nein.

Tags:
Capsule

Words:
886

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coded by benetnasch of ET

As she was not allowed into the bottom floor when it was closed (and frankly disliked visiting her "neighbors") Capsule had to go out through her usual exit. This was via that same room she had broken to her first night here. The glass had been entirely removed from the window itself, and a sheet was strong up on the inside to curtain off the small area. Sometimes when it rained, water would get in, and she would need to mop it all up before it could cause water damage. That was the main reason she only used this room as an entrance / exit. Maybe she should see about having a small door attached to the window, or just have the glass replaced. Maybe. This building was too tall to effectively mimic hobbit holes.

Fiver, for safety's sake, was desummoned so that she could climb down without fear of accidentally hurting him. Duke, that great big show off, swooped down and past her to the awakening world outside. His wing was doing a lot better now, though he still had a bit of difficulty in flapping it. He couldn't fly very far as a result. "Duke," she said with a rarely used stern tone of voice. "You can't go - it's your bedtime, silly goose." The owl got all huffy and turned his back to her when he perched on the ground. "Did you want to go, too?" The little owl twisted its head around to face her, and gave an excited, whistle like hoot. "Alright. You can come, as long as you behave yourself, understand?"

Duke hooted again, this time fully turning his body and waving his wings. Capsule landed roughly on the ground a few feet away, and summoned Fiver with a single "click". The Frenmic Rabbit and owl eyed each other for a moment, before Fiver hopped away to inspect a nearby patch of grass. Fiver was technically a monster, so it was understandable that Duke would feel wary of the creature. "Come on - you're riding shotgun." She had heard that phrase frequently in American television shows. That's what they called the passenger seat.

Sir Archduke Franz Ferdinand did not protest when she seized him by the feet and brought him up to her shoulder. The owl nestled against her neck, hooting softly as he made himself comfortable. He even gently nipped her ear in affection. "There you are," she cooed. Fiver quickly drew jealous, and abandoned his silflay to nuzzle and paw at Capsule's legs. Duke appeared to be quite the smug little owl when Capsule lightly scolded the rabbit and insisted that he walk. While she could carry both animals, she preferred to have at least one arm free, and Fiver was the sort to demand being cradled and petted.

The rabbit's ears drooped as he followed after the now moving Capsule, who was not heading anywhere in particular. She just wanted to stretch her legs for a bit, and forget all about that dream. As if to remind her that some things could not be so easily dropped, the wound across her knuckles began to throb and ache. Capsule winced and moved to stroke her makeshift bandages. She had some more clean rags and the remaining salve, though she should not have to worry about redressing the wound until later, unless she somehow tore it open. "Now, what should we do today, boys?"

Her only interest was in clearing her head by leaving her stuffy apartment for the day. The rabbit and owl, however, might have something fun in mind. Capsule had to wonder what exactly it was that they considered fun, though. Fiver seemed content with lazing around most of the time, and Duke liked capturing mice and dropping them on their little heads. It was then that she realized she needed real friends.

Capsule's shoulder slumped as she took in a deep breath. It's such a shame that making friends was never her forte. Having animal companions around kept her sane, but it was not the same as having a human friend to shoot the breeze with or tag around on adventures. Maybe it really wouldn't hurt to bother Indy or the others? While she was not big on combat, it would at least keep her busy and away from self-harm; not to mention keep her fragile psyche afloat. She had never been this unstable outside of this world (or so she assumed, anyway). There would likely be a great need for psychological care in the future, though it honestly did not surprise her at all. There was a lot - too damn much, in fact - that she had repressed all of these years, and it was only recently that she was able to express that.

Her steps became harried as she left the area that surrounded her building and began mingling with the small sized crowd. More than a few Adventurers spared her and her motely crew a few odd looks, but not much beyond that was done. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own affairs to worry about a fragile looking girl with an owl on her shoulder and a rabbit by her side. That was just how she liked it, too. Being the center of attention was simply not Capsule's style.

[Capsule]

Muse:
Sour Times

Notes:
Finally getting around to finishing this.

Tags:
Capsule

Words:
600

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coded by benetnasch of ET

As it turns out, Fiver and Duke were simply no help at all. Capsule had expected either of them to "say" or do something of interest, but Fiver seemed more interested in sniffing and gazing at strangers, and Duke was napping with his head under a wing. The two of them sure knew how to throw a party. Capsule, a little disgruntled, decided to do a bit of window shopping.

Since this was St. Pancras station, many crafters had their stalls out, though some were either in the process of getting ready or closed altogether. The ones that were open were largely irrelevant to her; she had no use for a smith, as her kukri was still in working order, and she could not wear chain or plate armor. The countless leather armor on display was also of no use to her; what she needed was cloth, and there seemed to be few Tailors with readily made cloth armor on display. Besides, she already had some armor and other things requested from a few Tailors. There was no point in looking at crafts of her crafting class. Why on earth would she buy what she could make for herself? And what could she ask for of the Mechanic crafting class? She already had her music box.

The works of Artisans, Chefs and Woodcrafters appealed to her, however. Artisans could make works of art, like the Frenmic Rabbit statue she had requested from Adler, along with force accessories. Sadly, though, art was not something she should be investing in right now. The work of a Woodcrafter would benefit her far more, since she was sorely lacking in furniture and was in desperate need of repair for her home. There were a few pieces of furniture that she had her eyes on, but the prices were more than a little too steep for her.

It was a disappointing search in the end, so after seeing all that the station could offer (and snagging a few samples and snacks from a few Chefs), Capsule strode over to where the quest board stood. The large board contained many things, from combat requests to the kind of "company" that Courtesans could supply. Some of these ads weren't discreet at all. Capsule had to wonder how lonely and desperate some of these people were, and if anyone would even bother to fulfill their requests. She shied away from them at any rate, and eventually her eyes picked out something that wasn't perverted and suitable for her abilities.

The advert was a simple request from a Lander farmer, put up in the hopes that an Adventurer would accept it, since few quests had been taken after the Catastrophe. The farmer needed help herding some animals that had gotten loose after a recent monster attack. Capsule plucked the paper from the board and lightly smacked it with the palm of her hand. "Fiver, Duke - look! This is a chance for me to actually put my Animal Trainer subclass to good use!" Duke did not stir from his perch on her shoulder, and Fiver was far more interested in nibbling on the blades of grass around the quest board. "...Well, fine. You two can be sticks in the mud for all I care, but I am not going to waste this opportunity, all right?" The silence from the peanut gallery increased. "Come along, Fiver," she snapped at the little rabbit. The farm was just outside London, so it should not take them too long to reach it. Capsule strode off, a sharp look of determination in her eyes.

[Capsule]

Muse:
Let It Be

Notes:
Splish splash~.

Tags:
Capsule

Words:
596

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coded by benetnasch of ET

The walk to the farm was indeed a short one. It was probably shorter due to the speed with which she walked. There was a strong sense of determination within her at the moment, one she rarely experienced. Something about last night seemed to have changed her. It likely had something to do with that dream, along with her ambivalent feelings towards her father and brothers. They were always pushing her around… 'Just who do they think they are?' Her elder brothers did not hide how proud they were of their successes after university, and her youngest brother was just pleased as punch with his current progress. She had nothing better to show, and probably would not at the rate she was going. Her life outside of the game was sadly mediocre, but her independence was one thing she could be proud of. She had taken control of her own life by moving out, and was still taking care of herself, even in this confusing and foreign world. If Fiver and Duke noticed the change in her behavior, the two animals did nothing to draw attention to it. The young girl that greeted her outside of the farm did, however.

The girl was around Capsule's age or a bit younger, and had short, red hair and a mass of freckles centered around her nose. She looked startled and uncomfortable with the way Capsule carried herself, prompting the Enchanter to subconsciously whither; the determined glint in her eyes was replaced with quiet astonishment. "Uh…" She could probably push this girl around if she had the balls to try, but there was something about the freckled Lander that made her wary. 'It's like I'm looking at another me.' That was the only way she could explain it. The girl before her seemed so meek and quiet, with the same hint of indifference in her eyes that Capsule oft had; the dead eyes of a staring doll or corpse. Was this how she looked to other people?

Capsule's hands trembled and her vision distorted, the latter either due to building tears or restless fluttering of her eyes. There was a soft sound as the Lander's feet retreated from the corners of her vision. The girl was most likely frightened by her double's increasingly strange behavior, and would run and deny her help if this was allowed to continue. 'Focus, Capsule. Stay calm now.' She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Her hands unclenched and the muscles in her upper body slowly eased up on their tension. When she opened her eyes again, the girl was further down the path, but was staring at her in curiosity.

The redheaded Enchanter took slow, controlled steps towards the other redheaded girl, who backed up with every step Capsule took. "Hey," she called out. "I'm sorry if I scared you - I'm just here for the ad you put up?" The girl, Becca, her name read, watched Capsule with wary eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. Honest." She held up her empty hands to show that she meant no harm.

Becca slightly inclined her head, but showed no further signs of wanting to run away. "You came to help round up the livestock?"

Capsule nodded. "I did. I'm an Animal Trainer, too, so it shouldn't be hard for me to find them."

A small smile formed on Becca's lips. "I'd say that's the easy part - finding them."

The Enchanter did not like the sound of that one bit. Why did Becca make it sound a lot harder than imagined?

[Capsule]

Muse:
Stand Back

Notes:
Got yo'self a sheep.

Tags:
Capsule

Words:
753

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coded by benetnasch of ET

"Oof!" Capsule groaned as her body collided forcibly to the ground. Fiver, who had been following along her heels, squeaked in fear and darted off into a thicket. Duke was nowhere to be seen, of course. The owl had flown off to rest in the barn before she got to work, and was the better for it. The sheep that Capsule had been sent out to round up were rambunctious little scamps. Like Becca said, finding them was easy. Rounding them up however, was not.

Capsule had expected this to be easy. The sheep could not have run that far off, and she had been right. A few of them were lingering a few good meters away, just over the property line that the broken fence once stood along. Fortunately there were very few monsters around, the only ones being a few Brier Weasels that ran off when Capsule and Fiver got too close. Her level was high enough to aggro the monsters, but not enough to make them stand and fight her. Her level was too high for them to confidently stand a chance against her, squishy Enchanter class aside.

"Listen here, lamb chop!" The sheep just stared at her when she pointed at it, and then lowered its head as it began to charge forward. Capsule stood her ground and reached out to grab the sheep once it was within arm’s reach. The redhead groaned in pain as the sheep headbutted her with enough force to knock her down. After being shoved around by the stupid sheep for fifteen minutes, Capsule had decided that she wasn't going to take this anymore, and firmly dug her heels into the ground. The sheep lifted a hoof and pressed harder against her stomach with its head. Capsule gritted her teeth and lowered her body more from the doubled over position she had found herself in after the headbutt, and seized the sheep by the middle. Her Animal Trainer skills would have to come into effect here.

"Stand down, damn it. I just want to help you, which I can't do if you continue to fight me!" Why were these sheep so damn stubborn? Even with her higher level in Animal Trainer, Capsule had some doubts in her ability to subdue this beast. She tightened her arms around the sheep and lifted it an inch off the ground, encouraging it to struggle back and push against her, which was its downfall. Her brothers liked using wrestling moves on each other as children and teenagers, and Capsule of course was one of their little practice dummies. She couldn't do much in a fight, but she knew the mechanics behind a good punch, or how to throw an opponent off of you.

A German suplex was one of the moves she had learned to fend off, but was usually left wide open afterwards. A sheep should be easier to suplex than her taller and heavier brothers, right? She gave the sheep a rough shove back, and darted to the side, barely missing another butt to the gut. She then made a mad grab for the sheep's back while it was still locked in its charge, and used its momentum to her advantage, throwing it off balance so that she could lift it off the ground. The sheep seemed to be aware of its fate, but it was far too late to turn back now. Capsule had leaned back until her body was horizontal to the ground, and the sheep's was flipping over into the air like a raised middle finger to the world.

'BAAAAAAAAAAAAAH~!' A small cloud of dust poofed into the air as the sheep's head and shoulders collided with the ground. Capsule released it and rolled swiftly to the side, and then tackled the sheep once it failed to make any sudden movements. The sheep weakly flailed its limbs about as Capsule straddled it and pulled out a thin length of rope. She made a loop with one end, and slid it over the dazed sheep's head.

It was a rather unorthodox way of taming a critter, but the sheep's rebellious antics came to a standstill once Capsule had the makeshift leash attached to its neck. It did try to tug away a few times, and found itself being tugged harder by someone who used to walk large dogs for money. Capsule may have been clumsy around other people, but she considered herself to be more than sufficient when it came to dealing with animals.