When Christopher sees the flowers, he—like the other nerds who lined up for a midnight release of nature—is ecstatic, alternating between manic energy and captivated reverie. He bounds through the rows, rambling off scientific names and properties and delivering a praise by parts of the beautiful plants. He stops in front of particular flowers, like a creature transfixed by celestial arrow, and slowly murmurs words of amazement.
"Ah . . . How beautiful . . ."
But Christopher can never be set to one mood for long. He switches back and forth between energetic and rapturous without a care as he explores the depths of the Agricultural Wing.
Pity the poor person who gets caught up in his joy.
[MIDNIGHT: AGRICULTURAL WING. Pt II: the ruckus]
So he gets everywhere. Whistling to himself, hands in his pockets, he happily, unconcernedly goes further and further in, no matter how strange and disturbing things get. He doesn't flinch at blood or broken glass. He doesn't even seem to feel fear at this.
And when Christopher sees the first of the zombies, he smiles.
"Oh." Christopher's head tilts. "They're dead." He taps his lips. "Poor things." His fangs show. "That means I can kill as many as I want, right?"
Knives appear in his hands with the inexplicability of a magician's wand. Christopher's body remembers what it was freed to do, and he attacks.
[EVERYWHERE. No, I mean it. All the places. At all sorts of times of day and night through all of this.]
So Christopher dedicates himself to the fighting. He assists in missions to the cafeteria and warehouse. He engages in every kind of plan to attack the enemy. VR Rooms, Observatory, Transport Pad: it doesn't matter where. Practically nonstop, as if this is what he exists to do, Christopher finds the enemy and he attacks and attacks and attacks.
And in all that self-indulgent violence and bloodlust, Christopher's voice and body sing with joy.
Particularly his voice.
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, and so my garden grows!" Fluid spatters as a head is released from its body. "Hah! And why not a spider lily? You'll make my garden grow!"
He'll throw the bodies out of the airlock to properly kill them later. The dismembering is the fun part.
But hey, if someone else wants to help with the boring bits, or perhaps get into a little competition for the fun parts, that is not something Christopher could object to. And certainly, he'd never leave a friend to get attacked! (Even if they have never met before, what greater start to friendship than joining in battle?)
[ooc: reply in spam or prose as you prefer. I AM HAPPY WITH BOTH.]
cw: not that gory YET
When Christopher sees the flowers, he—like the other nerds who lined up for a midnight release of nature—is ecstatic, alternating between manic energy and captivated reverie. He bounds through the rows, rambling off scientific names and properties and delivering a praise by parts of the beautiful plants. He stops in front of particular flowers, like a creature transfixed by celestial arrow, and slowly murmurs words of amazement.
"Ah . . . How beautiful . . ."
But Christopher can never be set to one mood for long. He switches back and forth between energetic and rapturous without a care as he explores the depths of the Agricultural Wing.
Pity the poor person who gets caught up in his joy.
[MIDNIGHT: AGRICULTURAL WING. Pt II: the ruckus]
So he gets everywhere. Whistling to himself, hands in his pockets, he happily, unconcernedly goes further and further in, no matter how strange and disturbing things get. He doesn't flinch at blood or broken glass. He doesn't even seem to feel fear at this.
And when Christopher sees the first of the zombies, he smiles.
"Oh." Christopher's head tilts. "They're dead." He taps his lips. "Poor things." His fangs show. "That means I can kill as many as I want, right?"
Knives appear in his hands with the inexplicability of a magician's wand. Christopher's body remembers what it was freed to do, and he attacks.
[EVERYWHERE. No, I mean it. All the places. At all sorts of times of day and night through all of this.]
So Christopher dedicates himself to the fighting. He assists in missions to the cafeteria and warehouse. He engages in every kind of plan to attack the enemy. VR Rooms, Observatory, Transport Pad: it doesn't matter where. Practically nonstop, as if this is what he exists to do, Christopher finds the enemy and he attacks and attacks and attacks.
And in all that self-indulgent violence and bloodlust, Christopher's voice and body sing with joy.
Particularly his voice.
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, and so my garden grows!" Fluid spatters as a head is released from its body. "Hah! And why not a spider lily? You'll make my garden grow!"
He'll throw the bodies out of the airlock to properly kill them later. The dismembering is the fun part.
But hey, if someone else wants to help with the boring bits, or perhaps get into a little competition for the fun parts, that is not something Christopher could object to. And certainly, he'd never leave a friend to get attacked! (Even if they have never met before, what greater start to friendship than joining in battle?)
[ooc: reply in spam or prose as you prefer. I AM HAPPY WITH BOTH.]