Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-07-01 07:51 am
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2011-07-01 07:51 am
Entry tags:
Day 57: Arts and Crafts Room (third shift)
They hadn't handed him a cane this morning, and they'd been right. His knee was healing. It ached, but it held his weight. Going out to the greenhouse and standing on it for a few hours was a bad idea, though. If it gave out on him tonight, what would he say. "Sorry, dudes, a bunch of tomatoes were more important. Like actual tomatoes." That sounded stupid in his head, so he'd stay indoors.
His hands itched. For something to do. Metaphorical sense, not a rash. Volunteering for KP would be a) pointless, b) not fix the standing-up problem, and c) suck, so he didn't. It was almost worth trying just to see the expressions on the goons faces, but the slim possibility that they'd take him up on it outweighed the chance to look under the mask Landel/Aguilar had put on the place by day.
Instead, he limped over to the craft room and hassled them into bringing out the tray labeled 'Paul Quincy'. Expressionless surprise was a funny expression. You could tell new cops by it. A little widening of the eyes, an absence of fidgeting for a few seconds. The old ones weren't surprised by anything. These guys had expected him to try and shoot the place up with a set of safety scissors or something. Not to pull out craft supplies and ignore them completely, except for a glance or two at their initial reactions.
A Zodiac wasn't much more than an inflatable pool raft with a big fucking motor on the back. Put enough power back there and you could make one out of a brick. No grace, but it went like he'll. S.T. liked them.
The boat that was taking shape on the table was of a different lineage. About the right size for G.I. Joe to take his entire platoon along when he went canoodling with Barbie while Ken was off on a business trip, it was long and slim. Right now it was indistinguishable from a dinosaur-model ribcage, given that he'd started at the spine -- oops, keel -- and worked up.
[Free]
His hands itched. For something to do. Metaphorical sense, not a rash. Volunteering for KP would be a) pointless, b) not fix the standing-up problem, and c) suck, so he didn't. It was almost worth trying just to see the expressions on the goons faces, but the slim possibility that they'd take him up on it outweighed the chance to look under the mask Landel/Aguilar had put on the place by day.
Instead, he limped over to the craft room and hassled them into bringing out the tray labeled 'Paul Quincy'. Expressionless surprise was a funny expression. You could tell new cops by it. A little widening of the eyes, an absence of fidgeting for a few seconds. The old ones weren't surprised by anything. These guys had expected him to try and shoot the place up with a set of safety scissors or something. Not to pull out craft supplies and ignore them completely, except for a glance or two at their initial reactions.
A Zodiac wasn't much more than an inflatable pool raft with a big fucking motor on the back. Put enough power back there and you could make one out of a brick. No grace, but it went like he'll. S.T. liked them.
The boat that was taking shape on the table was of a different lineage. About the right size for G.I. Joe to take his entire platoon along when he went canoodling with Barbie while Ken was off on a business trip, it was long and slim. Right now it was indistinguishable from a dinosaur-model ribcage, given that he'd started at the spine -- oops, keel -- and worked up.
[Free]
no subject
Even if he didn't understand half of what she said most of the time. Drawings ignored, he continued to watch her work. Was she saying she could make weapons out of the string there? That would be incredibly useful, not to mention miraculous. He wouldn't be able to do anything with his drawings aside from maybe decorating his room with them.
"What all can you make?" And could she make something for him? Because that looked really fun and soft.
no subject
The question of what she could make would take a delicate answer. She'd only started learning a few months ago, and even several months of dedicated study weren't going to teach even the swiftest student every nuance. Flat things were easiest. She had an entire pile of practice scarves in her room. Covers, blankets, nooses. Things that had arms were tougher, even when following a pattern. "Lots of things. Would you like to learn?"
no subject
He leaned closer to watch her work. It seemed complicated, and when she offered to teach him he could only blink dumbfoundedly at first. There was no way he could ever be coordinated enough to put something like that together. It would come out a complete mess. "You really think you could show me how?"
no subject
"I don't see why not. You might not be able to weaponize them, due to the restrictions we labor under, but one scarf of maternal affection should be well within your capabilities."
Oops. That wasn't the kind of thing she wanted to think about her mother doing, not even in the service of elocutionary retribution. She picked up a larger gauge of needles, and handed them to Gamzee. "Pick a color, and we'll get started."
no subject
How he was supposed to use those little sticks to make anything with it was beyond him, though. It looked like she was just clicking them together and it was making itself, all magic like. Not that he wouldn't believe her if she said that was what was actually happening. Rose was something of a miracle worker, as he was coming to appreciate.
Why hadn't he trolled her before now?
no subject
She picked up a second set of needles, and the pink yarn she'd used as demonstration, and looped it slowly around into a slip knot. "You start like this." She slid the knot over the needle. Then she tugged it free and repeated the process, more slowly.
Then she did something complicated, and there were two loops. Three. Four. She slid the needles out again and pulled it back into a heap of yarn. "Any questions?"
no subject
He'd almost been following there for a moment. For that whole first loop he'd been totally there. After that, however, he was left sitting and staring with a knitting needle in hand as his mind tried to backtrack over the steps before it. And that was going absolutely nowhere.
"I don't think I up and all got any of that shit right there, sis. Can you all like... do that whole motherfucker over in slow motion?" Really, really slow motion. Preferably repeated several times. he just needed to focus a little harder, that was all. After the first few steps it looked like you just did the same steps over and over. He could do that.
no subject
She moved slowly, making the loops larger than they needed to be, until she'd made two dozen stitches. "This is a good length." Her grin did not grow in the slightest, except in the confines of her own mind. "For killing ogres and netting the grist, or for a scarf." She added a second row, still moving at glacial speed.
"Do trolls have hobbies?"
no subject
He was still trying to follow her movements, looping together a mess of yarn that might have almost been something. Almost, but not really. He wasn't going to be making scarves for all his friends any time soon (and they'd probably be grateful for that anyway).