Spare some change(Open)

Spare some change(Open) Mar 20, 2011 3:04:32 GMT -5

Post by Vulnerable on Mar 20, 2011 3:04:32 GMT -5

Numbness, that was the feeling he had that shivering through the core of his body and onto the flesh the covered his frail bones. He was numb, but not physically, simply emotionally with an interesting demeanor as he walked around District Eight. Unlike other people, he never begged for food and even had some kind of loathing for it. Like most people in some of the lower class districts, he was used to going hungry. That didn't mean that he was going to suddenly drop down on the ground and die from hunger. He had, at least, one meal a day. He was better off than those in some other districts, even if he didn't know that.

He wasn't exactly a rude or a mean person though. He just, didn't care about people in general. People were the enemy; humanity was the enemy and he didn't fit in the great big circle of life as many humans did. He was just there, alone. Not afraid, though. He could never be afraid. It would show weakness. It would show that he truly liked to manipulate to people around him to get him to do things for him. That was who he was and who he would never reveal to others. A liar, loathful human being-- but one with a gentle side to him. One that he would never release, like a lion in its cage.

But, today, he was as normal as he could be. He didn't have that odd look on his face that he carried around everywhere. The smug grin, the grin that he would give everyone when he passed them on by. Instead, he had a blank face and his eyes trailed around. He liked to look around at peoples' clothing. They were beautiful, the fabric. He could imagine weaving it into clothing of his own and make it look better. That's what he did. That was his passion. He loved to create clothes from any vailable material he could find, but he never had any color in the clothes he wore. In fact, the clothes he wore currently were plain. A solid color of white. Even the shoes he wore were white.

But, something caught his eye. A boy had walked by him like any other normal person. 'Don't look back, don't look back,' But he looked back with slight hesitation in his thoughts and watched the male continue to walk away with the near broken jacket. That jacket was broken, tore, but it still looked pretty nice. It had a certain earthly feel to it, one that he thought made the quality of clothing better. But he wasn't going to ask to buy it from the boy, either. He couldn't, could he? He didn't know how to converse with other people. He was practically anti social. Maybe he could manipulate his way into getting the jacket, or maybe just a small piece of it.

Swiftly, he would catch up to Tyler and run up in front of him to block the path ahead. He wasn't going to let him get away with such an interesting article of clothing. And, especially not one with color on it, "Hey, there." He didn't want to seem desperate. It would have been especially odd to hear someone asking for a piece of your clothing, or maybe even just a small inch of it. He didn't want to demean himself, "Nice jacket you have there, buddy." He lightly punched him in the shoulder, acting as if he had been Tyler's friend for years. He was going to have to, at least, try to bargain his way to get some of the fabric from the jacket. Being friendly. A feeling that he had to be used to because of how he manipulated people. He liked to manipulate them with simple easy mannerisms, and work his way up from kindness to something more sinister. This wasn't exactly as sinister as some other times he had manipulated people, but it could get worse, couldn't it? That is, if Tyler complied.

Word Count; 677

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