Nights When I'm Hollow // [Orville Leisure Day 4]

After the cats had taken their leave Orville had collapsed for one of his patented routine naps. He'd woken just before sunset with a stitch in his neck and dried blood decorating his mech suit. It was really more rust and bodily fluids than metal after four days of being dragged around the arena.

He'd gotten unsteadily to his feet. The day with the Nakom had restored a part of his soul but it hadn't done nearly as much for his body. For the first time in many, many years he felt weak. Rotten. Hollow. He needed sustenance.

Which is how, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Orville Reed King found himself sitting atop the junkwall, admiring the way the twilight hues cut through the putrid arena atmosphere. "Not bad," he said with a little clap towards the heavens.

Then the last of the colors leeched from the sky and his stomach growled hideously.

He scanned in all directions. From everywhere muttations howled and hissed and carried on. Many of them would surely eat him given the chance. He needed to find the one (or two, or five hundred, so his stomach said) that he could eat.

There clearly wasn't anything at the wall. He sighed, dragging himself to his feet. It would be a long night but if he didn't start walking, he'd never get to wherever he was going.