Network/Actionspam Sample: [Libraries often gave Mantis the means to find some imagined place to sink into in relative silence, hence his eagerness to check out the city library. He climbed easily upon the rolling ladders and sailed across the shelves this way for a bit before setting out to find a section that appealed to his interests. Perhaps a manual for sewing or some political triste written by someone who was clearly bitter at the time of the writing.
He muttered the names of some of the titles as he scanned across them, his long fingers brushing against the spines until he spotted one that looked promising. Without a comprehensive system of checking out books, he couldn’t be too sure about how long he ought to keep the book for, but surely a week would suffice.]
Let’s see if you have anything useful to offer in entertainment.
[The book did not answer him as he floated back down towards the couches on the lower level. Grand as the staircase was, he felt no need for using them.]
Prose Log Sample: He couldn’t really help it that anger spoke to him so well as an emotion. It had found him so easily when he was tiny and helpless and trapped in his village. Surely it was something he was meant to embrace if he had attached himself so easily to those who shared in the often violent emotion. Right? Otherwise, what would have been the point of the torture, the testing, being sent out into battlefields and meeting so many adults who seemed to thrive off of their own bitterness.
The spoon stirred slowly in the pot as he simmered the soup. Only when he was cooking did he reflect so heavily on the path his life had taken. It was the people he lived around, he was sure. When he worked and came back from missions exhausted there was no time for him to think. No need for him to ponder the very nature of his existence. Out where the fighting and killing were, he could clear his mind of such thoughts and ignore the nagging feeling like he was missing some key aspect of himself that normally was there.
Mantis sighed and turned the heat down even further on the stove. No. He wasn’t going to fall deeper into this hole of thoughts and memories. He wasn’t some weakling who couldn’t handle the very thoughts he had lived with for years. Even in a place like this, there had to be ways for him to embrace the darker sides to his self-medication. Perhaps he’d end out outside in the woods hunting, but the outlet would be found. For the moment, he took the spoon out and had another taste of the soup. It was delicious, but still too thin with the broth for his liking.
{ [CANON] Psycho Mantis || Metal Gear || No Reserve || 5 of 5 }
[Libraries often gave Mantis the means to find some imagined place to sink into in relative silence, hence his eagerness to check out the city library. He climbed easily upon the rolling ladders and sailed across the shelves this way for a bit before setting out to find a section that appealed to his interests. Perhaps a manual for sewing or some political triste written by someone who was clearly bitter at the time of the writing.
He muttered the names of some of the titles as he scanned across them, his long fingers brushing against the spines until he spotted one that looked promising. Without a comprehensive system of checking out books, he couldn’t be too sure about how long he ought to keep the book for, but surely a week would suffice.]
Let’s see if you have anything useful to offer in entertainment.
[The book did not answer him as he floated back down towards the couches on the lower level. Grand as the staircase was, he felt no need for using them.]
Prose Log Sample:
He couldn’t really help it that anger spoke to him so well as an emotion. It had found him so easily when he was tiny and helpless and trapped in his village. Surely it was something he was meant to embrace if he had attached himself so easily to those who shared in the often violent emotion. Right? Otherwise, what would have been the point of the torture, the testing, being sent out into battlefields and meeting so many adults who seemed to thrive off of their own bitterness.
The spoon stirred slowly in the pot as he simmered the soup. Only when he was cooking did he reflect so heavily on the path his life had taken. It was the people he lived around, he was sure. When he worked and came back from missions exhausted there was no time for him to think. No need for him to ponder the very nature of his existence. Out where the fighting and killing were, he could clear his mind of such thoughts and ignore the nagging feeling like he was missing some key aspect of himself that normally was there.
Mantis sighed and turned the heat down even further on the stove. No. He wasn’t going to fall deeper into this hole of thoughts and memories. He wasn’t some weakling who couldn’t handle the very thoughts he had lived with for years. Even in a place like this, there had to be ways for him to embrace the darker sides to his self-medication. Perhaps he’d end out outside in the woods hunting, but the outlet would be found. For the moment, he took the spoon out and had another taste of the soup. It was delicious, but still too thin with the broth for his liking.