Fon Master Ion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fragileprophet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-15 10:38 am
fragileprophet) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-15 10:38 am
Entry tags:
the second - trapped in a box of tremendous size
Characters: Ion and anyone else!
Setting: Dormitory Hallways, Dormitory Bathrooms, Stairway, Floor Forty-Seven
Format: Whatever suits your fancy
Summary: After being missing for days, Ion has returned to the Tower modified and quietly obedient. He goes about his business as a Group D worker and engages in various event-related happenings.
Warnings: Lots of internal angst. Character death and potential violence, depending on the prompt and your personal preferences. Ion’s modifications draw him to people who are close to dying—although he will not attack you personally unless malfunctioning (let me know if that’s a thing you want!), he will not help you if he finds you in peril. Even if you scream or beg for help. No matter how desperately he wants to warn you of the incoming danger he senses…he will do nothing but watch as you die in front of him. Feel free to plot with me, here!
Dormitory Hallways | OPEN
[What happened?
Ion could remember being on his way to get his collar checked…then being grabbed and steered away by retrieval units…a threateningly steel door…and then…and then there was only the now. The moment his eyes had opened without really opening. Like a fog being flushed out from his brain. Or at least mostly flushed. Everything was still…hazy and unreal.
The dormitories stretch on before him and his sandals shuffle listlessly against the floor as his body continues on its course. And Ion can’t stop. He can’t make his feet do anything. He can’t make anything to do anything—his eyes won’t even blink when he wants them to. Why can’t I stop? What’s going on? Is this…Oh Lorelei, Yulia, help—I… All he feels is panic bubbling higher and higher inside of him, even while his face stays plastered in a flat melancholy. Ion tries to cry out, but finds the words stuck inside. All he can do is watch—a spectator trapped within a hijacked body.
There is a stack of new, fresh towels cradled in his arms. Ion can feel them clutched between his fingers, though he can’t so much as twitch his eyes to look down at them. Although it’s hard to calm down enough to think with any particular measure of rationality, a small part of his churning thoughts is able to understand the job his body is undertaking—changing the towels in the bathrooms. As for why he’s doing this…he can’t so much as begin to know.
All Ion can know is that he is what he promised himself he would never become.]
Dormitory Bathroom | OPEN
[No. No. What is this? What are those? This can’t be real. Just stop. Stop moving! Let me look at it. What have you done to me?
Ion’s able to get flashes of his modified ears—large, round, black speakers melded to the sides of his head—every time his vision swings past the bathroom mirrors, but can’t get a good steady look at them to really understand what they are or what their purpose is. In silence, he methodically switches old towels with new towels, and straightens various bath supplies where they appear in disarray. ]
Stairway |OPEN, let me know if you want him to malfunction here
[Ion finished his task. He had collected and disposed of the used towels, replacing them with fresh ones. Each bathroom was now restocked and fit for the use of the residents. But now what? Now what was he supposed to do? Does he have a choice? Does he have an objective? He couldn’t say. And his body trudges forward, regardless. So it isn’t as if it really matters at all.
Where am I going now? The boy wonders, already feeling a hallow sort of resignation beginning to take root. There’s a strange sense of purpose behind his movements…he can sense something that he’s never sensed before. No. He’s not sensing anything. He’s hearing it. It’s a sound he’s never heard before, filtering in louder and louder the more he walks through his new ears—and he just knows—
It’s the sound of death.
A chill rockets from his brain to his toes, but his independently moving body pays no mind to his sudden terror. Cold. So, so cold.
The sound rips through his skull in a dull but intent rhythm. This isn’t the kind of music he’s ever known or has ever loved. But it’s clear now…it’s so clear. Oh Lorelei it hurts it’s so loud I can’t stand it I can’t think make it stop someone stop it stop stop stop it—]
Floor Forty-Seven |OPEN – please specify if you want to be the future character death he’s being pulled toward, and if you aren't feel free to jump into an already existing thread if you want, as Ion won't be helping anyone in danger!
[Ion steps off onto a floor filled with sheets that flutter gently, as if hiding terrible secrets. But the knowing is even more terrible. It’s like reading the Score…and what he reads from the pounding lyric of death in his brain tells him I’m going to find someone here who will pull back the curtains and die.
But no…no, he can’t. If I know it’s going to happen, Ion tells himself as he steps further away from the stairs, I can give a warning. I can save a life.
If one were to walk in and find him here—or if one is already in here and notices him, they’d notice only that he floats silently close to the walls, staring inward. Occasionally he’ll stop. He seems to be waiting for something, though he doesn’t ever say a word to suggest what.]
Setting: Dormitory Hallways, Dormitory Bathrooms, Stairway, Floor Forty-Seven
Format: Whatever suits your fancy
Summary: After being missing for days, Ion has returned to the Tower modified and quietly obedient. He goes about his business as a Group D worker and engages in various event-related happenings.
Warnings: Lots of internal angst. Character death and potential violence, depending on the prompt and your personal preferences. Ion’s modifications draw him to people who are close to dying—although he will not attack you personally unless malfunctioning (let me know if that’s a thing you want!), he will not help you if he finds you in peril. Even if you scream or beg for help. No matter how desperately he wants to warn you of the incoming danger he senses…he will do nothing but watch as you die in front of him. Feel free to plot with me, here!
Dormitory Hallways | OPEN
[What happened?
Ion could remember being on his way to get his collar checked…then being grabbed and steered away by retrieval units…a threateningly steel door…and then…and then there was only the now. The moment his eyes had opened without really opening. Like a fog being flushed out from his brain. Or at least mostly flushed. Everything was still…hazy and unreal.
The dormitories stretch on before him and his sandals shuffle listlessly against the floor as his body continues on its course. And Ion can’t stop. He can’t make his feet do anything. He can’t make anything to do anything—his eyes won’t even blink when he wants them to. Why can’t I stop? What’s going on? Is this…Oh Lorelei, Yulia, help—I… All he feels is panic bubbling higher and higher inside of him, even while his face stays plastered in a flat melancholy. Ion tries to cry out, but finds the words stuck inside. All he can do is watch—a spectator trapped within a hijacked body.
There is a stack of new, fresh towels cradled in his arms. Ion can feel them clutched between his fingers, though he can’t so much as twitch his eyes to look down at them. Although it’s hard to calm down enough to think with any particular measure of rationality, a small part of his churning thoughts is able to understand the job his body is undertaking—changing the towels in the bathrooms. As for why he’s doing this…he can’t so much as begin to know.
All Ion can know is that he is what he promised himself he would never become.]
Dormitory Bathroom | OPEN
[No. No. What is this? What are those? This can’t be real. Just stop. Stop moving! Let me look at it. What have you done to me?
Ion’s able to get flashes of his modified ears—large, round, black speakers melded to the sides of his head—every time his vision swings past the bathroom mirrors, but can’t get a good steady look at them to really understand what they are or what their purpose is. In silence, he methodically switches old towels with new towels, and straightens various bath supplies where they appear in disarray. ]
Stairway |OPEN, let me know if you want him to malfunction here
[Ion finished his task. He had collected and disposed of the used towels, replacing them with fresh ones. Each bathroom was now restocked and fit for the use of the residents. But now what? Now what was he supposed to do? Does he have a choice? Does he have an objective? He couldn’t say. And his body trudges forward, regardless. So it isn’t as if it really matters at all.
Where am I going now? The boy wonders, already feeling a hallow sort of resignation beginning to take root. There’s a strange sense of purpose behind his movements…he can sense something that he’s never sensed before. No. He’s not sensing anything. He’s hearing it. It’s a sound he’s never heard before, filtering in louder and louder the more he walks through his new ears—and he just knows—
It’s the sound of death.
A chill rockets from his brain to his toes, but his independently moving body pays no mind to his sudden terror. Cold. So, so cold.
The sound rips through his skull in a dull but intent rhythm. This isn’t the kind of music he’s ever known or has ever loved. But it’s clear now…it’s so clear. Oh Lorelei it hurts it’s so loud I can’t stand it I can’t think make it stop someone stop it stop stop stop it—]
Floor Forty-Seven |OPEN – please specify if you want to be the future character death he’s being pulled toward, and if you aren't feel free to jump into an already existing thread if you want, as Ion won't be helping anyone in danger!
[Ion steps off onto a floor filled with sheets that flutter gently, as if hiding terrible secrets. But the knowing is even more terrible. It’s like reading the Score…and what he reads from the pounding lyric of death in his brain tells him I’m going to find someone here who will pull back the curtains and die.
But no…no, he can’t. If I know it’s going to happen, Ion tells himself as he steps further away from the stairs, I can give a warning. I can save a life.
If one were to walk in and find him here—or if one is already in here and notices him, they’d notice only that he floats silently close to the walls, staring inward. Occasionally he’ll stop. He seems to be waiting for something, though he doesn’t ever say a word to suggest what.]
Halls
That's when he saw the man he had tried to help a few weeks ago, Taiki whimpered when he saw the changes and rushed towards him.] Are... Do you need help?
Re: Halls
Yes! he cries out in thought, I can't control my body! I don't know what to do! Please help me! Please, please, help me!
But he can't stop his feet from sluggishly carrying on. He can't stop his deadpan stare, though he does cock his head slightly at the boy as if in questioning. As if the shell he's stuck inside of is trying to ask--why would I need help? I'm perfectly fine. Everything is fine--even though nothing is fine I'm scared I'm so scared!]
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I'm trying, I really am,he thinks as loudly as he can, before turning on himself once again. Stop moving. Please, please, please stop walking!
Still, he continues his slow shuffle.]
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Stairway
That was half the problem, the other half was to get looked at.]
Tch.
[You wouldn't need to hear his forthcoming to know what might happen; with the trail of blood that was being left behind, it was obvious. Really, he was just happy Yuugi couldn't see him like this, or any of his friends.]
This place.
Officially sucks.
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And then suddenly the pressure eases into a clarity that's almost painful. Like a high ringing that deafens you without deafening you. But even then Ion can still hear it. Only now, he can see it too. Not death, no, but the one it's following--the one he has been following.
Ion sees the blood first, leaving a solitary trail down the winding steps. Then, even with his slow-but-steady pace, he catches up to its source. The blonde ahead of him seems to be weakening with every step as he hobbles downward. He must be trying to reach the infirmary.
I have to help him get there. Already, panic begins to rise inside of him. He wants to make his feet move quicker but they refuse. He wants to call out to the young man in front of him and help support him and bring him to the infirmary. He wants to do something--anything--to prevent this person from bleeding out on the stairs.
And he just knows. He can feel it. If someone doesn't do something...he's not going to make it.
I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen! It'll be okay, just hold on, whoever you are. I've almost caught up and then...and then I'll...figure something out!
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He was leaning the side as if to keep his limp form propped and mobile. The blonde nursed his most severe wound to the abdomen, likely the wound that would be the cause of death.
Jonouchi heard the foot steps behind him, his form was naturally tense due to his current disadvantage, but alas there was nothing to fear. It was just a boy.]
This isn't as bad as it looks.
[It's exactly as bad as it looks.]
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Which, in a way he does.
Don't be foolish! Ion chastises firmly but worriedly in thought, wanting with all his heart to reach out to the teenager. There's no sense in putting up a front...not in a situation like this.
It was okay now, though, wasn't it? Ion could do something. He could change this boy's fate. It didn't have to be like the way the Score was treated in Auldrant. This wasn't something that couldn't be prevented. He just had to hurry.
Please, Ion asks himself as he attempts to focus what energy he has that still belongs to him into his arms and his legs. Please!]
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Or maybe...]
Were you one of the people that went missing?
[He asked, genuinely concerned.]
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How big was the gap in his memory? But more importantly, it doesn't matter right now--what's important is getting you help!
This was a good person. It didn't matter how glassy-eyed Ion was at the present. No one who could sit in a puddle of his own blood and worry about the condition of another could be anything besides.
It just aggravated Ion's feeling of desperate helplessness. I'm right here and I can't do anything--my body won't listen to matter how hard I beg--if he dies here it's my fault.
Listening to the dead-sound, however, Ion had to revise his thought. When he dies it'll be all my fault. It was honestly a surprise that the blonde could still speak, at all. The sound was so insistent and so piercing...as if it was growing impatient.
He wanted it to stop. He had to make it stop.]
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It probably wouldn't be long now.]You have...friends here right? You should go see them...they're probably worrying about you.
[He really, desperately didn't want to give up, but his legs were too heavy to keep walking.
Now what?]
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I'm worried about you, right now. That's all that matters to me. He wants to say. Even though he can't move and he can't speak, even though he continues to stare blankly at the dying teen in front of him, Ion feels frantic.
I'll stay by your side, even if I have no say in the matter. I won't let you suffer alone. I'm here. I'm in here and I'm with you.
But the blonde's eyes are so lonely and so weak and it hurts just to watch. Ion was failing. This was his job! Lorelei, he just wanted to ease the suffering of one person.
Please, let me do this much! Please! Let me make it end! Let me end the pain!
Slowly...slowly...he finds the strength to lift a shaking hand. Ion begins to extend it toward the bloodied boy...
And then all at once the noise is too much. Like a switch being flipped down, his mind goes dark.]
[...]
[Ion isn't aware of what his body now does. The hand that had been extending toward Jonouchi abruptly halts and more confidently raises up, above his head.
A light begins to glow from his fingertips as his body prepares to fulfill the fate that has been too-long delayed. One blow would be all it took. One arte to rip the blonde's body to shreds. One movement of his palm connecting to the ground.
It was time to end this fading life.]
1/2
So that's how it was?
If only he had noticed it sooner.]
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I had no idea you weren't in your right mind.
I'm sorry you had to do this. [Assuming you weren't in control of anything.]
much better
[Apparently even in the drone-like state, Akashic Torment was too much for him to handle.]
[He didn't know what had happened. One minute he had been trying to break through to the blonde and the next...
What have I done?
The body of the injured youth was sprawled out in a tattered mess of the hardly recognizable, his face stretched and twisted in grotesque pain.
No, no, I couldn't have. This wasn't--
He was dead. The static filler that he could hear attach itself to the soon-to-be-departed was gone. And Ion knew without having even seen it--he knew that he had done this. His body held the clear signs of daathic fonic arte use from where it leaned pale and shaken, and no one was around to have finished the blonde. No one but the Fon Master.
This isn't what I wanted! This wasn't what I asked for! This wasn't what I meant!
He wanted to tear his eyes away but couldn't. His body wouldn't let him and those glazed eyes pierced through him and made him feel sick and wretched.]
[...and then it hit him: Ion was a murderer.
He'd witnessed death. He'd killed monsters. He'd justified killing in the face of war. Sacrifices were necessary for peace. This was different. This was him, taking a life of an innocent. Cutting an existence away from the world (if only briefly, in this place) with his own two hands.
This wasn't something he had ever done before. It wasn't something Ion had ever planned to need to do. Suddenly, Luke's old reactions to taking a life felt even more rational than ever before. He had always understood them--but now it resonated.
No, no, no, no...
I'm so sorry...I'm so, so sorry...
I can never take this back I can never make up for this...]
[...]
[The retrieval units would come for the body, but Ion wouldn't be there.
There was work to be done, still. His body will have pushed off and staggered single-mindedly onward. It wouldn't look back, even as Ion screamed and cried at himself.
...
Even as a small part of him whispered but wasn't it just better for him? and he smothered the thought in his shame.]