animusmods: (Default)
Animus Moderators ([personal profile] animusmods) wrote in [community profile] towerofanimus2013-06-01 01:09 am
Entry tags:

Glamour Failure

Characters: any
Setting: all around the Tower
Format: any/party-style
Summary: A general mingle log for the reaction to the beginning of the Idealism event.
Warnings: PG-13; please include any more detailed warnings in your threads if necessary
animusnpcs: (Default)

scenario C

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 10:03 am (UTC)(link)
[At first England is rewarded with nothing but the steady, solid tapping of the handle on the screen.

Tap tap tap tap crack. Bit by bit, it shatters, revealing wires and circuitry beneath.]
keepscalm: (026❦hath my duty strongly knit)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 10:13 am (UTC)(link)
[England doesn't relent when he feels it finally start to give, and he doesn't stop until the majority of the panel is in pieces on the floor. When that's finally accomplished (and god damn is it satisfying), he shoves the knife back into its holding place on his belt. Or, what used to be his belt, he supposes.

Thing is, he's not an electrician. So he has to stop and scrutinise the wires first, even though it's sorely tempting to just rip them out, circuitry and all.

They look like any other wires, though. So he's going to learn from Hollywood (America would be proud, he thinks), and start trying to delicately switch around the wires.

It's not defusing a bomb or hotwiring a car, but England can feel something that's reminiscent of his heart pounding, regardless.]
animusnpcs: (Default)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 10:16 am (UTC)(link)
[The swapping of wires doesn't seem to do much at first--but then there's an impressive arc of electricity, enough to knock England off his feet. It won't kill him, but it's certainly painful.]
keepscalm: art by <user name="spacedrunk" site="tumblr.com"> (088❦against myself I'll fight)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 10:42 am (UTC)(link)
[It stings where it first hits, and gradually, England can feel all kinds of things that he rightfully shouldn't be able to feel in this poor imitation of a body. Everything under his skin feels hot and tingles so intensely it hurts, and for a while, he lies motionless on the floor. His bones ache and he feels like every vein, every tributary of every river is going to explode. Everything he's not supposed to have is screaming.

And god damn does his head hurt.]


Fucking hell...

[While England wasn't expecting that — wasn't expecting anything, really — he can't say he was entirely unprepared for some kind of injury. He contemplates this while on the floor of the elevator, lying still as he tries to recover from the shock that shouldn't have rightfully been able to hurt him.

After a while, he wiggles his fingers. It still aches to move, but his hypothetical heart feels like it's about to burst out of his wireframe chest and it's not just because of the shock. Gradually, he sits up, the initial flare of anger reignited by pain and frustration. He has no idea what he's doing and while wrecking the panel brought about some measure of satisfaction, it's not nearly enough for how furious he is.

England finally stands, sore but undeterred. He doesn't understand what any of the wires do, so he's going to handle it the same way he handles everything he doesn't understand when he's angry!

By lashing out.

He takes the knife back out of its pouch, catches the blade beneath the tangle of wires, and pulls.]
animusnpcs: (♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 10:44 am (UTC)(link)
[The wires snap in two. England is rewarded with another painful shock.

The elevator doors slide closed, and a computerized voice speaks.]


Critical error.

[The elevator begins plummeting.]
keepscalm: (090❦my heart hath scaped this sorrow)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 11:01 am (UTC)(link)
[England is floored, quite literally, by the second shock. The snapping of electricity drowns out the sound of the doors closing, but as he crumples in one of the far corners of the elevator, he can hear a vague warble that resembles a voice. He can't hear what it's saying over the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart, though he thinks he has an idea when the elevator starts to drop and his stomach lodges itself in his throat.

Everything hurts too much to stand. He throws an arm upwards to hook his fingers around the hand rail above him, but otherwise, he's forced to just endure the fall.]
animusnpcs: (♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 11:06 am (UTC)(link)
[The fall is longer than it probably should be--it stretches on and on, though partway through there's the screech of metal as some sort of safety measure begins slowing the descent from its wild pace.

The elevator still crashes heavily, though, when it hits the bottom. The crash isn't fatal, though.

The broken elevator looks out into what appears to be a lobby. Like the reception area of an office building, there's a desk and chairs for waiting, a computer--though it looks impossibly advanced--long-since dead at the receptionist's desk. Bodies, ancient and yet somehow hardly decomposed at all, litter the area. It looks like something sucked the bodies inside out. Some sort of monster that lurks, perhaps.

The door to exit the Tower is opposite the receptionist's desk.]
keepscalm: (109❦beseige all kinds of blood)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 11:49 am (UTC)(link)
[The fall is so fast that England can actually feel the elevator dropping out from underneath him, and though it sends an awful pain rippling through his body to move again, he forces himself to grab the handrails on each side of his little corner so he doesn't eventually end up against the ceiling. As soon as the screeching starts, England is firmly planted back onto the floor by gravity, the freefall effect lessened.

He'd resigned himself to death at the beginning of the fall, but as the elevator continues to slow, he has the creeping realisation that he might survive. And if he does, it's going to be really painful when he hits the ground.

His arms sear and scream as he tenses, but England figures if he's not on the floor for the impact, he'll be better off. So he curls his legs against his chest and uses his grip on the hand rails to pull himself up, just slightly, until the balls of his feet are all that's touching the floor.

The bend of his legs serves to absorb most of the white-hot shock when the elevator makes impact, but he's sure his bones wouldn't be in pristine condition if he actually had them. Once he's satisfied that the elevator has actually stopped, he lets go of the handrails and falls fully against the floor again, to awful protesting from what are more violet-coloured shock absorbers now than functional legs.

It's not until it fully sinks in that everything hurts way too much for him to be dead that England opens his eyes to look out into the room the elevator has taken him to.

He's never seen any other place in the Tower like this. And— those are bodies. Honest-to-god, real-life corpses.

England's eyes flicker down towards his wireframe shell and take in the sight of the violet fluid. And then, back to the bodies outside of the elevator. The difference is so alarming he can hardly believe it. Everything hurts too much for him to want to move just yet, which probably works to his advantage when he decides against investigating the corpses first and foremost.

Because once he tears his eyes away from them, he sees the door. He has no idea where it leads. He's not sure he could even get to it.

But he's still alive. He has to try. It's better than waiting around for something to find him.

So he grabs the rails again and slowly hoists himself up, to unbearable complaint from his battered body. Every step is agonising; the only thing that keeps him walking is the reminder that he felt so much worse than this when he looked through that viewfinder. No pain could ever compare.

Eventually, England manages to trudge his way out of the elevator, weapon in hand. He has no way of knowing where that door might lead him, and he's surrounded by dead things that, once upon a time, were truly organic. If it were just bodies, he would leave them. But there's a computer, and it might have information on what this place actually is.

So he starts shuffling his way towards that first.]
animusnpcs: (♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[The computer has long-since been powered down; it would be impossible to get any information off of it. Even a light touch will cause it to crumble a little, as if some vital part of it had been ripped out and it was just waiting for someone to touch it and turn it to dust.]
keepscalm: (032❦march in ranks of better equipage)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[When he sees the state of the thing, England is a tad discouraged. Even someone who's good with computers would probably have trouble getting this thing to start out. He reaches out and touches the monitor gently, but when it starts coming apart beneath his fingers, he withdraws.

There's nothing to be done for this piece of rubbish.

He turns his attention instead to the corpse stationed at the computer. England doesn't know what happened to these people, but they're unrecognisable in terms of identity. What's strange is that there's no reek of decomposition; clearly, if these are flesh and blood human beings as opposed to the imitations that house otherworldly visitors, they've been down here for a long time.

Unless he's seeing things.

Frowning, England flexes his fingers a little, and then reaches out to gently prod at something that he's pretty sure is skin. If it is real and does happen to be diseased, oh well. He doubts he's making it out of here alive anyway.]
animusnpcs: (♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[The corpse is certainly real, even if it doesn't seem to be as decomposed as it should be. At the prodding, the corpse slides off its chair and lands on the ground.]
keepscalm: (069❦they measure by thy deeds)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[England withdraws his hand with a grimace (and too fast; a spike of pain stabs through his arm, but that's not really of concern at the moment). Definitely real, or some extremely advanced glamour.

There's a certain measure of guilt as the once-human collapses onto the ground, but England's not going to set them right. There's nowhere to bury them down here and he has other things to attend to.

Like checking the rest of the desk, aside from the computer.]
animusnpcs: (♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 09:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[The desk is remarkably clean--while there are office supplies, they seem to be a bit beyond what England would be familiar with, technology-wise. There are no papers, but there are sheets of film in the shape of papers.

The front of the desk is painted with a stylized tower forming part of the T in a "Tower: Animus" logo.]
keepscalm: (083❦this silence for my sin)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[He has to touch them to confirm it, but as soon as he brushes his fingers over the paper-shaped bits of film, he makes quick work of sweeping them all into a stack and folding the whole thing up until it's a bundle small enough to fit into his...well, what is supposed to be his pants pocket.

Once he tucks that into the layer of film that presumably makes his clothes, he circles around to the front of the desk, trying to even his breathing with his steps to lessen the pain of using his legs. He can't help but scoff a little under his breath at the sight of the logo.

He casts another cursory glance around, but the only thing remaining that's really of note is the door. So he slowly makes his way across the room to survey it.]
animusnpcs: (♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜♜)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's a double door, made of glass. There's old, dried gore smeared on both sides of the door, making it impossible to see through. And, at this time of night, there's no way to tell if light would filter through.

The Tower: Animus logo can be seen faintly on the door, looking around the mess.]
keepscalm: (112❦to know my shames and praises)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[How promising. The mess on the inside is unsurprising, but on the outside is a bit alarming.

Though that means at some point, someone was out there.

England swallows around the knot in his throat. Suddenly he's much more aware of his racing heartbeat again.

He reaches for the handles and rattles them. Or, attempts to, in the hope that the doors will either push or pull open.]
animusnpcs: (...)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 10:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[The door opens. In the gloom beneath the fog, a massive city stretches out before him--he's at the top of a hill and a city to dwarf the greatest Earth could boast is all around and out into the horizon. There are corpses just at the door.

Then a spotlight, hanging over the Tower, turns on, keeping England from seeing anything more.

Slowly, the fluid in his body begins to bubble and boil within him. It taints the color deep, deep black-red. The doors slam shut again, trapping England inside.

His soul abruptly catches up with the reality that his world and all his people are gone. In a place that fakes death so often, England really begins to die.]
keepscalm: (028❦shake hands to torture me)

warning: body horror like genuinely

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[England takes in as much of it as he can. He can make out the shapes of a city through the fog, and it seems to stretch far beyond what he can see through the cloudy air.

The sudden light is blinding; his arm flies up to shield his eyes out of reflex. Soon after, he begins to feel like his blood is boiling, the air circulating through whatever it is that's simulating his veins. It's well enough for him to feel nauseated at the sensation, not to mention how much it hurts after being electrocuted twice over and dropped down an elevator shaft. When he draws his arm away enough to actually see what's happening, he wishes he hadn't, because that's not a colour he's ever seen on anyone in the Tower before.

Though the finer nuances of collar hues are quickly lost on him as his soul is abruptly ripped out of its preserved state of limbo, and England's wish that he had died with his country is being granted.

It's so much worse than even what he felt looking at his dead world through the viewfinder. Every part of him, every single English soul feels like it's being gouged out of him at once, all of the fifty-three million people that constantly linger at the edge of his awareness being retroactively carved out of his mind and his body. The overwhelming pain steals his breath and brings him to his knees, as if his body can no longer physically support the rotting void of emptiness where his people had previously been.

Though there's no skin to truly speak of, he feels like it's drying out, flaking and cracking open with dehydration and the utter lack of life on his land. Every plant is dead and every river is dried up, and he feels like he's bleeding from every pore except there's no real blood, and even if there were, he can't bleed life out if there's no life left.

He's not sure he's ever screamed so loud in his life.]
animusnpcs: (...)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[England's collar lets out three shrieking beeps, and while England would be hard-pressed to distinguish it at the moment there's the feeling of something sharp piercing into his soul.

Violet liquid--some sort of emergency supply--surrounds the immediate area of his soul.

But, slowly, the corruption begins eating into even that.]
keepscalm: (109❦beseige all kinds of blood)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[England can't hope to move. He can't even breathe, because every breath draws air into lungs that feel like they're falling apart. The stabbing pain of the collar injecting its emergency supply is impossible to pick out amongst the sharp pain everywhere else, though he vaguely clutches his torso over where his soul floats in his body, his wireframe nails digging into the layer of film atop it all.

He's hard pressed to form a coherent thought at the moment, but he knows without verbalising it to himself that now more than ever, he wants to die.]
animusnpcs: (Zo)

[personal profile] animusnpcs 2013-06-01 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[The emergency supply fades, corrupted entirely by whatever that spotlight did to him. Perhaps the collars were never meant to account for this at all.

And then Zo appears. Spectral, floating--an astral projection.]
I'll save you. [He reaches into England's body as if it wasn't there at all and pulls his soul out of the muck. The tainted fluid clings like glue, but it burns away at Zo's touch.

As soon as England is outside of his body, he'll be struck by a feeling similar to nostalgia. He will black out in three minutes.]
keepscalm: (068❦the golden tresses of the dead)

[personal profile] keepscalm 2013-06-01 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[He can feel the tainted fluid eating away at his last line of safety. He's going to die. He's— he never said good bye, and he's sorry, but this is how it was meant to be. A nation was never meant to live without its people.

There's a voice, and he wonders faintly, sardonically, if it's meant to be God. It sounds so young. Perhaps an angel.

The sensation is almost like something being pulled out of him— but, no, that's not quite right. The opposite? He's being pulled out of something. The disconnection feels gradual somehow, like all the pain and death melts away as he's pulled away from it. It's...serene. Everything feels like something he's known before; it feels like home again.

Though his senses are gone, he's aware of another presence.

But that's the last thing he's aware of before the world goes dark.]