neverbeamemory: (Unreal)
neverbeamemory ([personal profile] neverbeamemory) wrote in [community profile] towerofanimus2014-03-10 08:14 pm

Log 030 | Tower of Jenova Phase #1

Characters: [OPEN TO ALL] Sephiroth via Tower of Jenova Phase #1
Setting: 10-22nd March, Starting in the Dormitory Levels, spreading around the Tower via those Infected
Format: Prose and/or Action, Mingle-style. Please put date and/or relevant locations in the subjects!
Summary: Sephiroth releases his will and manages to envelop the Dormitory Levels of the Tower, Side effects commence shortly after in certain individuals. Meanwhile, he begins to siphon energy into his very core. Feel free to use this post for plotting.
Warnings: Sickness, mutations, copious amounts of Geostigmatic black goop and generally bad feels including but not limited to homicide, suicide, hallucinations. Eventually.

It was now or never. 

The Tower had ripped his soul, the very core of his being from it's rightful place and bound it indefinitely in wire frames and nano film. Since he had awoken here all those cycles ago, the proverbial dagger had been stabbed, twisted and turned in defiance of his self-control, in spite of his indomitable will, again and again. This was not his Destiny; to be played with as such a literal child's-toy with no regard whatsoever for his divine birthright. He had worked tirelessly since then, one way or another, to gain for himself the means by which he could flip this game in his favor. The boycott, the fluid research, the countless infiltration attempts and new vessels he had gone through - all culminated to this point.

His real powers were unlocked, and with them the game changing realization that whatever he could put his mind to in this new Realm wouldn't be as simple as all that. In the absence of even an atom of his particular, real genetic makeup Sephiroth discovered quickly that he could only ever cultivate his power -his will- to a certain point before, by the constraints of the Tower it would not go any further. 

And so it had turned full circle, right back to the sore fact that there had only ever been one, real resolution.
Sephiroth needed out. 

It was sometime late afternoon on 10th March, when Sephiroth decided to settle in his Dormitory to make that final, brutal push against his cage. Within only a few moments of well-practiced, meditative charged silence sat atop his bed Sephiroth's consciousness was released further into his core than he had ever let it sink before. His will only had one intent; to wrap around all of his power at once and expand it outwards away from him in one almighty push. There were a few attempts that rippled through the very fabric of his core as he teased more of this force against the barriers that had kept it contained for so long. 

A sharp breath was taken and Sephiroth threw all of his consciousness into exuding itself through the bars, all in one go. His large black wing burst itself violently out of his right shoulder, but it didn't stop there. At it's fullest extension the black monstrosity shimmered before collapsing it's form smoothly into thick, inky black, shadowy tendrils which sped out from Sephiroth's form in every direction. They quickly wrapped themselves around everything in Sephiroth's direct vicinity and then -as he opened livid, glowing eyes to the room- sped away from him. Enveloping doorways, hallways, rooms and stairwells like a vast tidal wave of black ink.

The Dormitory levels were enveloped with this blackness within a matter of minutes and then quickly faded up, into the very fabric of the Tower. A held breath was broken as Sephiroth swooned heavily with his own energy release, a severe backlash of lethargy would see him disoriented for a while at least.

But it was worth it, he could feel it. This extension of himself around these floors of the Tower. 
It pulsed with promise.
slightlyoblivious: (persona-lized)

open - multiple prompts, see warnings

[personal profile] slightlyoblivious 2014-03-11 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
March 10th, media room, early evening:

To say that Yukiko wasn't feeling like herself was a bit of an understatement. She's normally fairly upbeat even when things aren't going so well, but anyone who encounters her that evening will find her feeling a little down, looking tired, and a bit feverish. She's thinking to herself that it's probably just a bit of a cold, but that doesn't entirely explain her mood being so low.

She can be found in the media room under a pile of blankets, halfway paying attention to a movie.

March 15-18, name your time and place. Possible character death here.

...that 'little cold' wasn't getting better. If anything, it's progressed into something that Yukiko's magic can't touch. She's been trying to push it back, to cure herself, but those efforts simply aren't working. There are black splotches on her skin, and she's spending more and more time in places she shouldn't be.

Places like floor 11, which she normally avoids - too many bad memories. If you find her here, she'll be dangerously close to the edges of the pool.

If she's found on floor 66, it will be between the stairwell and the entrance to the poppy field. It's safe, right? Just for a few minutes? It's awfully peaceful.

She seems to be drawn to all the places she normally avoids - the gently blowing cloths that are strewn about floor 47, the darkness on floor 46, the snarling and hissing sounds on floor 37. But it's safe, right? She's not the kind of person to draw someone into danger.

...no matter what she thinks they've said to her.

March 18-22, name your time. Warnings for body horror, thoughts of suicide, and probable character death.

The morning of the 18th, it's crystal clear that whatever is happening has reached some kind of breaking point. It starts with Yukiko's eyes. They're normally a deep brown, but now, they're shimmering green. It's pretty, against the color of her skin, which doesn't even resemble human skin by mid-morning on the 18th. That's not the only change; the one-sided dragonfly wings on her left side and the scarlet flower vine that's wrapped around her make her look even less human.

She doesn't speak as she moves through the halls, though that isn't because she can't. It's that she doesn't want to hear what they have to say. Why would anyone call her anything less than a monster now? It doesn't matter how oddly pretty the changes are, she can't see herself as anything but a shambling monster. The way she trips over herself as she walks doesn't help.

Deep down inside, there's something she doesn't want to say - she almost wants to scream that she just wants it to be over, that she just wants to die and take everyone else with her. There's a bit of blood dripping from her lip, with how much and how hard she's bitten it to keep from just breaking down.

If she's approached, she can't quite predict what she'll do or say. It's just as likely that she'll lash out as it is that she'll break down entirely.

[OOC: her sign-up is here, with comments. I've discussed having Sephiroth kill Yukiko in the last prompt, but if your character thinks/feels like they ought to try it too, PM me or ping me on Plurk or something and we'll talk!]
Edited 2014-03-11 01:27 (UTC)

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notsogrimreaper: (Ryoji Mochizuki: I've lost who I am)

17th, floor 66

[personal profile] notsogrimreaper 2014-03-14 05:17 am (UTC)(link)
Ryoji has been gradually falling ill ever since his night spent with Yukiko, and he's been avoiding her, afraid to get her ill as well. Not just physically, though... there are strange thoughts in his head... strangely familiar thoughts, and he doesn't want her to deal with the mental pain of seeing Ryoji turn on the people he most cares about once again. He just wants to focus on White Day, on his princess, on how pretty she was that night. No matter how good it would feel to wrap his hands around her pretty little neck...

When he sees her from the staircase, he has to do a double take. She's changed so much in a very short time. Those marks on her skin... they can't be the same as his. Surely it's a trick of the light.

Despite his worry about the illness, his primary thought is her safety now. Spending just a few moments on this floor could get Yukiko killed, and despite that voice in his head singing with joy at the thought, he needs to try to protect her. He runs onto the floor, calling her name.

"Yukiko! Yukiko, what are you doing here?"

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stitchedupbodyguard: (Huh?)

The 16th, floor 11

[personal profile] stitchedupbodyguard 2014-03-14 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[The pool wasn't a place Veronica frequented either, what with her inability to swim and the heaviness of her weapons. She'd just never cared for the place and tried to avoid it. Now though, she found herself entering the floor as a means of escape from her "friends".

Or friends. It was still so confusing. She was furious at the thought that her friends didn't like her at all, that they only tolerated her and hated her in secret. But it couldn't be true... could it?

Of course, she sees Yukiko near the pool. A sense of dread washes over her and she nearly turns and walks out, but some small part of her makes her stay. She has to be sure.
]

...Y-yukkiko-san?

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stitchedupbodyguard: (Dressed in black)

Open - multiprompts, warnings apply etc

[personal profile] stitchedupbodyguard 2014-03-11 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
March 10th, the morgue

[It had been normal work as always for Veronica, going to the morgue and doing whatever she usually did to keep it clean. That much was normal, but apart from that...

She wasn't like herself. It might be an unusual thought that you'll ignore, but it's there. She works just fine, only every so often she stops and looks like she's thinking very hard before continuing with whatever she was doing. All the while, she seems really quiet. She'd also sneeze or cough every so often, bringing a hand up to her forehead confusedly.

> Approached?
]

March 14-17, whenever wherever. Possible death and violence.

[If it wasn't apparent that something was happening to Veronica before, it probably should be now. Rashes had broken out on Veronica's scarred hands which she tried to ignore at first before succumbing to scratching them raw. They later started to grow pustules, which Veronica tries to hide or deal with. This scared her. It scared her quite a bit. More and more, Veronica began to distance herself from others, constantly going to places she's frequented and always glancing over her shoulder. She was beginning to feel, deep down, that maybe what she thought previously was right. It was so hard to deny now. If you're lucky, you might find Veronica....

In the Library on floor three, looking frantically though the shelves for books on medicine and illnesses. Eventually, she just sits next to it, drawing her legs up and hiding her face...

On the beach on floor sixty-two. She's sitting cross legged on the sandy bar, watching the water come in and out. She seems to be speaking quietly to herself and looks quite distressed...

In the meadow on floor twenty five. She's pacing slowly, looking as though the strength has left her and she's being pulled around by strings. Her face is pale and sweaty, and her swords are hanging in her hands by her sides. Every so often she cries out and slashes the air with them...

> Approach?
]

March 18-22, Name your place and time. Warnings for homicidal rage, violence, and more than likely death

[This had gone on long enough. At this point the geostigma has shown up in Veronica's eyes, not that she really notices at this point anyways. She wasn't really focusing on anything really. She drags herself down the halls, through the floors. She's pale, some veins visible under the skin. She doesn't notice. Everything's horrible.

She'd been fighting it before, but it was true. Her friends didn't really like her. They hated her. They despised her, called her a monster behind her back and only talked to her because of their idea of "manners". All the friendships she'd made over the months... worthless.

So, she continued her way along, trying her best to ignore others and not suddenly lash out at the first person that drew near. Even though that was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to scream at them, to make them hurt for what they've done. She was furious, while simultaneously fighting back tears. She really was a monster, wasn't she? Just a horrid little beast. They all deserved to die for this pain that they have caused.

And that tugging... like a gut feeling. Leading her like a pet on a leash. Something was at the end of that leash, and it made her blood boil.

> Approach?
]

[OOC: It has been planned out that Veronica will be killed in the last prompt by Sephiroth. If you want to take a crack at it. PM me and we'll talk.]
Edited 2014-03-12 20:45 (UTC)

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miseris_socios: (ugh...)

Open - multiprompts, warnings, etc.

[personal profile] miseris_socios 2014-03-11 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
March 10th, library, mid-day:

[Ken doesn't feel well. That much is apparent from his pale face and sniffles. He doesn't really seem to notice much, though - he's busy reading. He does look like he might collapse on the table at any moment, though.]

[Still, he wants to finish this book. He can nap later.]


March 11th-18th, around, name time and place (serious character injury possible):

[It's getting worse. He can't seem to heal this, and he can't get himself up the stairs very well. The elevator is fine, but - but there might be people on it. People who don't understand, they don't get it, they won't get it. No one understands what it's like. He's been here so long and he doesn't want to be trapped here with these people.]

[His skin is blotchy, red and black rashes covering him. His hands are shaky as he tries to go about his day and ignore people staring at him. Why are they staring why are they looking at him they're judging him they don't understand. He can barely feel Dike anymore. Even a part of him doesn't understand him. No one does.]

[If they try to hurt him, he'll hurt them back.]


March 19th, stairs (character death possible):

[It comes while he's climbing the stairs after breakfast. As his eyes change, Ken falls, face slamming into a step. He tries to move, but he can't. His body is totally unresponsive. After a bit he finally gets up, wiping his face. He makes it a few floors before falling again, eyes wide with pain. He shakes, trying to move, but there's something coming out of his back. The large scarlet spines rip out from his skin, running from the top of his head down his back. The pain is agonizing, but he can't do anything but shake until the seizure passes.]

[He manages to hold it together until he can move again, but after climbing up another few floors he falls again, green membrane growing between the spines. His nails lengthen and become claws with webbing between them, bursting through his shoes. He can't move, he can't move, and what seems like forever later but is only about an hour he finally starts moving again. He takes his shoes off, ties the laces together, and puts them over his shoulder before climbing again.]

[He keeps climbing. He'll make it back to the dorms. He needs to… to rest, or… something. He's not sure. But no one will stand in his way.]
puppy_lancer: from <user name=hound-of-ulster> (Or when the valley's hushed)

march 11, meadow

[personal profile] puppy_lancer 2014-03-13 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[Cu Chulainn has to do a double take as he sees Ken and his rash.]

Woah! Ken, what happened to you?

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slightlyoblivious: (won't stop now)

March 15th, floor 5 going towards the stairs, and she's around an LI4 at this point?

[personal profile] slightlyoblivious 2014-03-14 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Yukiko's been able to say she's fine, really, but the longer this goes on, the more the blotches cover her skin, the less fine she actually is. She's been spending time in places she normally avoids, and this is one of them.

She's between laughing and crying as she watches through the scope. She knows this dead world, knows it all too well. When she makes any noise at all, it's broken, a low noise that's not quite a laugh and not quite a sob. It's quiet at first, then a bit louder, loud enough to draw attention from the stairwell.

Yukiko isn't normally one to break down like this, but she needs - she doesn't know. She starts to turn and run towards the stairs, not caring who she bumps into.]

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imperialsun: (Emotion - Completely surprised)

19

[personal profile] imperialsun 2014-03-16 08:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Something's been wrong the last few days. Ken's been acting strange, but he hasn't been able to confront him, preoccupied with what's been happening recently in the tower. It's only when he sees him coming back that he realizes that it's far worse than he imagined and he mentally kicks himself.

Is this an experiment of some kind?]


Ken!

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evokingfool: (Sit)

March 10th, library

[personal profile] evokingfool 2014-03-19 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
[Minato was going to return a book to its shelf, but he saw Ken. Only he noticed how pale Ken seems to look...

Normally, his approach would be quiet, but Ken would hear a cough as Minato walks over towards him.
]

Ken? Are you okay?

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swordofzero: (sadface)

[personal profile] swordofzero 2014-03-21 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"Sephiroth?" Suzaku, despite the fact he does not like the man, can not help but feel worried when he enters his room to see his roommate slump backwards.

But then he is sat up again. "Are you feeling alright?"

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culbutiri: (despairing)

Open

[personal profile] culbutiri 2014-03-14 12:01 pm (UTC)(link)
March 10th-13th, floor four

Nesir was no stranger to mood changes, but it was usually sudden anger that came from nowhere and encompassed everything. Lethargy and depression not so much and so for the first couple of days she forced herself out of bed. She felt like she was coming down with something. Probably because the tower was so cold. She pulled on all the clothes that she could and wandered from floor to floors, finally ending on one of the lounges. She curled up on one of the chairs and stared out into the fog, contemplating the fact they had so little time left.

She didn't want to die, and she figured she should try and do something but there was nothing she could think of, so she just sat, fingers white as she clenched the chair arm, her other arm wrapped around her legs.

14th-16th her room and then around the tower

On the morning of the fourteenth Nesir didn't get out of bed, she just pulled her covers up and buried her head in her pillow. It was a few hours before she realised she had rashes on her arms, but she couldn't bring herself to be properly worried she just groaned and closed her eyes.

Later in the day she went to find some food, her feet guiding her and her mind not quite engaging. It felt like her mind was full but there were no thoughts there at all.

It continued like this for a few days, sometimes Nesir had to sit, to take deep breaths because she felt she was about to faint. She just wanted to lie down, to not have to deal with these things anymore and often she looked at the floor of clouds and the room that she knew ate your memories, thinking about going there, because it seemed easier.

15th onwards, around the tower

It was getting worse, but the worse it got the less Nesir cared and she stared at the black sores that had opened on her arms with indifference. She continued her wanderings, sometimes wandering into places she knew where dangerous, because she forgot, or couldn't bring herself to care.

Sometimes when she felt trapped, when she felt like she was nothing but some plaything for the administrators or she saw the book she had been given in her trunk they burst, she felt faint and then she felt anger at her weakness, but it was quickly pushed away by numbness.

She could mostly be found wandering, or curled up on the staircase fighting to stay awake.
stitchedupbodyguard: (Dressed in black)

the 15th, floor 56

[personal profile] stitchedupbodyguard 2014-03-14 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[Veronica had come to this floor for a specific reason; to get away from everyone and try and clear her head. The voices telling her that everyone hated her were becoming hard to ignore. She had to persist though. Her friends couldn't hate her... could they?

Whatever. She needed to blow off steam, and what was better to do that than go killing every monster on a floor? Even if she was feeling weak and tired, Veronica found she could still swing a sword well.

So, she marched around the dark floor, her feet dragging against the floor tiredly but still going. Blood dripped from her swords which hanged from her sides. It takes her a moment, but when she finally sees Nesir wandering on the floor, she has to stop and stare in confusion. Did someone follow her?
]

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evokingfool: (Dark - What would happen)

Open

[personal profile] evokingfool 2014-03-14 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
(OOC: Minato's signup + effects.)

MARCH 10TH, AFTERNOON: LIBRARY
It’s pretty uncommon, but Minato looked rather unwell even as he read the books in the library. The silence in the room would be occasionally be broken by the sounds of his coughs, which was quite attention grabbing since this was the library.

To anyone who went to check, they would find Minato holding a book close to his chest. His other hand covering his mouth, in an attempt to quieten his coughs.

MARCH 11TH-17TH: ANYWHERE (NOTE: Character injuries is possible.)
As days continued, Minato’s condition slowly worsen. But to anyone else, it only seems like his “cold” was getting worse . He have to forced himself to do anything outside of his routines, which was going to the cafeteria to eat, reading in the library or checking the media room to distract himself, or going up to the upper floors for training and scavenging.

Except it seemed like Minato’s really unfocused right now, and how it almost land him in trouble with some very close calls. That’s exactly how many times a monster almost got him? He’s normally more attentive than this.

At least there’s no disasters when he do his garbage duty job, but it’s almost worrying when he tossed the rubbish almost on autopilot into the incinerator.

Around the later days, his skin was covered in darkening rashes, but he don’t seem to care.

MARCH 18TH-22ND: LOWER FLOORS + MEADOW FLOOR (NOTE: Character death is possible.)
At this point, Minato looks simply horrible with the black pustules forming on his skin to go with the rashes. But despite that, he’s not interested in talking with anyone.

Why would he? He’s useless, anyway.

He try to avoid people by escaping into the meadow floor, but that’s only if people don’t follow or approaches him...
slightlyoblivious: (battle-weary)

March 18th, meadow floor, cw: entirely possible character death?

[personal profile] slightlyoblivious 2014-03-14 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's not even been a full day of looking like a monster, and Yukiko's exhausted. She wasn't intending to go towards the meadow floor, but she stumbles in despite herself.

The negativity around her is palpable, extending around her just like the flower vine that surrounds her body.

Approaching someone? It's not what she intends, but she trips over herself, landing not far from Minato. It's definitely not like her to curse, but the shout of damn it all is impossible to ignore, with as loud as it is.]

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megazero_to_superhero: I gotta fight Hamidon in a bikini?! (✪ Conversation ★ Surprise)

March 17 - Incinerator

[personal profile] megazero_to_superhero 2014-03-16 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Minato's partner in Garbage Duty happens to be on the incinerator floor at the same time as Minato on this day. David doesn't run into Minato much, especially on the job, so he takes the time to raise a hand in greeting as he sees Minato at work.]

[... but, Minato doesn't appear to be acting like himself. He's acting ... almost robotic?]

Hey, you arright?

Re: March 17 - Incinerator

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notsogrimreaper: (Ryoji Mochizuki: world crashing down)

March 10th

[personal profile] notsogrimreaper 2014-03-17 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Minato gets a quick tap on his shoulder from his worried friend. Ryoji's been feeling under the weather as well, but he puts that aside when he sees Minato coughing.

"Minato-kun? Easy there..."

He puts an arm around Minato to provide support, his frown deepening slightly. Surely it's just a cold, right? There's no way...

"Are you alright?"

Re: March 10th

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notsogrimreaper: (Ryoji Mochizuki: I've lost who I am)

Open with multiprompts!

[personal profile] notsogrimreaper 2014-03-17 04:40 pm (UTC)(link)
March 10th, library

Ryoji's been feeling a tad under the weather, like most of the residents here, but he may have a small advantage because he knows just what he's sick with. The rashes are new, and it may not be strong yet... but that overwhelming, depressing feeling, that madness infecting his very being is all too familiar.

He's trying to keep away from those people important to him, idly flipping through books, trying not to imagine everything burning to the ground.

March 11th to 18th, wherever

As time goes on, it's harder for Ryoji to keep himself preoccupied. A lag on the network has him swatting the monitor in frustration. The books at the library and movies in the media room can't stop the illusions. He can be found at the gym more frequently, tearing apart a punching bag with his sword. Sometimes, he imagines the sword tearing through someone he knows, and he can't help but smile.

Eventually, nothing can keep his attention, and the depression and lethargy get to him. He ends up curled on a couch on one of the lounge floors, shivering and pressing the balls of his hands against his ears. He's muttering fitfully under his breath, but should anyone try to get near him, he'll scream in frustration and attack... something, whether it's the table near the couch or a human being.
swordofzero: (sadface)

[personal profile] swordofzero 2014-03-21 12:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Suzaku sees Ryoji and moves towards him, the boy does not seem in danger, but it would not take much to put him in danger, danger that Suzaku could save him from.

"Ryoji?" He got closer to the couch, never taking his eyes off the boy.

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sicharia: pixiv id=343705 (Default)

open

[personal profile] sicharia 2014-03-19 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
I. March 10th | Room 1-05, Floor 3, Various
[When Claudia wakes in the middle of the night, she doesn't understand why. She just knows that, abruptly, she has been assailed by pain; taken by surprise, she lies awake in her bed, tense and gasping and confused, until it fades to something manageable.]

[When she finally manages to sit up, that her body has had some kind of reaction becomes apparent to her immediately. A faint scowl on her face, she strips partway, and sure enough, there's something new and ugly on her skin amongst the scars. So, that pain must have been...]

[Well, she isn't surprised that something evil would be roaming around this place at night, but it's still a little worrisome. She hasn't had a reaction like this before.]

[Outwardly, she tries to ignore it, going about her day as usual. Her body has always been sensitive, after all, so there's no point in worrying people until she's sure it's something worth bringing up. For the most part, she does a good enough job of acting like nothing is wrong, but at other times, she slips off into thought and seems distracted, or appears to be bearing some discomfort.]

[Some time after she has eaten lunch, she can be found in the infirmary. Once again, she has removed her clothes enough to examine the odd sores on her skin, alternately wrapping them in bandages and studying their appearance and progression.]


II. March 11th | Various, Floor 3
[Her condition deteriorates rapidly. She has been trying to act as though the symptoms are nothing of importance—has tried to convince herself of that—but it has barely been a day before her lie becomes more than obvious. Constantly, her skin breaks open in new sores under her clothes, like something is trying to bubble up from underneath her skin; just the feeling of her dress rubbing against her as she moves hurts, her movements obviously hindered as she stubbornly attempts to make her way through her daily routine.]

[It's later in the afternoon that she can be found in the infirmary again. This time, though, the scene isn't quite so calm. Rather than seated on one of the beds, her slight, pale body is collapsed facedown on the floor, her breathing heavy and panicked.]


III. March 12th | Room 1-05
[After her collapse the previous day, Claudia is being good. She won't leave her room, and she'll stay in bed. She is fit to do much of anything else, as much as she hates to admit it. For the most part, she tries to stay quiet and rest, so as not to bother anyone, but on occasion, she's overtaken by jags of crying. At least she tries to hold them in until she's alone, but...]

IV. March 18th - 22nd | Various
[She died.]

[Two days after she collapsed, the sickness became too much for her body to withstand, and she died. It's only now that she has revived, sore and aching, but at least she's able to smile and say she feels better now.]

[It isn't a lie. Those sores haven't disappeared from her body completely, even now, but they're few and number and don't seem to be multiplying at that rapid, unbearable rate anymore. So, it's not so bad.]

[On the day of her revival, she stays in bed in her room, mostly. It hurts, and she needs to take a day to recover. After that— After that, she finds the people she needs to apologize to, for worrying them. She hadn't meant to. She's very sorry.]

[Once that's done, though... Well, the Tower is very large, and her guilt doesn't abate even after speaking to others. It makes it easy to avoid people she knows. She withdraws, keeping to out of the way places. It doesn't really matter if they're dangerous; it doesn't really matter what happens to her.]
chevalier_mal_fet: (innocence/the second professional kill)

3/17: Floor 11

[personal profile] chevalier_mal_fet 2014-03-21 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
[The days have slipped past him, time fallen slow and fainting into a nightmare. He spends them this way now, following the Source as best he can-- for he is not what he once was. Both Less and More.
He follows, lingering in the Being's wake, moving within the vestige of his veil. He does not think to care if he is seen.
Berserker's mind is truly gone, nearly all that once was the best and worst of Lancelot of Camelot scoured from it. It is hard to hear the call of his own Madness now-- a kind of relief and a brand of torture both at once. He does not know himself. The Madness that grips him now is not his own-- and it Wars within him, at odds with his nature, for he is no true flesh, only spirit given form.

The wind is cold, but he barely feels its breath. To be Near is all he desires.
The slit pupils of his eyes shutter and open, and his eyes are hot with flame, first flaring red, but resolving to a cold and poisonous green fire. He lingers in the Shadows like a Wraith. For he is less a Man than he has ever been.
His helm is gone. Pieces of his armor he wears, but not the whole. What there is, he can feel press within, for it is a part of him now more permanently and literally than it has ever been. Having lost the Will to control its summoning, his body has consumed it. The scourges formerly arrayed down his spine have a life of their own, and tend towards tangling with the single misshapen, shadowy wing that seems to flicker in and out of existence on his back. His grieves are stained with a dark fluid. His hands are black-taloned claws.
Neither one thing nor the other, now, he wavers between states. Watching. Waiting for he knows not what.

The pale, colorless hair that hangs lank around him shifts like a heavy cloak with each ragged breath that he draws through his open lips. His mouth is a maze of peal-white fangs.
His sword he drags heedless behind him, a heavy weight he does not properly feel. The chains wrapping its hilts trailing around his feet as they skim the ground-- for he floats there, truly a Wraith. One of the Damned dead. Yet not weak. Still he feels the tide of Mana move through him, his Lifeblood.

Yes, this is all he Desires. It eases the Song in his head, to be Near.
He has never gone to his knees before any save Arthur (but where is his Master, if he ever had a Master), and her face flickers before him as if in a dream-- but if the figure he thinks of as the Source would turn, he would fall to them now. He cannot speak, but seemingly from far away he hears a sound like a tearful sigh. It is his own breath.]
Edited 2014-03-21 14:51 (UTC)

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dat icon is perfect

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dems pretty

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provenworth: (Bloody Hair | Can't see my face)

See Prompts

[personal profile] provenworth 2014-03-27 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
March 11th | Media Room | Mid-Afternoon

She was blaming the lethargy on the fact she wasn’t getting a lot of sleep these last few days. Which only made sense, given everything that was going on in her head. The conversation she had with Reno in the ballroom the one more pressing in her mind. There was a sense of heaviness that created a cocoon around her, refusing to let up even when she tried to focus on other things.

Having made it to the media room, Elena found the nearest couch and all but collapsed into it, dressed in the make-shift suit she’d created to cover some of the bruises and rashes that had started to form. While she wasn’t convinced they were anything pressing, a voice of suspicion telling her to be watchful of it – that it looked familiar - she didn’t want or need people to notice.

If anybody cares to find her, she’s still on the couch, in a half-doze, her lower left arm resting over her eyes to block out the light.

March 14th | Floor 55 – Boiler Room | warnings of: self-harming, thoughts of suicide & character death] (First come, first serve)

This was her punishment. That was the only logical explanation for this happening to her. For everything that she did – that ShinRa did – back on Gaia and for everything she did her. Her failures in keeping people safe, the failure of her marriage. The gaping wounds that oozed the black stigma that stained skin and clothes, the pain that hammered at her bones.

She deserved this. And she would wallow in this slow death alone.

But that was only the start. Why shouldn’t she punish herself more, make herself bleed for her failures. Make herself burn. But the walls of the incinerator weren’t hot enough. Standing outside of the entrance to the incinerator, eyes watch the flickering of the flames that danced – that beckoned. It would hurt if she put her hand in. But she deserved to hurt. To die by flames. She’d always thought she’d go out in a blaze anyway.

March 15th – 17th | List your place and time | warnings of: self-harming, thoughts of suicide | character death on 17th]

Floor 40 – Storage Room

Here’s floor Elena hasn’t been too and would suspect nobody would find her. So she finds herself a nice dark corner to go and hide in. If she’s found closer to the 17th, she’ll be covered in numerous dark rashes that cover face, arms and legs that break open and ooze a sticky black substance.

Floor 46 – Dark Room of Whispers

The sheer darkness of the room is what invited Elena in. Here it would be impossible to see how far the sickness had progressed, perhaps make it impossible for somebody to see her. Hands clasped at the flashlight, the glowing note at her back. For a while the darkness hadn’t bothered her, but then the touches came. Then whispers. Voices taunting her. Teasing her. Whispers that are hard to hear, but she knew. They were saying how much she fucked up in this place. How she was a pathetic excuse for a Turk.

How they might all be better off without her.

Hallways

At times Elena might even be found in the hallways, shuffling along as if in a daze, sometimes dropping the very sickness that had infested her. Her firearm is gripped loosely in her hand, looking as if it may fall. It might be risky taking it from her, though.
warriorscribe: (It'll be fine...won't it?)

11th

[personal profile] warriorscribe 2014-03-29 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
The lack of a punishment from Riki still weighed on his mind as he wandered the tower. Why had nothing happened yet? Did he want to put himself at risk? He'd hidden his notes just in case there was punishment coming, but as the day wore on, he was less and less sure it would happen.

While a distraction would have been welcome, he wasn't expecting it to be this particular distraction.

"Elena?"

That didn't look like a particularly relaxed posture. He approached the couch, looking her over for injuries or any obvious causes of her discomfort. He was no doctor, but he didn't see anyone else here.

"Are you all right?"

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