Eleanor Lamb (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thebigsister) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-04-13 10:44 pm
thebigsister) wrote in towerofanimus2012-04-13 10:44 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] I feel this burning inside, a feeling no one should know...
Characters: Eleanor Lamb and YOU!
Setting: Floor 15, the workshop.
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match your preference.
Summary: It's time to put all that compound intellect to use and brush up some borrowed skills to give her suit some much needed maintenance. So behold, Eleanor Lamb is actually looking like a human and not some weird monster out of a horror game.
Warnings: Hopefully none? Will add as necessary, though.
[The suit needs to be mended or patched in places where monster claws have worn it. Her harpoon and her ADAM needle need a little sharpening and some good hits with a hammer to straighten them after they've been crooked slightly. And of course, she needs to check the airtight seals on her helmet.
Eleanor, unfortunately, only owns another set of clothes that aren't her suit: a rather girlish white dress. Two of them, in fact. But she's been using one of them as a nightgown, the other relegated to the empty depths of her trunk. Without any other option - and no, working around naked was obviously not an option - she moves about the workshop in such clothes, barefoot and wearing no protective equipment, as she goes about giving her suit proper maintenance. She's slightly distracted, busy rummaging her own mind to find the right set of memories or skills to complete the task at hand, but of course... she's hardly defenseless even without the suit. Absorbed by her task, she doesn't notice when she begins half-humming, half-reciting a familiar poem/song:]
In the House of upside-down, cellars top floor, Attic's ground. In the House of upside down, laughing cries and smiles frown. In the house of upside-down, found is lost and lost is found...
Setting: Floor 15, the workshop.
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match your preference.
Summary: It's time to put all that compound intellect to use and brush up some borrowed skills to give her suit some much needed maintenance. So behold, Eleanor Lamb is actually looking like a human and not some weird monster out of a horror game.
Warnings: Hopefully none? Will add as necessary, though.
[The suit needs to be mended or patched in places where monster claws have worn it. Her harpoon and her ADAM needle need a little sharpening and some good hits with a hammer to straighten them after they've been crooked slightly. And of course, she needs to check the airtight seals on her helmet.
Eleanor, unfortunately, only owns another set of clothes that aren't her suit: a rather girlish white dress. Two of them, in fact. But she's been using one of them as a nightgown, the other relegated to the empty depths of her trunk. Without any other option - and no, working around naked was obviously not an option - she moves about the workshop in such clothes, barefoot and wearing no protective equipment, as she goes about giving her suit proper maintenance. She's slightly distracted, busy rummaging her own mind to find the right set of memories or skills to complete the task at hand, but of course... she's hardly defenseless even without the suit. Absorbed by her task, she doesn't notice when she begins half-humming, half-reciting a familiar poem/song:]
In the House of upside-down, cellars top floor, Attic's ground. In the House of upside down, laughing cries and smiles frown. In the house of upside-down, found is lost and lost is found...
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[He hoped he didn't... that what he had thought was wrong, that it was less... wrong...]
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[She looks a little sheepish.]
I'm... Perhaps I said too much? I am not entirely sure what is acceptable or not.
[Her frames of reference are all... screwed but most agree on "as much as you're comfortable with", and she's comfortable with a lot.]
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You may speak of whatever you wish... I will try my best to understand...
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[She pauses for a moment, trying to think straight.]
Perhaps... perhaps you could ask and I'll do my best to answer?
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[She shrugged, back to the original point.]
It also keeps imprints of people's memories and personalities, when it passes from one person to the next, so... there's where the memories come from.
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[Sometimes, she does not say, smiling wryly.]
And they have their uses, so it's not all bad. It's just something one needs to get used to, in the end.
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Is that all?
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