towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters: Ronald and his tower Homies
Setting: Floor 13
Format: Starting in prose but following you!
Summary: After reawakening from his punishment and first death, a rather guilt stricken puppy goes to lick his wounds after hiding away for a few days.
Warnings: Feelers, possibly... and references back to his punishment which involves dead bodies, blood and mutilation.

The first punishments were always the hardest, maybe. He wasn't certain as he had no idea who was new and who wasn't. But that dream was too vivd, far too vivid to be just a mere dream. What if it was real? What if it was what happened before he was brought here? For all he knew, it could have been the reason he was brought here. When he closed his eyes, his mind's eye supplied the pictures which came in just as clear as the nightmare itself had.

He'd seen them with those lifeless eyes trained toward him in accusation. He'd seen the blood he never thought would ever be spilled scattered about over the ground. His fault. He could have stopped it. And yet he was alive through it all. Of course, logic said it was a dream but there was still another part of him that nagged. Nagged at his mind and told him it could be possible. It could have been the reason why he was brought here first. What if it was all true? What if he DID do it and neither one of them remembered? After all, William wasn't around. What if he was dead? What if it was all his fault?

So he'd been skulking around, trying to find a place that didn't kill him just to think. Sit and think. There were too many people in the dorms, even more in the cafeteria and still a bunch more in the lounge. But then he found the thirteenth floor where things seemed secluded enough for him to find some measure of solace. Ironically enough, it was a cathedral. The younger reaper had never been devout -- not that he remembered, at least, but there were those in their dying breaths who had prayed to some god or another. He'd heard what prayer could do for a troubled heart.

Irony indeed.
But he wasn't here to pray. He just needed to think.

He'd brought his hat with him, his favorite black fedora which he didn't find in his trunk but had appeared by his bedside after the entire ordeal in the Labyrinth. This he held to his chest as he entered, eyes scanning the entire area around him. There was something calming about the stained glass and the pews to say the least. The mumbing didn't bother him. The thought of ghosts didn't, really. He was a reaper. What was there to fear?

Wordlessly, he slipped himself onto one of the back pews and pulled his legs to his chest. His head rested on his arms which he folded over one knee with a deep sigh before burying his face against it again. That dream. Even when he closed his eyes he could still see their torn flesh and hear their accusatory voices. He couldn't face them. Either one of them. He knew he couldn't look Grell in the eye, not after this, not when the possibility loomed so close...

So it was with a groan that he pulled his legs closer against his chest and tried to curl himself into a tighter ball than was possible.

Maybe if he curled in tight enough, he could disappear.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[At first Ronald's voice was muted but fortunately ,for the both of them, Ronald's Unorthodox hairdo stood out like an sore thumb.]

Field Officer Ronald Knox. What is the meaning behind this tomfoolery? I should be filing an official complaint to Headquarters about your and Sutcliff's dismissal of official field work, the sudden absence without leave, and the kidnapping of Branch official- that would be myself.

[If there was any doubt before now that William was just a stubborn hallucination- it was suddenly and rather bluntly cleared when the soft metallic clickclickclick of a perfectly maintained death scythe narrowly missed clipping the cartilage of the young reaper's right ear.]

[ He stiffened at the blade of the scythe barely brushing past but instead of any expected negative reaction, it made him turn his head to the side and rub at his eyes from under his glasses. ]

Bloody hell... they got you too.

[ But there was no time for any attempted sobbing into his arms or even just to vault himself over -- nope, that was for Grell to do. Ronald knew better, knew of his boss' personal space issues and how they were better off respected than violated.

So he manages to approach to a proper distance, giving his eyes one more rub before he swallows down that lump in his throat. ]

It's you, isn't it, sir? It really is you. You're alive.. and you're here...

[ Straightening up again now. ]

Begging your pardon, Mister Spears, sir but I don't have the slightest idea either. One minute we were on the Campania right, next minute I'm here. That was, oh... few weeks ago or summat. Can't quite remember. Last week's...

[ Voice softer again, reluctant. ]

Last week's been a blur, is all.

[Like always William is a difficult one to read, his face seeming to be eternally frozen in the pained expression of having to deal with nothing but buffoons and forced blankness.]

Would there be anyone who would dare to not only masquerade as me but also have my scythe? You continue to prove my theory that there is nothing but cotton between recent graduate's ears.... Did you at least recorded your actions within your stay here?

[ The distance is hard to converse in so he chooses to approach, stay a bit closer with his arms folded behind his back. Though there's the smallest smile as he continues his "report". It was definitely him. Who else would be this harsh?

Though the smile looks tired... ]

Buggered if I know, sir. This place... it does things to you. Thought it was just another illusion that you were actually here.

[ And... whoops. ]

...sorry, Mister Spears. Did nothing of that sort either. But I did talk to people! As much as I could so I could figure this place out best I can. Mister Sutcliffe and I went to check the libraries too when he first got here.

Honest, we did!

[There was a slight twitch of an perfectly trimmed eyebrow as the most recent resident of Animus listened to the youngster's report.]

So... you are telling me within the time that you have been here, you have noticed that there are influxes on your mind yet you did not stop to make daily and through observations? Good grief.... General affairs would have your head for this.

...I don't even know where to begin with that, sir.

[ Glancing back at the altar a moment before setting his hat down and jamming his hands in his pockets. Where to begin. ]

It wasn't like we were slacking off. It's just... well...

Cor...

[ Best to come clean. Start from the beginning. ]

I was killed last week. Then there was this dream that followed afterward. You and Mister Sutcliff... something had ripped the two of you to shreds... [ And very quietly. ] And it was my fault. I could've stopped it but I didn't.

[ For all this, it's a new sensation. Baring his soul out like this for the sake of reporting his ordeal, practically presenting his greatest fear brought to light. It made him feel vulnerable. ]

"Do I look like I have been torn to shreds, Ronald Knox? Do not allow for your imagination to come between your efforts. It is difficult as it already having to deal with Sutcliffe's mess without adding yours to it. I am alive, You are alive, and I am quite sure that Sutcliffe is alive. That buffoon is too stupid to remember to allow death to put a cease to him." William curtly answered as he fixed his constantly slipping glasses with the very tips of his black leather gloves.

[ And there it was in black and white. Ironically so. Was it all a dream? Was it really just a tower-induced hallucination? But there was the very idea that he was the cause of all this. Why he was the first one here, the first one saved.

At first he opened his mouth to protest but he knew there was just no arguing. Not against his boss. People had died for less. Instead, there was a sigh as he folded his arms behind his head. ]

He's actually here too, sir. Showed up prolly a week or so after I did.

[ So the three of them were here. Did it matter now? Did anything matter? He was fine and he was with the two he worried about the most. That thought alone caused the smallest smile to break from his worry. His head cocks in that self same way it usually does when trying to get a better view of things. ]

I'm glad you're alright, Mister Spears.

"I am glad to see that I am not the only one here. As useless as the two of you are, I would like to have the options on calling for back- up when needed." William answered in that almost montoned voice of his. "Now that we have cleared away some of those disillusions of yours we might as well collect Sutcliffe. I would much rather exchange information once then several times."

Right.

[ And reaching for his hat which was left on the pew before trotting back up beside him. Ronald had to admit, there was a certain sense of... normalcy to all this. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't have anything to worry about anymore.

William was here and surely he knew what to do.

Right? ]

...Sebastian's here too, sir. Thought you'd like to know so... if I know Mister Sutcliffe, he's prolly hanging off that demon's arm.

(no subject)

orz I feel like a douchebag.

NEVER.

Re: NEVER.

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