towerofanimus | Not all those who wander are lost; [OPEN]

[ 'Tis but a few days to coronation. The Quest is over and Frodo sleeps a healing sleep, and the Citadel of Minas Tirith is abuzz with activity. The White Tree blooms, and Gondor's uncrowned king walks through the corridors of the Citadel-

Aragorn wakes.

He wakes with a collar on his throat and rough cotton on his skin. He wakes without leather on his forearms, bootless and weaponless, in a room unknown to him. He wakes an undressed and collared Ranger, and he wonders what force has the ability to move him like a doll while he sleeps. He wakes away from Gondor, for he knows that this is not Gondor - Aragorn Arathornion might be a stranger to a city, but Thorongil has lived in this city to know its feel, its sounds. This is no Gondor.

It is too quiet. There is a letter on the stand near the bed, and Aragorn picks it up and reads its words- the reading takes for a moment, for though the words are shaped like no script Aragorn knows, he understands them nonetheless.

The letter drops from his nerveless fingers and he turns, looking at the walls of this room, reaching out to touch the walls. He has many questions and little answers- and he knows that there are others here. When he turns around, his eyes finally acknowledge them, and he waits for their words. ]

[ The Tower has not brought him his crown, but Anduril hangs on his hip and he is clad in a Ranger's gear by the time he leaves the room to explore the tower. There are many sights here that are immediately alien to him, and Aragorn keeps the tips of his fingers against the cold white wall, marking his path by knowing the little notches of the place. Even Lothlorien, the unchanging woods, have such marks of living on their walls; it is something familiar, in this place.

Aragorn walks through the tower with slow, deliberate steps, and he watches for those he might know. ]

[It was perhaps luck or chance or fate or simply because Eikichi was on his way to the music room that day that he ran into Aragorn, but when he did, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. One good thing about the books were the descriptions for each character inside in near malicious detail, combined with Eikichi's natural artistic abilities and imagination had left him with a rather clear picture of what he thought Aragorn would look like.

And...this guy kinda looked like him? Sorta? He thought he'd be taller for one. You know, Kingly features, darker hair, what was the eye color again? Blue? Grey? Green? Jun was better at remembering certain details of the book than him. Definitely taller.

But he did have Narsil by his side. So maybe it was the other guys that used it uh...Isildur? No he was SEVEN feet tall. Elendil? No he was EIGHT feet tall. This guy was much less than that...

Regardless of who he is, he had met members of Fellowship before, but never did he think he'd meet...a wielder of the sword.

Dude. DUDE. Dude. He should be sitting down. Time stopped for a few seconds.]

N-no way!

[Oh damn had he said that out loud? His head turned, Eikichi not look carefully where he was going and he tripped, sending his guitar case flying and slipping face directly to the floor.

First impressions were going to be a bit sketchy.]

[Suzaku tensed at the shadow but relaxed when he got close enough for Suzaku to realise it was a person not a monster. The power was out, Suzaku assumed because of the storm, and he was even more wary than usual. Still he nodded at the man, who seemed to be a fighter.]

ShinRa's General was in the process of calling it a day and heading upstairs to get a bit of sleep before heading off on patrol again the coming evening. Although not his first choice of duty, there was the satisfaction of obliterating dangerous denizens wandering about and secondly, it kept his mind occupied and his reflexes sharp.

But as he rounded the corner, the sight of a rather scruffy looking bloke trailing fingers along the Tower's walls had one of his eyebrows quirking up curiously; this had to be a new arrival. Keeping his expression carefully neutral - although it did border on bemused - the tall silver-haired man paused and said quietly, "A bit out of place, are we?"

Oh, but he himself knew that nuance well.

Edited 2012-05-29 19:43 (UTC)

Well armed was the elf that Aragorn would come across, light armor and his twin knives behind his back, his bow tucked in with a quiver of arrows. Legolas isn't on a mission, sadly. No, he's simply walking around the tower and his weapons... Well, he never wishes to be caught off guard in this god-forsaken place ~~again~~ if he could help it.

He couldn't help the grin that crossed his face at the sight of Aragorn. With Gimli and Gandalf here, things were already promising. Aragorn added to their ranks, increased their chances of surviving.

"Aragorn."

It was on his way to the library, in one of the dark corridors of the tower that Gandalf was about to cross Aragorn's path. With the power outage, light was at its minimum in the whole tower. While it bothered most of the people living around, that was not much of a problem for the white wizard, his staff providing him with all the light he needed to safely walk through the corridors, but the same light seen from a distance could be quite blinding.

As he took a turn, he spotted a familiar shape at far- He decreased the intensity of the light as not to blind this person and walked up to him. Yes, it was definitely who he thought this was. King Elessar, or as they once called him, Aragorn. No word just yet though, just a light smile.

[ He's just come back from yet another exploration of the tower when he sees a fellow he's never even met sitting in the room. Branding spanking new too, if the look on his face is any indicator. The news about an entire world being lost is more shattering, he supposes, to others unlike himself. ]

The walls are plenty real, dude.

[ Plunking on the edge of his own bed, he gestures at the door. ]

It's what's out there that you really ought to worry about.

[ It takes time to get used to the strangeness of things, but Aragorn is a Man who adapts very quickly, and with the meeting of those within the room he has been given already tells him that this is not a place that is like Arda in any way. Yet nothing quick prepares him for the sight of a man with blue hair, carrying a oddly-shaped case, who suddenly falls onto the ground at the sight of him.

He blinks for a long moment, head cocked to the sight like a bird or Elf curious about the stupidity of Men. Perhaps this creature - whatever race he is, for though he is Man-shaped his hair does not seem like Aragorn has seen before - is simply taken aback by the darkness around him.

It's only a moment's hesitatation. Aragorn steps forward and reaches out a single hand to help him out. ]

'Tis a dangerous place, as I am sure you know better than I. [ His voice is low and quiet and his hand, though gloved, are dry and strong. ]

[ It's a tension that Aragorn is familiar with, having grown up and lived all his life amongst warriors. He slows his steps immediately, coming to a step in front of the other creature. This one looks to be one of Men, but Aragorn knows better than to make assumptions.

At the very least, he looks as if he knows this tower well. ]

I mean no harm, sir. [ Softly. ] I am but a lost traveller.

It was the hair that caught his sight first. Long and glossy, as well-kept as an Elf, and Aragorn's feet stilled. Yet he looked naught like any Elf that Aragorn knew, whether Silvan or Wood or even Nodorian, and he carried a sword as tall as he on his back, where most Elves kept their quivers.

(Perhaps he was grasping for something familiar, something of home that would convince him that the message he read in the letter was false. Your world is destroyed, it said, but moments ago Aragorn had stood on the proud white stone of Minas Tirith's Citadel, awaiting his coronation. He knew the words to be a lie, for he could not accept any other explanation.)

He cleared his mind at the creature's words, and Aragorn let lose a long slow breath. His posture was relaxed, but it was a warrior's ease, for from his position he could reach for his sword and defend himself against this creature if there was need to do so.

"Aye," he said, inclining his head. He hesitated for but a moment before continuing, "You seem to know this place well, stranger."

Aragorn had met many strangers - allies perhaps, but strangers nonetheless, with looks of none he had never once met - but he had found no friend, no familiar friends. Hence Legolas's visage and the familiar weapons on his back and his hair shining gold in the lack of light was a welcome one. Aragorn could not help but smile immediately.

He would blame it on his lack of equilibrium on his relief later, but he almost stumbled towards his friend, reaching out and clasping him on the shoulder and arm, feeling familiar Elven-warmth beneath his skin.

"Legolas!" his grip tightened further, and he knew that Elven strength would feel no hurt. "Oio naa elealla alasse'."

Ever thy was a sight of joy. A greeting too strong, perhaps, but Aragorn had been lost in this strange tower without even the familiarity of known walls or trees for too long.

Aragorn remembered Fangorn; remembered the lack of hope that shrouded Legolas, Gimli and himself as they sought the hobbits, holding onto the belief that Merry and Pippin were not dead. They lived; they truly lived, and now again he saw the welcome face of an old friend. Gandalf did not speak, but he need not for Aragorn to recognise him.

Aragorn's smile was slow but sincere. He pushed himself from the walls that he had been using to memorise his way around to nod towards the Wizard.

"Gandalf," his voice was almost hoarse, curling from his throat like smoke from a pipe. "It is good to see you, old friend."

[ The entrance had him tensing up, his posture shifting into a warrior's readiness. Aragorn has woken up with no sword by his side, but he is practiced enough with his fists that he can still defend himself.

The Man - for he has the visage of a Man, without the height of the hobbits or dwarves or the pointed ears and shining hair of an Elf - spoke strangely, and Aragorn could not help but feel an unease about him. His hand curls at his side, and he shifts slightly to hide it. ]

You seem to know much about this place, strange. [ He keeps his voice low, lifting his eyes to meet the other's gaze. ]

Will you tell me what lies beyond these doors?

[ If Xigbar had any idea what kind of measure Aragorn put him to, he might be tempted to laugh. Elves and dwarves, indeed, though it's not that much of a stretch given the "finny-fun" people he's heard of in Atlantica. As it is, he can only take the measure of his new roommate as best he can...and wonder if that formal diction ever sticks right to his tongue. ]

Heh.

Only what I've seen, new fella. So far as I can tell, we're sitting near the top of a tower. The dormitories are up here.

[ He points up. ]

The further down you go, though, the weirder things are.

As one long enured to having weaponry ready at hand - a soldier if one ever existed - Sephiroth took note of the other's wariness, but he remained nonchalant, even casual.

"A soldier familiarizes himself with his battlefield early on," he replied with a soft chuckle. "And make no mistake, sir, this place is definitely a warzone and we are but pawns for the amusement of our captors."

A bit of dark mirth flashed in bright green eyes as he amended, "Well, for now, perhaps."

[ The top of the tower. Dormitories are not new to him, though it has been years since he has heard those words - the last while in Thorongil, within Minas Tirth schools owned them on the second level. These are mainly places where the landed lords or merchants sent their sons to learn their letters.

Is this a schoolroom then? It looks naught like it.

He turns his attention back to the stranger. ]

I know naught what those are. [ It's a prompt. Give me a straight answer. ]

Aragorn had newly stepped off a warzone. The Pelennor Fields still haunted the back of his lids, and he remembered the corpses - both orcs and Men - that littered the beautiful land that was once the pride of Minas Arnor. The thought of his city made him jolt- was it gone now, the White City that her sons were so proud of? It could not be.

He turned and looked around himself once more, but he could see naught but walls.

"If this is a cage, it is an elaborate one, and our captors powerful to have stolen us away without sleep," his voice was barely above a murmur. "Whose army are we at war against, if it is an army at all?"

[ He reads that prompt well enough, a wry smile turning the corner of his mouth. For all the he enjoys dangling hints and shadows of the truth, he does give straight answers from time to time. ]

Look at it this way, dude.

If you walked into a room with bloody handprints on the walls and screaming without a source, what would you think?

[ He cocks his head, and his answer is simple enough. ]

I have returned to the Dimholt Road; the Path of the Dead.

[ He just...stares for a second. Sighing, he holds up a finger. ]

That's just one floor, dude. It doesn't actually lead anywhere.

The floor above it is a staircase winding around a bottomless pit, and the one below it is a study room with funny noises.

One floor has a workshop, and another has a grassy meadow. Anything and everything you can think of, you can probably find it here. [ He gives the other a pointed looked. ] Even nasty critters.

[Suzaku nods at him] I apologise m... sir. [It's taken him a while to get used to other worlds and ways of addressing people and he still slips back into known formality if he doesn't catch himself when taken off guard.] Did you just arrive here?

"That is indeed the very question," Sephiroth replied quietly. "Several of us have endeavored to solve it, so far with questionable success." He sighed, crossing his arms and turning to lean against the wall, a bit haggard and fatigued.

"I myself found it a bit hard to believe, but the longer I remain here, the less incredulous it appears." Although there was no way in hell he'd believe the Planet was rubble until he floated through it out in space.

"Suffice it to say that, for now, you are as much a prisoner as the rest of us, until either we take the Tower itself or it makes ash of us." Sephiroth paused, then inclined his head. "My apologies; I am Sephiroth, General of ShinRa."

[ Well Link could certainly be MISTAKEN for a certain Elf Aragorn might no, but the fact they're carrying a sword and shield on top of a bow probably tells otherwise.

When Link notices Aragorn memorizing the walls, it is something the Hylian can very much relate to. Especially as they're from a similar world to that of Aragorn's. Link tries to be polite, and offers the other a smile, hoping not to startle him. ]

... Hello.

[ The way that this stranger describes the tower, it makes him think of the White Tower, back in Minas Tirith. The Tower of Ecthelion, gleaming brilliantly white in the sun's light. Yet-

Aragorn shakes his head. ]

'Tis not possible. [ Quietly, but he sounds uncertain. ] Surely a bottomless pit cannot reside right above another floor - the very name itself contradicts its nature.

Not all those who wander are lost; [OPEN]

ROOMMATES

CASTMATES and ANYONE ELSE.

Re: CASTMATES and ANYONE ELSE.

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because there is not enough prose in the world

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give me alllll the prose babby

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mmk. /buries in

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kyaaaa

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<3

Did someone need a not!elf? ... No? TOO BAD.

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