E%patriate ♐ Darkleer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
disgracedvoid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-10-04 07:38 pm
disgracedvoid) wrote in towerofanimus2012-10-04 07:38 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] I want, I want to finally meet you, something real to cling to
Characters: Darkleer and YOU!
Setting: Room 1-18, the Cafeteria, the Workshop, around the Tower.
Format: I'll start with Action, but I'll match you.
Summary: Darkleer wakes up in an unusual place and goes about trying to find it in himself to care.
Warnings: Darkleer being a painfully polite, looming giant that keeps banging his horns into the ceiling.
[Lying back is awkward and a little unnatural for him. The bed creeks unpleasantly under his weight, as he looks around, frown deepening as he took stock of the unfamiliar surroundings as well as the strange white fabric on his skin. The collar causes a spam of annoyance that takes him five deep breaths to control, so by the time he's reading the letters, he finds himself more or less serene. Suspicious and more than a little indifferent, but serene. He explores the contents of his trunk, finding more relief in his wrench and his work rag, than the clothes or the armor or the bow. Though admittedly the bow and the arrows are a nice thing to have. After some considerations, he simply rips the white bodysuit off his person and proceeds to don the armor. If he was given weapons, it might have been for a reason.
So if you walk into 1-18, you will find him giving the final adjustments to the armor, quiver hanging off a belt to his side and Bow hooked on a leather strap on his back. And of course, the familiar, glowing helmet that obscures his eyes. He's slouching a little, as his horns almost scrape the ceiling when he stands up to his full height. He's wearing a fantastically puzzled expression, but hey, for all he's big, he doesn't seem particularly violent.]
--
[When you enter the cafeteria, you will find Darkleer in a corner, in full battle armor and with a look of supreme confusion on his face as he has a very serious stare off with a plate of oatmeal. It's a fantastic stare off, mind, he's slouching forward, hair curling down his shoulders and mouth set into an unamused, thin line. Seriously, oatmeal? Really?]
--
[When he finds this floor, he finds himself drawn in almost magnetically. His fingers twitch to take and test and make and create, but he contains himself for a while, studying the racks of tools and materials. He resists for a while longer, but eventually picks up a bit of this and that, before unloading a collection of random spare parts and metal and tools on a workbench. Carefully placing down the bow and the quiver, he sets to fiddle with them, not really sure what he's doing except fitting them together and pulling them apart. He relaxes visibly the longer he's at work, and before he realizes it, he's working on something that looks definitely arm-shaped.]
--
[Not sure why he shouldn't, and not feeling particularly threatened, Darkleer wanders around the Tower, looking at the various floor and peering curiously at the strange, foreign things in every corner. The supremely confused look remains firmly in place, but once again, it's not necessarily hostile. Just. Kind of intimidating.]
Setting: Room 1-18, the Cafeteria, the Workshop, around the Tower.
Format: I'll start with Action, but I'll match you.
Summary: Darkleer wakes up in an unusual place and goes about trying to find it in himself to care.
Warnings: Darkleer being a painfully polite, looming giant that keeps banging his horns into the ceiling.
[Lying back is awkward and a little unnatural for him. The bed creeks unpleasantly under his weight, as he looks around, frown deepening as he took stock of the unfamiliar surroundings as well as the strange white fabric on his skin. The collar causes a spam of annoyance that takes him five deep breaths to control, so by the time he's reading the letters, he finds himself more or less serene. Suspicious and more than a little indifferent, but serene. He explores the contents of his trunk, finding more relief in his wrench and his work rag, than the clothes or the armor or the bow. Though admittedly the bow and the arrows are a nice thing to have. After some considerations, he simply rips the white bodysuit off his person and proceeds to don the armor. If he was given weapons, it might have been for a reason.
So if you walk into 1-18, you will find him giving the final adjustments to the armor, quiver hanging off a belt to his side and Bow hooked on a leather strap on his back. And of course, the familiar, glowing helmet that obscures his eyes. He's slouching a little, as his horns almost scrape the ceiling when he stands up to his full height. He's wearing a fantastically puzzled expression, but hey, for all he's big, he doesn't seem particularly violent.]
--
[When you enter the cafeteria, you will find Darkleer in a corner, in full battle armor and with a look of supreme confusion on his face as he has a very serious stare off with a plate of oatmeal. It's a fantastic stare off, mind, he's slouching forward, hair curling down his shoulders and mouth set into an unamused, thin line. Seriously, oatmeal? Really?]
--
[When he finds this floor, he finds himself drawn in almost magnetically. His fingers twitch to take and test and make and create, but he contains himself for a while, studying the racks of tools and materials. He resists for a while longer, but eventually picks up a bit of this and that, before unloading a collection of random spare parts and metal and tools on a workbench. Carefully placing down the bow and the quiver, he sets to fiddle with them, not really sure what he's doing except fitting them together and pulling them apart. He relaxes visibly the longer he's at work, and before he realizes it, he's working on something that looks definitely arm-shaped.]
--
[Not sure why he shouldn't, and not feeling particularly threatened, Darkleer wanders around the Tower, looking at the various floor and peering curiously at the strange, foreign things in every corner. The supremely confused look remains firmly in place, but once again, it's not necessarily hostile. Just. Kind of intimidating.]
HI I LIKE LONG TAGS, don't hit me!
Upon entering the room, he freezes for a moment and he instantly feels the presence of another. His head turns in the direction of the brute. A high blood from his universe and one to be wary of at that. He was a deer caught in headlights as he tried to think of a plan of action. He could either A. proceed with caution and get his water or B. turn around slowly and kick in survival mode. Then again, considering a third option of: we are both stuck here, he really can't do anything and we are now equals, thus I should proceed as normal. Besides...maybe he needs help adjusting to his new setting and Signless couldn't turn that down. This option proved better to him. Of course he would still play it on the careful side. After all, high bloods usually didn't take kindly to him.
He steps forward and passes up the troll. Heading to retrieve some water, before he sits down a tad distance away from the troll at the same table. He was being bold.]
HI, MY NAME IS FI, SPELLED T-L-D-R.
It was just the one execution that ended up costing him his entire life, after all.
And that troll just strolled into the room without a second look. Hard to confuse the mutant for anyone else, really, what with those horns and those clothes and mostly just the horns and. And. He had a point, didn't he? He was almost certain he did.
Excuse him while he tries to recover his point, he'll just stare at Signless in the meantime. Or is it the Sufferer now? Well no, he was the Sufferer after he died, right? And Darkleer had seen him die. But this one was alive, so it was still Signless, right? This one was alive.]
Ah.
[Flawlessly articulate, isn't he?]
IT'S BEAUTIFUL
You might want to consume your oatmeal.
[Okay...maybe not the best opening line, but hey he was working on it.]
/bows
I might want many a thing, and it would still not matter much in the end.
[He turns back to the plate of shapeless blob in front of him. Still unsure if he wants to eat anything they give him here.]
no subject
It is horrible, disgusting and possibly the worst thing you will ever ingest in your expanded lifespan. But if you choose not to follow what has been instructed, then I assure you, you will never comfortably eat another thing in this setting. Nothing will sit right within your gut and will only be expelled from your protein chute at a such a vicious velocity that it will cause you pain and much discomfort.
[At least he was honest.]
no subject
[There's a little extra sharpness, extra dryness in Darkleer's tone. He's usually far more composed, but that's because he spends most of his days talking at the little trinkets he's built in the last god knows how many hundred sweeps, and not trolls he culled several lifetimes ago. He entertains the thought that perhaps a lowblood would be better equipped to handle this conversation, by virtue of being used to handling ghosts. Highbloods know how to handle memories, which are almost like ghosts after a while, except they don't talk back.
Oh dear, he's lost his train of thought again. It would be wonderful if his pan would stop doing that. It would also be wonderful if he were back in his hive, with his trinkets and his solitude and his oodles of time to kill before death deigned to come for him, instead of sitting in an almost uncomfortably small table with a remarkably vivid ghost of days gone by. Darkleer sighed with the same intent behind it as the most vicious swearing, shoulders slouching forward with the force of habit.]
I suppose there are worse things I could do, than take your word for it.
[Funny how says that, but it's an irony he does not intent to explain. Nonetheless, he takes a spoonful of the disgusting blob. It does not disappoint.]
no subject
I do believe the tower calls for the entire consumption of the bowl. I would advise taking it little by little, one bite at a time.
[He pauses in his speech for a moment and gently pushes his water glass towards him.]
This...might help.
no subject
He refuses to comment on the requirement to eat the whole bowl, because the only possible way to answer to that would be through actual swearing and he's still self-possessed enough to not indulge in it. However, the offer of the water makes him look at... at the most definitely not dead mutant again. He frowns a little.]
Did you not get that for yourself?
no subject
[He gestures to the glass once more.]
Drink.
no subject
Do mind your tongue and do not order me around.
[Which is mildly undermined by the fact he reaches for the glass and takes a considerable sip of it.]
no subject
I do not mean to direct you on your actions and order you around. You were being stubborn and as you now plainly understand, drinking the water was beneficial yes?
[His tone was informative, and while the remark might be taken sassy at best. This was not his purpose at all.]
no subject
I am not stubborn.
[You don't understand the meaning of stubborn, little mutant. He used to be stubborn. Ponder that for a moment. And then, grudgingly:]
But yes, there has been some benefit to this, I suppose.
no subject
I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I was only trying to lighten the mood, I am certain you must be confused as to where your whereabouts are and I am willing to offer any form of information you require. There are also others like us here, a tad bit younger, but other troll. So in that fact there is a ray of hope.
no subject
[Darkleer allows himself a sharp snort.]
I believe you and I might have radically different meanings for that word.
no subject
[There is a slight pause in his voice as he shifts uncomfortably.]
Did you wish to inquire about something?
[It was better for him to get formalities out of the way before going off about his views and opinions. While he wasn't one to curb his tongue, he definitely didn't wish to preach to those who had no interest.]
no subject
[This is said rather brusquely, a touch bitter, but oddly enough without actual scorn. It's more like a fact Darkleer wanted to get across because dancing about it was driving him crazy. Which it was. Is. He shakes his head slightly.]
I have two questions for you, if you'll answer. I ne---no, I wish nothing more from you.
no subject
[He drops it for now and gives a short nod, turning his full attention to the other.]
Yes and those would-...
Wait...you need something?
no subject
I need nothing from you, I am merely requesting you to answer two questions, if you're willing.
no subject
[It was his only wish to help the other. Given they were both in the same situation. While presently it was awkward, he couldn't help be offer a hand and the gift of information. ]
no subject
[Straight and to the point, dude. That's all.]
no subject
I have been here...for a while. Not yet a whole sweep the days tend to run together during ones stay here. To address the second question, my last memory before finding myself here, was the simple travels with my followers. It had been just an ordinary day.
no subject
I will take my leave then.
[And go hide somewhere. After all, he's got hundreds of sweeps of practice at that.]
no subject
With a small sigh he dismisses his thoughts. Well perhaps finding where he lived would be beneficial, for survival or for future reference.]
It was a pleasure to talk to you. One last question, if I may? Did you find where you were staying?
no subject
I have.
[He hesitates. He dislikes conflicting impulses and when things are not clear-cut and straightforward. Unfortunately, given his situation and Signless presence and this tower in general. Well. He was going to need to compartmentalize a lot. But in the end he defers to good manners, rather than anything else. When in doubt, be polite.]
Though I doubt you will wish for it, if you require my presence, you may find me either at the workshop or the respiteblock they have assigned for me, 1-18.
no subject
(no subject)