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.]
maybe i do, wh4t now :B
I look forward to the day he asks if he can pull her apart and then put her back together again.
[He nods again, slowly, and lets the gesture linger to buy himself precious seconds to consider a suitable answer.]
...they called me Darkleer.
[And odd, how the sound of his own Title is so foreign. It takes him a moment to realize it is because there has been no one to use it in so many sweeps.]
oh no darkleer whyyyyyyyy
[Weird name, but she really wasn't one to talk.]
because she's so prettyyyyy, obviously he needs to learn how she works. He promises to be careful!
Likewise.
[There's a small pause.]
If I may ask? You mentioned having arrived relatively recently, could you elaborate?
darkleer honey we don't dismantle new friends
he does, because all his "new friends" are things he built in the first place. It's called upgrading
[He finds her manner of speaking somewhat... perplexing. Crude. But of course, who is he to make a comment about it? Instead, he focuses on deciphering it.]
just because you have to build people to talk to doesn't mean everyone does, sagittaribro
[Her
KansaiBrooklynwhatever-the-hell-it-was accent was thick, but not so much as to be unintelligible. Labrys spoke clearly, any rough informality the result of her specific dialect.]All I really know is that the people runnin' this place like to mess around with us. It's a little more dangerous than it looks around here.
}↠ R00d
That sounds...
[He fumbles for a word.]
Unpleasant.
[He's kinda bad at this whole conversation thing, isn't he.]
d9 y9u need me t9 fetch y9ur m9irail
[That's okay, no one programmed her with basic social conventions.]
It's really cute how you think he actually HAS one. 8)
Would it upset you if I asked what do you mean by "messing with you"?
...touche.
Not too long ago everyone was...well, switchin' bodies. It's tough to believe, but it definitely happened. I guess it was some kinda experiment by the people in charge here.
/tips hat
Switching bodies.
[He can't quite hide the dubiousness from his tone. You do realize how that sounds, right?]
no subject
no subject
[He looks a little taken aback.]
I apologize, I did not mean to imply you were
[batshit crazy]
lying.
no subject
no subject