E%patriate ♐ Darkleer (
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.]

no subject
Admittedly, Yamato had been too panicked to really pay much attention to the fact that the room had three other beds, so Darkleer's appearance was downright shocking to the young child.
Shocking enough that he lets out a small yelp and goes to duck behind the door, peeking out at Darkleer warily. He knew demons - and big ones like that normally liked to eat children like him.]
no subject
Well then.]
...hello there.
no subject
Who are you?
no subject
I am called Darkleer.
[A small pause.]
And you are...?
no subject
He frowned, sidling out a little from behind the door - but only a little]
Yamato Hotsuin. Are you - one of the other residents in this room?
no subject
I believe so, though I am afraid I have just arrived. So I could be wrong.
no subject
[So Yamato would have to share this room with a demon. Wonderful. Sleep will soon me a distant memory, it seems. He did wonder who the other two were then. Hopefully not more demons]
no subject
[He studies the boy a bit more, somewhat perturbed by the eerie not-quite familiar anatomy. He's used to seeing things as lines and proportions and well, barring the size and the lack of horns and the grey skin, this is a disturbingly troll-like creature.]
Have you been here long, then?
no subject
[Deeming the demon to be safe enough, Yamato steps fully from behind the door, his gaze scrutinising as he looks up at the towering horned man]
What are you? You look like a demon.
no subject
[He scowls at that, snorting quietly at the notion.]
I look nothing of the sort.
[Well. Relatively speaking, that is.]
no subject
You do. Perhaps something of the Genma class - what are you then, if you're not a demon?
no subject
Nothing of the sort.
[This is punctuated by a slight twitch of his lips.]
I am a troll.
no subject
[Trolls were demons of the Fairy class, yet...this creature didn't look like those kind of trolls. Yamato scrutinised him for a moment longer before letting it pass. Well. If it said it was a troll, it was a troll, he wasn't going to argue its species]
You look different to the trolls I know.
no subject
[The corner of his lip twitches minutely, but his face remains largely impassive.]
no subject
You have never seen a human before?
no subject
[He sounds genuinely curious.]
But as it is, no, I have not.
no subject
[Yamato looked a bit intrigued. Hrm, demons were held so closely to humanity, they all knew what they were and looked like - perhaps this was a different species after all. Troll...maybe an alien lifeform?]
Yes, I am a human. You must come from a different world, then, as we are quite numerous from where I am from.
no subject
[Though of course it's been a couple hundred years since he last saw another sentient life form, never mind actually talked to one.]
no subject
Can you cast magic? Or are your ability restricted only to the physical? What languages do you speak? Can you see in colour?
no subject
I see no reason to answer any of that, given the lack of manners of who asks.
no subject
...may I please ask you some questions regarding your species?
no subject
[He tilts his chin up a little, looking down at the boy.]
But perhaps I will not answer, particularly after such rude demands and a patent lack of contrition.
no subject
Ah, to be a social retard]
I don't understand.
no subject
What should you do, when you offend or insult someone, be it with words or with actions?
[Though he remains severe in his expression, there is something patient in his words.]
no subject
...you compromise a price to continue the negotiations. I do not have much on me, however, so I can only pay with my body or knowledge.
[Yeah that sounded bad, but he just meant his body's energy. Some demons devoured living essence in exchange ;v; ]
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