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.]
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
Oh god, just where the hell he's landed his ass this time.]