Enoch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
warriorscribe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-10-19 04:02 pm
warriorscribe) wrote in towerofanimus2012-10-19 04:02 pm
Entry tags:
Nice guys die first
Characters: Enoch and anyone (and one locked thread for Enoch and Taiki)
Setting: October 14, midday, floor 32(locked); October 15, midday - October 20th, anywhere else, various floors (open)
Format: I'm starting in prose but it doesn't matter.
Summary: Enoch got himself killed by a monster! He'll slowly bleed to death on the forest floor and come back in a rather blinding state
Warnings: He may try to kill people. He's going to try his best to resist for the most part but will finally break around the 20th. Please include the day in your post or its subject so I know how far along he is, please!
Oct. 14, Floor 32
(Locked tonotagiraffe)
Not having his armor proved disastrous. For the grand majority of problems, Enoch was well built, and his muscle provided adequate protection as well as power. Not as good as his armor would, but his leg armor had a tendency to painfully pinch bare skin when he moved in it. It was made for being worn over something. Maybe he could have done something about that.
But it didn't matter now. Now that there was a thin black stinger lodged in his chest, some of the Parasite Bee's abdomen still attached to it, cut clean through with the Arch. Somehow, it had gotten right through his ribs, just the right spot. He'd tried pulling it out, a poor move, but it had been lodged in well, and the pain had been warning enough to stop. It didn't matter now, now that he'd made his way up to this floor. This floor that nullified his powers, surrounded by other floors that did the same. He'd die before he could be moved to a floor where he could be healed magically.
Enoch carefully turned himself over in the small pile of rain-slick leaves that had broken his fall, staring up at the cloudy thunder-charged sky. With the wind whipping across his face and carrying falling leaves to land on his body, with the rain, water, source of life, falling on his skin and soaking his hair, his skirt, his wings...
It was almost peaceful, blood loss making all his worries fuzzy and far away.
Oct. 15, Floor 1
Well, that was rude of the tower, to not bring him back for breakfast. But then, there was a third meal here for some reason. Enoch seemed to be taking his transformation rather well, though you'd only be able to see it's him from the corner of your eye - he emitted a rather bright light that only seemed brighter the more directly he was looked at.
But here he sat, his expression one of curiosity as he chewed roasted pumpkin seeds slowly one by one. He was practicing stretching and folding his wings, flaring their feathers and testing their range of movement. He'd been turned into a swan before, so he had an idea of how they felt, though these weren't really attached in the most intuitive of places...
So far, all seemed well. He may appear to have a shorter temper than normal, but really, who wouldn't?
Any day, Floor 10
Where did all these violent urges come from? Why was his temper so short? He'd had his mind altered in Meridian, and he'd become fiercely overprotective of Armaros, to an unhealthy degree. But then, he hadn't been entirely aware of it. Because it had built on things that already existed, he hadn't noticed. Now...he knew some things weren't wrong in context. Or were wrong but were forgivable. Or simply couldn't be avoided. But just thinking about the people he knew who had done wrong, it made his hand twitch as if automatically reaching for the Arch.
It was why he'd come to frequent this place throughout the week. It was calming, even if it still tugged at his heartstrings with its association with Armaros.
Armaros...who had betrayed Heaven...
A hiss escaped his lips as he tried to banish the thought. To focus his wrath on the administrators that had planted this madness in him. This anger, this intolerance, this destruction of his capacity for love, this desire to kill...
Oct. 18, Floor 15
It was maddening. The urge to give in to his shortened temper was going to take over if he didn't do something else. Something that required careful attention.
That's why he'd taken up this task. Enoch held a length of cloth across his lap, carefully cutting out the pattern of something. Or perhaps one would encounter him as he was sewing it, his wings twitching uncomfortably as he resisted the urge to watch the world around him.
Any day, anywhere else
Enoch otherwise roamed the tower as normal. His room had always felt too much a cage, too much replacement of the bed in Meridian, the home he had with someone he cared for. And he never wanted to think of it as where he lived. It was where he slept and nothing more.
But every so often, he'd think of something he'd seen or knew someone had done, and he'd retreat from where traffic was, finding a corner or somewhere to keep himself away from the one he wanted to kill in cold blood. Even as his own mind nagged at him, told him they weren't innocent, louder and louder as the week wore on...
Setting: October 14, midday, floor 32(locked); October 15, midday - October 20th, anywhere else, various floors (open)
Format: I'm starting in prose but it doesn't matter.
Summary: Enoch got himself killed by a monster! He'll slowly bleed to death on the forest floor and come back in a rather blinding state
Warnings: He may try to kill people. He's going to try his best to resist for the most part but will finally break around the 20th. Please include the day in your post or its subject so I know how far along he is, please!
Oct. 14, Floor 32
(Locked to
notagiraffe)Not having his armor proved disastrous. For the grand majority of problems, Enoch was well built, and his muscle provided adequate protection as well as power. Not as good as his armor would, but his leg armor had a tendency to painfully pinch bare skin when he moved in it. It was made for being worn over something. Maybe he could have done something about that.
But it didn't matter now. Now that there was a thin black stinger lodged in his chest, some of the Parasite Bee's abdomen still attached to it, cut clean through with the Arch. Somehow, it had gotten right through his ribs, just the right spot. He'd tried pulling it out, a poor move, but it had been lodged in well, and the pain had been warning enough to stop. It didn't matter now, now that he'd made his way up to this floor. This floor that nullified his powers, surrounded by other floors that did the same. He'd die before he could be moved to a floor where he could be healed magically.
Enoch carefully turned himself over in the small pile of rain-slick leaves that had broken his fall, staring up at the cloudy thunder-charged sky. With the wind whipping across his face and carrying falling leaves to land on his body, with the rain, water, source of life, falling on his skin and soaking his hair, his skirt, his wings...
It was almost peaceful, blood loss making all his worries fuzzy and far away.
Oct. 15, Floor 1
Well, that was rude of the tower, to not bring him back for breakfast. But then, there was a third meal here for some reason. Enoch seemed to be taking his transformation rather well, though you'd only be able to see it's him from the corner of your eye - he emitted a rather bright light that only seemed brighter the more directly he was looked at.
But here he sat, his expression one of curiosity as he chewed roasted pumpkin seeds slowly one by one. He was practicing stretching and folding his wings, flaring their feathers and testing their range of movement. He'd been turned into a swan before, so he had an idea of how they felt, though these weren't really attached in the most intuitive of places...
So far, all seemed well. He may appear to have a shorter temper than normal, but really, who wouldn't?
Any day, Floor 10
Where did all these violent urges come from? Why was his temper so short? He'd had his mind altered in Meridian, and he'd become fiercely overprotective of Armaros, to an unhealthy degree. But then, he hadn't been entirely aware of it. Because it had built on things that already existed, he hadn't noticed. Now...he knew some things weren't wrong in context. Or were wrong but were forgivable. Or simply couldn't be avoided. But just thinking about the people he knew who had done wrong, it made his hand twitch as if automatically reaching for the Arch.
It was why he'd come to frequent this place throughout the week. It was calming, even if it still tugged at his heartstrings with its association with Armaros.
Armaros...who had betrayed Heaven...
A hiss escaped his lips as he tried to banish the thought. To focus his wrath on the administrators that had planted this madness in him. This anger, this intolerance, this destruction of his capacity for love, this desire to kill...
Oct. 18, Floor 15
It was maddening. The urge to give in to his shortened temper was going to take over if he didn't do something else. Something that required careful attention.
That's why he'd taken up this task. Enoch held a length of cloth across his lap, carefully cutting out the pattern of something. Or perhaps one would encounter him as he was sewing it, his wings twitching uncomfortably as he resisted the urge to watch the world around him.
Any day, anywhere else
Enoch otherwise roamed the tower as normal. His room had always felt too much a cage, too much replacement of the bed in Meridian, the home he had with someone he cared for. And he never wanted to think of it as where he lived. It was where he slept and nothing more.
But every so often, he'd think of something he'd seen or knew someone had done, and he'd retreat from where traffic was, finding a corner or somewhere to keep himself away from the one he wanted to kill in cold blood. Even as his own mind nagged at him, told him they weren't innocent, louder and louder as the week wore on...
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Then it was his business to- no! Enoch's grip went pale on the Arch, not that it was all that visible behind his glow.
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Eliminate targets. He was a target. He was a danger. He had the opportunity to kill, and he was going to take it.
Something in him lurched though. This was a friend! He couldn't - but he had to. It was nothing personal.
"Sorry." He raised the dart gun/pen, and clicked the bottom of it, shooting a poison dart out at Enoch.
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"So am I..."
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"Ah..." He laughed a little, his mind flashing back to the last time he had felt close to this kind of pain. This one was cleaner, though. "You know, if you're going to kill me... make it quick at least." He reached for his briefcase - he had to kill Enoch - no he had to let the other kill him, maybe it would break something -
gather smother look listen distance survive die
"Don't leave me lingering like the last one, eh?" He reached intisde his briefcase - there had to be something - he didn't want to do this -
He just wanted this to stop.
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He didn't want to kill! Enoch moved to kick his briefcase away from him, to try and keep this battle from going on. He couldn't lose to what was trying to take hold of him...!
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His voice was strained, as he curled his fingers around the handle of the briefcase. "I..."
He had to fight this! He'd always prided himself on his strong will, but this...
This was a nightmare. He knew what he was doing, but he couldn't stop it.
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And so did he. If they both just fought...
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But he has to fight. So with visible, physical effort, he stands, taking a few shaky steps backwards.
Come on. Come on come on come on come on comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon -
He turns and flees, needing to get away from Enoch and anyone else as fast as possible.
no subject