towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters: Legolas (

bow_of_the_galadhrim), OPEN
Setting: Room 3-06 then Floor 48
Format: Prose but will switch
Summary: Finding his “costume” of his father and then exploring the new floors, only to find the graves of his friends.
Warnings: DENIAL and trying to dig up a grave or two because of said denial

Room 3-06

Legolas did not technically sleep, it was an elvish thing but he had been unaware for most of the night, resting. When he climbed out of bed in the morning though, he was surprised to find the costume he had worn sitting at the edge of the bed. Including the crown of Thranduil. He said nothing and gave no outward reaction but he carefully and fondly folded the costume and placed it inside his trunk, the crown being set on top of with even more care. As though it were made from the most valuable of materials.

And under his breath, soft enough that few outside of elves themselves would hear him, he uttered a small prayer to Iluvatar.

Floor 48

He‘d seen enough since he came to this tower. Seen enough to last him an entire life and that was saying something, considering elves were immortal. Finding the cemetery floor was just one of those toppings on a cake, or whatever it was that humans said. He tried to ignore the sight of the headstones until a name caught his eye. Aragorn. And then Boromir. And Faramir.

He could feel his chest tighten at the sight of his friends names. Two members of the Fellowship right there. Seemingly right below his feet. He took a step back, eyes blinking in denial, holding back tears he knew might fall.

They couldn‘t be dead.

And the another name caught his eyes.

Gimli.

Dropping to his knees, the prince just stared for the longest time.

For Haldir - Floor 48

He’ll find Legolas on his knees, digging at Gimli‘s grave with his bare hands. He simply can‘t believe that the dwarf is dead. He‘d been taking him to the Undying Lands with him. Gimli simply couldn‘t have died! His hands and clothes are dirty but he has his face set in determination.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Just Chidori will do, if you please."

She doesn't consider herself of enough import to warrant anything like being called 'my lady'. She considers him for a moment more, and then dips her head, shoulders rising in something like a shrug.

"I have seen and dealt with death before. I do not fear it, but I do not seek it either." Not anymore, at least. Not when it meant so little here, and not when it was visited upon them by those who ran the tower at the slightest whim. "It would be wise, I believe, if you considered the same."

"Very well, Chidori."

The prince was always polite with those he didn't know well and 'madam' seemed far too formal and for women that were closer to marrying age. Chidori didn't seem to fit the title either way.

"As have I." That he would need advice from those much younger than himself was something he'd never considered. He gave a nod though. "I shall endeavor to do so.

She nodded seriously, hands clasping together over her sketchbook as she held it in front of her skirts, looking around them at the headstones again.

"It is worth wondering though, if one should not be wary of being in this place after dark..." Lips pressed briefly together in a taut line, eyes narrowing in distaste. "They might raise false corpses to come after us. It would be harder on us, I believe, than on others."

Chidori, after all, would have no problem dealing with zombies- but others might be squeamish about the fact.

"No floor is completely safe, if I recall correctly. Though what sorcery would raise corpses, false or otherwise? 'Tis foolishness."

What coordination could a corpse have? How could a corpse even rise or move or cause any type of trouble? The mere idea baffled the elf though he knew he'd not want to see the faces of his friends, dead. And he'd not want anyone else to see such a sight of their own friends.

"You've obviously never heard any lore about zombies. It's quite a commonplace device used in stories in my world- some versions have it based in a type of magic, others a disease or virus that affects the corpses of the dead and the recently deceased..."

She shrugs a little, unconcerned.

"Depending on the cause, the zombies are different- some are no more than shambling corpses, whose only hope is to overwhelm the living by numbers. The more recently deceased can sometimes become 'runners'- they feel no fear, no pain, only the hunger for the flesh of the living on which they feed. There are even variations of those created through viruses that mutate, becoming nightmare creatures, depending on what they are." She circles him to get to Gimli's grave, and rips another piece of paper out of her book, pressing it to the stone.

"What makes them frightening is that a bite can kill you, slowly but surely. And once you die, you reawaken as a mindless monstrosity, recognizing neither friend nor foe. Only food."

Her pencil presses quick, but sure, and in a moment, she pulls back and offers him the paper.

"I would not care to be caught here, regardless of which sort they might be."

"I've not, I fear." He'd have to take time out, another day, to look for such tales in the library. Legolas had to admit that his curiosity was peaked now but the idea behind them and the potential of something like that happening here... Well, that wasn't so appealing.

At the sight of the paper, he smiled just a bit and accepted it with a fond look. Her sentiments regarding being on this floor had become contagious though with her descriptions of zombies and the dangers of being attacked by them.

"I agree, it could indeed be dangerous here."