legolas, son of mirkwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tofindthesun) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-11-07 11:05 pm
tofindthesun) wrote in towerofanimus2012-11-07 11:05 pm
Entry tags:
01 | OTA
Characters: terror #2 legolas (au1) et tu
Setting: DORM 1-04 > CAFETERIA > FLOOR 3 (LIBRARY)
Format: prose or action brackets, wateva you want
Summary: new arrival or is he. it's like legolas' evil twin. except less evil and just more likely to stare at you for a while.
Warnings: WORDS. otherwise just your average horror game warnings. will update!
EDIT will be rather slow because school hahaha.
> > > DORM ROOM 1-04
[he wakes in his dreams, hands folded over his chest, eyes open and staring at the ceiling like always. but he is not sleeping, and he is not dreaming; he is awake. he is awake and he cannot move. it is different, this waking, different from coming into consciousness submerged in liquid, different from waking up in a cold, silent morgue. his hands feel his own heartbeat, but he pays the rapid flutter no mind.
instead, he zeroes in on the sounds of footsteps, people moving about-- within the room or outside it. in this he is grateful, for having expected to wake up deafened, muted, and all but blinded by some liquid meant to keep him safe, to have his senses present is a boon. it is in this manner that he slowly realizes he can move again, as if a spell has suddenly been lifted. he starts by moving his fingers, flexing them, clenching into fists.
at the next sound he bolts up and presses himself against the nearest wall; stone, he realizes, and digs his fingers into what grooves he can find to keep from digging at the collar around his neck as he surveys his surroundings. it is out of fear that he is glad to be alone, to dwell momentarily on tumultuous emotions before schooling himself to read the first of two papers he can see nearby. it is the basics of his current location, it seems-- helpful, something he would have like in his previous two dwellings. a tower this time, grounded at least, though he should like to be on solid soil completely.
the second paper he hesitates to pick up, but he does, and what he reads almost makes his heart stop. it is hard to believe-- he and frodo surely have not been gone so long from middle-earth, have they? did time not stop until they returned?
..no. that is a foolish thought, a ridiculous notion. a world's evil does not stop because its greatest threat is taken. yet still he cannot, will not accept it as truth. indeed, he folds the letter back up and throws it aside, taking another minute before he moves for the trunk at the end of the bed.
anyone who walks in while he's changing (into this) might catch sight of black text tattooed on the inner side of his arm that reads SCI » 007 » 120.]
> > > CAFETERIA
[the collar is not restricting, perhaps, but it is uncomfortable still. but the ship's uniform gives him some sense of comfort (of the wrong sort, perhaps), and he finds the oatmeal plain and tasteless, as it should be, but certainly not the worst he's ever eaten. (honestly, lembas for weeks? even deliciously rejuvenating food of his own kind could tire him out.)
even after months of eating little but fruit, that is exactly what he collects afterward from the back-- a bit of whatever is in season, and a handful of smaller fruits to work on as he peruses through the contents of the one letter he took with him. recent habit has him taking out a smaller portion of food than he would normally, as he is yet unable to perceive that there is, perhaps, more than enough to go around here. he isn't taking chances.]
> > > LIBRARY
[in one of the communication terminals, there is a being practically curled up in the chair; his clothes are black, his skin light, and his hair a dim gold. the bow and arrow set next to him and the upswept point of his ears might remind him of another, one who may have little reason to be where he is. there is a book in his lap, open, and he glances down at it occasionally, if only as a distraction before returning to his main intention. slowly scrolling through the network, he reads through the posts to get a sense of what has been happening. it was not his own idea, not really, but the memory of another who did this lingers in his mind. he figures it can't hurt to try it.
the book?
a nondescript botanical documentary of the amazon rainforest, first edition.]
Setting: DORM 1-04 > CAFETERIA > FLOOR 3 (LIBRARY)
Format: prose or action brackets, wateva you want
Summary: new arrival or is he. it's like legolas' evil twin. except less evil and just more likely to stare at you for a while.
Warnings: WORDS. otherwise just your average horror game warnings. will update!
EDIT will be rather slow because school hahaha.
> > > DORM ROOM 1-04
[he wakes in his dreams, hands folded over his chest, eyes open and staring at the ceiling like always. but he is not sleeping, and he is not dreaming; he is awake. he is awake and he cannot move. it is different, this waking, different from coming into consciousness submerged in liquid, different from waking up in a cold, silent morgue. his hands feel his own heartbeat, but he pays the rapid flutter no mind.
instead, he zeroes in on the sounds of footsteps, people moving about-- within the room or outside it. in this he is grateful, for having expected to wake up deafened, muted, and all but blinded by some liquid meant to keep him safe, to have his senses present is a boon. it is in this manner that he slowly realizes he can move again, as if a spell has suddenly been lifted. he starts by moving his fingers, flexing them, clenching into fists.
at the next sound he bolts up and presses himself against the nearest wall; stone, he realizes, and digs his fingers into what grooves he can find to keep from digging at the collar around his neck as he surveys his surroundings. it is out of fear that he is glad to be alone, to dwell momentarily on tumultuous emotions before schooling himself to read the first of two papers he can see nearby. it is the basics of his current location, it seems-- helpful, something he would have like in his previous two dwellings. a tower this time, grounded at least, though he should like to be on solid soil completely.
the second paper he hesitates to pick up, but he does, and what he reads almost makes his heart stop. it is hard to believe-- he and frodo surely have not been gone so long from middle-earth, have they? did time not stop until they returned?
..no. that is a foolish thought, a ridiculous notion. a world's evil does not stop because its greatest threat is taken. yet still he cannot, will not accept it as truth. indeed, he folds the letter back up and throws it aside, taking another minute before he moves for the trunk at the end of the bed.
anyone who walks in while he's changing (into this) might catch sight of black text tattooed on the inner side of his arm that reads SCI » 007 » 120.]
> > > CAFETERIA
[the collar is not restricting, perhaps, but it is uncomfortable still. but the ship's uniform gives him some sense of comfort (of the wrong sort, perhaps), and he finds the oatmeal plain and tasteless, as it should be, but certainly not the worst he's ever eaten. (honestly, lembas for weeks? even deliciously rejuvenating food of his own kind could tire him out.)
even after months of eating little but fruit, that is exactly what he collects afterward from the back-- a bit of whatever is in season, and a handful of smaller fruits to work on as he peruses through the contents of the one letter he took with him. recent habit has him taking out a smaller portion of food than he would normally, as he is yet unable to perceive that there is, perhaps, more than enough to go around here. he isn't taking chances.]
> > > LIBRARY
[in one of the communication terminals, there is a being practically curled up in the chair; his clothes are black, his skin light, and his hair a dim gold. the bow and arrow set next to him and the upswept point of his ears might remind him of another, one who may have little reason to be where he is. there is a book in his lap, open, and he glances down at it occasionally, if only as a distraction before returning to his main intention. slowly scrolling through the network, he reads through the posts to get a sense of what has been happening. it was not his own idea, not really, but the memory of another who did this lingers in his mind. he figures it can't hurt to try it.
the book?
a nondescript botanical documentary of the amazon rainforest, first edition.]
no subject
Fruit is fine, so long as it isn't spoiled. But I wouldn't trust this place to carry anything appetizing.
no subject
I take it the controllers of this tower do not care much for the well-beings of their prisoners.
no subject
[Togami takes a seat on the end of Legolas table, his hands rested on his chin.]
no subject
Removal of it is not possible, then?
no subject
[Of course he just break it but physical strength wasn't his expertise.]
no subject
[he can't shoot an arrow at himself, but he has a blade that may damage it. but even so, he keeps in mind the consequences of whose on the ship who had tried to remove their tattoos. unpleasant consequences. he'd like avoid such things, if possible.]
no subject
no subject
no subject