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
that had been a mistake to mention, of course. he might have known it would be. dangerous men indeed.]
We were given them upon our arrival; I suppose their previous owners no longer had need of them.
[he leans forward, elbows on where his thighs would be if the book were not in the way, and rests his chin upon clasped hands. the movement of white in the corner of his eye has him stiffening again with the memory of snow-gray hair, long and not at all elf-like, a pair of predator's eyes. yet this white is not gray or aged, but clean, white.. white as the light of the wizard who wears them.
at the touch of a hand upon his shoulder, he lets his head dip down, trembling, breathing. and all at once inhales sharply, straightens, finally turning to face whomever it is resolutely-- and still his expression falters somewhat to see gandalf there in the flesh. though, he does manage to keep his eyebrows from furrowing too much, as his king's tend to.]
..I would be glad to have assistance, perhaps. But it is not urgent; I have knowledge enough of how to use it as I need to. I would rather your aid over theirs, if it came down to it.
no subject
[ After all, Gandalf had reached the conclusion the administrators were not evil. Simply unable to understand what we all call "humanity". That and admittedly, their managing skills fall in the horrible category (especially when Jason's piloting the whole).
Nevertheless when Legolas gets to see Gandalf, his smiles widens and gets warmer, as if to comfort him. He knows what horror befall the residents of this tower daily. he has been told what horrors befell Reno in that world he visited before coming to the tower. He cannot imagine that Legolas' stay in another world has been any kinder.
Yet he is far from imagining Legolas has actually visited two such worlds. ]
You shall have my aid if that is what you need, in time. But tell me, what is it you need now? You are the Legolas I have known, yet there is no doubt you have met more shadows than you were meant to on your path.
[ Gandalf withdraws his hand shortly and speaks still calmly. There are no doubts he is worrying though. ]
no subject
[he isn't surprised. the city provided no clothes but what could be found, and it was only the other residents who left clothes out for newcomers. he is not accustomed to such ill treatment, but it is not a hindering matter, either.
especially not now, when his heart is lightened for the company of gandalf the white-- not quite as much as the grey, but enough for dark times. a smile flits, briefly at first, then back again for a longer period. and when he speaks, it is with less despair and more surety than he had previously, now that his fears are banished and his hopes (for now) confirmed.]
I am a different one, I think. Two shadows I have seen thus far; two places was I brought to ere coming here. A rather long detour, if I must say.. but not entirely unpleasant. I met many old friends and made new ones-- [but here, he falters slightly, gaze sliding downward slightly.] --..and I suppose, now, I must do it again.
[the thought that those worlds, the city, the ship, could be destroyed.. but perhaps they were brought to other worlds as well? they must. otherwise-- he cannot bear thinking of all those lives lost, friend or otherwise.]