towerofanimus | whisper in a dead man's ear; it doesn't make it real

Characters: Naoya and OPEN.
Setting: Various floors.
Format: Actionspam to start, but I'll match you.
Summary: Naoya takes care of some daily tasks and some exploration, as well as taking some time for himself.
Warnings: Talk of death. Other than that I can't think of anything in particular.

[Floor Fourty-Eight]

[It's become a daily ritual for him - coming here and dusting off the tombstones. He takes special care on the ones whose names are worn out, as he knows all too well how a name can disappear from time.]

[Occasionally he stops, and when he can't see anyone he allows himself time to grieve. No tears are shed, but he sits next to a grave and allows himself to shake. So many lives… so many deaths. It hurts. It hurts, and there's no way anyone else can truly know.]

[Floor Thirty-Nine]

[Though he has a pretty good metabolism on his own, exercise is always important. Naoya steps onto the track, well aware that geta are not exactly ideal footwear, but he doesn't have any other options. He doesn't trust the track enough to simply go barefoot or in socks, so it's with his geta clacking that he starts walking the track. After a circuit, he starts running. The third he takes walking again, and the fourth he takes at a medium jog.]

[Floor Thirty-Three]

[He was an idiot to think that this would work. Naoya crouches at the end of the farmland, having taken some seeds of what looked like possibly pumpkins and planted them. The tiny patch he's claimed is choked by some kind of plant that is decidedly not what he intended to grow. He sighs, and digs his hands into the dirt, trying to pull up the thing by its roots. No sense in letting any of this grow and spread to the rest of the farmland.]

[Floor Twenty-Two]

[Naoya just stares, unimpressed, at the pictures that surround him now. He's well aware of each one - all of them depict the same thing.]

Heh… even now, I still am my brother's keeper…

[To release himself he had to use Abel again and again. The lamb, the sacrifice, the endless cycle of pain and fear and heartbreak on both their parts. He's well aware that he'd pretended not to care, but each and every time Abel is hurt it breaks his heart. He doesn't want to use his brother like this. But to draw God out, and to have the power to defeat Him, he needs to use Abel.]

[He turns, looking to see what else the gallery holds for him today.]