neverbeamemory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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towerofanimus2012-11-23 10:05 pm
neverbeamemory) wrote in towerofanimus2012-11-23 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
007 | So that's just like rubbing sandpaper over a wound...
Characters: Sephiroth [OPEN]
Setting: 24th November; Floor 1 after leaving the Infirmary, then Floor 45.
Format: Prose but can switch.
Summary: Collar check 4: Guess they didn't feel like hunting him down again today. BUT He's never this mindless and isn't best pleased to be controlled that way to say the least. Talk about flexing muscles of control. Question is: A provocation or a warning?
Warnings: Irritated Sephiroth; quick to anger, risk of violence.
Sephiroth walked calmly out of the stairwell onto the 1st floor. Past the Cafeteria and towards the elevator. Having pressed the call button he reached up, around to the back of his neck underneath his hair and rubbed the back of his neck somewhat lazily. Fingers found the all-too tangible collar with it's renewed violet tubing. He froze as if from a static shock.
What am I -. Sephiroth couldn't finish the thought as he paused and looked around. The previously blank, rather calm expression immediately creased into dire concern laced with confusion. Today was collar check-up day but they'd not called violets over the intercom yet. Tomorrow he'd have to face the red-collars again, in his ongoing attempts to hold onto any shred of control that he could. Although he hardly ever frequented the Cafeteria, so what was he doing here? He'd come down from the Dormitory to the 1st Floor because-
As if watching the ghost of himself, Sephiroth turned and looked back down the corridor he'd only seconds ago walked towards his current location. Mentally tracing his steps back. The stairwell. The Infirmary. The checkup-
He'd gone willingly.
No, they'd made him go willingly. They had to have done.
He hadn't noticed his actions even though now he could easily recall them. He was never this careless with his psychic defenses. This was bad, he'd never even known they were invading his mind.
This was unacceptable.
By the time the elevator door opened. Outrage had washed its way across Sephiroth's expression and into every fiber of his being. Just before he stepped into the elevator he launched a furious fist into the wall next to the call button. Knuckles violently shattered on impact and his forearm took the rest of the sudden reverberation which vanished under the pain that followed. His fist came away bloodied too, but satisfyingly along with a few spots he'd left a small crater behind.
Cradling his shattered hand in the elevator as bones quickly started to prepare for knitting back together; Sephiroth was almost glad for the pain which reminded him that he was in control of his own mind. It was hot, throbbing and real. He went as high as the elevator would allow and then started climbing stairs, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from the situation he'd found himself in downstairs. That calm resolve he'd been keeping in order to think logically had a brand new crack right down the middle.
He came upon the 45th Floor and paused from the stairwell. By now the painful throbbing in his hand was starting to swim at the corners of his vision; regeneration always did seem easier when one was unconscious or sedated and this might have been the reason. Biting at his lower lip hard he proceeded to crack each of the knuckles that were trying to heal. Skin was re-split a little and pain was renewed but this was necessary in case his bones would heal incorrectly, it would be a poor consolation for hitting a wall if he wouldn't be able to wield his sword again. During this, Sephiroth's eyes fixed on a point of the clouded glass wall and it just so happened a humanoid figure was crawling across that point.
Curious and somewhat thankful for the distraction, Sephiroth approached the wall and began to examine the faceless, humanoid corpse-like creature. Though keeping his damaged hand carefully tucked close.
Setting: 24th November; Floor 1 after leaving the Infirmary, then Floor 45.
Format: Prose but can switch.
Summary: Collar check 4: Guess they didn't feel like hunting him down again today. BUT He's never this mindless and isn't best pleased to be controlled that way to say the least. Talk about flexing muscles of control. Question is: A provocation or a warning?
Warnings: Irritated Sephiroth; quick to anger, risk of violence.
Sephiroth walked calmly out of the stairwell onto the 1st floor. Past the Cafeteria and towards the elevator. Having pressed the call button he reached up, around to the back of his neck underneath his hair and rubbed the back of his neck somewhat lazily. Fingers found the all-too tangible collar with it's renewed violet tubing. He froze as if from a static shock.
What am I -. Sephiroth couldn't finish the thought as he paused and looked around. The previously blank, rather calm expression immediately creased into dire concern laced with confusion. Today was collar check-up day but they'd not called violets over the intercom yet. Tomorrow he'd have to face the red-collars again, in his ongoing attempts to hold onto any shred of control that he could. Although he hardly ever frequented the Cafeteria, so what was he doing here? He'd come down from the Dormitory to the 1st Floor because-
As if watching the ghost of himself, Sephiroth turned and looked back down the corridor he'd only seconds ago walked towards his current location. Mentally tracing his steps back. The stairwell. The Infirmary. The checkup-
He'd gone willingly.
No, they'd made him go willingly. They had to have done.
He hadn't noticed his actions even though now he could easily recall them. He was never this careless with his psychic defenses. This was bad, he'd never even known they were invading his mind.
This was unacceptable.
By the time the elevator door opened. Outrage had washed its way across Sephiroth's expression and into every fiber of his being. Just before he stepped into the elevator he launched a furious fist into the wall next to the call button. Knuckles violently shattered on impact and his forearm took the rest of the sudden reverberation which vanished under the pain that followed. His fist came away bloodied too, but satisfyingly along with a few spots he'd left a small crater behind.
Cradling his shattered hand in the elevator as bones quickly started to prepare for knitting back together; Sephiroth was almost glad for the pain which reminded him that he was in control of his own mind. It was hot, throbbing and real. He went as high as the elevator would allow and then started climbing stairs, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from the situation he'd found himself in downstairs. That calm resolve he'd been keeping in order to think logically had a brand new crack right down the middle.
He came upon the 45th Floor and paused from the stairwell. By now the painful throbbing in his hand was starting to swim at the corners of his vision; regeneration always did seem easier when one was unconscious or sedated and this might have been the reason. Biting at his lower lip hard he proceeded to crack each of the knuckles that were trying to heal. Skin was re-split a little and pain was renewed but this was necessary in case his bones would heal incorrectly, it would be a poor consolation for hitting a wall if he wouldn't be able to wield his sword again. During this, Sephiroth's eyes fixed on a point of the clouded glass wall and it just so happened a humanoid figure was crawling across that point.
Curious and somewhat thankful for the distraction, Sephiroth approached the wall and began to examine the faceless, humanoid corpse-like creature. Though keeping his damaged hand carefully tucked close.