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.
Floor 45
"I don't think friendship is an illusion. After all, if it was fake, why would Sherlock still be around Watson, even though Watson doesn't do much except keep him company and write down the story?
If it was an illusion, if people truly wanted to always hurt each other, then Sherlock would have used Watson while being kind to him before laughing in his face and tossing him in the mud. But that doesn't happen. They become close friends.
I don't know how people who want to be friends deserve to be hurt..but not everyone gets hurt. I have to admit..whenever I have openly revealed an important secret to some people, they either ignore me or use that secret as a small stone and then forget about me altogether.
However..there have been exceptions to that formula, and I'm glad to have met those exceptions. So, revealing emotions doesn't always set you up for a fall..and friendship is not an illusion. At least, in my opinion anyway.
..Out of curiosity, how am I intriguing?"
Re: Floor 45
Her words might as well have washed through a ghost for all he really paid attention. Until at the end when she questioned. He cracked a small smirk down at her then, then answered.
"You're very well read for your age, and as such it gives you different views of the world that would be lost on a less-literate person."
Floor 45
"Thank you..but there are still a few things that are beneath me in understanding. While I might understand or see a few things that others may miss, I still have some things to improve on. But I'm glad you think that."
Re: Floor 45
Sephiroth really didn't know what else to say to, or talk to Tohko about. His gaze started wandering again back to the other side of the glass window and soon his thoughts would follow. He blinked a wave of nausea back, brought on from the constant throbbing in his hand.
Floor 45
Nodding to herself, she looked up at Sephiroth. He..didn't look so good. "Well, see you later then. I hope you'll be able to make a friend one day..and you don't look well. Take some Tylenol and lie down, alright?"
And, without waiting for a response, Tohko walked off.
Re: Floor 45
He wondered abstractly, what 'looking well' would look like for Tohko but then only smirked to himself as she walked off.