Enoch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
warriorscribe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-12-16 12:56 am
warriorscribe) wrote in towerofanimus2012-12-16 12:56 am
Entry tags:
Street-corner preacher in the cold
Characters: Enoch and anyone!
Setting: Room 3-18; Dormitory levels 1-3; floors 1-9
Format: Either is fine!
Summary: Enoch's illness has made itself apparent as Jason's lab rat in the most annoying way possible.
Warnings: None yet! Aside from Enoch actually acting like a grouchy old man, I guess.
For the first day since the nagging thoughts had grown worse, to where he couldn't keep them all to himself anymore, Enoch had managed to mostly keep the scathing thoughts he had to a minimum. He had a better sense of propriety than that, and knew they would only aggravate people.
But since this isn't a grave matter like taking someone's life (and because Jason was obviously doing better than Ruana), his mind gave out after that day. When he woke up, the first thing he did was direct scolding at the dorm room ceiling he knew to house the administrators' eyes. "Why aren't you doing anything? You're captive too, aren't you? Are you all cowards!?"
For a moment, he paused, thinking on the jarring harshness of his words, at their lack of his normal softness and how inconsiderate they were, compared to what he'd said before. But between his sluggish, heavy body and the cold sinking into his bones, the full impact of the change failed to hit him. He summoned his armor and put his Arch in its rightful spot, then pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders, pulling the hood as far over his head as it would go. He couldn't just talk to the cameras and his roommates if they were there, after all.
He'd snap at people passing in the halls - "Why aren't you doing something!?" "Are you going to just go about life here when all our lives are gone?" "We need more than idleness and aimless riots!"
This would continue into the cafeteria, where he was only stopped from approaching others by virtue of his mouth being full of food, or when he'd double over in a coughing fit. If someone was really lucky, he'd be cut off by coughing or sneezing. When he was done eating, he continued up the stairs, slowly for his flu-worn body, giving out the same admonishments to anyone who happened to be near.
His body finally gave out on the stairs of the dark ninth floor. Those passing through will see a cloaked, hooded figure huddled on the lit stairs...still scolding people for their inaction. Or perhaps they'll catch him in the middle of a coughing fit, or taking a nap. Or, sometimes, one might find the staircase empty, a monster prowling around. When it moves on, that figure emerges from the shadows of the darkened floor and resumes his usual routine.
Setting: Room 3-18; Dormitory levels 1-3; floors 1-9
Format: Either is fine!
Summary: Enoch's illness has made itself apparent as Jason's lab rat in the most annoying way possible.
Warnings: None yet! Aside from Enoch actually acting like a grouchy old man, I guess.
For the first day since the nagging thoughts had grown worse, to where he couldn't keep them all to himself anymore, Enoch had managed to mostly keep the scathing thoughts he had to a minimum. He had a better sense of propriety than that, and knew they would only aggravate people.
But since this isn't a grave matter like taking someone's life (and because Jason was obviously doing better than Ruana), his mind gave out after that day. When he woke up, the first thing he did was direct scolding at the dorm room ceiling he knew to house the administrators' eyes. "Why aren't you doing anything? You're captive too, aren't you? Are you all cowards!?"
For a moment, he paused, thinking on the jarring harshness of his words, at their lack of his normal softness and how inconsiderate they were, compared to what he'd said before. But between his sluggish, heavy body and the cold sinking into his bones, the full impact of the change failed to hit him. He summoned his armor and put his Arch in its rightful spot, then pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders, pulling the hood as far over his head as it would go. He couldn't just talk to the cameras and his roommates if they were there, after all.
He'd snap at people passing in the halls - "Why aren't you doing something!?" "Are you going to just go about life here when all our lives are gone?" "We need more than idleness and aimless riots!"
This would continue into the cafeteria, where he was only stopped from approaching others by virtue of his mouth being full of food, or when he'd double over in a coughing fit. If someone was really lucky, he'd be cut off by coughing or sneezing. When he was done eating, he continued up the stairs, slowly for his flu-worn body, giving out the same admonishments to anyone who happened to be near.
His body finally gave out on the stairs of the dark ninth floor. Those passing through will see a cloaked, hooded figure huddled on the lit stairs...still scolding people for their inaction. Or perhaps they'll catch him in the middle of a coughing fit, or taking a nap. Or, sometimes, one might find the staircase empty, a monster prowling around. When it moves on, that figure emerges from the shadows of the darkened floor and resumes his usual routine.
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Or maybe you're leading them to a trap to kill them all. "And the last time that happened?"
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Another sniffle. He never remembered sickness as this uncomfortable. Though he'd never experienced cold so deep constantly, either.
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*He's kind of proof of the opposite of setting someone up for death. But isn't letting on that his situation may just be worse than that.*
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He was already in a poor mood, nerves shot and still sick, being so cold for so long, and unaware of just why he felt so irritated at everyone. What would have been brushed off as a misunderstanding between worlds instead is insulting despite the knowledge now that their worlds must be different.