ARCHER ♤ an unknown hero. ♤ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
swordedpast) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-01-01 05:47 pm
swordedpast) wrote in towerofanimus2013-01-01 05:47 pm
And thousands of demons stopped me to say
Characters: Archer (swordedpast) and OPEN.
Setting: Floor twelve this afternoon, the dormitory halls tonight, and the cafeteria tomorrow morning.
Format: Action, but I'll match the preference of taggers.
Summary: Archer broods, fights, and then cooks breakfast. It's a typical day and night for him.
Warnings: Violence and angst.
[ floor twelve, afternoon of January 1st ]
[ Last month offered Archer many things to think about and little time--or presence of mind--to think about them. Now, though...?
Now he stands silently in the center of this endless panorama of looping destruction, his face expressionless, his hands limp at his sides. He's been to floor five, with its more personal visions of destruction, and sees no need to return there. He's not sure what to do, anyway, with the feeling it brings to his gut that the force that binds him eternally to the protection of his world is gone, as gone as all the rest of that world. If he's not careful, he could enjoy it.
But standing here, watching the annihilation of unfamiliar worlds play out, all he can think of is that if it's true, it means that he failed. He failed in the one thing that was left for him to do with his existence. The Tower must be his punishment. And isn't it perfect for that? Here, the only two people left in the world that he cared about at all are twisted and darkened, and whoever's in charge inflicts hellish torments on all of them. Yes, it makes sense to think that he failed, and all the worlds really are destroyed.
Even if he'll never admit that he believes it.
Now and again, he might give a little shake of his head and make a frustrated noise to try to drag himself out of these dark thoughts, but he always fails, and soon enough he lapses back into silence and stillness again, simply watching the morbid movie unfold around him. ]
[ the dormitory halls, night of January 1st through 2nd ]
[ It may not be the smartest of moves, but Archer seems to have devoted his night to roaming the halls of the dormitories. He isn't merely wandering, though--he's fighting. Whenever a monster appears, he makes no effort to escape from it. Instead, twin swords flash into his hands, and he sweeps in to attack.
Anyone making their way through the halls this night is likely to come upon the knight in red vengefully hacking apart any monstrous creature that stands in his way, even if it tries to flee. Only grim determination shows on his face: no fear and no mercy either. ]
[ the cafeteria, morning of January 2nd ]
[ Though he spent the night chasing monsters through the halls of the dormitories, nothing about Archer's demeanor now suggests anything like it. He's secluded himself in the kitchen of the cafeteria--and he doesn't seem eager to be recognized, as he's wearing something quite different and simpler than his usual flashy outfit...along with a pink apron.
But why?
Well, he's cooking. He's busy making Japanese-style omelets, and he seems quite intent on that task. He doesn't look particularly happy--but then, he never looks particularly happy. He simply looks quite serious about his current business. ]
swordedpast) and OPEN.Setting: Floor twelve this afternoon, the dormitory halls tonight, and the cafeteria tomorrow morning.
Format: Action, but I'll match the preference of taggers.
Summary: Archer broods, fights, and then cooks breakfast. It's a typical day and night for him.
Warnings: Violence and angst.
[ floor twelve, afternoon of January 1st ]
[ Last month offered Archer many things to think about and little time--or presence of mind--to think about them. Now, though...?
Now he stands silently in the center of this endless panorama of looping destruction, his face expressionless, his hands limp at his sides. He's been to floor five, with its more personal visions of destruction, and sees no need to return there. He's not sure what to do, anyway, with the feeling it brings to his gut that the force that binds him eternally to the protection of his world is gone, as gone as all the rest of that world. If he's not careful, he could enjoy it.
But standing here, watching the annihilation of unfamiliar worlds play out, all he can think of is that if it's true, it means that he failed. He failed in the one thing that was left for him to do with his existence. The Tower must be his punishment. And isn't it perfect for that? Here, the only two people left in the world that he cared about at all are twisted and darkened, and whoever's in charge inflicts hellish torments on all of them. Yes, it makes sense to think that he failed, and all the worlds really are destroyed.
Even if he'll never admit that he believes it.
Now and again, he might give a little shake of his head and make a frustrated noise to try to drag himself out of these dark thoughts, but he always fails, and soon enough he lapses back into silence and stillness again, simply watching the morbid movie unfold around him. ]
[ the dormitory halls, night of January 1st through 2nd ]
[ It may not be the smartest of moves, but Archer seems to have devoted his night to roaming the halls of the dormitories. He isn't merely wandering, though--he's fighting. Whenever a monster appears, he makes no effort to escape from it. Instead, twin swords flash into his hands, and he sweeps in to attack.
Anyone making their way through the halls this night is likely to come upon the knight in red vengefully hacking apart any monstrous creature that stands in his way, even if it tries to flee. Only grim determination shows on his face: no fear and no mercy either. ]
[ the cafeteria, morning of January 2nd ]
[ Though he spent the night chasing monsters through the halls of the dormitories, nothing about Archer's demeanor now suggests anything like it. He's secluded himself in the kitchen of the cafeteria--and he doesn't seem eager to be recognized, as he's wearing something quite different and simpler than his usual flashy outfit...along with a pink apron.
But why?
Well, he's cooking. He's busy making Japanese-style omelets, and he seems quite intent on that task. He doesn't look particularly happy--but then, he never looks particularly happy. He simply looks quite serious about his current business. ]
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[He really is, too.]
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[He's really glad that other kid warned him about this guy. Otherwise, he might have actually thought such advice could be good, and then where would he be?]
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[Maturity.]
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He doesn't deny the accuracy of the insult, though.]