towerofanimus | All aboard the intro train

Characters: Dualscar and you!
Setting: Starting with Floor 4, Floor 7 anything from that point is free game since he's wandering.
Format: Either is fine with me.
Summary: Dualscar handles waking up here and is entirely displeased with doing so.
Warnings: Nothing yet but violence will probably happen.

[04]
It's no surprise that Dualscar is in a bad (terrible, horrible) mood as he paces the halls of the tower. He'd woken up in a strange place and been given strange letters that he questions the validity of, just a normal day for anyone who has been in the tower long enough. There are few people who would enjoy a situation like this, but the scowl on Dualscar's face is particularly venomous. As if he's daring anyone around him to look him in the eye.

There's no way he'd wander about in the hideous clothing he'd been provided with, so it's fortunate he'd been quick to find his trunk. Now that he's dressed in a more respectable manner with his gun slung over his shoulder, he's ready to get to the bottom of this. Remember the look he's giving? Daring you to look him in the eye? Well, if you happen to do so he will be more than happy to interrogate you for answers.

[07]
Now tired of wandering and tired of harassing people (by some miracle) Dualscar has managed to find himself on floor seven. The pool looks appealing right now, but he isn't about to dive in with no good reason. He doesn't trust it. Why should he trust it?
Instead, he's choosing to circle it, scowling at his own reflection as he does.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lowbloods...Children? [See the way his nose crinkles in disdain. What is children. Why is children.] What sort of children? What would you do with them?

Ignore them.

[He shrugs.]

Or cull them, if you're in the mood. Death doesn't amount to much here.

Do they prove themselves useful or are they an irritation and a burden to deal with?

Do you mean to say we are immortal? I imagine that takes the fun out of it.

[A pity, he does so love murdering children.]

Neither, truth be told. Most of them keep to themselves and know better than to incur the wrath of their betters.

[Most of them.]

You misunderstand, we are not immortal. It simply does not matter how many times you die.

[He sounds a little predatory about that.]

What a pleasant surprise. I trust you've been keepin' order in place of a more honorable caste then, Darkleer? Or are they well behaved of their own volition?

So we are not immortal, but we don't die forever. Is that what you mean to say? Does that mean death is of little consequence beyond the pain of it?

[Dualscar prattles on, incapable of reading tone.]

[Darkleer is tempted to offer a demonstration, if only because it'd be awfully satisfying to pop the seadweller's head between his hands. Wouldn't be harder than handling a ripe grape, probably. But he refrains. For all he's being annoying, he recognizes that Dualscar is being almost gracious about things.]

And the time wasted between death and regeneration, yes.

[Almost, being the keyword there. He has little time to spare for proper manners, but he's preoccupied by his curiousity and that makes him less inclined to be openly rude.]

How much time? Does it vary given the circumstances? Are you dead in that time or are you aware of the situation?

[MUST. RESIST. TEMPTATION.]

A day with its night, my lord. And as far as I have been able to gather, the circumstances behind the death do not matter, but there is no recollection of the time it takes to be restored.

[He shrugs lightly.]

It's a fascinating process.

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE FOR YOURSELF?]

It sounds as if it is. I suppose there is some consequence to death then. Enough to hold it against those who oppose me at the very least. Enough to have me avoidin' it as I would were I back home.

I take it you've experienced it?

If that is how you choose to see it, yes.

[Darkleer remains neutral, though inwardly he continues to argue with himself over the pros and cons of just punching Dualscar's stupid face off.]

...I have. It was rather surprising, all things considered.

[And terrifying. Fucking terrifying, that. But he's not sharing that with you.]

How else would you choose to see it?

[He is genuinely confused.]

How is it that you died? Were you murdered?

A very minor inconvenience in the face of a very long string of major inconveniences.

[Just sayin'.]

I am not sure murder is the precise word for it.

I suppose that remains to be seen. I can only endeavour to avoid as much of that as possible.

What word would you use in place of it?

[Good luck with that, Darkleer doesn't say, because Darkleer is polite and restrained and trying very hard not to pick a fight no matter how much he might want to.]

Murder implies some kind of personal connection, I believe slaughter fits much better.

[Look at this flawless, unflinching expression. It's like he's talking about the weather, man.]

[Honestly, Dualscar will probably need a reality check. However, nobody would ever judge Darkleer for not wanting to give it to Dualscar. Except maybe Dualscar.]

So we've essentially stumbled upon some sort of slaughterhouse, haven't we? [Dualscar flinches for him, crinkling his nose.] How did it happen? The slaughter, I mean.

[Hey, on the upside, the GHB is around to give it to him. Darkleer would never intrude in the duties of his betters, after all.]

They have brought things, from our worlds. Except they're twisted and not quite what they should be.

[The corner of Darkleer's lip twitches every so slightly.]

Imperial Drones, for example.

All aboard the intro train

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