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)
towerofanimus2013-02-07 12:49 am
warriorscribe) wrote in towerofanimus2013-02-07 12:49 am
Entry tags:
Only a shadow of what it seems (backdated to the 6th)
Characters: Enoch and anyone
Setting: Floor 48, backdated to the 6th
Format: Doesn't matter!
Summary: Enoch has a new job! While he wouldn't necessarily mind being given something productive to do, this doesn't exactly count as productive considering they aren't real graves...
Warnings: Grieving I guess? Mention of a child's death.
He cut an eerie figure, himself, dirty brown cloak wrapped around him with the hood pulled all the way up. Only the duster in his hand marked him as working here, and only the gleam of white armor occasionally visible as he walked hinted at his identity, with his head constantly bowed. There were few flowers that survived the snowfall, so the watering can hadn't been necessary.
Enoch didn't like this floor. Each and every grave marker represented someone completely isolated from other people, all alone with nothing but the ruins of their world to call home. Perhaps some could starve to death; that one young man had said he foraged for food. Perhaps they would find release. But to die that way...
Oh, he didn't want to be here. He was actually somewhat glad the tower had doubled in size, taking it away from the dorms. But he'd received a letter in the morning telling him he was now in charge of maintaining it. And as much as it may hurt him, he knew disobeying would probably bring consequences.
Even though it wasn't the same at all. Even though it wasn't maintaining a peaceful rest. Even though reading names he remembered and seeing flashes of distraught faces in his mind's eye was worse than any instance of realizing they're dead now ever was on Earth...
...okay maybe he didn't want to do this. He fell to his knees at the grave that read Ryotaro Dojima - his first roommate here, someone who, like him, dearly wished for the presence of a loved one. Did he grieve over his daughter's little corpse even while she was right here in the tower he had just left? His eyes stung with tears - he'd only been gone a week. He hadn't seen Dojima in months. Was the man even sane anymore?
Wrapping his arms tight across his stomach, he forced himself to his feet and moved on, cleaning the newest rows of graves and again collapsing at the pain of considering each person here, trapped and all alone... Even if he didn't know who they were.
But he had finished the first day of his job, so he could afford to sit here on his knees and quietly weep, shaking with the pain of reopened wounds.
Setting: Floor 48, backdated to the 6th
Format: Doesn't matter!
Summary: Enoch has a new job! While he wouldn't necessarily mind being given something productive to do, this doesn't exactly count as productive considering they aren't real graves...
Warnings: Grieving I guess? Mention of a child's death.
He cut an eerie figure, himself, dirty brown cloak wrapped around him with the hood pulled all the way up. Only the duster in his hand marked him as working here, and only the gleam of white armor occasionally visible as he walked hinted at his identity, with his head constantly bowed. There were few flowers that survived the snowfall, so the watering can hadn't been necessary.
Enoch didn't like this floor. Each and every grave marker represented someone completely isolated from other people, all alone with nothing but the ruins of their world to call home. Perhaps some could starve to death; that one young man had said he foraged for food. Perhaps they would find release. But to die that way...
Oh, he didn't want to be here. He was actually somewhat glad the tower had doubled in size, taking it away from the dorms. But he'd received a letter in the morning telling him he was now in charge of maintaining it. And as much as it may hurt him, he knew disobeying would probably bring consequences.
Even though it wasn't the same at all. Even though it wasn't maintaining a peaceful rest. Even though reading names he remembered and seeing flashes of distraught faces in his mind's eye was worse than any instance of realizing they're dead now ever was on Earth...
...okay maybe he didn't want to do this. He fell to his knees at the grave that read Ryotaro Dojima - his first roommate here, someone who, like him, dearly wished for the presence of a loved one. Did he grieve over his daughter's little corpse even while she was right here in the tower he had just left? His eyes stung with tears - he'd only been gone a week. He hadn't seen Dojima in months. Was the man even sane anymore?
Wrapping his arms tight across his stomach, he forced himself to his feet and moved on, cleaning the newest rows of graves and again collapsing at the pain of considering each person here, trapped and all alone... Even if he didn't know who they were.
But he had finished the first day of his job, so he could afford to sit here on his knees and quietly weep, shaking with the pain of reopened wounds.
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