towerofanimus

Entry tags:

open

Characters: Homura and YOU!
Setting: Library!
Format: Starting in prose, will change to whatever!
Summary: Homura's escapades with explosives.
Warnings: bombs

[ (A) - Setting: the library, at a spare desk; backdated to the third day ]
She'd spent her time the first day looking through the tower. She mapped out each nook and cranny of the place; looked it up and down and all around until it was committed to memory. She'd passed out in her bed shortly after, the same one she'd woken up in, and had gotten up early the next day. Second day was spent doing more of the same. Then, the third.

Waking up around 7AM was all to locate a few bits and pieces. And she's found them now, after an hour of searching and some improvisation. Homura sits in the library, a quiet corner, and gently wipes down a fuse with rubbing alcohol. She's making a pipe bomb, and that much should be obvious.

[ (B) - Setting: the library again; late on the 4th ]
Homura set up signs. She writes in black marker on a piece of plain white paper, "Please do not enter. Demolition site." There is tape strung along as well, carrying the same message in clear printing and cutting off a large chunk of the library. It's late at night, when most people would be asleep-- she'd chosen this time in particular to help to try and prevent any injury. You can see and watch her go about this sectioning off fairly easily, and she moves with efficiency and ease.

There's no exit in sight; so, Homura thinks, she'll make her own. There are no tools around that she could use, and breaking the windows did not work.

Blowing a hole in the side of a building when they're god knows how many stories up isn't an easy way to get out, but she supposes it's one way. She has a large amount of rope piled up underneath a faraway desk, and plans on using that once the building is open.

Homura tapes the bomb to the wall, sets the timer, walks behind a desk and crouches down. The bomb goes off.

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It might have been late, but Chaplin had gotten the idea that perhaps the library would have some answers. It had so many books in it that one of them had to at least have some information about this tower, right?

But she'd barely started looking when she heard an explosion. As soon as it went off, she rushed in that direction to see what had happened.

Homura is walking in the same direction, ducking under the tape, clearing the fallen bookshelves and the smoke and coming to see...

Nothing. There was some char, but the wall was unharmed. It'd ruined part of the library completely-- fire still crackles in the pages of books-- so it should have blown out the wall as well.

But nothing.

Homura knew how to make a powerful bomb. She knew this was also a bomb to her usual standards.

Why does the wall still stand?

"Are you all right?" Why is that little girl so close to this scene? Unless she's some sort of pyromaniac... "What just happened here?"

"I'm fine," she says automatically, clenching her fists. She'd relied too much on it, the idea of this succeeding. So now that it's failed... "There isn't any exit. I was trying to make one. It didn't work."

"On the third floor?" Tsk, tsk. "And how would we get down if it had worked?"

But the idea is a sound one... The question is, why hadn't it worked? The rest of the area around where the bomb went off is in shambles. "It should have destroyed the wall."

"Rope. I'd gathered quite a bit of rope."

She turns her eyes back to the charred wall, the ruined furniture. "It isn't even burning. I don't understand it. Tools won't break through either. The windows cannot be shattered."

The explosion alerted Castiel, and with a quick flutter of wings, he appeared at the blast site, Angel Sword at the ready.

Seeing a young girl and a woman near the blast site is unexpected, but the angel wasn't focused on that.

"There was an explosion."

Chaplin glances over in surprise. Did he just... appear? With a sword? Oh, and he's quite attractive, too... But he just appeared. With a sword.

"You have this young lady to thank for that~" Chaplin replied with a gesture toward Homura. "She was trying to make an exit."

She isn't sure what to think of Castiel-- his appearance is sudden and though it does not catch her off-guard, the sword puts her at edge. "Yes, that's right. I apologize for having disturbed you both. Excuse me for a moment."

Homura quickly strides off to stoop below a desk, eyes never leaving the sharp edge of Castiel's sword. She picks up a fire extinguisher-- something she'd set there before setting the bomb off-- and heads towards them once again. She doesn't start extinguishing just yet; the fire isn't dangerous right now.

Castiel turned to the taller female - male? - and frowned. "It didn't work," he stated, sheathing his sword and heading towards ground zero of the blast site.

He knelt down to inspect the wall. It was unharmed, compared to the wreckage around it. Placing a hand on the smooth unmarred surface, he frowned more.

"What sort of explosive did she use?"

"A pipe bomb," Homura answers, squirting the fire with foam. There isn't much fire to get, so it takes all of ten seconds.

"I arrived with gunpowder in my trunk. It wasn't hard to find the rest of the materials. And I know it didn't work. Nothing so far has worked." She clenches her fist, swallows down her frustrations.

Chaplin would be making some comment about how strange it is for a girl her age to know how to do that... but she seems so upset and frustrated. The poor kid.

"Well, don't worry. I'm sure it's not your fault." With a hand on her chin, she adds, "It's impossible... Just look at what it did to the rest of the area."

Mechanical explosions don't work, and Castiel tries to track down any strange things that may be preventing him from using his own angel abilities.

"It's not covered in Enochian sigils. There is no reason for me to be kept in here."

His agitation is clear in his growl. He hated being trapped here, like a caged bird.

She doesn't reply to Chaplin; just looks to the wall once again. She's so far from Madoka now, and hopes-- she would pray, if she believed in any god-- that she hasn't formed a contract with him yet. Please, she thinks. And she clears her face of all emotion. She waits for Chaplin to ask about the sigils; she's not completely unfamiliar, but unsure of what it has to do with anything.

"Sigils? Aren't those just symbols you write down? How would those keep you in here?"

Again, she eyes the strange man. Everyone here is just so interesting.

"Enochian sigils keep Angels away, or trapped," Castiel explains, standing up again. "If there were such markings, I would be able to get out of this tower."

He looks at Chaplin and Homura. "Unfortunately, I find no signs of such sigils on this... wall."

"You're an angel," Homura says slowly, disbelieving. It isn't so odd to say they exist when Witches and Magical girls also exist-- but it still takes her by surprise, and she doesn't quite believe him.

This place was amazing. Angels, personified countries... Chaplin had been transferred to a loony bin. That had to be it. This was so interesting.

That wouldn't explain the wall, though. Unless she was crazy too?

"Of course he is, darling," she replied. "Perhaps the outside of the wall is covered in your sigils? Would that have any effect on the structural integrity of the building when it comes to, say, bombs?"

The angel only gave them a disgruntled frown. "Enochian sigils do nothing but keep angels away," he explains with a hint of frustration in his tone. "I cannot sense what material the wall is made of, or if it is strengthened with wards that I have yet to come across."

Tools don't work, and neither does a bomb. What will work? What will destroy the wall? How will they leave?

Homura is frustrated, though she does not show it on her face. She approaches it and touches it gingerly; good, it's not hot. She slowly presses her ear to the wall. She didn't really expect anything-- but somehow, hearing nothing is another sign of her helplessness. She chokes down the despair that rises up, and her face is perfectly blank.

"Excuse me. I'm going."

And she strides off towards the dorms, fists clenched. What to do next... it's hard to figure that out.

Oh, now he can sense what walls are made of? Chaplin doesn't know what to think of this man.

She's about to reply to him, when the girl turns to walk off. Oh, dear. She nods to the man quickly before turning to follow the girl. If something's the matter...

"Hey, don't be like that! We've barely been here a week. Of course we're not going to escape that quickly."

Within a span of a few seconds Castiel moved (or rather, flew, with the same rustling sound of wings that always follow behind him) to stand in front of Homura, looking down at the little girl.

"We need to figure out a way to break the wall," he said, looking up at Chaplin. "I would need help."

She pauses, a little startled by them following after her.

"I have somewhere to be," she says quietly. Nearly demure. "It is of the utmost importance that I return home. To that end, I will do whatever necessary, including helping you. Do you have any ideas? Any thoughts?" She pauses. "I have enough gunpowder for approximately two more bombs."

Okay, she is definitely going to get to the bottom of the Mystery of the Mysterious Flying, Rustling Man. But right now...

"The gunpowder didn't have any effect on the wall," Chaplin replies, thinking. "If only the people working here were a little more helpful... Perhaps they need some special persuasion?" Yes, she's suggesting violence. No, she doesn't sound the least bit hesitant or remorseful.

"What form of persuasion?"

If it is violence, Castiel wouldn't hesitate to engage in it, as long as it gets the job done. Sacrifice a whole town just to stop a pagan god from being summoned? Been there, done that.

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anyone else who wants to check out the boom can join this thread if they want to!

no one likes you Homura you're a pyro

:C not a pyro!

May I, ladies?

welcome to the burning wreckage of the library~

*roasts marshmallow over burning poetry*

Mm smores. (/tracks post)

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forgive my fail /)_(\

dw!!

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roasts marshmallow over burning poetry