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)
towerofanimus2013-02-28 02:36 am
warriorscribe) wrote in towerofanimus2013-02-28 02:36 am
Entry tags:
Never got to thank him
Characters: Enoch and anyone (attn: a certain other two who received a certain thing)
Setting: Various places throughout the day
Format: I'm starting in prose but I'll match you.
Summary: Enoch has never dealt well with loss...
Warnings: I don't know if grief counts as a warning. Gory details may be brought up in comments?
Room 3-18, 5am
Enoch has been awake all night, kneeling in front of his trunk. How does one sleep after something like that? He's been trying to leave his roommates undisturbed as much as he could, weeping quietly if he couldn't hold it in, occasionally raising his face to the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream of anguish and despair.
He has three feedback forms in front of him on the trunk, and he's been scratching at one of them the entire time. He had to reach out to those who wouldn't know what it's like, the pain of loss...but he ended up putting more thought into it than he believed he ever would.
When he gets up and leaves the room an hour later, it's with only one of them in hand.
Mailroom(F78), 7am
He checks it every morning, even though there's rarely anything in it. Having a routine helps in a place like this.
But he wasn't expecting what he found in his. He reads the letter he's recieved three times before carefully folding it and putting it in his pocket. He leans on the wall of boxes, rubbing an eye puffy and dark from crying and lack of sleep.
Burn his last words...? He understood, but... He sank down to the floor, a fresh wave of grief bringing tears to eyes he thought he'd cried dry earlier that morning.
Sauna(F77), 7:30am
And what should he notice immediately downstairs but something that seemed out of place to him somehow. It took some moments, punctuated with sniffs to keep himself from crying again, before he looked around and realized where he'd seen it - or where he hadn't.
"I'm sorry..." he says to the first resident he sees, his voice hoarse. "What is this level meant to be?"
Cafeteria(F1), 12:30pm
Enoch seems to have finally found sleep. There's a bowl of tomato soup that seems as if only a quarter of it has been eaten, and Enoch has passed out face-down beside it, spoon still clasped loosely in the hand that hangs at his side. The ends of some of his hair on that side have dipped into the bowl.
Outdoor Forest(F32), 4:30pm
If you saw him in the cafeteria, it's clear he didn't sleep long, considering he's up here now. He's wrapped up in his cloak, standing before a fire. It's a small fire, kindled by whatever he could find; the remnants of a few odd pieces of wood from wherever are visible at the edges of the flame.
He's got that letter out again, and he reads it over and over, mouth moving subtly, but not actually forming the words on the page.
Eventually, he reaches out his hand, and drops the letter into the fire.
Then Enoch kneels, his head bowed and hands clasped, and prays with the intent of being heard for the second time in the tower, for the third time since leaving Earth.
Lord, if you can hear me, if you are alive to hear me, if you have any hold over this world, please see Dax's soul to its rightful place, be it with his ancestors or on to reincarnation, or...elsewhere. If demons should have claim to it, please try to wrest it from them. I am ever your faithful servant. Please answer me, if you can. Please...
He doesn't realize he's shaking and crying until he comes out of this state, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, sitting down to watch the flames dance, his face blank and eyes at the meeting point of exhaustion, fear, sorrow, and anger.
Setting: Various places throughout the day
Format: I'm starting in prose but I'll match you.
Summary: Enoch has never dealt well with loss...
Warnings: I don't know if grief counts as a warning. Gory details may be brought up in comments?
Room 3-18, 5am
Enoch has been awake all night, kneeling in front of his trunk. How does one sleep after something like that? He's been trying to leave his roommates undisturbed as much as he could, weeping quietly if he couldn't hold it in, occasionally raising his face to the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream of anguish and despair.
He has three feedback forms in front of him on the trunk, and he's been scratching at one of them the entire time. He had to reach out to those who wouldn't know what it's like, the pain of loss...but he ended up putting more thought into it than he believed he ever would.
When he gets up and leaves the room an hour later, it's with only one of them in hand.
Mailroom(F78), 7am
He checks it every morning, even though there's rarely anything in it. Having a routine helps in a place like this.
But he wasn't expecting what he found in his. He reads the letter he's recieved three times before carefully folding it and putting it in his pocket. He leans on the wall of boxes, rubbing an eye puffy and dark from crying and lack of sleep.
Burn his last words...? He understood, but... He sank down to the floor, a fresh wave of grief bringing tears to eyes he thought he'd cried dry earlier that morning.
Sauna(F77), 7:30am
And what should he notice immediately downstairs but something that seemed out of place to him somehow. It took some moments, punctuated with sniffs to keep himself from crying again, before he looked around and realized where he'd seen it - or where he hadn't.
"I'm sorry..." he says to the first resident he sees, his voice hoarse. "What is this level meant to be?"
Cafeteria(F1), 12:30pm
Enoch seems to have finally found sleep. There's a bowl of tomato soup that seems as if only a quarter of it has been eaten, and Enoch has passed out face-down beside it, spoon still clasped loosely in the hand that hangs at his side. The ends of some of his hair on that side have dipped into the bowl.
Outdoor Forest(F32), 4:30pm
If you saw him in the cafeteria, it's clear he didn't sleep long, considering he's up here now. He's wrapped up in his cloak, standing before a fire. It's a small fire, kindled by whatever he could find; the remnants of a few odd pieces of wood from wherever are visible at the edges of the flame.
He's got that letter out again, and he reads it over and over, mouth moving subtly, but not actually forming the words on the page.
Eventually, he reaches out his hand, and drops the letter into the fire.
Then Enoch kneels, his head bowed and hands clasped, and prays with the intent of being heard for the second time in the tower, for the third time since leaving Earth.
Lord, if you can hear me, if you are alive to hear me, if you have any hold over this world, please see Dax's soul to its rightful place, be it with his ancestors or on to reincarnation, or...elsewhere. If demons should have claim to it, please try to wrest it from them. I am ever your faithful servant. Please answer me, if you can. Please...
He doesn't realize he's shaking and crying until he comes out of this state, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, sitting down to watch the flames dance, his face blank and eyes at the meeting point of exhaustion, fear, sorrow, and anger.
3-18
A'kin's muffled voice is completely devoid of inflection, his words sounding almost more like a demand than a question.
The only sleep he'd managed to snatch that night had been a few dozen minutes here and there when he'd tried to force the issue with sorcery, but even that had quickly given way to more insomnia. Ultimately, he had just buried himself beneath his blankets and tried his damnedest not to think about anything.
...It wasn't really working.
no subject
"...Trying to write a letter to Zo," Enoch managed after a little while.
no subject
A'kin sloughs off the bedding and hauls himself into a seated position. His facial expression is nearly as blank as his voice, with only the anxious flattening back of his ears to betray any emotion. He can hear the pain in Enoch's voice, but he doesn't understand the form that this pain is taking or how Zo, of all people, entered into the equation.
"And what good is that supposed to do?"
Ordinarily, he tries to avoid interacting with grieving people, feeling uncomfortable and helpless when confronted by a problem that can't be solved with the right words or the right magic. Now, though, the entire Tower is starting to feel like a problem without a solution. What good can anything do, at a time like this?
no subject
Enoch didn't know if he could be of any help, or even if the real message would get through. But he couldn't stay silent because he knew someone else on the inside had to be in pain, and if there was something he couldn't abide doing it was leaving someone in pain.
no subject
"But believe what you will; it's not as if anything I say will make a difference."
no subject
no subject
A'kin knows he ought to nod and agree, smile and smooth things over with pleasantries, but after last night- after last month, he's just so sodding tired of everything to do with this place. What comes out instead is an uncharacteristic snarl, teeth bared in anger at the unbearable frustration of it all. Anger that he should have known that, should have remembered. Anger at Enoch for being correct again, anger that his judgement of their hosts had been so disastrously wrong, and that the scribe had been right all along. Anger at the emptiness of loss, at how utterly powerless they all were to do anything. And beneath and behind it all, anger at Ruana, a seething ire with no valid target to vent it on.
Clawed hands still clenched tight around fistfuls of blanket, he flops back down on the bed and turns to face away.
no subject
It's all he can do to try to keep writing. To do something for someone else in pain.
no subject
"I barely even knew the man. I thought he was a deceiver and an enemy. So why..."
Why do I feel so lost? The fiend trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence. In his long existence he'd seen a great many mortals live and die, but never before been so troubled regarding one he cared so little about. It's almost sickening to realize how much the Tower has been getting to him lately.
"...Aggh, why couldn't he have been the victor?"
no subject
The pen clatters to the trunk's lid and Enoch sits there, staring straight ahead through the watery veil of his tears.
"...Why couldn't he... He gave his life for us. For the truth."