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.
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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.
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It's all he can do to try to keep writing. To do something for someone else in pain.
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"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?"
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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."