Counter Guardian Arturia @ Tower of Animus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
no_longer_a_king) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-02-28 07:18 pm
no_longer_a_king) wrote in towerofanimus2013-02-28 07:18 pm
ITP: Concerning the nature of souls and finding purpose
Characters: Arturia [AU5] and OPEN
Setting: Various, with prompts for floors 82, 12, and 60. After the elevator event, but the timeline is otherwise completely flexible
Format: Prose, please!
Summary: Arturia goes around making sure the people she knows are still alive after seeing what's down stairs, and other sundry things.
Warnings: none as of yet.
[A: Various, possibly combined with other prompts if you like.]
It was still like a blow to the guts.
Their actual status here wasn't what had shaken her so badly. They were souls in an artificial body, made by some form of magic. That didn't phase her because that was essentially what her existence had been from the moment she made that contract on Camlann Hill. It was the true of all Heroic Spirits and familiars like them. It was true of Counter Guardians like herself and Archer.
No, what had shaken her so badly had been seeing the bodies. Arturia had thought she had seen battle so much a mass grave couldn't phase her, but when the bodies are people she knew--multiples of people she knew--she'd wanted to retch. If she hadn't had so much experience, she supposed, she would have thrown up right there. So many people, even if they were just acquaintances, as corpses. She had to make sure that what they saw happen in the great machine was real--that they were truly all right.
That was why she was rushing through the Tower now, trying to find as many familiar faces as she could. Visions of slashing through the Grail-tainted Camelot were playing in the back of her mind, the horror of it, the suffering. She had to be sure those graves were not the reality of now. Had to.
[B: Floor 82; Masquerade of Truth]
Arturia had never gone on this floor before and had mostly observed from the stairs. The party that seemed to go on here at all times never interested her and since she rarely saw someone she recognized, she usually passed it on. Now? After how much she had gone through the last few days? She really did want to be around people. Everyone had moments like those, even people who tried to avoid them as Arturia did.
So she stepped off the stairs, walking to the masked gentleman who acted as a 'bouncer' of sorts to the party. He looked her over for a moment and then wordlessly handed her a mask. He reached out to put it on her, but she waved her hand and took it herself before placing it on.
Then he stepped aside and no sooner had Arturia crossed the threshold than another masked gentleman took her by the hand and began to whisk her across the dance floor. Arturia was graceful and skilled on the battlefield and there had been many a time at court or during some kind of festival or banquet when she had had to dance with Guinevere. It was easy to figure out the steps her partner followed and, while she was certainly no dancer by trade, she did not embarrass herself. it was easy to briefly lose herself and simply forget and by the time her partner released her on the other side of the room after their dance was when Arturia realized something:
She could not recognize anyone here. She had a vague feeling she should, but the thought of who it could be was gone the moment it entered her mind upon looking at the person.
Odd. Must be a trick of the floor.
[C: Floor 60; Industrial Kitchen]
In her more private moments, Arturia tended to find herself lingering in kitchens and thinking. Reminiscing, really. About the Fifth War and Shirou. About how the kitchen had been his domain and, painful as the memories were, it was comforting to think of him at times, of the way he'd insist on how she was a person and not a tool, of how he treated her like a guest in his home. True, his teasing had gotten on her nerves, but it had been a very long time since she'd been Arturia and not King Arthur.
But that was the past. Anything that might have happened with Shirou she could not undo and there was only one part she would ever hope to. Perhaps, if she had made more effort, been less weak, then maybe--maybe--things would be different. Maybe she would not have become the World's Sword. Maybe she would have peacefully gone to her rest if she had stayed her hand that fateful day.
This would probably be her only chance to reminisce for a very long time. Things in the Tower had changed and Arturia had no doubt things were about to get busy. No matter how she failed in the past, there were people here who needed help, who needed saving and she....
Arturia was not sure if she was a knight anymore, but she did know one thing: she could not stand by when people needed help. When people she considered comrades and allies needed help.
And so she went through the kitchen silently saying good-bye to her indulgence of the past and mentally prepared herself for the future.
[D: Floor 12; World Death Projection]
Arturia stood in front of the latest of the projections running, this time the object of focus was a red planet bloated with skyscrapers and vehicles that crossed through the atmosphere like bees in a hive. It stayed like this for a few minutes, the occasional bright flash in the sky as two of the vehicles ran into each other and then, it began to glow.
As with the last projection the glow seemed to fade, the vehicles in the sky making looping zig-zags before crashing to the planets. Buildings fell from the impacts. The nearby sun began to dim and slowly, spreading out from this one world, everything began to go dark until the only source of light in the room was the planet at the center of the show.
"Is this what's happening to the worlds?" she asked allowed as the projection began again--a space station proudly bearing the moniker "UFP: NEW HOPE" the center of it this time. She'd never paid attention to this room before, but after being downstairs and finding out what had happened above, she was getting interested in what, exactly, had destroyed these worlds.
Setting: Various, with prompts for floors 82, 12, and 60. After the elevator event, but the timeline is otherwise completely flexible
Format: Prose, please!
Summary: Arturia goes around making sure the people she knows are still alive after seeing what's down stairs, and other sundry things.
Warnings: none as of yet.
[A: Various, possibly combined with other prompts if you like.]
It was still like a blow to the guts.
Their actual status here wasn't what had shaken her so badly. They were souls in an artificial body, made by some form of magic. That didn't phase her because that was essentially what her existence had been from the moment she made that contract on Camlann Hill. It was the true of all Heroic Spirits and familiars like them. It was true of Counter Guardians like herself and Archer.
No, what had shaken her so badly had been seeing the bodies. Arturia had thought she had seen battle so much a mass grave couldn't phase her, but when the bodies are people she knew--multiples of people she knew--she'd wanted to retch. If she hadn't had so much experience, she supposed, she would have thrown up right there. So many people, even if they were just acquaintances, as corpses. She had to make sure that what they saw happen in the great machine was real--that they were truly all right.
That was why she was rushing through the Tower now, trying to find as many familiar faces as she could. Visions of slashing through the Grail-tainted Camelot were playing in the back of her mind, the horror of it, the suffering. She had to be sure those graves were not the reality of now. Had to.
[B: Floor 82; Masquerade of Truth]
Arturia had never gone on this floor before and had mostly observed from the stairs. The party that seemed to go on here at all times never interested her and since she rarely saw someone she recognized, she usually passed it on. Now? After how much she had gone through the last few days? She really did want to be around people. Everyone had moments like those, even people who tried to avoid them as Arturia did.
So she stepped off the stairs, walking to the masked gentleman who acted as a 'bouncer' of sorts to the party. He looked her over for a moment and then wordlessly handed her a mask. He reached out to put it on her, but she waved her hand and took it herself before placing it on.
Then he stepped aside and no sooner had Arturia crossed the threshold than another masked gentleman took her by the hand and began to whisk her across the dance floor. Arturia was graceful and skilled on the battlefield and there had been many a time at court or during some kind of festival or banquet when she had had to dance with Guinevere. It was easy to figure out the steps her partner followed and, while she was certainly no dancer by trade, she did not embarrass herself. it was easy to briefly lose herself and simply forget and by the time her partner released her on the other side of the room after their dance was when Arturia realized something:
She could not recognize anyone here. She had a vague feeling she should, but the thought of who it could be was gone the moment it entered her mind upon looking at the person.
Odd. Must be a trick of the floor.
[C: Floor 60; Industrial Kitchen]
In her more private moments, Arturia tended to find herself lingering in kitchens and thinking. Reminiscing, really. About the Fifth War and Shirou. About how the kitchen had been his domain and, painful as the memories were, it was comforting to think of him at times, of the way he'd insist on how she was a person and not a tool, of how he treated her like a guest in his home. True, his teasing had gotten on her nerves, but it had been a very long time since she'd been Arturia and not King Arthur.
But that was the past. Anything that might have happened with Shirou she could not undo and there was only one part she would ever hope to. Perhaps, if she had made more effort, been less weak, then maybe--maybe--things would be different. Maybe she would not have become the World's Sword. Maybe she would have peacefully gone to her rest if she had stayed her hand that fateful day.
This would probably be her only chance to reminisce for a very long time. Things in the Tower had changed and Arturia had no doubt things were about to get busy. No matter how she failed in the past, there were people here who needed help, who needed saving and she....
Arturia was not sure if she was a knight anymore, but she did know one thing: she could not stand by when people needed help. When people she considered comrades and allies needed help.
And so she went through the kitchen silently saying good-bye to her indulgence of the past and mentally prepared herself for the future.
[D: Floor 12; World Death Projection]
Arturia stood in front of the latest of the projections running, this time the object of focus was a red planet bloated with skyscrapers and vehicles that crossed through the atmosphere like bees in a hive. It stayed like this for a few minutes, the occasional bright flash in the sky as two of the vehicles ran into each other and then, it began to glow.
As with the last projection the glow seemed to fade, the vehicles in the sky making looping zig-zags before crashing to the planets. Buildings fell from the impacts. The nearby sun began to dim and slowly, spreading out from this one world, everything began to go dark until the only source of light in the room was the planet at the center of the show.
"Is this what's happening to the worlds?" she asked allowed as the projection began again--a space station proudly bearing the moniker "UFP: NEW HOPE" the center of it this time. She'd never paid attention to this room before, but after being downstairs and finding out what had happened above, she was getting interested in what, exactly, had destroyed these worlds.
no subject
He's introduced Timcanpy on several occasions already. Unlike many frivolous, tiny, adorable little fluffballs that are seen with their owners, Tim was about as an antithesis as you could go. Its movements were unmistakably real yet its composition just screamed otherwise. It wasn't even very big even as far as small "creatures" go, barely even the size of a walnut.
"Er, sorry for asking, but what do you mean by...'of a sort'? That just sounds kind of vague," Allen said. It was a little prying, admittedly.
no subject
"It would not do to tell you my identity while wearing this. As to the golem," she said, looking down at 'Tim' with curiosity. It was like one of the many little familiars Merlin had and liked to play pranks with.
"I'm familiar with beings made artificially, but I've never seen something like him."
no subject
He's really not used to "classy".
"It's just you don't sound like you're so bad. No harm in asking anyway, is there?"
The thing's no-eyes stared deeply towards the mysterious young lady. Despite its wings, it didn't look particularly inclined to use them. "Hm?" Allen was the first to notice. Usually, Tim would be flitting around, excited to have met someone new (even if it could make no sound to indicate this). Allen doesn't comment on this.
"How's he different?" he says, waltzing as best as he can. Dancing is fine, but he would feel much better if he were juggling something. Just an urge.
I apologize for short tags, but I love this thread so far.
So, a no.Arturia had to remember Merlin had not exactly been a "respectable" magus, even by her time's standards.
"What does me sounding 'not-so-bad' have to do with whether I'm of the nobility?" she asked as the dance came to an end and they both made their way to the back wall to make room for the other dancers.
that really isn't very small. >_> You crazy.
It even has teeth. And Allen has seen it eat stuff before. Definitely not a children's toy.
"It's not that. It's just as simple as me asking a little about yourself because I was curious, that's all," is his carefree response. Both of his eyes close as they stop and he brightens his smile a little. "That was...my first dance, by the way."
It was when I first wrote it. Then I wrote more and forgot to delete the header. ^^a
"It was my first time being led."
Green eyes strayed to Timcampi again.
"Most things I've seen like that were animals: cats, squirrels, the occasional wolf or deer. Not anything so.... well, so much like it was made by hand."
You silly goose.
"So've I. Well, not 'animals', but they could look like anything. Tim is a little special, though," he said.
Timcanpy took its place at its master's shoulder, still looking at the young lady like it had found a particularly nice picture to look at and couldn't quite look away. But, more importantly, what did she mean by 'first time being led'?...
"Uh...isn't the guy supposed to...nevermind. Heh, was I good enough?"
How did six days go by without me tagging this?!
"My station was one usually held by men and, by tradition, I had to act and be treated like a man." It was the simplest way to put it. "I'm not accustomed to being treated like a lady."
Nor did she consider herself one. A knight was a knight first and foremost. Her gender never mattered to her.
probably the same way I missed it the day you made that reply
"I see..."
The mental image of two women dancing was a little humorous, actually. "I think that wouldn't look so bad. Was it fun those times, too?"
Mr. Walker had gotten more of a response out of the young lady than he had thought.