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towerofanimus2013-03-07 05:50 pm
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-03-07 05:50 pm
☠ 001 | demons in my deepest eyes play on that tree
Characters: Avenger, 03-02 roomies, and YOU
Setting: Room 03-12, and then various tower floors.
Format: Beginning with action spam, but shifting to prose is fine as well. I'll respond in whichever one you choose.
Summary: Avenger wakes up in the middle of the night to fine the apocalypse had apparently occurred while he was napping. He is not very impressed and boycotts the oatmeal. 'Shirou' unknowingly suffers for it. And well. On pretending to be Shirou... If a routine worked before coming here, why fix it?
Warnings: AVENGER IS HIS OWN WARNING. So is Saber. Shirou vomiting up his breakfast. Also casual mentions of death, violence, typical fare for the Tower of Animus. Probably rampant self-loathing if Archer decides to pop in here.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 13: CATHEDRAL ]
[Upon awakening in the gloom of night in his dorm and discovering his arms were fashioned from lead, his legs were rigid and wouldn't move according to his will, Avenger felt very little beyond mild irritation. Staring blankly up at the dark ceiling, he opened his mouth to curse. Nothing came out, not a word nor grunt. His tanned limbs don't respond to him, and it's only through old practice that he pushes back the trickle of raising panic seeping into him and instead tries to remember what he could last recall happening. Bazett. The declaration of boredom. Her anger. His laughter, and offered hand. Then his only recollection was that of darkness.
Okay. That was troubling.
Particularly troubling because the Servant couldn't sense the flow of prana between them anymore, and generally, that never meant good things for a Servant separated from his Master. If the contract had been properly severed, surely he would have felt it break and he would have returned to the void from which he came. Yet he had sensed nothing along those lines and he obviously still existed somehow. The constant slight ebbing of his prana reserves, dropping as it became more and more of a struggle to maintain the closed garden and its loops, had creased as well. It was refreshing.
Still troublesome.
His conclusion was this wasn't the time loops. Something had happened to disrupt that. It only made sense. Largely because he had noticed, even if Bazett had unexpectedly knocked him out without him noticing, this wasn't the mansion. Nor anywhere else in Fuyuki City. He knew that town down to a square foot. Once the sleep paralysis faded from his form, he sat up in bed and stared in bewildered repulsion in the weird attire he was currently dressed in. Yep, definitively not Bazett's handiwork. She couldn't be that mad at him. Thankfully, after getting up off the bed and being oh-so careful to not disturb whoever were the sleeping lumps in the other beds, he locates his trunk and the clothes inside it.
Once dressed and the stupid uniform dutifully ripped to shreds, he snatches up the two papers on the bedstand and reads through them, slowly and occasionally stopping to re-read one section or another. After reaching the end of the letters, he was torn between rage and disinterested apathy. Rage that he had been in the middle of fulfilling a wish (never mind the one whose wish it was was being so damn needlessly difficult) and the end of the world had caused her to perish before he could get her out. Apathy because he... flat-out didn't care if the universe was destroyed. The world had gone boom, yaaay. Mankind had finally up and died, yaaay.
Anyway. On to more important matters. Ah, so this was it? That's how things were going to be from now on. Life at the whims of so-called 'saviours.'
Let's all be happy here.
Avenger's thin-lipped smile was vicious. For a new home, it was sure sucked balls but hey. Beggars couldn't be choosers, could they?]
Well—isn't this surprising, but we'll see about that... What a vexing situation.
[Annoyed, he scratched at the collar around his neck. Stupid thing. He wanted it off him. There's a moment of silence before the door of the room opens, spilling the dim light of the hallway into the room and then clicks shut behind him as Avenger departs from the dormitory.
His footsteps pad down the hallway and were gone.
In the cathedral, there's the usual silence, solitary and deepened by the evening's dimness, dust particles drifting in dim shafts of light. There's a boy absolutely covered in tattoos seated in one of the back pews, head tilted back to gaze up at the vaulted, airy ceiling and the faint murmuring of some invisible mass, and chin resting on the palm of his hand. His torso is bare, modesty preserved by his red mantle and to some, his face is unnervingly familiar. Avenger is quiet, discontented and his yellow eyes are distant, clearly lost in thought.
The Servant had arrived on his floor after a period of wandering and stopped to take a break for awhile. It was silent here and at least they weren't playing that disgusting organ music.
... He smells like he's been killing monsters too.
But hey. What are you doing up so late tonight? It's close to midnight. Why are you in the church? ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 48: GRAVEYARD ]
[Perched atop a pale white tombstone like an errant bird of prey, Avenger surveys the rows of graves stretching out into the distance, his dull red cloak fluttering around his legs as he moved. The chipped, worn stone under his feet is cold. The Servant clung with one hand to the stone cross that made up the top of the tombstone balance himself.
The wide variety of the range of environments contained within this Tower was impressive, he'd give it that much. Overhead, the sun determinedly tried to burn through a thick gray cloud cover.
So far, he's walked through a demented carnival, a floating island barren of life, a colorful pit full of balls and the scent of something rotting, a dusty doll shop he'd been very creeped out by, a empty room full of bloody handprints and screaming, and a innocent little grassy meadow. And now a graveyard seemingly with a sky all its own. Really, it was a new experience.]
[ SCENARIO C || DORMITORY LEVELS: ROOM 03-12 ]
He needed answers. And not ones provided by whomever was the bunch of crazies who had kidnapped him to this Tower place, real answers. Yeah, it's decided. Shirou was going to look for answers.
After checking the trunk, and finding little of practical use in it since he was already dressed in his normal fare, the teenager walks out the door and pauses halfway down the hall, standing in front of it, belatedly realizing an error in his plan. He had no idea of where to go or what to do next. Where was he supposed to start?
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. His eyes squeezed shut.]
... Man, this sucks... How am I going to do this, I wonder?
[Let's try applying his fist to his forehead for starters. Sadly, the external application of force to his skull in an attempt to jog his brain, brings no flashes of insight with it and left nothing but pain behind as a result. Shirou rubbed his forehead slowly, wincing. Alright, not trying that again.]
[ SCENARIO D || FLOOR 1: CAFETERIA ]
[Eating the oatmeal before trying to eat anything was a general rule of thumb for the Tower, and usually veterans were thoughtful enough to inform newcomers of this rule but in this case, Shirou wasn't quite so lucky. Maybe it was due to the fact that he decided to cook his own breakfast when he realized they had a kitchen he could use, instead of eating at the food line.Maybe Avenger's a childish brat who didn't eat the oatmeal before having a midnight snack.
So guess anyone in the cafeteria will be treated to the pleasant sight of some boy with burnt orange hair leaning over one of the trash cans set next to the wall, and his back heaving miserably as he pukes up his breakfast of fried eggs and rice.]
... U-ugh.
[[ooc: all replies from Shirou will come fromheroicprinciple
Setting: Room 03-12, and then various tower floors.
Format: Beginning with action spam, but shifting to prose is fine as well. I'll respond in whichever one you choose.
Summary: Avenger wakes up in the middle of the night to fine the apocalypse had apparently occurred while he was napping. He is not very impressed and boycotts the oatmeal. 'Shirou' unknowingly suffers for it. And well. On pretending to be Shirou... If a routine worked before coming here, why fix it?
Warnings: AVENGER IS HIS OWN WARNING. So is Saber. Shirou vomiting up his breakfast. Also casual mentions of death, violence, typical fare for the Tower of Animus. Probably rampant self-loathing if Archer decides to pop in here.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 13: CATHEDRAL ]
[Upon awakening in the gloom of night in his dorm and discovering his arms were fashioned from lead, his legs were rigid and wouldn't move according to his will, Avenger felt very little beyond mild irritation. Staring blankly up at the dark ceiling, he opened his mouth to curse. Nothing came out, not a word nor grunt. His tanned limbs don't respond to him, and it's only through old practice that he pushes back the trickle of raising panic seeping into him and instead tries to remember what he could last recall happening. Bazett. The declaration of boredom. Her anger. His laughter, and offered hand. Then his only recollection was that of darkness.
Okay. That was troubling.
Particularly troubling because the Servant couldn't sense the flow of prana between them anymore, and generally, that never meant good things for a Servant separated from his Master. If the contract had been properly severed, surely he would have felt it break and he would have returned to the void from which he came. Yet he had sensed nothing along those lines and he obviously still existed somehow. The constant slight ebbing of his prana reserves, dropping as it became more and more of a struggle to maintain the closed garden and its loops, had creased as well. It was refreshing.
Still troublesome.
His conclusion was this wasn't the time loops. Something had happened to disrupt that. It only made sense. Largely because he had noticed, even if Bazett had unexpectedly knocked him out without him noticing, this wasn't the mansion. Nor anywhere else in Fuyuki City. He knew that town down to a square foot. Once the sleep paralysis faded from his form, he sat up in bed and stared in bewildered repulsion in the weird attire he was currently dressed in. Yep, definitively not Bazett's handiwork. She couldn't be that mad at him. Thankfully, after getting up off the bed and being oh-so careful to not disturb whoever were the sleeping lumps in the other beds, he locates his trunk and the clothes inside it.
Once dressed and the stupid uniform dutifully ripped to shreds, he snatches up the two papers on the bedstand and reads through them, slowly and occasionally stopping to re-read one section or another. After reaching the end of the letters, he was torn between rage and disinterested apathy. Rage that he had been in the middle of fulfilling a wish (never mind the one whose wish it was was being so damn needlessly difficult) and the end of the world had caused her to perish before he could get her out. Apathy because he... flat-out didn't care if the universe was destroyed. The world had gone boom, yaaay. Mankind had finally up and died, yaaay.
Anyway. On to more important matters. Ah, so this was it? That's how things were going to be from now on. Life at the whims of so-called 'saviours.'
Let's all be happy here.
Avenger's thin-lipped smile was vicious. For a new home, it was sure sucked balls but hey. Beggars couldn't be choosers, could they?]
Well—isn't this surprising, but we'll see about that... What a vexing situation.
[Annoyed, he scratched at the collar around his neck. Stupid thing. He wanted it off him. There's a moment of silence before the door of the room opens, spilling the dim light of the hallway into the room and then clicks shut behind him as Avenger departs from the dormitory.
His footsteps pad down the hallway and were gone.
In the cathedral, there's the usual silence, solitary and deepened by the evening's dimness, dust particles drifting in dim shafts of light. There's a boy absolutely covered in tattoos seated in one of the back pews, head tilted back to gaze up at the vaulted, airy ceiling and the faint murmuring of some invisible mass, and chin resting on the palm of his hand. His torso is bare, modesty preserved by his red mantle and to some, his face is unnervingly familiar. Avenger is quiet, discontented and his yellow eyes are distant, clearly lost in thought.
The Servant had arrived on his floor after a period of wandering and stopped to take a break for awhile. It was silent here and at least they weren't playing that disgusting organ music.
... He smells like he's been killing monsters too.
But hey. What are you doing up so late tonight? It's close to midnight. Why are you in the church? ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 48: GRAVEYARD ]
[Perched atop a pale white tombstone like an errant bird of prey, Avenger surveys the rows of graves stretching out into the distance, his dull red cloak fluttering around his legs as he moved. The chipped, worn stone under his feet is cold. The Servant clung with one hand to the stone cross that made up the top of the tombstone balance himself.
The wide variety of the range of environments contained within this Tower was impressive, he'd give it that much. Overhead, the sun determinedly tried to burn through a thick gray cloud cover.
So far, he's walked through a demented carnival, a floating island barren of life, a colorful pit full of balls and the scent of something rotting, a dusty doll shop he'd been very creeped out by, a empty room full of bloody handprints and screaming, and a innocent little grassy meadow. And now a graveyard seemingly with a sky all its own. Really, it was a new experience.]
[ SCENARIO C || DORMITORY LEVELS: ROOM 03-12 ]
[In the morning:
This can't be right. No, this really couldn't be right. No, even if there was some mistake, this really, really, couldn't be right.
Seated on the bed, and re-reading the two letters given to all residents upon arrival, 'Shirou' shakes his head in angry denial, eyebrows furrowed. It had to be incorrect; the Holy Grail War had ended months ago, everyone was alive and maybe-happy and he had been certain he'd figured out the trick to ending the strange War currently ongoing, so things would go back to normal soon but now he's expected to wake up in a strange, unfamiliar place and simply swallow an explanation as improbable as this?
He could barely process this information at all.
He needed answers. And not ones provided by whomever was the bunch of crazies who had kidnapped him to this Tower place, real answers. Yeah, it's decided. Shirou was going to look for answers.
After checking the trunk, and finding little of practical use in it since he was already dressed in his normal fare, the teenager walks out the door and pauses halfway down the hall, standing in front of it, belatedly realizing an error in his plan. He had no idea of where to go or what to do next. Where was he supposed to start?
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. His eyes squeezed shut.]
... Man, this sucks... How am I going to do this, I wonder?
[Let's try applying his fist to his forehead for starters. Sadly, the external application of force to his skull in an attempt to jog his brain, brings no flashes of insight with it and left nothing but pain behind as a result. Shirou rubbed his forehead slowly, wincing. Alright, not trying that again.]
[ SCENARIO D || FLOOR 1: CAFETERIA ]
[Eating the oatmeal before trying to eat anything was a general rule of thumb for the Tower, and usually veterans were thoughtful enough to inform newcomers of this rule but in this case, Shirou wasn't quite so lucky. Maybe it was due to the fact that he decided to cook his own breakfast when he realized they had a kitchen he could use, instead of eating at the food line.
So guess anyone in the cafeteria will be treated to the pleasant sight of some boy with burnt orange hair leaning over one of the trash cans set next to the wall, and his back heaving miserably as he pukes up his breakfast of fried eggs and rice.]
... U-ugh.
[[ooc: all replies from Shirou will come from
heroicprinciple
Re: Cafeteria
[Illya hugs Shirou tighter.]
Re: Cafeteria
[His arms wrap around her small shoulders, trying to be a comfort. Then a little teasingly;]
Hey, hey... ! Any tighter, and my ribs will crack. Do you want that happening to your brother?
Re: Cafeteria
Cafeteria
Well, I don't want that. [You being very very sad, that is.]
Re: Cafeteria
Your the best big brother, Shirou.
Re: Cafeteria
I don't merit so much credit, but thanks for believing that of me.
Re: Cafeteria
[Illya attempts to kiss Shirou on the cheek.]
Re: Cafeteria
No, I'm not— [Brought up short by her leaning forward and pecking him on the cheek. Shirou flushed a tad, looking confused but letting her do it.] Uh? Illya?
Re: Cafeteria
Re: Cafeteria
Re: Cafeteria
[Illya smiles.]
This way I can give you the thing I left for you in person.
Re: Cafeteria
[ He removes his hand from her shoulder and then stands up fully. You get to pick where they're going first, sis. ]
Lead the way, Illya.
Re: Cafeteria
There are a few of these in the tower. It's a good place to relax if you don't want monsters trying to eat you.
Re: Cafeteria
Monsters trying to eat me? I'd like to avoid that. Is this a popular spot for people to hang out?
Re: Cafeteria
And a lot of people come here to hang out and relax.
Re: Cafeteria
[ He looks at the beanbags scattered about, the tall shiny expanse of windows showing a view of empty air and the lack of the sinister atmosphere that seemed to hover over most of the floors. ]
Ah. It's a good place to do that, compared to the rest of the Tower.
Re: Cafeteria
Hey, Shirou. Would you mind if we go by the graveyard now?
Re: Cafeteria
[ He nods agreeably. ] Sure. I don't know where it is but you should know where to go.
Re: Cafeteria
[She smiles as if to reassure Shirou that things are ok.]
Yup, let's go.
[She takes him by the hand and leads him to the graveyard. She eventually comes to a stop in front of a grave that bears the name "Shirou Emiya."]
Re: Cafeteria
[ At least he knows he doesn't have to worry about either of those two endangering her then. Saber would never let that happen, and Lancer wasn't interested in fighting kids. As a bonus, both of them were fully capable of defending her from any aggressors.
And when she grabs his hand again and tugs him along, Shirou goes. Once they reach the graveyard, a desolate sky and a field of graves stretching out of view, he walks behind her until they come upon their destination; a tombstone.
To be exact, a weathered tombstone with the name "Shirou Emiya" etched deeply into the stone. His name. Okay, that was weird... Having second thoughts about this now.]
Re: Cafeteria
[She lets go of her brothers hand for a moment and begins to dig into the soft earth just behind the grave with her bare hands. After a short while her search produces the a large rock with something carved onto it in a childish manner. Returning to Shirou, she holds out the rock as if offering it as a gift. Now in plain sight, it is easy to see that it is marked with the phrase "I love you".]
Re: Cafeteria
[ Shirou parroted, puzzled he watched her bend down behind the tombstone and dig down into the dirt with her small fingers. When IIya unearthed what she was looking for, she straightened up and turned to him, walking back over to where he stood. The little winter faerie offered the large stone to him with dirty hands, dark brown soil caught under her fingernails. He accepts it from and holds it in his hands.
He read the words "I love you," craved into the smooth rock with the unpolished edge of a child's hand.
... Oh.
She honestly loved him? A person like him didn't deserve such things. They had lived in the same household for awhile now, he recalled. Yet, despite their affection, they had never said aloud they loved one another. Even though they were family, blood ties or no, they had not... ever said to each other's faces they loved them, had they?
If he ever considered it might be a confession of romantic not-sisterly love, the thought was instantly dismissed out of hand. Shirou was way way too dense to think that.]You do? [ The teenager's face was tinged red. Whoops, negative level of self-worth strikes again. ]
Re: Cafeteria
Re: Cafeteria
C'mon, Shirou. You can do this feelings business you can do it or you'll disappoint your sister which is an unacceptable outcome. ]
Re: Cafeteria
[Illya stares intently at her big brother, eagerly awaiting his response.]
Re: Cafeteria