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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
cafeteria because she needs some "happiness" lol
[ A dumb question all things considering, but for Rin it's an alright question. Because the past couple months have been so muddled in her mind that she has no idea that Shirou Emiya is dead and has left the tower weeks ago. So the concept of not eating oatmeal doesn't come to mind because he's already done that. ]
Come on, I'll escort you to your room.
[ Even though it's a kind gesture, there's more annoyance in her voice than anything as she holds out an arm to him. She dresses much like Rin Tohsaka would, but there's something deeper twisting it's way through her body as visible by the eerie shade of her eyes and hair. ]
cafeteria lol "happiness"?
[The response is less than clever, mumbled as he's still bent over the garbage can and spitting out the last of his half-digested food. But Shirou easily recognizes the voice of the girl who had been tutoring him for the last few weeks and thus thinking nothing of the sharp note of annoyance in her words, turns around to hurriedly decline her offer, stumbling over himself clumsily so she doesn't get impatient or worried.]
No, it's probably a stomach bug or moldy rice, so I'm fine, rea—...lly?
[He trails off towards the end of his sentence when he sees Rin fully; the dress style is accurate but the colors are all wrong. He blinks. Maybe he's still feeling a little too lightheaded from puking up his breakfast.]
she had a CHARACTER ARC MOMENT in which she saved shirou's life in the tower... :')
[ Her voice is softer now that his own was drawn off as confusion begins to seep it's way into her form. ]
I know it's been a while since we've seen each other here, but that's no reason to treat me as though I were a ghost. That's rude.
;_; whoops
[ Archer had said something like that too. That he had been here before. But he wasn't now, so why was she...?
Lancer had mentioned the administration ran experiments on the people in the tower, he stupidly rationalized to himself. Maybe they'd screwed around with Tohsaka's colours for kicks. That's why she looks strange and sounded so annoyed. Surely that's it. (No, Shirou. It's called fierce denial. You were already wallowing within in it regards to the destruction of your world. You can't excuse the swirling crimson tattoos showing on her neck as mere tricks of the light, can you? Or silver hair and red eyes. You just want to believe she survived like you did. DENIAL.) He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, obviously suitably repentant for slighting her. ]
Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to. Everything is weird here and I haven't quite yet adjusted.
yup :')
[ Unaware of his internal thoughts, Rin can only give a nod. ] Are you sure that you don't want to return to your room?
[ A bit more caring than she should be, it's only because she saved his life that she behaves this way. Standing between her Servant and him was the foolish mistake she could have done, but it's something she'll stand by. ]
You sure Archer didn't poison you?
:(
[ Deciding to treat the whole matter like Rin merely took it into her head to get her hair dyed, red contacts put into her eyes, and tattoos and nothing else, he drops his hand from his neck and shrugs his shoulders. ]
If he's feeling murderous towards me, Archer would try [ sniping me ] shoving a sword or two into my gut, not poisoning me. [ He was funny like that. ]
no subject
[ Plus it isn't as though she'll allow him. Maybe to be safe though she should use a Command Mantra to ensure he doesn't. It seems as though it would be a good use of one. ]
Just be careful, alright? I'll be mad at you if you get yourself sick or killed.
no subject
[ He can't exactly promise anything. Shirou knows his own track record. It's... not very good when it comes to keeping himself healthy outside of his diet. ]
Alright. But you need to be careful too, okay? I don't want you hurt or dead either.
[ These two are communicating under some serious misconceptions. ]
no subject
[ Time to shatter said misconception. ] Why do you suddenly care about all of that? It is my Servant that wants you dead. All because I helped you that one time doesn't mean we're allies or whatever.
[ Even though she's sitting here worrying about his health. Don't question the tsundere. ]
no subject
[ Okay, now he's just regarding her with plain bewilderment. He really doesn't give a fuck that her Servant wants to rip out his intestines and fill him full of holes. ] What's so sudden about this? Archer's always wanted me dead. Why should that affect how I treat you? Of course I care. Really, it's only natural for a student to want his tutor to be well.
[ He knows to deal with the tsudere.
Appeal to their sense of logic by giving them an excuse he actually doesn't care about in the slightest. He would be fussy about her wellbeing whether or not Rin was his teacher. ]
no subject
[ Now she's feeling a bit weak (unrelated to the conversation, but easy to blame it on) as she moves to sit down at one of the tables roughly. ]
Does that mean I teach you? I, I don't remember signing up for it, but my memory has betrayed me these days.
no subject
[ It would be hard to forget those terrible-tasting potions and various other hoops he had jumped through as her pupil unless he got brain damage-induced memory loss again. Not wanting to discomfort her by moving closer, he only moves away from the garbage can that smelled of puke while she sat down tiredly at one of the tables. ]
If you don't want to do it here, I understand. [ In more important news; ] Your memory's been faulty? What's wrong with your memories?
[ Have you been getting enough hours of sleep or being conducting reckless magical science experiments again? '.' ]
no subject
[ Placing the blame on powers out of her control, Rin shrugs her shoulders. ] I wouldn't worry about it until you're suffering from the same.
What exactly did I teach you?
no subject
[ He rubbed his chin, thinking hard. ]
Let's see, you... [ Insert a rough outline of what Rin Tohsaka taught him in the wake of, and during, the fifth Holy Grail War. Generally a little above the level of what a magus would teach an absolute amateur. ] Is that enough?
no subject
[ She sounds more surprised than she should be. ] I guess what they said about me is true.
no subject
What they said about you? [ Doesn't... know what she is talking about. ]
no subject
[ Suddenly desperate to cling to this, whatever it was, Rin shakes her head. ] I'm just talking nonsense. I got really shook up at seeing you get sick like that! Aren't you going to apologize for it?
no subject
It's a good thing Shirou is used to sudden outbursts from Rin. But when she demands he apologize for shaking her up by being unwell, he is visibly abashed.] A-ah? You were? Of course I, uh—I'm sorry. It wouldn't happen again.
no subject
[ Now she's entirely sheepish not only due to his apology, but for the manner he teases her. Red-faced and without much else to say, she averts her gaze away. ]
Go clean up. We can talk later, okay?
no subject
[He nods.]
Okay, let's do that.
[She's cute when she blushes. But Shirou really didn't have anything else to say to her right now either, so he turns to go clean up the mess he made being sick like she bides. Then he paused, in the middle of tidying things up, as a thought caught up with him that he figured he should share before ending the conversation. He ignored the mountain of fine details he was bad with, and went straight for the point.]
Hey... I'm glad you're alive. Thanks for that. [The clumsy remark is tossed over his shoulder almost carelessly, without any deep thought behind it. Thank you for surviving.
Annnd now he's vanished into the kitchen to dump off the mess.]