Kain Highwind (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ajealouswind) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-03 09:34 pm
ajealouswind) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-03 09:34 pm
Entry tags:
01.5 - Nightmares Within Nightmares
Characters: Kain and anyone else
Setting: Dorms (Room 3-06 and nearby), Floor 61
Format: Prose to start, happy to follow with either
Summary: Kain is back, after two months wandering the husk of his dead world. He's not taking it terribly well.
Warnings: An angsty and volatile dragoon?
Darkness. Cold. Solitary suffering in the ruined remains of the world he had once saved, that was the existence he had come to know so well in these past... how long? Time had quickly begun to lose meaning, when the same grey sky and same blackened land was all there was. Which was why when he felt soft sheets beneath him and heard voices somewhere nearby that he jolted sharply, violently awake. He tossed aside the sheets, gasped, coughed, and passed his hands over his face as he tried to get his bearings. When his hands reached the collar around his neck, things began to make a sick sort of sense.
The Tower. I've been returned to The Tower.
And then a sick feeling came to his stomach, as he could no longer deny that the letter from his first morning had been truthful. His world was destroyed. Those were the remains of it. Heedless of anyone that might have also been in the room, he bolted for the door. He needed to breathe. He needed water. He needed to be away, to be somewhere high, if he could find it.... but that would have to wait until later. The bathrooms were closest. He would duck into the first one that he found, to splash water on his face and to drink. To collect and compose himself, and fight back the urge to have an ugly and undignified emotional outburst. Or an uglier one than he was already having.
-
The Tower had... changed since he had last explored it. To his knowledge, the graveyard had been at the very top. But he had gone thirteen floors past that, for the stairs kept leading ever higher and higher. This was mad. This was impossible. Was this a further sign that he had somehow lost his mind?
This was as good a floor as any to stop and rest and try to recompose himself. A blue sky and warm weather was comforting, after what he had been through. And he had yet to notice that the hills and clouds quite literally had eyes. So he stretched, and then he found a rock to sit on, and he breathed deeply....
Wait. Was that a chocobo rushing through the grass? That was a chocobo, wasn't it? When was the last time he had eaten roast chocobo? Far too long. Well then, this was a chance to rectify that, wasn't it? And roast chocobo would be a far finer meal than the dusty bars that The Tower administrators were providing. He gripped his makeshift spear and lowered himself so that the high grass concealed him. Let it come closer, just a bit closer, just within range of a good, long jump... and he hoped, as he waited, that something or someone wouldn't show up and frighten it away.
Setting: Dorms (Room 3-06 and nearby), Floor 61
Format: Prose to start, happy to follow with either
Summary: Kain is back, after two months wandering the husk of his dead world. He's not taking it terribly well.
Warnings: An angsty and volatile dragoon?
Darkness. Cold. Solitary suffering in the ruined remains of the world he had once saved, that was the existence he had come to know so well in these past... how long? Time had quickly begun to lose meaning, when the same grey sky and same blackened land was all there was. Which was why when he felt soft sheets beneath him and heard voices somewhere nearby that he jolted sharply, violently awake. He tossed aside the sheets, gasped, coughed, and passed his hands over his face as he tried to get his bearings. When his hands reached the collar around his neck, things began to make a sick sort of sense.
The Tower. I've been returned to The Tower.
And then a sick feeling came to his stomach, as he could no longer deny that the letter from his first morning had been truthful. His world was destroyed. Those were the remains of it. Heedless of anyone that might have also been in the room, he bolted for the door. He needed to breathe. He needed water. He needed to be away, to be somewhere high, if he could find it.... but that would have to wait until later. The bathrooms were closest. He would duck into the first one that he found, to splash water on his face and to drink. To collect and compose himself, and fight back the urge to have an ugly and undignified emotional outburst. Or an uglier one than he was already having.
-
The Tower had... changed since he had last explored it. To his knowledge, the graveyard had been at the very top. But he had gone thirteen floors past that, for the stairs kept leading ever higher and higher. This was mad. This was impossible. Was this a further sign that he had somehow lost his mind?
This was as good a floor as any to stop and rest and try to recompose himself. A blue sky and warm weather was comforting, after what he had been through. And he had yet to notice that the hills and clouds quite literally had eyes. So he stretched, and then he found a rock to sit on, and he breathed deeply....
Wait. Was that a chocobo rushing through the grass? That was a chocobo, wasn't it? When was the last time he had eaten roast chocobo? Far too long. Well then, this was a chance to rectify that, wasn't it? And roast chocobo would be a far finer meal than the dusty bars that The Tower administrators were providing. He gripped his makeshift spear and lowered himself so that the high grass concealed him. Let it come closer, just a bit closer, just within range of a good, long jump... and he hoped, as he waited, that something or someone wouldn't show up and frighten it away.
no subject
"...I know of the danger." And the cold water is turned on, and splashed upon his face. His blond hair, long and tied, dips over his shoulder and into the sink. "I know it well."
He cups his hands, pooling water in them so he may drink. And drink he does, greedily, before passing his hands over his face once more. And with a long exhalation he looks up from the sink, looks to Diarmuid.... and seems blessedly unaffected by the man's curse. He looks shaken, and distrustful, and not the least bit enraptured.
"...you are...?"
no subject
And if he is missing water so much, that tells Diarmuid one sad fact. Most likely, whatever world the man had come from was destroyed as they had been told all of their worlds were.
Might the administrators actually not be lying about that after all?
Pushing that unsettling thought away, Diarmuid bows slightly, though the man might miss it with how he his focusing on the water, "My apologies. I assumed from the look on your face you were new to this place. Now I can see that doesn't seem to be the case. My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First Warrior of the Fianna, and my offer of assistance is still open if you need it. I don't know if you do or not, though. Would I be correct in assuming from your words that you have been here before?"
no subject
"I can hardly fault you for assuming that much. Forgive me for my... my lack of composure." And, quite abruptly, the shaken look leaves him. This is a man quite practiced on putting on a serious and impassive mask. And this Diarmuid gave him something to focus on that wasn't ash and ruin and horror.
"I am Kain Highwind, a Dragoon of the kingdom of Baron." Which no longer existed. Which was nothing but ash. While he hesitates a moment, his expression doesn't shift. "I have been here before, if not for terribly long. About a month by this place's reckoning, if that. You speak of assistance... do you know someone that can repair weaponry and armor, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne?"
no subject
He pauses a moment as something the man had said finally strikes him, "You called yourself a dragoon, did you not? Tell me, are you acquainted with a white haired woman by the name of Cecil? She is a friend of mine and not long ago was telling me of an old friend of hers who was a dragoon. The title is not one I am that familiar with from my world which is why I ask."
no subject
But spear talk may need to wait, for... well, the man was saying strange things. "I'm acquainted with a white-haired man named Cecil. Though he's known for his delicate looks, I'd hardly think he could be mistaken for a woman." And he laughs, though it's dry and brief. "But yes, I am a dragoon." The once-captain of Baron's dragoons, even. But that, too, had passed...
no subject
"This Cecil...I know for a fact is a woman. Fate...required certain measures for me to save her life recently, so I know this beyond doubt. However, this place draws many people from different worlds and alternate realities to it. I have every reason to believe this may be a version of the person you know only from a world where she was born female instead of male."
He pauses a moment and then adds almost absently, "She spoke of her friend who was a dragoon as well, as I mentioned. Only that person was also a female. Could it be you both were born the opposite sex on her world?"
no subject
"...certain measures?" Kain wasn't sure that he liked the sound of that. And then he wasn't sure why he wasn't sure that he liked the sound of that. It was rather like he had a swarm of angry, buzzing insects inside his head. He grimaced, and then made an effort to comprehend the rest of it, instead. "I cannot deny that this place draws in those from many worlds. What you say... might have merit..."
Then he just went completely silent and perplexed, trying to imagine himself as a woman. And then sighed deeply and passed a hand over his face.
no subject
A light blush covers his face when Kain repeats those words, "Ah...yes, but as a fellow knight how could I just stand by and allow her to die? She is my friend and a skilled warrior. It was nothing more than I would have done for anyone who I care for." He pauses when he sees the discomfort on Kain's face. Cautiously, he reaches out and touches the man's shoulder, "Lets not worry about that for now. You seem to be in pain. Is there anything I can do for you? I am no healer, but..."
no subject
"Yes, enough. I am already beginning to feel better." He began to turn away, but a thought came to him and made him hesitate. "...you've implied... others have gone away from this place and returned, yes? What... what do they report, when they do?"
no subject
Not everyone likes to be touched after all.
"I don't know anyone personally, but the stories I have heard have been generally the same. The person is left to wander alone on their dead world. I can't imagine it is a very pleasant experience. It is not something I would wish on anyone. I think I would rather be here with all the dangers than there all alone."
In fact, he knows he would rather be here since the last thing Diarmuid wants is to be alone.
no subject
"...I see." Diarmuid's information did little to remove that frown from his face. He turned away, just as he originally planned. "Now you know someone personally. I can confirm all of that. That's where I've been." He is exercising considerable willpower in an effort to keep his words calm and even.
no subject
He pauses a moment, wishing there was more he could do, but with his curse acting up and the other man's upset state, perhaps it would be better to let things go for now.
no subject
"I should eat. And get my bearings. I'm not far from here... I'll come by later." They ought to talk more. Diarmuid could be a valuable ally. And he ought to keep at least a bit of an eye on him...
no subject
For a moment, Diarmuid seems like he is going to say something more, but pauses and tilts his head as if he hears something. A frown crosses his face. It sounds like some of those who were following him earlier are closing in again.
Definitely time to get moving.
He nods toward Kain and then is suddenly gone having dropped into the invisibility provided by spirit form and bolted toward the stairs.