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 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.