Fon Master Ion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fragileprophet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-04 12:00 am
fragileprophet) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-04 12:00 am
the first – somebody take my hand and lead me
Characters: Ion | open
Setting: the stairs around floor eighty-seven| daytime
Format: prose
Summary: Ion wakes up, decides to take a look around, and completely underestimates how exhausting stairs are. Needing to pause in his descent to catch his breath, Ion begins to wonder whether or not he should have just stayed in his room (and is basically regretting his life choices in general).
Warnings: none at the moment
This room was not his own. Ion knew it the moment he opened his eyes, and the immediate revelation left him both disoriented and troubled. He sat up on the unfamiliar bed and looked around at the unfamiliar white walls, an identical, but empty, bed at each of the other three corners. At first, he wondered if this was Mohs’ doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that the Grand Maestro had gone behind his back (not that Ion hadn’t returned the favor, if a tad less maliciously), though Ion had hoped that he had given up on his efforts to start a war between Malkuth and Kimlasca. In any case, the young Fon Master erased the idea from his mind as soon as an idle movement of his hand to his neck acquainted him with a strange metal collar. He tugged at it to no avail. That was when he saw the letters—and as Ion read the brief but explicit contents of the first, his heart sank to the very bottom of his stomach.
The second was much more informative, but no less troubling. And after he had read it in full, Ion took in the room, his dorm, his new home, with new eyes. They fell almost at once upon the trunk mentioned within the second letter, and he was quick to find his robes inside of them. Ion changed back into them from the strange material he had woken up in, took a deep breath, and left his dorm. It seemed silly to just sit around and wait for something to happen—and having done so much sitting in his young life, Ion had always been eager to capitalize on a moment to get on his feet and look around, even if said feet liked to put up an oft-solid protest. But it wasn’t as if a little exercise would kill him, right? And, besides, it seemed much more logical to get to know the Tower by walking through it, instead of simply bypassing most of its contents in the elevator. He’d have other opportunities to use it.
For now, Ion made his way slowly down the hall of Dorm Floor 1 until he found the staircase that could take him nowhere but down. He walked leisurely, cautiously, and with a thoughtfulness swimming around his head. That was at least, for the first ten floors. By the time he had passed twenty floors—looking passively into them but never stepping out of the stairwell—his face was flushed and his lips pale. The boy’s feet ached and shook awkwardly. Somewhere outside of the eighty-seventh floor, Ion gave up. With a sigh, he leaned heavily against the cool wall, then slid down to sit dejectedly upon the step and rest his head on his knees.
It was too late to go back now; if he could get to the next elevator, he’d be fine. Then he could get something to eat in the cafeteria at the bottom of the Tower and maybe get some of his strength back. I’ll just catch my breath a little he told himself, I’m sure it won’t be too much longer until the next elevator. I can manage! Of course, as the insufferably weak Fon Master tried to focus on breathing, it became harder to think of anything other than Auldrant as a lifeless husk, and all its citizens—all his friends—gone.
Setting: the stairs around floor eighty-seven| daytime
Format: prose
Summary: Ion wakes up, decides to take a look around, and completely underestimates how exhausting stairs are. Needing to pause in his descent to catch his breath, Ion begins to wonder whether or not he should have just stayed in his room (and is basically regretting his life choices in general).
Warnings: none at the moment
This room was not his own. Ion knew it the moment he opened his eyes, and the immediate revelation left him both disoriented and troubled. He sat up on the unfamiliar bed and looked around at the unfamiliar white walls, an identical, but empty, bed at each of the other three corners. At first, he wondered if this was Mohs’ doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that the Grand Maestro had gone behind his back (not that Ion hadn’t returned the favor, if a tad less maliciously), though Ion had hoped that he had given up on his efforts to start a war between Malkuth and Kimlasca. In any case, the young Fon Master erased the idea from his mind as soon as an idle movement of his hand to his neck acquainted him with a strange metal collar. He tugged at it to no avail. That was when he saw the letters—and as Ion read the brief but explicit contents of the first, his heart sank to the very bottom of his stomach.
The second was much more informative, but no less troubling. And after he had read it in full, Ion took in the room, his dorm, his new home, with new eyes. They fell almost at once upon the trunk mentioned within the second letter, and he was quick to find his robes inside of them. Ion changed back into them from the strange material he had woken up in, took a deep breath, and left his dorm. It seemed silly to just sit around and wait for something to happen—and having done so much sitting in his young life, Ion had always been eager to capitalize on a moment to get on his feet and look around, even if said feet liked to put up an oft-solid protest. But it wasn’t as if a little exercise would kill him, right? And, besides, it seemed much more logical to get to know the Tower by walking through it, instead of simply bypassing most of its contents in the elevator. He’d have other opportunities to use it.
For now, Ion made his way slowly down the hall of Dorm Floor 1 until he found the staircase that could take him nowhere but down. He walked leisurely, cautiously, and with a thoughtfulness swimming around his head. That was at least, for the first ten floors. By the time he had passed twenty floors—looking passively into them but never stepping out of the stairwell—his face was flushed and his lips pale. The boy’s feet ached and shook awkwardly. Somewhere outside of the eighty-seventh floor, Ion gave up. With a sigh, he leaned heavily against the cool wall, then slid down to sit dejectedly upon the step and rest his head on his knees.
It was too late to go back now; if he could get to the next elevator, he’d be fine. Then he could get something to eat in the cafeteria at the bottom of the Tower and maybe get some of his strength back. I’ll just catch my breath a little he told himself, I’m sure it won’t be too much longer until the next elevator. I can manage! Of course, as the insufferably weak Fon Master tried to focus on breathing, it became harder to think of anything other than Auldrant as a lifeless husk, and all its citizens—all his friends—gone.
no subject
The Fon Master had spent much of his time going up.
"I think I'll take my chances continuing down. There's so much of the Tower I haven't seen yet." Even if it was dangerous, he'd never know if he didn't keep going. And wasn't it better to learn your surroundings quickly? The boy smiled at the other. "My name is Ion, by the way. What's yours?"
no subject
"There is plenty more to see-- all equal parts dangerous and intriguing. Though the lowermost flowers also contain certain amenities to make one's time easier."
At the introduction, Fado gave a deeper nod, this one more of a bow of his head. "My name is Fado. It's nice to meet you, Ion."