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towerofanimus2013-04-07 09:13 am
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-07 09:13 am
☠ 002 | great clouds roll over the hills
Characters: Avenger, and the towerofanimus
Setting: Room 03-12, and then floor twelve, floor twenty-five, and floor fourteen and floor fifteen.
Format: Beginning with action spam.
Summary: Avenger explores, ponders his next course of action, and probably gets himself into trouble along the way. 'Shirou' tries to get the gears in his head and all the new information in there as well, sorted out and organized so he can come to a rational understanding of his situation.
Warnings: The typical fare for the Tower of Animus. (Violence, mentions of death and the destruction of worlds, people being assholes, etc.)
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 12: PROJECTION ROOM ]
[ It's with mild curiosity Avenger observes the latest of the projections that constantly ran in this room that he's standing in front of, the repetitions of universes being destroyed, the shine of that bright light glowing steadily being tarnished and lost, creatures falling over on their sides, vehicles coming to a stop, flowers and forests becoming a sickly grey and wilting as that destruction sweeps across the planet's surface, leaving it a stark plant. A dead plant, a lifeless hunk of bleak rock floating in the void of space. The replication of the nearby sun dims, flickers drastically and painfully slow as it does, burns out. The shimmering white dots of the stars follow suit, winking out like some giant is pinching them between thick fingers.
The surroundings before him go utterly dark.
And then as before, a new projection is switched on and the entire process repeats endlessly. Again, the complexity of another galaxy is displayed, again it crumbled like brittle paste. Again and again and again. The bright light shines and is promptly eclipsed by the disaster it seemed to summon which ripples outward to the rest of the world to annihilate it.
At this point, he supposes, he should be entertained or crassly satisfied by the show. The projection is convincing though it's quite false. As it stands, the Servant is only stands and watches without much of an expression on his face beyond a small smirk.]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: MEADOW ]
[ Seated cross-legged on the soft grass warmed by the clear springtime weather, the Servant doesn't move. With his head down, his arms casually folded and legs crossed, he does indeed look like he had drifted off into a swallow slumber. It's unintentionally deceptive (of course) since he was only taking a break from looking around the Tower to be lazy and soak up some sunlight. And avoid all the new arrivals that came in this month.
His eyes are closed, shut but not squinted. His thin shoulders rise and fall in sync with his even, slow breathing. The expression on his face as he rested was neutral. Even barring the extreme levels of corruption and tainted darkness that roiled within him like usual, Avenger really does seem comfortable for a guy stuck in a helltower with the threat of monthly experimentation looming over his head.
He's thinking, you see. For once.
While endless time to brood over his unnatural and unfathomable hatred was nice and all, once the initial excitement of arrival had faded away, Angra had faced with a dilemma. Namely, what was he supposed to do by himself? Every other time he had been summoned into existence, there had always been a wish of some kind to be granted or a Master ordering him around like a dog or just... something would force him to do what was commanded of him, regardless of consent or resistance or understanding. He'd gotten used to it in a twisted sense.
There was no such compulsion here.
It's a bit troublesome.
Hating everything and everyone mindlessly was much less annoying than this whole 'having a conscious intellect' business. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 14: MEDIA ROOM ]
[ Shirou's picking through the media room's shelves, and making two small stacks of videos games he plans on setting aside and playing later. (He checks to make sure there are at least two or more copies of whichever game he selects, so he wouldn't inconvenience other people who might want to play the game.) In-between patrolling, getting the crap beaten out of him by Saber while she 'assesses his skill level' or more accurately, regularly trounces his ass during their sparring sessions, or dropping by Saber or his little sister's rooms to check up on their wellbeing, that is.
And training.
And helping out in the kitchen.
Plus that job the administrators assigned him to.
Maybe he could ask Illya if she would enjoy playing video games with him. Or if she knew how to play games that involved television screens at all. She had been isolated with that wintery family of wacko magi for so long, the teenager wasn't sure she would know how, not that he was willing to underestimate her in such things. And ask her about what food she would want to eat. He wanted to make her life easier in small ways. Doing that, that would cause him happiness. It was natural for him to help others after all.
Withnutrition bars that disgustingly bland excuse for cardboard they were expected to eat this month, he had to find different ingredients for making a decent meal anyway.
So yeah. There's a teenager with burnt orange hair, standing over by the shelves, lost in an internal monologue. Go say hello, bug him, throw things at him?]
[ SCENARIO D || FLOOR 15: WORKSHOP ]
[ Lately, the portion of the dormitory room that housed the teenager's bed and chest, has slowly become littered with mechanical junk. It started out with small things: a badly dented toaster mysteriously appeared on his bedside table, a useless reading lamp left under the bed, or a broken coffee-maker found its way onto the chest and advanced from there. It was odd. When normally you could explain the tendency to pick up useless crap like this as the possibility of finding a kind of value from them after properly repairing the objects, there really isn't anything valuable about a toaster or a reading lamp to exploit. You could go and find a new one in the kitchens anytime.
So the collection of damaged appliances could only be put down to an idle hobby at the best.
There was still the issue of cluttering up the room.
Shirou decided it would be rude to continue like this when he had his roommates to consider, and so cleaned out most of the junk he'd gathered on a whim and moved it to the workshop he had discovered on a different floor, already outfitted with the tools he needed. The quality of the equipment was shoddy, but it was enough to work with. However this workshop lacked the atmosphere of the shed.
Sitting at one of the table with a damaged kitchen appliance, he took a deep breath and emptied his mind. Analyzing the structure took only a few seconds.
That accomplished, Shirou set about the task of disassembling it meticulously. As he works, he tries to think over everything that had occurred since coming to the Tower and what he has learned. Fact: the cooking here is terrible. That must be remedied. Fact: there were several different versions of people he knew, with different memories, and people he didn't know who all came from different timelines. Like Saber. Like Rin. Like that jerk Archer (?) and tiny Shinji. Like Lancer. Fact: an impossibly powerful variation of the Second Magic was involved. Fact: the administration were unjust jerks who needed a righteous punch in the gut from any ally of justice. Everyone who were trapped here were here because their worlds had been destroyed, including himself.
He tinkers with the metal device, brow furrowed. Their worlds had been destroyed, and there was a whole series of debates raging over that that flew right over his head, but Saber had mentioned there was the chance of restoring them. Therefore if the universe had actually ended like the letters had claimed, he would restore it and everyone else's universes too. And if the worlds hadn't ended and they were being collectively lied to by the people in charge, he would bring them all home.
And if neither of those options were possible... ?
He shook his head. No, they were possible. They had to be. ]
[ SCENARIO E || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK]
[ Generally, Angra remained within the invisibility of spirit form while he travels between the floors out of an old habit born from the need to conserve prana. The Grail was gone and with it, the limitless supplies of energy so he naturally preferred to be stringy with using what he had in this hostile environment, even without the constant drain behind maintaining the closed garden from before. Being on the verge of expiring did that to you. Luckily, he was not one of those Heroic Spirits who needed a large amount of prana to fight effectively.Not that would save him in a confrontation with another Servant, hey. Details.
But of course, the embodiment of all the evils in the world doesn't feel like staying intangible all the time while he explored the floors of Tower. Or if he is in spiritual mode, he doesn't conceal his own magical presence so it could be sensed.
And Shirou... Well, it's not like he ever attempts to make himself unnoticeable. ]
towerofanimusSetting: Room 03-12, and then floor twelve, floor twenty-five, and floor fourteen and floor fifteen.
Format: Beginning with action spam.
Summary: Avenger explores, ponders his next course of action, and probably gets himself into trouble along the way. 'Shirou' tries to get the gears in his head and all the new information in there as well, sorted out and organized so he can come to a rational understanding of his situation.
Warnings: The typical fare for the Tower of Animus. (Violence, mentions of death and the destruction of worlds, people being assholes, etc.)
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 12: PROJECTION ROOM ]
[ It's with mild curiosity Avenger observes the latest of the projections that constantly ran in this room that he's standing in front of, the repetitions of universes being destroyed, the shine of that bright light glowing steadily being tarnished and lost, creatures falling over on their sides, vehicles coming to a stop, flowers and forests becoming a sickly grey and wilting as that destruction sweeps across the planet's surface, leaving it a stark plant. A dead plant, a lifeless hunk of bleak rock floating in the void of space. The replication of the nearby sun dims, flickers drastically and painfully slow as it does, burns out. The shimmering white dots of the stars follow suit, winking out like some giant is pinching them between thick fingers.
The surroundings before him go utterly dark.
And then as before, a new projection is switched on and the entire process repeats endlessly. Again, the complexity of another galaxy is displayed, again it crumbled like brittle paste. Again and again and again. The bright light shines and is promptly eclipsed by the disaster it seemed to summon which ripples outward to the rest of the world to annihilate it.
At this point, he supposes, he should be entertained or crassly satisfied by the show. The projection is convincing though it's quite false. As it stands, the Servant is only stands and watches without much of an expression on his face beyond a small smirk.]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: MEADOW ]
[ Seated cross-legged on the soft grass warmed by the clear springtime weather, the Servant doesn't move. With his head down, his arms casually folded and legs crossed, he does indeed look like he had drifted off into a swallow slumber. It's unintentionally deceptive (of course) since he was only taking a break from looking around the Tower to be lazy and soak up some sunlight. And avoid all the new arrivals that came in this month.
His eyes are closed, shut but not squinted. His thin shoulders rise and fall in sync with his even, slow breathing. The expression on his face as he rested was neutral. Even barring the extreme levels of corruption and tainted darkness that roiled within him like usual, Avenger really does seem comfortable for a guy stuck in a helltower with the threat of monthly experimentation looming over his head.
He's thinking, you see. For once.
While endless time to brood over his unnatural and unfathomable hatred was nice and all, once the initial excitement of arrival had faded away, Angra had faced with a dilemma. Namely, what was he supposed to do by himself? Every other time he had been summoned into existence, there had always been a wish of some kind to be granted or a Master ordering him around like a dog or just... something would force him to do what was commanded of him, regardless of consent or resistance or understanding. He'd gotten used to it in a twisted sense.
There was no such compulsion here.
It's a bit troublesome.
Hating everything and everyone mindlessly was much less annoying than this whole 'having a conscious intellect' business. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 14: MEDIA ROOM ]
[ Shirou's picking through the media room's shelves, and making two small stacks of videos games he plans on setting aside and playing later. (He checks to make sure there are at least two or more copies of whichever game he selects, so he wouldn't inconvenience other people who might want to play the game.) In-between patrolling, getting the crap beaten out of him by Saber while she 'assesses his skill level' or more accurately, regularly trounces his ass during their sparring sessions, or dropping by Saber or his little sister's rooms to check up on their wellbeing, that is.
And training.
And helping out in the kitchen.
Plus that job the administrators assigned him to.
Maybe he could ask Illya if she would enjoy playing video games with him. Or if she knew how to play games that involved television screens at all. She had been isolated with that wintery family of wacko magi for so long, the teenager wasn't sure she would know how, not that he was willing to underestimate her in such things. And ask her about what food she would want to eat. He wanted to make her life easier in small ways. Doing that, that would cause him happiness. It was natural for him to help others after all.
With
So yeah. There's a teenager with burnt orange hair, standing over by the shelves, lost in an internal monologue. Go say hello, bug him, throw things at him?]
[ SCENARIO D || FLOOR 15: WORKSHOP ]
[ Lately, the portion of the dormitory room that housed the teenager's bed and chest, has slowly become littered with mechanical junk. It started out with small things: a badly dented toaster mysteriously appeared on his bedside table, a useless reading lamp left under the bed, or a broken coffee-maker found its way onto the chest and advanced from there. It was odd. When normally you could explain the tendency to pick up useless crap like this as the possibility of finding a kind of value from them after properly repairing the objects, there really isn't anything valuable about a toaster or a reading lamp to exploit. You could go and find a new one in the kitchens anytime.
So the collection of damaged appliances could only be put down to an idle hobby at the best.
There was still the issue of cluttering up the room.
Shirou decided it would be rude to continue like this when he had his roommates to consider, and so cleaned out most of the junk he'd gathered on a whim and moved it to the workshop he had discovered on a different floor, already outfitted with the tools he needed. The quality of the equipment was shoddy, but it was enough to work with. However this workshop lacked the atmosphere of the shed.
Sitting at one of the table with a damaged kitchen appliance, he took a deep breath and emptied his mind. Analyzing the structure took only a few seconds.
That accomplished, Shirou set about the task of disassembling it meticulously. As he works, he tries to think over everything that had occurred since coming to the Tower and what he has learned. Fact: the cooking here is terrible. That must be remedied. Fact: there were several different versions of people he knew, with different memories, and people he didn't know who all came from different timelines. Like Saber. Like Rin. Like that jerk Archer (?) and tiny Shinji. Like Lancer. Fact: an impossibly powerful variation of the Second Magic was involved. Fact: the administration were unjust jerks who needed a righteous punch in the gut from any ally of justice. Everyone who were trapped here were here because their worlds had been destroyed, including himself.
He tinkers with the metal device, brow furrowed. Their worlds had been destroyed, and there was a whole series of debates raging over that that flew right over his head, but Saber had mentioned there was the chance of restoring them. Therefore if the universe had actually ended like the letters had claimed, he would restore it and everyone else's universes too. And if the worlds hadn't ended and they were being collectively lied to by the people in charge, he would bring them all home.
And if neither of those options were possible... ?
He shook his head. No, they were possible. They had to be. ]
[ SCENARIO E || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK]
[ Generally, Angra remained within the invisibility of spirit form while he travels between the floors out of an old habit born from the need to conserve prana. The Grail was gone and with it, the limitless supplies of energy so he naturally preferred to be stringy with using what he had in this hostile environment, even without the constant drain behind maintaining the closed garden from before. Being on the verge of expiring did that to you. Luckily, he was not one of those Heroic Spirits who needed a large amount of prana to fight effectively.
But of course, the embodiment of all the evils in the world doesn't feel like staying intangible all the time while he explored the floors of Tower. Or if he is in spiritual mode, he doesn't conceal his own magical presence so it could be sensed.
And Shirou... Well, it's not like he ever attempts to make himself unnoticeable. ]
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Insert Shirou explaining how to play Tetris to her, complete with demonstrations where he either purposely screws up and loses a round while he plays the game to show what happens when you get creams, or just plain screws up occasionally here.
He thinks it's a pretty funny game to play with her too.]
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I think I get it! Now let me try.
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Alright, go for it! If you want some help or instructions as you play, don't hesitate to ask me.
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