towerofanimus | ♘ 02 || by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore

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♘ 02 || by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore

Characters: Raven; OPEN.
Setting: Dormitory Room 1-16, Floor 25 (Meadow), Floor 48 (Graveyard), Floor 11, any floor with monsters
Format: Action to start, but I can match.
Summary: Attempts at figuring out and practicing an ability he hadn't been aware of until recently, then it's graveyard fun, talking to ghosts in what probably is an unhealthy manner, and monster killing.
Warnings: Phantoms in scenario 4, and monsters/violence in scenario 5, both of which take place through the evening/at night. Other than that... nothing but general angst, maybe?

[dormitory room 1-16]
[Anyone passing by, dropping in on, or currently living in the room might notice him wordlessly rummaging through his trunk, stopping to stare for a moment when he comes across what appears to be an odd block of some unidentifiable black metal.

Anyone who's seen it in the past somehow might notice that it's a fair bit smaller than it once was. It certainly doesn't escape Raven's notice, at least; after another short moment's study, he tentatively raises his left palm- which very definitely does not look human, more like some sort of metal claw- and focuses on doing... something, with it. It seems whatever he's trying to do will be fruitless at first, as nothing happens for a good while.

Then, suddenly, a small, amorphous, metallic blob materializes out of the air above his palm.

Unfortunately, such surprises him, and it disappears back to wherever it came from when he hits his head on the wall behind him in his shock and hisses.]

[meadow]
[Some time after clearing his trunk of the metal (there is so much more space in it now to store things, it's ridiculous), Raven can be found on the meadow floor trying to figure out how to properly manipulate it.

It's currently having mixed results, anyway: sometimes the summoned metal is poorly and awkwardly shaped, useless for anything really; other times it doesn't even seem to take on solid form before dissipating again; and other times it's fairly successful, the metal managing to transform itself into a gleaming, jet-black wall of sorts. Another gesture or two and the wall grows spikes before Raven dismisses it.

Progress seems slow for more than just being the pace of someone trying to figure out something completely new to them, though. Every now and then, he pauses to look over his left arm warily.

Huh.]

[graveyard]
[Here there are graves for those who have vanished from the tower, but no one else. Not for the ones who'd died back in their home worlds, not for those who had never arrived.

It's at one of the more out of the way sections of the floor that you'll find Raven knelt down in front of an unmarked headstone.

He would be fairly hard to notice if it weren't for the periodic shrieking sounds of metal on stone- of his forcefully carving something into the grave marker. Two letters: an E and an S.]

[waterfalls and ghosts]
[The setting sun casts a warm glow over this floor, where Raven stands motionless, phantoms drifting around and clustering not too far away from him.

The well-meaning might be inclined to warn him away from the floor and its phantoms before nightfall arrives in full, but the observant might notice that he seems fully aware of its dangers, as he stays always just barely out of range of the phantoms' draining abilities even while he listens to them speak.

Sometimes he responds. Sometimes, it seems almost as if he's having a conversation with them.

"You never did know when to quit."
"I'm sorry. I hope you're not too disappointed."
"I miss you."]

[anywhere in the tower with monsters; backdated to late night of the 3rd and/or early morning of the 4th]
[It's somewhat ironic, actually; what he'd once spoken to someone about before (practically preached, really, even in his taciturn way) nearly two months previous he now finds himself doing as well. It's cathartic, as he'd said then.

That is why Raven now wanders the Tower in the dead of night, ghosting around from shadow to shadow and disposing of whatever monsters he can with a ruthlessly cold efficiency. Despite the harsh bite of sword and claw, the howls of summoned voids to hold monsters in place, there remains an eerie sort of elegance in his movements as he travels from one creature, one floor, to the next.

Anything that might pose too much of a threat he avoids; he knows how to pick his battles, unlike some fool children who'd— no.

Perhaps, if he can make it even a little safer for those here, even for a short while... he might be content. Perhaps.]

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[Ion makes it back to the dorm just in time to see his (presumed) roommate smack his head against the wall, a dark mass disappearing from the palm his his hand-which-is-not-a-hand.

He has to admit he's curious--but at the moment Ion's a bit more concerned about the state of the poor man's head.]

That didn't sound too good...

[He steps forward quickly after closing the door, ready to aid if he's needed, even if he's not exactly sure how he can help.]

Did you hurt yourself?

Not- really. I'm fine, just surprised. [He mutters out past the hand currently pressed to his face, before letting out another long hiss.

He is probably still very slightly flushed when it's removed and he looks up at whoever it was that had spoken, a bit embarrassed to have been caught like that. Call him whatever you will; he still has something resembling dignity, and that. Well. Moving on.]

...Ah. You're 'Ion,' I assume?

Oh, alright! As long as you're sure.

[Ion smiles, glad to hear that he's alright, though he looks startled when his name is mentioned. Had his roommates all been notified about his arrival? That did make sense.]

Yes. But...I'm sorry, I don't know your name. If...if it was in one of the letters I woke up to, I'm afraid I missed it. [Regardless, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting.] Even so, it's a pleasure to meet you.

There are labels on the rooms listing their occupants. [Raven says, tilting his head toward the door so as to indicate it.] Your name recently appeared on the one here, so I assumed...

...Raven, anyway. [He extends his right to shake; something about the way he withdraws his left seems a bit hasty or pointed.] Like...wise, I suppose. If you've read the letters then I guess you already know the circumstances of our being here.

And no, unless the letters have changed recently I don't believe the administrators would give out any actual useful information, such as the names of one's roommates, within them.

[Ion looks immediately toward the door and feels silly as he sees the names. Well, he certainly needed to open his eyes. A slight blush is evident on his pale face.]

Well...so they are then.

[He laughs a little to try and ease the awkwardness he feels, rationalizing that even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have known which roommate was which. At least now he could say he had met one of the three!]

I know a little...but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't horribly confused with said circumstances. [And also potentially in a bit of denial, but that was beside the point entirely.

He's quiet for a slow moment, then hesitantly ventures to ask about what he saw.] Forgive me if I'm prying, but may I ask what you were doing? Of course, if you'd rather not say, I understand entirely.

It's easy to miss it, don't worry. [He murmurs dismissively, though not unkindly. Really, the only reason he'd noticed it at first was because he made a point of scouring the halls for people he knew.

When Ion asks his question, Raven glances slowly out of the corner of his eyes at him, mentally weighing the prospect before sighing. It probably couldn't hurt.]

Nothing all that special. Simply discovered that this [he says, outstretching his arm and allowing the black and white sleeves to fall back a little so as to reveal the machinery and wiring making it up] apparently has a few more esoteric uses than I'd thought.

[Ion actively stares in wonder at the mechanical arm his roommate possesses.

He'd never seen fontech like this before--well...that was right. There were worlds other than Auldrant. It probably wasn't fontech at all. He wonders how long Raven's arm has been like that, or how it happened...but it seems rude to ask.]

I see. [Ion crouches down to sit on his knees, so he can get a better look. It does make him feel much smaller, though.] Thank you for sharing with me, even though it must be personal; I've never seen anything quite like this, before...

[Raven shifts a bit under the scrutiny, seeming slightly uncomfortable with the obvious awe Ion is displaying. The way he sees it, there's no reason for Ion to be thanking him.]

I wouldn't say it's particularly personal, really. I mean... [He makes sort of a helpless shrugging gesture with his right, letting out a breath at the same time.] It's there. It exists; it has for years now.

Much as I try to forget that it does, some days. [He adds, a little wryly, but it's true- if, over time, one paid attention to his overall movements they'd notice that the majority of them seem to exclude it, and that usage of it is kept to a minimum. Even the way he carries himself seems tailored toward minimizing anyone's notice of it.

...well, normally. Right now he's trying to fiddle around with that block of metal in his trunk, which obviously has some sort of properties tied to the arm... Perhaps, something like Eve... Ah-

The way another chunk of the metal vanishes into nothing, only to be resummoned a moment later as a metallic strand... It might seem like the Contamination Effect, almost.]

Even so, [Ion counters gently] it's a part of your body and of who you are. I would have understood if you hadn't been comfortable showing me. [Maybe Ion was thinking too hard about it, but turning everything that people did into some sort of positive was just force of habit.

Regardless, he realizes that maybe he's being a bit too zealous with his interest and friendliness and tries to ease up.

Ion switches his attention to the metal cube in Raven's hand, looking startled when it suddenly disappears and then changes form.] Wow--!

[He hadn't intended to bother his roommate with any more questions, but they come out before he can stop himself.] Something from your home world? Is...is it supposed to do that?

[So interesting...was it sentient and part of the mechanics that made up his arm? Maybe they were on some sort of similar frequency...]

[Raven is entirely too happy to drop the subject and move on.]

I suppose it is... [He replies, sounding distracted. Don't ask him, seriously; he really doesn't know the specifics of how it works.] I'm not too sure on its mechanics, myself. One of my companions... she can do something similar. [Though- weren't Eve's abilities because of the code she'd unlocked? No, that's right, she'd been doing it before then, just on a much lesser scale than she does now...

He flexes the digits of the Nasod claw somewhat, attempting to twist or shape the metal into something, but it only coalesces again and solidifies like that. It takes another moment or two of unsure focus and fumbling to manage to dematerialize and return it to wherever it is that it goes again.

Raven lets out a sigh of dissatisfaction.]

...Less crudely, to be sure.

[Eve was only passing by, but of course she stops on the staircase when she spies Raven doing... something...

What was that?

She moves in to investigate, still keeping a fair bit of distance so as not to distract him. From her new viewpoint, it was almost impossible for her not to know what he was doing. It was an ability they both shared, after all, though his was apparently far more... unrefined. Possibly outdated.

She could only bear the silence for so long.]

While your attempt is impressive—for a human—Eve is disappointed by the results. She wonders why Core would give you an ability you cannot use in the first place. [that is the shittiest excuse for a weapon she's ever seen in her entire 1000+ year life]

Edited 2013-04-08 07:07 (UTC)

... Excuse me if your Core hadn't seen fit to explain how to use it.

[Reroll your perception check, Eve, that was meant to be a shield. Maybe it's because he's working off his experience with the Anger Core, which is more intuitive if only because it seems to have a mind of its own at times, maybe it just so happens that Nasod Weapons Material prefers taking on sharp, stabby forms- or maybe it was because the first thing he'd managed to do under pressure was a Charged Bolt- but the spikes were actually entirely unintentional.

Raven knows she's judging him (and it actually somewhat faintly reminds him of the Velder nobles, so long ago), so he straightens himself up to glare right back, equally unimpressed.]

Explanation is not necessary. The commands should be embedded in your Nasod programming, if you cannot access that then you must be incompatible.

[She delivers her statement coldly, simple dry facts. Would it be more or less insulting if she were more emotive about it? Who knows.

With that said, she extends a hand out to her side. It only takes a fraction of a second for her to form a jet black spear along the length of her arm, shortly followed by two more of diminishing size. They shoot forward to pierce the ground by a few inches, just enough to stick in place.]

A spike is the simplest weapon to form using this material; my spears are a much more refined version of this, but it is the same concept. Your quality of metal is poor, but you should still be able to manage that much. [expectant look]

'Programming.' I don't suppose it's this same programming that drove me mad not very so long ago? [There is something that feels almost like laughter at the back of his throat.]

As you said yourself, I am human. It's no wonder that I'm incompatible with your programming.

[He says nothing to the rest of it, only harrumphing, more intent on wiping that look off her face. When he sweeps his arm back this time, spikes vaguely resembling lances form and float behind it. It is not a perfect formation; their form is closer to the arrowhead shape of Core in its offensive state, and not quite as balanced as a true Arc Enemy.

But they should be functional, all the same.]

[... Oh, well. That wasn't what she intended that to mean. She quickly regrets her choice of wording, though it's too late to take it back. Rather than attempt an apology she refrains from commenting altogether. Arguing that point would only make it worse, surely.

The next attempt is... an improvement. Perhaps. She still can't help but be unimpressed.]

... Can you control that? [how hard can it be to throw a pointed bit of metal? it's not like it's even big or heavy.]

[All the same, he wants to rid her of that 'good enough— for a human' sentiment. Prove her wrong, show her, get some sort of reaction out of her other than that dismissive disapproval, something.

Point is, he doesn't take well to being dismissed out of hand simply due to being what he is. It's probably some sort of conditioning dating back to Velder, back when its nobles scoffed at him for being of common birth. On some other occasion he'd probably notice and catch his knee-jerk overreaction to instead maintain some sort of composure, but given recent events he has stress to vent and right now he's not in the mood to be metaphorically sneered at for experimenting with something he'd rejected long ago.

Wordlessly, he indicates a point on the ground somewhere in between the two of them; the spears throw themselves into a haphazard line up to it. If one or two should stray a bit too close to Eve, oops.

He's actually not trying to antagonize her; it's more a problem with control than anything. He gathers it's some extension of will, or something, but what little he knows from Core doesn't apply the same way here, so. In a word, 'not really,' but hell if he's admitting it.]

[Unfortunately, he'll have to try a lot harder than that to get any kind of reaction out of Eve. She doesn't budge, simply scrutinizing his performance from where she stood. If a few strayed uncomfortably close, she thought nothing of it—poor control was to be expected.

She folds her arms thoughtfully, pausing. It was a crude attempt, but with a bit of work, maybe some new materials... she might be able to make a respectable (half-)Nasod out of him yet.]

Your aim needs work, but... perhaps, you are not hopeless. [Surely a compliment would improve his mood?]

[At that, he just shoots Eve a sharp look before letting out a harsh, aggravated breath, waving carelessly at the spears to unsummon them.]

'Not hopeless' is worthless in any meaningful scenario. There's no point in an ability you can hardly use, much less successfully.

[ ... ah, that's what it is. At this point, success or failure is more a matter of pride than anything- it doesn't matter that he's still wary of the arm, or that faint lightheadedness that only gets worse in increments as he tries to force the matter more in attempt to prove a point.]

The fact that you are capable at all shows potential. The interface may need adjustments... perhaps an updated code... [She thinks on that for a moment, probably planning some upgrades to push on him the next time he needs his arm repaired.

Actually, no, she's going to take this a step further—] Allow Eve to examine your arm.

[...One day, he'll get used to Eve's mood swings. One day- nevermind that his temper can be just as mercurial at times.]

—Excuse me?

[But- he does acquiesce after a moment, scowling and offering up the limb for inspection.]

[She takes the arm in her hands, turning it over to take a look at the device implanted in his palm. He's lucky she doesn't have a screwdriver on hand or she'd start taking parts off right there, probably. Instead she has to settle for whatever she can check from the outside, the external reactor, the joints...]

... You have been straining yourself. Be careful not to overwork your systems, they may become damaged.

[He makes a small noise of dissatisfaction in the back of his throat.]

You're saying I should stop for the time being.

[It sounds a little too close to "give up" for his liking, at least in his current mindset, but she'd know its finer mechanisms and workings better than he does. He's of half a mind to ask about what the repercussions would be if he did keep it up, but by now he thinks he already knows what to expect (and is wary of the rest), so he opts not to in the end.]

So. What of this 'potential,' then?

You have been neglecting your Nasod half, it has not had the opportunity to adapt to these new demands yet. Even I was unable to utilize all of Code Exotic the day I received it. [silly raven you have to level up more and spend your skill points first]

As for your potential, the codes seem to be functional, if incomplete. If you intend to use them they will need proper refining. [ie. practice until that shit just sorts itself out, oh the wonders of Nasod tech!]

[Translation: use it more often so you can do it more often (and properly too).

... Yeah, screw that, it's going to give Cannon Blade/Seven Burst/etc company in the corner of 'not existing unless there is an immediate and very pressing need for it.']

... Neglecting it, huh.

We'll see, I suppose.

[Maybe he'll take a little bit of time once in a while to work on his control- both of himself and the arm, as per usual, and of its new abilities.

Maybe.]

[She lets his arm go, a little reluctantly.]

... It wouldn't hurt to acknowledge your other half, on occasion.

[She's not bold enough to say any more than that out loud, but seriously Raven you're putting that arm to waste by not using it. You have no idea how much that bugs her.]

[And he lets it go limp before glancing sidelong at her.]

You would say something like that.

[Strangely enough, despite the bite in it, it's not actually all that harsh. For him, at least.

What she says doesn't sink very deep before it's compartmentalized into wherever anything else concerning the subject is, unfortunately. He's half-Nasod, whether he likes it or not. Sure. But focusing on it and remembering it is remembering what had happened and he's— gotten past that.]

[Chung is just doing his own training in the meadow when he spots someone familiar!]

Hey, Raven!

[And he startles a little at that, apparently having gotten a little too lost in whatever it is he's doing. He has to jump back a bit too when in his distraction the fairly sizable amount of Nasod material he's working with condenses into a tight ball of spikes in front of him, seeming all the world like a particularly agitated hedgehog or porcupine and no less dangerous for it.]

[He hastily dismisses the metal before glancing over at the prince.]

Ah... hello to you too, Chung.

What are you doing?

Training, of a sort.

What sort of training?

[No verbal answer to that question; Raven instead only outstretches his left arm and forms another jet-black sphere of metal as explanation.]

...And you?

[The younger boy breaks into a smile as he realizes what that is]

Ohhhh! I see! Does it work properly here?

Just my usual training. [Push ups, squats, running, swinging his Destroyed around and blowing things up. Same old.]

Define 'properly.' [ He seems a little nonplussed. It isn't as if he makes a habit of doing this, after all... ] It hasn't been acting abnormally, as far as I can tell.

Ah... you come to this floor often for that purpose, then? [ He does need to start keeping better tabs on his companions, after realizing he honestly doesn't know where they spend much of their waking hours. ]

Well, as in changing into the shapes you want, I guess... I see. That's a pity... Do you think it can be fixed?

Here and the gym.

It isn't as if I do this particularly often. I mean- at the moment control seems a bit... problematic, but I suspect that's simply out of unfamiliarity than anything else...

[ Because honestly if there's the chance that there's something wrong with the arm he doesn't want to think about it. Might he somehow have affected that fragile balance of control with his more recent emotional outbursts?

... He shakes his head before he delves any deeper along that line of thought. ]

Well, I hope it's out of a lack of practice, in any case. Your own training is going better, I hope?

Ah, that's right. You don't really use that too often... Well, all you need is practice then!

[nods] It's alright. I'm making steady progress.

Edited 2013-05-01 18:58 (UTC)

Yes, I did about as say as much, didn't I...

Is there something specific you're working on, or is it just general routines?

Just in general. I have to keep myself in top condition after all!

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♘ 02 || by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore

Dormitory Room 1-16

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meadow

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what look on her face...

true, most of her expressions are some form of lineface...

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[meadow]

1/2

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