Sheba | Child of the Gods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seekinganswers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-14 10:05 pm
seekinganswers) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-14 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
event ♃ i know i'd better stop trying, you know that there's no denying
Characters: Sheba and you!
Setting: Around the Tower.
Format: Action to start, but I'm more than happy to switch to prose if you prefer!
Summary: Everything is just fine. Sheba's patrolling the Tower to make sure of that, and woe betide you if you're not on your best behavior...
Warnings: Willy-nilly mindreading (her Group B modifications allow her to constantly hear the thoughts of everyone who's on the same floor as her), possible character death, violence, general awfulness... let's see how bad we can be, guys! If you could indicate how far you're okay with going somewhere in your comment that would be awesome. c: Alternatively, you can plot with me instead!
[Dormitory Levels - Patrolling]
[It's a simple enough task, in theory: Ensure that the residents aren't acting up. In an ideal world - which this is, because they're safe here, the Administrators have saved them and they should be grateful for it - just passing through to check on things should be enough.
But it's not, Sheba notes with a slight frown. Something is off here, and it's not her sewn-shut eyes, or the blood trailing its way down her face from the third eye embedded in her forehead. Those she dismisses without so much as a second thought. She doesn't need a second thought - god knows she's got enough of them! Would it kill these people to stop thinking so loudly? Maybe she should give them a lesson in keeping quiet.
Sometimes it's overwhelming, all these voices at once. But - well - it's useful. Any hint of discontent, any warning sign of bad behavior, and she can nip it in the bud. If there's anything she hates, it's when a wrench is thrown into something that should be working so well. Stubborn fools - why can't they just accept the fact that they're much better off here than they would be on their own worlds?
To those who know her, the look on her face appears uncharacteristically cold - though that's not so likely to be noticed right away. Perhaps it'll be the wings, or her eyes - all three of them. Or perhaps it's her collar, the one that looks pink when it should be - should be - violet.
Those who don't know her might mistake her for a monster, or they might not. But she's just there for their own benefit. Really, she thinks, It's for their own good. They'll be much happier once they realize there's no use fighting it.]
[Around the Tower - your choice! Indicate the specific floor in the subject line.]
[The winged girl is out and about in the Tower, checking in on places where the residents congregate and where the workers... well... work. Of course, that's not to say she won't be anywhere else - perhaps a particularly loud thought will catch her attention as she's passing from floor to floor. Perhaps she'll get called over for a conversation.
Or perhaps it will be something else entirely. Her own behavior is a little erratic - perhaps you've caught her in a bad place, or at a bad time? Or perhaps both.
Perhaps your time is up. Time will tell, now won't it?]
Setting: Around the Tower.
Format: Action to start, but I'm more than happy to switch to prose if you prefer!
Summary: Everything is just fine. Sheba's patrolling the Tower to make sure of that, and woe betide you if you're not on your best behavior...
Warnings: Willy-nilly mindreading (her Group B modifications allow her to constantly hear the thoughts of everyone who's on the same floor as her), possible character death, violence, general awfulness... let's see how bad we can be, guys! If you could indicate how far you're okay with going somewhere in your comment that would be awesome. c: Alternatively, you can plot with me instead!
[Dormitory Levels - Patrolling]
[It's a simple enough task, in theory: Ensure that the residents aren't acting up. In an ideal world - which this is, because they're safe here, the Administrators have saved them and they should be grateful for it - just passing through to check on things should be enough.
But it's not, Sheba notes with a slight frown. Something is off here, and it's not her sewn-shut eyes, or the blood trailing its way down her face from the third eye embedded in her forehead. Those she dismisses without so much as a second thought. She doesn't need a second thought - god knows she's got enough of them! Would it kill these people to stop thinking so loudly? Maybe she should give them a lesson in keeping quiet.
Sometimes it's overwhelming, all these voices at once. But - well - it's useful. Any hint of discontent, any warning sign of bad behavior, and she can nip it in the bud. If there's anything she hates, it's when a wrench is thrown into something that should be working so well. Stubborn fools - why can't they just accept the fact that they're much better off here than they would be on their own worlds?
To those who know her, the look on her face appears uncharacteristically cold - though that's not so likely to be noticed right away. Perhaps it'll be the wings, or her eyes - all three of them. Or perhaps it's her collar, the one that looks pink when it should be - should be - violet.
Those who don't know her might mistake her for a monster, or they might not. But she's just there for their own benefit. Really, she thinks, It's for their own good. They'll be much happier once they realize there's no use fighting it.]
[Around the Tower - your choice! Indicate the specific floor in the subject line.]
[The winged girl is out and about in the Tower, checking in on places where the residents congregate and where the workers... well... work. Of course, that's not to say she won't be anywhere else - perhaps a particularly loud thought will catch her attention as she's passing from floor to floor. Perhaps she'll get called over for a conversation.
Or perhaps it will be something else entirely. Her own behavior is a little erratic - perhaps you've caught her in a bad place, or at a bad time? Or perhaps both.
Perhaps your time is up. Time will tell, now won't it?]
[Cafeteria workers gonna work]
Or... not. Because under that facade of expressionless worker unit?
Panic. Even after several hours in this state, Asch is besides himself and frantic, his thoughts a scattered mantra of helplessness - I can't move, who was that, let me go letmego - and pretty damn disoriented when it comes to the people around him, since he can't recognize any of them.
Maybe you'd better call him over and "comfort" him... You know, before there's even a chance that he might get some kind of ideas about misbehaving in his head.
Ha, as though he could.]no subject
What she can hear is something else entirely. She had been prepared to finish her round in the kitchens and head back into the cafeteria to check on the residents, but Asch's thoughts stop her in her tracks. She turns towards him.]
Asch.
[And then, mentally - Asch, come here.]
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At least when he was actively in pain - strapped down green lights can't hear the waves over my screams - he didn't have to think so much.]
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What ails you? She asks silently. There is, perhaps, a hint of concern - though whether that was because of her own consciousness buried deep somewhere beneath the brainwashing, or because he couldn't perform his duties properly if he was injured in some way, was anyone's guess. Asch, I need to know what's wrong. Why are you afraid?
We're safe here. Everything's fine.]
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Unsure recognition flickers in the back of his mind, but he has to think it out longways; the realization that while there might be other people who can read minds in the Tower, chances are none of the rest are going to try to comfort him by name. So although he manages to realize who it is that's taken a hold of his hand, even looking directly at her, her face is unnotable, dead replica's eyes and a grey jumpsuit and the faint vision of a different tower, its top open to the sky -
how can you say I'm safe when I can't move it's not fine not fine no - ]
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Why the panic? They're safe here, there's nothing in here that can hurt them as long as they all do what they must.
Ah, but this panic is keeping Asch from doing his job... She doesn't let go of his hand, though her expression is marginally more icy as she looks him over. Perhaps if he can work through this, he won't have to be brought in, but a worker who can't work simply shouldn't be taking up space, should it?
No stop don't think that--
The interruption is brief, momentary, and immediately brushed off as easily as one would brush off a gnat. Whatever is within her that protests against the thought of recycling this unit - because it's not death, just recycling, a quick trip down below and then he's all ready to work the way he should again - Sheba instead focuses on Asch's thoughts and the feelings she can glean from them. Recycling takes time, and everything will move much more smoothly without any delays.
Nothing will hurt you. The thoughts are firm and insistent. You are protected. Run free, and you could be hurt; stay here, and nothing will harm you. If we feel as though we're trapped, it's not true, and it's all for our own good. We've been saved from a terrible fate, but it's okay now. We're still alive.
You're safe and you're alive. That's what matters most, isn't it? The things you're remembering can't hurt you any longer. Just think, focus. You have a purpose here, as we all do, and when you fulfill it we're all safe because everything in here is as it should be. It's not like the chaos outside, Asch. You don't have to be afraid.
I'll protect you.
And if that means protecting him from himself - from the thoughts that might lead him astray, might lead him to step out of line - well, so be it.]
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because didn't Van just make him into a great little followerbut -if we're safe then WHY CAN'T I MOVE why can't I be myself
just give me that I'll cooperate just give me my body backwhy can't I recognize your face- there's too much wrong, too much wrong without any good reason, and the fact that Sheba is defending the admins is hardly the least of it weren't you the one who hated being kidnapped so much when you first got here and if it's between this as living he'd rather be dead -
It's hard to swallow being told that the past can't hurt you when you're reliving it at that very moment. In spite of all his panicking, his body doesn't respond, his wrist still limply in her hand - even his pulse and breathing haven't picked up in response to his internal torment.]
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Floor 25
[I'm going to get out of here. I'll drag Pitstain along. We'll leave this place. Not like I have much I want to do at home, but he's got Palutena to serve and I've gotta make sure he's not an idiot.]
[We'll get out of here soon. I'll make sure of it.]
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[The voice comes from the stairway. If Dark Pit turns to look, he'll see Sheba right by the railing, observing him with a raised eyebrow. It's not the first time she's seen someone roll around in the grass, it probably won't be the last - but his thoughts are a concern. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't shut them out.
Why was it so hard for these people to understand that as dangerous as the Tower could be, it was still the safest place for them? The more they tried to escape, the more monsters got in.
The dangers here were all because of their own mistakes. If they would behave, if they would just be thankful and happy...
Sheba is clutching her staff so tightly that her knuckles are white, but luckily for Dark Pit, she doesn't seem to be malfunctioning. Perhaps she simply heard his thoughts wrong. Yes, perhaps that was it.]
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[What the... ugh. Whatever. She's wrong. And it's not like I want to leave and go out to whatever's out there. I just want to go back to my world.]
Eh? I just want to get back to where I'm from.
[Not that I'm really from anywhere except his soul. Tch...]
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[She's responding to his thoughts, not his words - though they're similar enough that perhaps it's hard to tell.]
We were all saved from our worlds as they met their ruin. What could you possibly hope to return to? There's nothing, and the sooner you accept that the happier you'll be.
[Her voice is flat. Flatter, perhaps, than it normally would be, but it was ever so irritating when people refused to see the truth when it was right there in front of them. Why was everyone in such a hurry to leave, when their hosts had done so much for them? This sort of behavior...
Her grip on her staff shifts just the tiniest bit and she eyes Dark Pit warily.]
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Much as I think they're idiots, you can't kill the gods permanently. So there's things to go back to.
[Hades will come back, even if it takes years. Viridi is nature, so as long as there's nature she's there. And Palutena is light, so as long as there's light, she's there too.]
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Hades' realm is empty. The shades there had a flicker of life in them - that's gone now. They're all gone. There's nothing for him to rule, and even his existence is wiped. The Lord of the Dead was still alive, but what destroyed the worlds destroyed him too. It destroyed all living things.
Nature? Hah. Nothing can grow in the wastelands - nothing. Viridi isn't there now and she won't be again. Light... the dead world is illuminated by a dying sun. There is no return from that.
There's just nothingness. If you return your soul will wander, forever - until it fades away as well and there's nothing left of you.
[She shakes her head and holds up the hand that's not clutching her staff, palm up - almost as if she's pleading with him to just listen.]
This Tower is the only safe place left. The more we struggle, the harsher the Administrators will have to be - but they'e saved us. They've saved us! And as long as we all behave and don't try to escape and don't try to fight back, everything will be just fine.
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Dormitory Bathroom (no regrets)
[It might as well have been shouting, the thoughts coming out of that bathroom.
Sephiroth is on bathroom cleaning duty at this point in the week. However unlike dusting, feathers are not water resistant at all. His black feathers just run the water he's having to work with down to their roots, where it lingers goose-pimpling and wrinkling the fine skin underneath. It smells like what most of it is; dirty water and it's making Sephiroth cringe right down to the core of his soul.
In appearance, he's as blank and obedient as any other worker unit. Going about his task as dutifully as he can with a scrubbing brush that he can't get a very good grip on due to wing!arms. Floors are easiest as he can kneel down and press against the floor, but walls and any surface not horizontal take more than twice the effort - the brush will just fall out of slick feathers to the floor.]
Ehehehe this is going to be good. >w>
[Sheba is there, lingering in the doorway and observing Sephiroth's progress. And, truth be told - she's not impressed. Certainly, the wings are a hindrance. But she can't help but think that he could be trying harder to complete his tasks.
That's probably because of his thoughts - the ones that are relentlessly there, that she couldn't shut out even if she tried. They're so much louder than any of the other thoughts from this floor.]
Try that again. [There's a note of irritation in her voice, but other than that, it's entirely flat.] Without dropping the brush this time.
Yes! Sorry It's took me so long to figure where/how to set this!
All the while his thoughts do not quieten.
CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING! Not that he has much choice in the matter, mind!
Granted, he manages to not drop the brush before turning to his task again; programmed to ignore the burning agony in the small joints in his wings. But as soon as he puts any pressure on the brush against the tiled wall, it just flies out of his wet, feathery, tension-lacking grip and bounces to the floor further away this time. Automatically the drone turns to start the pick up process again.]
No worries! c:
Perhaps you would find it easier to do if you weren't entertaining thoughts of killing our masters once this is all over.
[The words are icy, and she follows the brush's progress as it flies out of his grip and bounces across the floor. When he turns, she's already on her way to it, crouched down with one hand over the brush. She meets his eyes.]
Can you honestly tell me that you're giving this your best effort? Don't lie to me. I'll know.
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So now they have access to my thoughts as well?
...Do I care actually? No.
...this crosses the line.
Where's the proof? Could be a lucky guess....
[Thoughts are a little poisonous vine of thorns flowing from him, though a little quieter now he suspects that . No one has ever been able to read his thoughts before, he keeps them locked within his own mind so tightly. Of course, he has no such control over himself now though, not that Sephiroth himself realizes this.
His body freezes in place as the hand blocks his feathered reach for the brush. Wet feathertips tickle across the back of Sheba's hand as he stopped the movement short of contact. Docile, though still lightly glowing green eyes meet those of the supervisory unit now questioning him. But of course his body is carrying out his task to the best of it's ability - only his mind is not in it because they hadn't managed to trap him so completely underheel. Unlike apparently this other resident, she has to be a resident like him after all - despite the bleeding eye on her face, they both have the same collar on.]
Yes. [Is the only, one word, flat response from the drone. He's not programmed to speak until instructed to and she had asked him a question, though that one word could be taken a million ways. The drone is trying very hard to complete it's task, it's visible enough in front wings; shaking slightly while stuck from being able to obtain his brush. Strained from the difficulty this task has exposed him to.]
Of course I am you IMBECILE, I've been here for HOURS already. Like there is very much CHOICE in the matter.
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[Her voice is cold, and she's not even bothering to hide the fact that there's no way she got that much out of a simple "yes."]
You always have a choice. [Except, not really.] You can choose to do the things you're meant to and to be of use to the people who have saved us, or you can choose to do them begrudgingly, always thinking of ways to have your revenge on the people who put you in that situation. In the second case, your work suffers.
I think it's clear to see which path you're taking. Now try it again... [She pulls her hand back from the brush and nods to it, not seeming to care about the strain the task has put on his wings.] ...without the selfish complaining this time.
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sorry for lateness OTL
all the backtagging forever!
yes, all of it!
Floor 81!
To put everyone through such suffering, only to bring back those that had died... it was like they couldn't make up their mind if they wanted to kill everybody or save them. And what possible purpose could something like this serve? Were they just playthings, a source of sick amusement for those in charge? Whatever the point of this was she had to focus, try and keep her calm. Do what she could to help those who hadn't been changed and if at all possible? Try and help those that had been, at least where that was even an option.
Throughout all this she wasn't dropping her guard though, even as she gazed out the window. Letting herself get completely lost in thought was foolish, and the entire time her left hand was resting on the hilt of her sword as if to remind her that she wasn't powerless. She wasn't helpless. And she was going to do everything she could to help.
Sure on the outside she appeared quiet and contemplative, if somewhat angry. But to someone who could read thoughts her discontent would be far more obvious.]
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No one understood why couldn't they just see that everything is fine and they don't need to resist it's maddening when all of their problems could be so easily avoided, so easily avoided if they would just behave themselves -
Everyone. Everyone she meets is misbehaving in some way, lying in some way, saying one thing when they mean another and she can hear it all and the weight of their lies is heavy on her, almost smothering, and she can't block any of them out, not a one -
And there's another one of them. Another! Standing right there, right in front of her, lying with her body which looks so calm even though her thoughts are full of venom and vitriol and all the things that make it so the Administrators have to deal out punishments... Sheba nearly cries, but she's not saddened by this, just angered. How dare she. How dare she stomp all over this safe haven the Administrators have created for them, and then turn around and blame the Administrators for all the dangers that these ungrateful, misbehaving children have brought upon themselves?
She raises her staff, points it at Amelia's back. Perhaps her reflection is visible in the window - or perhaps it will be something else that will alert the knight to her presence. The scent of ozone in the air, the subtle shifting of the wind, or the spark of lightning just before it strikes.]
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It's Sheba!
She's modified.
That's a staff pointing at her back.
magebehindyouincomingmagicdontthinkMOVE
Her brief moment of shock suddenly ends when her soldiers instincts force their way into the drivers seat, her next movement doesn't even cross her mind before she makes it. Abruptly she shifts her weight to the side and onto one leg before essentially kicking herself off the floor and sideways, twisting around in midair to get Sheba back into her field of vision. It's not the most graceful dodge she's ever made in her life, but her primary focus is simply getting away from where she was standing a second ago. Hopefully it's a quick enough movement to throw the Adept off, even if it'll only buy her a short moment.]
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Under different circumstances she might have cursed; this time she doesn't, just prepares for another assault and runs right at the knight, the wind at her back.
And it's not just the wind. Where she steps, tornadoes begin to take shape, growing larger and roaring louder with every inch closer to the other blonde that she gets; when they're large enough, when there's lightning crackling within the roaring winds, that's when they'll move.
Property damage? Who cares about that? Sheba sure doesn't. Furniture is easily fixed; the consequences of letting a potential traitor run rampant are not.]
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To say nothing of the fact that deep down, she does not want to do this. Even as she turns her next move over in her head for just a second she's rethinking if she even has to do this. But there's no time and if she doesn't do something fast she's going to be the one getting killed, and who else might Sheba hurt in the meantime?
This little mental struggle continues even as she starts to move again, bolting straight out of her crouch and into an all out sprint straight towards Sheba. Closing the gap will only take a few seconds but she's still not going to risk a truly head-on assault. The trick back home was to be unpredictable, magic still usually has to be aimed. Although if those tornados start moving her plan is going to go out the window real fast.
Just as the distance is about to close between them she suddenly aborts her dash, taking a short hop to one side before suddenly bolting for the other. She's assuming Sheba still needs to make some attempt to aim those tornados once they move and the idea is that with that fake out, she'll aim them in the wrong direction and leave just enough of an opening for her to slip in.
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Still, the knight is fast, and Sheba's attention is mostly focused on guiding her magic. It's all she can do to put her staff up defensively and dig her heels into the ground in the hopes of catching Amelia's attack. She certainly won't be able to deflect it - her physical strength isn't quite enough for that - but if she can slow it down, that might give enough time for the tornadoes to converge on them both.
The Adept is less concerned at the injuries her own magic will give her; wind is, after all, her element. She's sure she can take it. But if Amelia's strikes are as fast as her footwork, even the tornadoes won't reach them in time, and no amount of defensive maneuvers will be enough to see Sheba through this unscathed. Hand-to-hand combat is certainly not her forte.]
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