Sheba | Child of the Gods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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?]
no subject
[She's going to attack, I'm going to have to take her on... ugh. Killing monsters is one thing. Killing people is another.]
I can take care of myself!
no subject
[She recognizes the shape his weapon is taking, and not even a moment passes before the wind intensifies with a roar. Projectile weapons? Yes, they're good for fighting from a distance - but she's hoping she can turn the projectiles off-course.
Tornadoes form at her right and at her left, each one sparking with electricity somewhere in its center. Her gaze is cold, but she keeps her eyes on Dark Pit; with a flick of her wrist, she directs the tornadoes to rush at him. With any lucky, he'll be able to dodge.]
no subject
[Maybe those things would stop normal shots, but not these kinds of shots.]
[Score one for arrows made of energy, not physical material.]
no subject
[She smirks. One of the benefits of mind-reading was that if she tried something and it didn't work and her opponent gloated about it, she had enough time to readjust; in this case, readjusting means raising her staff and then vanishing into a haze of vapors.
She doesn't seem to even be there anymore, but Dark Pit will definitely feel as though someone is watching him from somewhere. For now, there's nothing else - except for perhaps a very faint giggling if he listens closely.]
no subject
[Try to dodge this!]
no subject
Another hit like that - maybe two, if she's lucky - and she'll be down for the count. But ultimately that's not what matters. If her own body is broken, so what? She has to try and take Dark Pit down along with her. For the Administrators, for the good of the Tower...
A moment passes, and an orb of light emerges from her chest and circles around her, leaving a trail of purplish sparks in its wake. Her wound is not healed, but now it's numbed. She can't feel it - so she can keep going, and shakily, she gets to her feet. Not even an instant passes before she raises her staff to cast Spark Plasma - but this is less controlled. There's very little rhyme or reason to where the bolts will strike.]
no subject
[In return, his bow glows briefly red, and the next few shots he fires have trails of flame. Burn effect is a pain in the ass, especially since it does more damage than poison. He knows firsthand, unfortunately.]
no subject
The effort is not successful. One strikes her just under her collarbone, close to her heart - the other strikes one of her wings as she tries to turn away.] Argh! [The feathers of her wings and the fabric of her clothing are both flammable, and the flames licking against her skin makes her wince. She has to bite down hard on her lip to keep from crying out again.
If he wants to fight with arrows, it's arrows he's going to get. With two Djinn used, she has enough on standby to summon Atalanta. Her grip on her staff is tenuous at best, but she still manages to raise it and call out -]
Atalanta, come to me!
[And come she does. Unfortunately for Sheba, she slumps forward soon after, her energy spent.]
no subject
[He races forward, but pauses when he sees her slumped forward. ... He doesn't want to kill her. He doesn't want to kill a person. She's a threat, but would it even do anything?]
[... He reaches out to pick her up, to try to dump her on one of the power nullification floors or something.]
no subject
Because even when the bleeding eye on her forehead slowly cracks open, she still doesn't have the strength to move her arms or her legs, the burns are excruciating, and the numbing from unleashing Breath is beginning to wear off. It's making it very hard to focus on channeling her Psynergy into any form of an attack.
He's safe from another attack from her - for the moment. And depending on the floor he chooses, the others in the Tower may be safe from any attacks or invasions into their thoughts for the day; if she can't move and she's already injured, she won't be able to put up much resistance to any monsters that end up being attracted to the blood.]
no subject