Guy Cecil ☼ [Gᴀɪʟᴀʀᴅɪᴀ•Gᴀʟᴀɴ•Gᴀʀᴅɪᴏs] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
relinquishing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-15 10:45 am
relinquishing) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-15 10:45 am
There was a little boy//Who was a little toy//Chip in the middle of his forehead
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Characters: Guy Cecil and you
Setting: Alllllll over the place the whole week. Pick a mode, pick a floor, pick a date for this week, and pick whether you wish to die or not, basically!
Format: Action preferred, but I'll follow.
Summary: Sometimes Guy tries to patrol and do as he's been told. Sometimes he regains his clarity with a frightful realization. And sometimes snapping out of it just makes things so much worse
Warnings: Brainwashing, a bit of body horror, mental trauma, panic, and bloody bludgeoning with chains. A note: Guy's modifications can and WILL make him kill women, especially if you catch him while he's sane for too long.
DORMITORIES
[It was fine.
That was all he could think at times. All he was allowed to think. Everything was fine. The halls were to be patrolled. Messes were to be cleaned up. Those not compliant were to be dealt with harshly, whether citizen or drone. If one were to approach him, he could respond. But he would sound more like the general of an army than the Guy people might know. Those drones that have started to zone out, stand in corners or stalk citizens may be approached by the blonde.
The chains that burdened him - or, rather, SHOULD be burdening him - wrap around his torso and limbs, pulling painfully at his skin with their weight. The links of the chain are twisted with the bloody, mangled remains of a dozen or so women, all shoved into their links like a sadistic trophy collection. If he were even in his right mind, he would recognize this. But for now? His stride doesn't cease, movements slow but firm. He's simply doing his duty.
Everything is fine.]
SANITY - Dormitories, The Staircases, The Meadow, The Morgue, or take your pick
[And yet... there were times where things were definitely... not fine?
He'd shake his head, feeling as if he'd just woken up from a bad dream, wearily looking around... noticing the pull of the chain on his body, seeing the corpses, and panicking.
He might keep his mind long enough to find a familiar face - ANY familiar face - wandering the levels with wide and fearful eyes. He might simply seek a place of solitude to try and get his head back together - come on, come on, KEEP it together... or he might be searching for a way to remove the bodies and chains from his body, stepping into the morgue and wearily glancing through the tools...
Or he might just come up to anyone he can find, a painful plea in his eyes.]
Please... please, you have to help me...!
[One would just hope he doesn't zone out and suddenly ignore them... or worse.]
PANIC - ROOM 5-02, The Staircases, The Cathedral, The Poppy Field, The Lagoon, The Crystal Room, or take your pick
[And sometimes, it's just simply too much. He's SURROUNDED by women, DEAD women, blood and bone and muscle and the sound of metal against metal and he's trapped and he can't escape and no no no NO NO NO I'M SCARED...
It's the tricky thing about having a fear, especially one you don't understand. After a point, it controls you. And at times, it does so with Guy. He's drawn to corners, the edges of the stairs, the far wall of the cathedral, curled up on himself with chains as a blanket, sometimes silently shaking and sometimes...
Screaming.
Screaming and screaming and screaming, like a child being attacked by a monster, until his voice goes raw, not caring if the sound echoes through the building, not caring if the sound goes silent. Fingers digging into his scalp and forcing every last ounce of energy on a silent scream... sometimes, it's all he can manage to do.
He can't escape he can't escape he can't--
Someone could reach a hand out to help the poor man, or simply get him back on his feet and tell him to keep to his work. He may not be able to respond... or the response you may get is a heavy chain to the face, like a trapped animal lashing out.
He wasn't fine... oh Score he wasn't fine--]
((OOC NOTES:
- If you are in Groups C and D, Guy can and will command you to do various things.
- Guy is most prone to hunting down women when he is sane/panicking. Again, if your character does or does not wish to be killed, please note so in the subject line.))
i always mind
Okay cool cause she's prolly gonna die if that's ok :3c
P-p-please, don't... g-get away from me....
[A wrist shakily wanders to grasp at one of his chains, idly wrapping it around his fingers. Why wouldn't she listen, why wouldn't she leave....]
perfect
But she can't even change her expression. Her face stays blank.]
no subject
[It's all he can mumble, curling up a bit more only to have two of the corpses slide down the stairs near his lap. He barely manages a scream before something in his mind instantly goes blank - an overload of fear that turns into something...
Carnal.
Now he looks at the chains. The poor chains, one already severed... They were so empty. There were not enough.
Clouded eyes glance at the retreating girl. Yes. Yes, she would fit perfectly, with such a thin figure.
Without a word, the man rises, chains clanking together as he starts to ascend the stairs, a hand still wrapped with metal while the other holds fast against the hilt of his sword.]
no subject
Turn around, turn around damn it Maka turn around!]
no subject
Don't move.
[It's then that his arm moves up to bash her skull between his fist of metal and the stairwell railing, quickly followed by a rapier straight through her gut, a twist and a bit of a slash before withdrawing.
The man's expression doesn't budge.]
no subject
She can't even scream.
There is a bright, burning stab of pain. A sword through her torso.
She can't even look down to see what kind of blade it is.
Maka falls, crumpling. She cannot move, she cannot fight back, she is completely trapped and she wants to wake up. She needs to wake up. This can't be real. This can't be real at all. She is Maka Albarn, scythemeister, Kishin-slayer, and she cannot die like this.
But, of course, she does. Slowly, painfully, head muddled and body screaming in pain, face blank and limbs unmoving, Maka Albarn dies.]
no subject
What a wonderful trophy.
He manages a wisp of a smile before letting the chain fall to the ground, slowly trudging up the stairs towards the dormitories. There was work to be done.]