towerofanimus | A terrible thought has moved into my mind--

Entry tags:

A terrible thought has moved into my mind--

Characters: One brainwashed Princess of Hyrule and you!
Setting: Pick your poison
Format: Starting in prose since she... can't really talk, but I'll match you
Summary: Zelda's been turned into an advanced worker unit with a penchant for "mercy kills" when malfunctioning. This is certain to go over well with everyone involved.
Warnings: Character injury and death is very likely when she malfunctions! Please tell me what kind of damage you're okay with! Also minor mentions of blood and gore.

Functioning

On the surface, Zelda seems to have gotten off easy. Her tiara has been grafted to her forehead, and a bloody triangle constantly seeps through her clothes on her back, but neither appear to cause her much pain. She works dutifully - changing sheets or reorganizing books or administering the most basic of first aid in the infirmary, and on occasion disappearing into the administrator levels to process bodies and souls through that giant machine - and she does it all literally without complaint.

But still waters run deep, as they say.

Under the obedient, expressionless surface, a fierce battle wages in her mind. The fires of her pride and determination strike desperately against the cool, sedating voices that tell her everything is fine. In the background of the fight, visions of the bloody, gruesome deaths of those around her plague her mind, her powers of precognition warped into something Wisdom never intended. She screams against the voices, the visions, demanding them to stop, to let her go, but, of course, they are unrelenting. The struggle for even a few short moments of clarity is exhausting, and she was already so tired before all this...

Sometimes she loses the battle, and retreats back into the deepest recesses of her mind where a heavenly voice sings a sweet lullaby to her, assuring her everything is fine.

Malfunctioning; initially non-violent

It's terribly difficult to keep track of things when one is constantly fighting for awareness of one's own actions. Even more so when there are long stretches of time when things simply... go dark. If you're fortunate to encounter the body of the Princess while her mind is well and truly gone, she might be simply staring at a wall, or at you while you sleep. Perhaps you find her after she has finished her work down in processing, and is covered in blood and entrails after tearing apart a body or two and keeping their hearts.

Malfunctioning; violent

If you're particularly unlucky, however, you might find her when she's found some twisted form of reason in the darkness. The macabre future keeps presenting itself to her - all death and blood and screams - and what has she done if not fight to prevent such things from happening? Yes, she can stop it... she will spare those around her from their horrid destinies...

Whether they want her to or not.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The worker (Princess, some small, faraway voice asserts) blinks as she's whirled around so suddenly, disoriented as she's pulled out of her malfunction-induced daze by her superior's voice. It takes her a few moments to respond - she has to 'restart,' so to speak, and then in turn search for the answer to what she's been asked - but when she does, her voice is quiet and hoarse with disuse.]

Processing.

[His mouth thins, eyes narrowing. Girl, you are not where you are supposed to be~

He lets his grip go, drawing himself up to his full height.]

This is not the processing floor. Explain what you are doing here.

I was. . .

[She trails off, though not because she's hesitating in telling him the reason she's here. Rather, she simply can't remember. Her brow furrows slightly, confusion evident in her normally blank expression as she tries to summon the memory. It's difficult, though, given half the time her programming has to fight against her own thoughts, and when it's not doing that, everything is just... dark.

Hm.]

I was assisting in cleaning the library. And then. . .

[... She's got nothing. Silly drone.]

[He lets out a frustrated sound, but his shoulders square and he steps back.]

Return to your work. I will be accompanying you until then. Do not deter from your task this time.

[Without an order to respond verbally, Zelda falls back into silence. Only on the outside, of course, as with functionality comes the internal battle for awareness, the exhausting struggle against the brainwashing.

Do not-- Do not be so obedient! You are a princess, for Din's sake!

But there's no evidence of her mental fight to rebel, and she immediately starts for the stairs.]

[Guy follows immediately behind her, wordless as she works her way towards the elevator leading to the processing room. The voice to fight in his head never existed. This was his duty, and he would stick to it. He would make sure the others stayed obedient, compliant, hard at work to keep the Tower functioning.

There was no other.

There was

no

...

...other?]

[As they reach and enter the elevator, there's a strange twist of Guy's features, as though he's fighting off an intense headache, a hand moving as though he were about to hold his head... and yet it stops halfway there, his expression evening back out.

Although this time, there's a bit more light in his eyes... and confusion flickering across his expression at his location.

Where...

He takes a glance at the person next to him (Zelda... oh god, no, was he going to...), but stays silent. They were heading somewhere for a reason. He doesn't remember what or why.

But he does know what he's going to do when they get there.]

[Perhaps if she were more aware of her surroundings and actions, and not constantly waging war inside her own mind, she would be able to appreciate the irony of the situation. Barely more than a month and a half has passed since the first time she made this trip at the blessing and ultimately the sacrifice of Dax - the first time they realized just what happened when they 'died' within the Tower walls - and at the time, she had been overwhelmed and horrified at what she had seen.

But now, so much of her believes this is only natural that she doesn't even blink when the elevator doors open to reveal the massive processing complex (not that she blinks much anyway as things are, but the point still stands), nor does she hesitate in stepping off the elevator, entering the room of machinery. Now, it's not Dax, but Jason who calls her here to fulfill her duties like a good worker unit should.

So, alas, the irony is lost on her, but no matter. She's been ordered to do her job, and the first step is to retrieve a corpse to put through the machine.]

[And in the opposite corner, now with a little more of his mind, Guy's steps are hesitant from the elevator, taking in the surroundings with wide eyes and paling skin.

So this... this is what happened to them when they...

He slowly moves along the row of corpses, simply following Zelda and observing what she does. Was... she doing this because she expected him to do it as well? No... no, she would have said something.

Did he give the order?

He doesn't remember, but the idea tosses around in his head as he watches Zelda drag a corpse up to the enormous machine. When she turned back to get another corpse. Then. Then, is when he would try.]

[He might be waiting for a while. What athleticism the Princess has built up has been directed towards agility and endurance, not pure strength, and dragging a literal dead weight from one place to another is not a particularly easy task. Still, she does it without complaint, not even so much as wiping away the coagulated blood that gets smeared on her dress.

Eventually, she hefts the body onto a conveyor belt, which takes it up to the bubble that fills with violet liquid and extracts the shining sphere that can only be assumed to be the soul. She doesn't watch it go, of course, instead heading back down the stairs towards the broken bodies to begin her task anew.

Guy's continued presence isn't noted, either. He did say he would be watching her as she attended to her duties.]

[He waits until she's almost completely descended the stairs before he finally pipes up, trying his best to keep the hesitancy out of his words. He needed to sound convincing.]

Stop. Just for the moment. There is something I need to ask you. Specific information.

Do you understand?

[As per her superior's orders, she stops, stock still.

And nods.]

Come with me.

[He ducks back behind the other end of the pile of corpses, a darker section of the room, musty and damp and rank of the smell of rotting flesh. He stops, turning back towards her.]

I will ask you specific questions. You are required to answer them. Will you be able to give me answers on your own?

[She follows dutifully, and somewhere faraway, the exhausted, struggling part of her consciousness wonders what's going on. She's meant to be obedient, silent, working without question, but...

She can't think too hard on it before grasping for awareness becomes too difficult. Damn. For what it's worth, her drone half seems a bit confused as well, blinking at the orders uncertainly. If she is required to answer his questions, what does it matter if she can do it on her own?

Still, she cannot deny him, and again, she nods.]

[He nods in return. Time to make this quick and, hopefully, painless.]

We won't be here for long. There are only five things I require of you.

The first is a question: Do you know of Dax's resistance happening among the residents?

[Yes! Yes, I do!

You know, it's probably a really good thing her actions are so reserved like this, because on the inside she is practically jumping with joy at that simple question. It's not an order, it's a recognition of rebellion, and oh, Guy, if only you knew the right questions to ask!

But on the outside, she only nods once more.]

[He manages a wisp of a smile. Alright, that's a start.]

Tell me: are you part of that resistance, then? And what do you do?

[She nods at his first question, and her answer to the second is so completely at odds with the cool, clinical tone she is forced to speak with.]

I am among those leading the resistance.

[W e l p.]

[His smile broadens, if not a little ruefully. How... ironic.]

I wish to contact them, Your Highness, and I know you are not in the best of states right now. I apologize.

Besides yourself, how many others are a part of this resistance? Give me their names, if you can.

[The irony is cruel and thick, but she doesn't care. For the briefest of moments, her body and mind are working in tandem, and that illusion of control is such a relief.]

Enoch. Tohko Amano. Lucifel. Solas Greine. Naoya. Ruler. Arturia, also known as Saber of White. Arthur Kirkland, also known as England.

[There are others who know of the resistance, but since they have not taken an active part in it, she does not mention them.]

[He makes a mental note of each of the names, none of which he recognizes. But he could easily change that.]

What places do you commonly meet?

And what is the easiest way to contact them?

Floor 77; the sauna.

[Oh, she wishes she could say why, but he didn't ask.]

Use the mailroom.

[He gives a nod of acknowledgement, his head tilting with slight curiosity.]

Why do they meet in the sauna, Your Highness?

The administrators cannot see or hear them there.

[The blessings of some form of privacy.]

I see.

[He dips his head down, silent for a long moment as though he were thinking hard over something.]

...I do not know what you are able to hear, Zelda. But know that some of us kept our minds. We are fighting back.

A terrible thought has moved into my mind--

YYYYYYYYY owo

I laughed so hard, omg. Okay. :D

#animus muns :'D

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