ITP: 'Tis only a flesh wound

[no_longer_a_king]

Characters: Saber Lily; open
Setting: All throughout the tower.
Format: Prose. Will follow what you reply with.
Summary: Arturia is in D Group and being made to do things while screaming in her head the entire time. It's almost like being a Counter Guardian again.
Warnings: Brainwashing, violence character death, and so on.
Note: If you want your character to die please let me know in the subject header of your first comment.


[A: Various ]
Her body ached. Arturia had dealt with worse pain in her life: broken bones, stabbings, near disembowelment, the very surreal experience of Excalibur being stabbed through her own gut, the general exhaustion after a long war. This was different. This was her very skin being tugged on, pulled at, as if it were several sizes too small.

Which was true. She had armor grafted to her skin, black as Lancelot's had been in the war, and a sword sheathed at her side that was not Caliburn. The sensation was like her skin should rip itself off at any moment, but simply did not have the space to thanks to the armor holding it together. Painful, yes, but not the worst pain she had experienced. That part she could deal with. It was the fact she could not control her body at all that unsettled her.

Despite whatever Jason had done to her to make her body walk these halls her mind was still hers. For that she was grateful. At least she could still think, much as she despised the current situation. This hit too close to home, too close to those memories of screaming and ohgodmakeitstop in the back of her mind. If she'd been able to, she would have screamed when the first thing she'd done upon awakening had been to throw the piece of the Round Table she'd been given into the incinerator. Her one reminder, her one clue that she still existed somehow in her world was gone now. Was this why it'd been given to her in the first place? If so, then damn Jason. Damn him to hell.

What would be a true test would be if she came across someone else. If she were made to attack them, if she were once again little more than a killing machine with no will of her own, then this would truly be hell. Hopefully she could hold herself back long enough to keep from hurting anyone.

Spoilers: she won't

[B: Dormitories]
When she next came to, she was at the foot of someone's bed. Arturia started at the realization but found she could not move her feet. It was troubling, bringing up far too many memories of her time before the Tower, but at least she was not being forced to attack. At least she was not being forced to do anything she did not want to do.

Watching over someone at their bedside while they slept was fine. She found she could make tiny shifts in her stance to try to relieve the constant tug and pull of the metal grafted to her. It wasn't much, but at least she had some form of freedom. That might change when the person awoke, but for now she enjoyed the small reprieve she had from what had been done to her.

[Addendum: 4/21/2013. Event fallout to avoid spamming the main comm.]

[C: Dorm Hall, by the terminal]
For once, Arturia wanted to simply sleep, to lay still after being forced to move for so long against her will. Her body ached from the surgery, phantoms of pain lacing through her skin from where it had pulled. She never thought she would feel grateful for the lightness of the dress she'd been forced to wear, but after having that armor grafted to her skin.

But she at least had to check on the state of the Tower after so much chaos. The best way to do that was the Network. So Arturia heaved herself out of bed, did not bother to put on her shoes or do more to her hair than run a comb through it, and headed into the hall. The terminals were located at the end of the hallway. It wouldn't hurt to check.

....naturally, it turned out there was yet more sinister things going on with Jason's experiment. Arturia sighed wearily, her mind tired. Of course nothing would be that easy. Once she had a chance she would need to ask the others if the information they found down below had been compromised. No sense letting the resistance be discovered. She conversed with a few people for a moment, not quite wanting to move yet and enjoying her freedom yet again. When she finished she turned around to find someone a few feet away from her.

"I'm sorry. Do you wish to use the terminal?" Arturia really did enjoy being able to talk again, even if she sounded as weary as she felt.

[D: Dorm 3-17]

And then she spent the day languishing in bed, for once simply wishing to rest. She could check up on the others tomorrow, after she didn't feel ready to fall over. The only time she got up was when someone inevitably knocked on her door and she forced herself up to get it.

"Yes?"

[E: Various; Shortest prompts ever.]

And now that she had had her moment of rest, she dressed properly, put her hair in its now-customary tail, and began to walk the Tower to ensure those she cared about were safe.

Comments

dorm

[yougotthatwrong]

[...why does he get the feeling that someone is staring at him again...?

Naegi shifted within his sleep, having just closed his eyes moments ago, at least, that's how it felt to him when he blearily opened his eyes and then noticed someone staring straight at him.

This time? A loud scream could be heard as he immediately moved towards the other edge of his bed.]

[no_longer_a_king]

[Luckily for him, she stays perfectly still where she is, only watching him. If she could move, if she could she would step back from the bed when he screams but she can't, unfortunately.]

[yougotthatwrong]

[It took him a while of waiting to even calm down, despite the fact that the 'worker' unit is not leaving him alone like that other blonde lady earlier on, and it took him a few more seconds of awkward second before he really noticed the person staring in front of him.]

Wart-san...?

Pick a floor!

[scorchedchivalry]

[When Saber had come out of the paralysis from when she'd recovered from Satsujinki killing her - in one single attack, nonetheless - she'd sat at the foot of her bed for a long moment. She'd then spent some time looking at the items in her trunk - those remnants from her days as king. People had been missing. People she cared about.

And there had been nothing she could do to save them. That left her one course. If their minds were not their own and what they had been turned into was an abomination and she -knew- they would rather die than live like that...

...she would grant them that release.

Armor forming about her, Excalibur in hand (though concealed by the Invisible Wind), she set out of her room. She didn't know where they had all gone to... but in time she would find them.

Imagine her surprise after a while of traveling through the Tower to turn the corner and come face to face with a familiar face - her own - clad in black armor. It was enough to make her blink and furrow her brow trying to figure out what was going on.]

Meadow, because the visual is funny to me.

[no_longer_a_king]

[For a moment, she's pleased to see her other self. Perhaps she could get her to take her someplace isolated, someplace where she can't hurt anyone. If only she could speak!

Then her feet start to move, a heat burning through her that had nothing to do with how her skin felt like it was about to be torn off, her hand moving to the sword sheathed at her waist.

No. No. Nononono. Not Saber. Not this. Her hand freezes briefly as she tries to stop herself, her movement jerky as she unsheathes the sword. It's more than she ever managed as a Counter Guardian, but somehow that makes it worse, makes her scream harder in her own head to stopstopstop. Maybe if she tries hard enough she really can stop!

The sword she wields is not Caliburn--she cannot call it while like this. Yet still she rushes the other woman, aiming to take off Saber's head despite constantly willing herself to stop.

There's a small comfort, however, in very well knowing Saber is stronger than she and that the one most likely to fall is herself.]

[scorchedchivalry]

...

[That was... that was-- Her eyes. Her eyes were green. That meant this was...]

Wart...?

[Yes, her other self had been among those missing, but she never thought Jason would've taken her and forged her into something reminiscent of the fallen King of Knights, the tainted black knight that Saber had become. Was this meant to mock her on top of torturing her other self?

What must Arturia feel being--]

That is not wise. Cease now.

[Spoken as the hand moved to the sword. And it seemed to hesitate, as if Arturia could hear her words. It was just coincidental timing, but Saber didn't know that. It meant she wouldn't immediately cut her other self down.

As she was attacked, she noted the sword in hand was not Caliburn and Instinct had her predicting the angle of attack. She stepped forward to meet the sweeping strike aimed at her neck and brought her armored hand up to catch the blade in mid-swing with her off hand.

This was not a legendary weapon. It was a common sword. She doubted it would even scratch her armor. So, she kept Excalibur down at her side and held Arturia's eyes with her own.]

Stand down.

Hallway (any). Death becomes Lancelot.

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[His thoughts are not with his steps. They are with deeds done by himself and others-- and with his Master, whom he seeks now.

Two more have died at his hand, and for naught. He could give neither Shinji more Cu Chulainn the release of Death. They returned as Wronged as he had dispatched them. Thwarted by the Will of the Tower, he had failed them.

What is Berserker-- what is Sir Lancelot now, if not a killing tool? Not even this one skill can he put to proper use.

Not of a Mind to travel as a Black Mist, he moves now as himself-- burdened with his strange thoughts and tasks, armored yet un-helmed, his sword undrawn.]

This may be the shortest thread ever.

[no_longer_a_king]

[Every armor has its weaknesses, though the armor Lancelot wore was finely made. No matter how skilled the design or the blacksmith, there were always weak points. These were usually in the joints, where metal met metal and was never completely welded together to allow the wearer as much movement as possible. This was why the plates were made to overlap, and why chainmail was often worn under the armor for extra protection.

Once upon a time, Arturia had considered Lancelot her closest friend. She still would, if not for how many things were still unsaid between the two of them, the misunderstandings and conflicts. Subjects neither of them could broach. Things neither of them could forgive themselves for. In her right mind, she would not dream of using her blade against Lancelot.

But she is not in her right mind and she knows very well where the weak points in Lancelot's armor are.

It happens in an instant when he passes her by. She is not there, malfunctioning but still conscious. Even worse, a Knight of the Round Table passed her by, completely lost in thought.

It was the worst possible moment to come back to herself while in the middle of driving her sword through Lancelot's back. Arturia would scream if she could speak at all. Was having to kill him once before not enough?]

Media Room deja-vu

[isthatashortjoke]

"Looks like you fell victim to our tormentors Saber..." came the shrill voice of the Tiny Master of Evil. Soon enough, he made his way out of the shadows, his glowing, fiery eyes and maw being the first signs that he was there.

"Of course, this is the kind of thing I was telling you about when we met here last. I, kind of expected a better outcome from you though. Even if this won't last forever as per the usual experiments... Well, for your benefit I do hope it's not permanent."

Deja vu of the best kind.

[no_longer_a_king]

If she could she would glare at the wizard, but her body was busy reorganizing the video games alphabetically and by rating. M-rated went on the top shelf, E on the bottom. Anything labeled AO would have to go into the incinerator for.... some reason. It was hard to know why when she'd never played one.

B

[culbutiri]

Nesir was patrolling, occasionally barking orders, sometimes trailing poison, blank faced and empty eyed.

Everything was fine, as long as everything was in place, everyone did their part, nothing was allowed to disrupt the running of the tower.

She saw the worker at the foot of a bed and stepped into the room.

"You do no be permitted to be being in here."

[no_longer_a_king]

Arturia turned when she heard the voice, the order so sudden she did not even question it as she turned to find Nesir standing there. Something in her mind screamed that this was a person to be obeyed, that she should do exactly as Nesir told her to do.

Judging by the knives on her hands, Arturia wasn't sure if she wanted to listen to Nesir, but hopefully she was not as constrained as Arturia. Hopefully she would not be forced to kill anyone she did not want to.

floor 99, caverns

[ghostytrainer]

[John was coming to like this floor...there was just something about it that was oddly relaxing. Maybe it was all the crystals. And with the way things were going this week, it had the added benefit of being a pretty good hideout. Big enough and filled with enough twists and turns to make a getaway if need be, but not so much so that he'd get lost.]

[For once, he's not accompanied by any of his Pokémon. They all attract too much attention, and John would really rather not fight any of his friends when it came right down to it. He still has his hammer with him though, despite this. If nothing else, he figures its time powers will give him an advantage in running away if his friends can't be reasoned with.]

[The only downside to both this floor and being alone is that it means John has no idea what's around each and every corner. And, as luck would have it, that last turn he just took? Put him face to face with somebody all too familiar.]

[He stops dead in his tracks, eyes going wide as he mutters to himself:]

Not you too...

[no_longer_a_king]

["Sorry," she wishes she could say, shoulders slightly slumped despite the brainwashing making her stand so straight and knightly her back aches. She's tired, so very tired of this torment. Will it ever end or is she stuck unable to speak, unable to control her body, her mind constantly screaming once more? Will that oh-so-brief taste of freedom be forever gone from her grasp?

Arturia turns to John with the little will she can exert, but does nothing else beyond looking him over. It's good to see him relatively well. It means the workers she'd seen attacking people had not gotten to him. If this were any other time, if she were in any other state, she would be proud of him.]

Floor 71

[facedthetruth]

*He always hates travelling through the Tower on foot. Some of the floors are annoying, some are dangerous in ways he can't fight, and some are just disgusting. This happens to be one of that last category. But seeing as he isn't feeling particularly inclined to stand still for long periods of time right now, the elevator isn't a wonderful option either. So here he is, walking through the fleshy cavern as he takes a break from the monotony of the stairs before it drives him mad. But while he might seem to be minding his own business, it doesn't necessarily mean he's unaware.*

[no_longer_a_king]

*Certainly not unaware of the petite person clad in black armor following him wordlessly*

E - floor 100

[scorchedchivalry]

[Whether Arturia knew this was the floor to find Saber when she wasn't anywhere else or simply by dumb luck, the moment she stepped into it, she would find herself on the shoreline of Avalon. A short walk down the holographic shoreline, she would find Saber standing in the 'surf' looking down the length of the isle.

Having been there a while, the floor reflected Saber's desires, though Arturia may be the only one present in the Tower to be able to identify the location. Or why it appeared for the one it had.]

[no_longer_a_king]

[Because it was a place Arturia herself had seen before, a place she was certain would have appeared for her had she been the first to enter, a place her heart yearned to see even if she knew and accepted it was impossible.

Arturia had not gone looking for Saber specifically, but she knew they would run into one another eventually. It just happened to be on this floor and Arturia knew the instant she walked in where they were and that it was just an illusion.

She came up beside Saber, looking out across the water for a few moments before she spoke in a very tired voice:]

....I never thought I'd see this place again. Thank you.

E.... ish. Dorm floors probably yes.

[semantating]

[ Oh my you are such an interesting person don't mind this guy in his floppy-too-big coat and with his cane approaching you. ]

Ah, I see the confused masses are quite back to normal! You seem to be worried. Do you think he did not put you all back together properly?

[ So many people had been affected in such an... ah, interesting way (not the best way to put it, but...), though he wondered if there was any sort of connection between them. ]

[no_longer_a_king]

I believe I was put back together well enough, sir.

[ She gives him a hard look. Why does he seem so excited by the idea of her not being put back together the right way? ]

C

[adorably_evilish]

When Arturia turned around, she'd meet with some familiar glowing eyes studying her. The look was oddly a mix of harshness and relief and it belonged to the Tower's Tiny Master of Evil himself, one who stood silently for a few moments before speaking.

"I see the experiment ended."

[no_longer_a_king]

"Yes, it did," Arturia confirmed, as she turned from the terminal, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. If she had known she would have run into Veigar she would have put her hair up, straightened out her clothing more, and bothered to put on her boots. He had stung at her pride twice before and for the third time he caught her in a state she did not want one such as him to see her in.

A minor thing, but no matter. She would act as if him finding her like this did not phase her.

"Forgive me. The last I remember of our meeting is you demanding I turn from the shelf. I did not hurt you, did I?"

She could not remember the full extent of his power, though the fact he was a mage at all told her he was very dangerous indeed.

LATER!

[no_longer_a_king]

Knock knock knock on Veigar's door.

Someone wants to see Chompimus. :3

E: Yet another Hallway.

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[His Second Death (in memory) had been far different from his original passing. This one had been swifter-- and Arthur had been there. Even if in a distorted form. Even if she had spoken no word of blame or blessing, she had been above him.

He imagines it had been a horrible thing for her, to be be so used. Not a fitting role for a King, a roving executioner-- not even for a King who has abdicated her Throne. It had been an odd thing for him, to feel his life slip so softly away.
He does not care what the Administrators did with his body-- even that body was only a memory made flesh.

Lancelot has recovered for the most part. Exhaustion was a novel sensation, and has been harder for him to shake than he had expected. Still, he forces himself to move throughout the Tower, to Serve his Master.
He is moving now, wearing only his suit, Arondight undrawn. He has used her enough of late, and he will not go about as if under siege.

At the end of the Hallway, a familiar back.
Lancelot smiles very faintly, and only to himself. This time, the advantage is his.]

Arthur.

[no_longer_a_king]

[It had been a horrible thing for her. During that time she had been perfectly aware of what she had been doing. The initial act, no, but she had come to the moment the strike became lethal and she could not stop it. It was like being a Counter Guardian all over again, only worse. When she'd been a Counter Guardian she had been completely without control with no breaks.

When she'd been brainwashed, she had moments where it felt as if she could stop herself if she tried hard enough, moments where she blacked out and would come to with no idea how she got there. At least when she'd been a Guardian she could keep track of herself. Any blackouts she had signaled the end of her duty and coming out was the start, even if she could not control her body.

And now she turns at the call of that name and sees Lancelot in a suit, no armor or weapons, the same as she is in the outfit her other self had loaned her, no weapons in hand. She's still exhausted from all that had happened to her, mentally and physically, but she had allowed herself her day of rest. She could allow herself no more and had to see how those she looked after were doing.

That included Lancelot, her former knight, her former friend. She had no idea where they stood now, beyond her hoping he did not hate her for what she had done to her Kingdom.]

Hello, Lancelot. I see you're well.