Counter Guardian Arturia @ Tower of Animus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
no_longer_a_king) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-17 07:47 pm
no_longer_a_king) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-17 07:47 pm
ITP: 'Tis only a flesh wound
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.
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.
[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.
no subject
The reprieves during this torment almost make it worse.
She forces herself to face Saber as she comes close, silently begging her to do something--anything--to stop this. Arturia can't stop herself, not entirely. She doesn't have the faith in herself to be able to.
And then she headbutts Saber.]
no subject
Saber reacts with a silent snarl and pivots, throwing Arturia with all her strength across the meadow. It's like skipping rocks across the water... only there's grass to bounce off instead.]
no subject
Despite how she screams at herself to stop, she cannot make herself stop fully. Once Arturia is on her feet she runs for where her sword has fallen. She knows herself well enough to know what she intends to do: pick up the sword and go for Saber's head once more.]
no subject
Reversing her grip on Excalibur, she used the cross-guard to deflect the strike and then caught the blade again in her off hand. Twisting, her body, she put a leg behind Arturia's and used her leverage in an attempt to put her other self to the ground upon her back with Excalibur's edge against her neck.]
no subject
It was even harder on the ground to fight to stay still, even as Excalibur was pressed to her neck near one of the places her skin had torn. During the fall it had splashed upward a little, in a mockery of the lines marring Saber's face. Even now her body tried to move, tried to pull the sword from Saber's grip despite being on the ground, but she fought even knowing that Saber would stop any other attempt to attack her.]
no subject
She then stabbed the broken sword blade down into the crease between armor plates at the elbow of Arturia's sword arm and on into the earth beneath them.]
I cannot allow this, Arturia. I must release you; this is not how you are to be. Forgive me.
[And it was with those parting words that Saber pressed Excalibur upwards in a motion that should take her other self's head in one clean cut.]
no subject
She did not know if it would work, but at least it would be some sort of reprieve.
Excalibur swung down and shortly thereafter Arturia's mind was enveloped in blackness.]
no subject
But Saber's heart was blackened and the emotion needed for tears did not stir there any longer. Rage sat in its place instead.
Standing up, she ripped the remains of the sword - hilt and broken bit of blade - from the corpse's hand. With a rage-filled scream, she threw the broken sword off the edge of the Tower with every bit of her strength.
There she remained, watching it sail through the air until she couldn't track it anymore, until a recovery unit showed up to drag the body away. Saber turned from the edge and walked out of the meadow, past the drone, and culled her urge to rip the drone apart with her bare hands.]