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
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.
no subject
"I took it upon myself to relieve you of their control in a quick obliteration of your being. It... angered me to see someone with such potential be nothing more than a petty toy to these fake gods."
He paused, "Of course I gave you a chance to break free... but alas, it seemed their hold on you was too heavy. You would not break free and it had seemed that my attempt at coaxing you out of their control made you aggressive."
Another paused as his eyes narrowed and even though it was clear he was upset at the past situation, but his ego will forever be much bigger than the universe itself. A sly smirk rose on his glowing shape for a mouth. "Nothing I couldn't handle in a fraction of a second of course. But I would have been much more pleased if you had tore yourself away from their control."
no subject
She just had no control over her body whatsoever. In a way it was almost worse than if her mind had been changed as well. Arturia was still not sure if what
"I see," she said to his description of her becoming aggressive, "That must have happened when I fought what my body was doing and blacked out. As I said, I heard you quite well. My body just refused to listen to me."
no subject
"I see. So they wanted you to remember everything that went on during the event except when you willfully forced yourself out of their grasp, if only a little."
He frowned and lowered his hands once more.
"No matter, most of the time those fools do things that make little to no sense. All for their personal gratification or would be 'seeking of knowledge." he growled a little and huffed.
"Well, you're here now. What do you intend to do now that you're free, well, from that event." All things considered, they were all still very much prisoners of the Tower.
no subject
Perhaps not. In the end, nothing had changed. Not yet, anyway. Until she knew more she had to keep to herself.
"Rest, for now," she admitted since there was no denying how drained she was both mentally and physically. Anyone looking at her could see it was more her own pride keeping her from passing out than anything else. Arturia had no memory of what, exactly, Jason had done to her, but she knew of its after-effects.
"Afterward I intend on continuing seeking answers, no matter the consequences. These things cannot stand and if the Administrators refuse to give us the answers we seek, then we have to keep searching for them." She, of anyone here, had nothing left to lose.
no subject
Veigar might not be the best at being comforting or sympathetic, but he did have his allies best intentions in mind. Even if he couldn't show it in a more normal way.
"If you require assistance, I suppose you may call on me. I might not be too busy to assist."
no subject
"I suspect I shall need your assistance very soon."
no subject
"Very well, I shall be awaiting that request. Until then..." He turned and began walking before turning to look over his shoulder. "Don't get killed. Or controlled..."
Yes, very specific there Veigar...
no subject
Very specific indeed. Arturia turned and headed for her room.
Le Fin~