towerofanimus | [open; dated 4/20] // dream fades before dawn

Characters: Waver and open!
Setting: Floor 25
Format: Action, but I will try to match.
Summary: Someone doesn't cope well with screwing up.
Warnings: None yet.

[Since his revival, Waver hadn't slept. He certainly hadn't eaten, considering the miserable state of the cafeteria's choices. Not that he thought it mattered; there were more important things to do.]

[Twice, twice now he'd failed and gotten himself killed. This time it wasn't the death itself that bothered him (though painful, it had at least been quick) so much as it was the circumstances surrounding it. If he hadn't hesitated, if he hadn't faltered, if he hadn't been terrible with one of the most basic forms of magecraft...a thousand 'if' possibilities had run through his head countless times over by now.]

[Waver could be found sitting in the meadow on the twenty-fifth floor, and in time he'd surrounded himself with scattered and discarded notebook pages--upon which were drawn sigils both magical and alchemical in nature. It was clear he'd spent hours there (if not a day or two) doing...what was he doing? There was a small knife in his left hand, which Waver seemed to be using to cut various parts off flowers; sometimes focusing on only one, and occasionally several at a time.]

[However many he'd damaged, the green-suited magus would then hold out his hand and appear to be in deep concentration. If he was lucky, a pale green light would flicker and crackle around his hand, and the flowers would appear to slowly repair themselves.]

[...But he usually wasn't lucky. Waver estimated that even after endless hours' practice, his healing magecraft would only work approximately five times out of ten, and would only heal effectively three out of those five. No matter; he had absolutely no intention of leaving this floor until he got it right. What had begun as a harsh realization of the need for practice had rapidly spiraled downward into an obsessive task of repeated motions and stubborn fixation.]

[For him, healing was a difficult thing, one which all his thoughts had to be focused on. Unfortunately, he was thinking of far too many more troubling things; his obsessive practice had turned to an exercise in futility.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...At the beginning. You got my letter, right?

[Couldn't Waver have ordered Diarmuid away from Cu Chulainn? Or made him stay close to his Master?]

I wasn't exactly glued to my mailbox.

[You only sent it the day before they both got killed, murderhound.]

Check it better the next time I disappear.

[He doesn't care about that logic he only cares about his brother.]

Pardon me for being a little preoccupied.

[He makes a scoffing sound and sits cross-legged on the ground.]

Whatever. Just get stronger quickly, okay? So we don't have any more tragedies next time.

Right back at you.

[apply cool water to area of burn.]

...Hey, I don't need to get stronger. Jason just fucked with my head.

And you don't see a problem with that?

[He falls silent at this. It's horrifying how much Jason can do to his body, even though he has his magic resistance. But this wasn't just a matter of him being unable to resist.]

[He had been able to resist...but he hadn't. He had just given in to his anger.]

...Maybe.

[Waver distantly noted that perhaps he was being a little unfair...but unfortunately for Lancer, he was very displeased and didn't have any other target. Himself aside.]

...I doubt anyone's completely blameless in this matter.

[A quick nod.]

And how's Diarmuid doing now? Seen him around after...that?

Not yet. Have you?

[He grimaces again.]

...Once. He died again, you know.

...I know. I couldn't get there fast enough for that one.

He should be...back now. Haven't seen him the last time I had a shift down there.

[Hi, guess who processed Diarmuid's headless corpse?]

He is; I can sense that much.. I couldn't give you an exact location right now, though.

[He nods.]

As long as he's safe, I guess...it's fine. Hey, if you do run to him, give him a hug.

[Lancer wants to do so himself, but he's not sure he can. Or if he has a right to.]