Nesir Aeser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
culbutiri) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-20 10:02 pm
culbutiri) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-20 10:02 pm
Entry tags:
In the greyness and drizzle of one despondent dawn...
Characters: Nesir Aeser and you
Setting: Floor 20
Format: Prose but I will switch
Summary: Aftermath of being a drone.
Warnings: just event stuff and dark thoughts
When Nesir had seen the dress laid out on her bed she had almost lost her temper, cut it up and thrown it away. But she had forced herself to stay calm because it had been given to her to provoke that reaction, to make her lose control. And she wouldn't, she had put it on instead, transferring the poisons to the hidden pockets, and moving her daggers across.
She had never worn it before, it had been stowed in her trunk in the temple after Lotte had thrown it at her in anger, I had it made specially for you, and I almost had to bury you in it.
Only fitting that she should wear it now then, beyond death. A soul trapped, away from the natural order of things and kept, contained.
Theirs to do what they liked with. Nesir sat on floor twenty, at the edge of the tower, legs dangling off the side staring out into the fog and emptiness. She remembered every moment, the pain, the brainwashing, the feeling that everything was alright, her actions, what she had done, attacking, killing.
She had been controlled before, both as training and punishment. Her body a puppet. It happened rarely, for she rarely disobeyed, had never disobeyed before she went to the temple. Yet this had been different, because her mind had always been her own. She might not be able to speak, to move except on the whims of whoever was pulling the strings, but she could think, she could curse them silently, she could fight back mentally.
But even that had been taken away, her mind had been theirs, she had obeyed them mindlessly. Helpless, like a child, unable to fight back, not even wanting to...
And as far as she could gather there was no reason except that they could.
Causing chaos, it was a motive she could get behind but these were blasphemers, they worshiped no shadow god, they stole souls, they played with life and death itself.
Her life and death, her soul, her mind. She was more than a puppet, she had proven that. She made her own decisions, she was her own person. She was Nesir, she had made the name her own, she was Culbu. She had earned a name, and she had earned her free will. She was obedient, she was loyal. She didn't need to be controlled.
But these people played by no rules she knew and seemed determined to prove her wrong.
She would destroy them, she did not know how, or when, but she would. She didn't know if the shadow god could hear her hear, but she closed her eyes and pledged it, the destruction of this place, the blood of everyone who stood against her.
Setting: Floor 20
Format: Prose but I will switch
Summary: Aftermath of being a drone.
Warnings: just event stuff and dark thoughts
When Nesir had seen the dress laid out on her bed she had almost lost her temper, cut it up and thrown it away. But she had forced herself to stay calm because it had been given to her to provoke that reaction, to make her lose control. And she wouldn't, she had put it on instead, transferring the poisons to the hidden pockets, and moving her daggers across.
She had never worn it before, it had been stowed in her trunk in the temple after Lotte had thrown it at her in anger, I had it made specially for you, and I almost had to bury you in it.
Only fitting that she should wear it now then, beyond death. A soul trapped, away from the natural order of things and kept, contained.
Theirs to do what they liked with. Nesir sat on floor twenty, at the edge of the tower, legs dangling off the side staring out into the fog and emptiness. She remembered every moment, the pain, the brainwashing, the feeling that everything was alright, her actions, what she had done, attacking, killing.
She had been controlled before, both as training and punishment. Her body a puppet. It happened rarely, for she rarely disobeyed, had never disobeyed before she went to the temple. Yet this had been different, because her mind had always been her own. She might not be able to speak, to move except on the whims of whoever was pulling the strings, but she could think, she could curse them silently, she could fight back mentally.
But even that had been taken away, her mind had been theirs, she had obeyed them mindlessly. Helpless, like a child, unable to fight back, not even wanting to...
And as far as she could gather there was no reason except that they could.
Causing chaos, it was a motive she could get behind but these were blasphemers, they worshiped no shadow god, they stole souls, they played with life and death itself.
Her life and death, her soul, her mind. She was more than a puppet, she had proven that. She made her own decisions, she was her own person. She was Nesir, she had made the name her own, she was Culbu. She had earned a name, and she had earned her free will. She was obedient, she was loyal. She didn't need to be controlled.
But these people played by no rules she knew and seemed determined to prove her wrong.
She would destroy them, she did not know how, or when, but she would. She didn't know if the shadow god could hear her hear, but she closed her eyes and pledged it, the destruction of this place, the blood of everyone who stood against her.
no subject
He has been lingering in out of the way places, reading or simply watching the walls or the stars, or floating on the current of feeling that connects him with his Master. Lancelot finds himself uncharacteristically tired, in mind and body.
Easier then, to move about for the most part disembodied, flowing as a Black Fog where he will. Seeking solitude.
Which he will not find here. With Nesir Aeser.
Instead, he takes physical form in her peripheral vision, the better not to startle her.
The young woman seems easily as worn and discontent as he, if not moreso. When he speaks, his voice is low, confidential.]
Nesir Aeser. How fare you?
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However someone she needed to keep her guards up with.] I have been being better. But they have no been beating me yet.
[She tried for a smile, it came out exhausted but it was there.] How do you be being?
Apologies for this LATE reply!
[Her smile coaxes a similar shadow from him.]
Has it gone hard with you of late, then?
I am ever as I am.
Though had it been any save you in this place, I would not have stopped.
I am in no mood for company-- generally speaking.
No worries <3
[She blinked, surprised that if he were in no mood for company that he had stopped to talk to her.] Do you be needing my help?
Re: No worries <3
I find conversation with you-- undemanding. Pleasant, but far from meaningless.
[Lancelot's usual slight smile is rather worn, but he smiles nonetheless.
It disappears when he speaks of the Administrators.]
I am-- sorry to hear of your trouble.
Did you take this-- reminder to heart? Or do you feel more resolved to work against them now?
I cannot imagine that you take kindly to control.
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No one do be controlling me and getting away with it. [At least like that, her mind was her own.] I will be destroying them.
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A laudable goal.
The do seem intent upon antagonizing some of the more powerful among the captives here.
I cannot think what they wish to accomplish by it, since it does not seem to have cowed all into obedience.
I myself was not controlled. Though several-- companions and acquaintances of mine suffered greatly.
Have you a plan, then, in service of your Goal?
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[She frowned] I will be having one. When I do be thinking of it.
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I have made a thorough study of the rooms of our prison, of those such as I could reach, and now that I have knowledge, I will attempt a plan of my own.
Though I too know not what that might be-- yet.
At times I fear I will simply be driven to murder. Which I would not so mind, only reckless action is not rewarded in this place.
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She stared out into the mist frowning, too much thought down this road could lead her to say something she would regret. And light addled as he very possibly was Lancelot was one of the more interesting people she had met, she wouldn't want to lose his friendship.]
When we did be first meeting you did be saying we could be sparing... Would you still be wanting to?
[Now she had seen his strength and power she knew she would lose, but that didn't matter so much. In fact it was sort of the point, he was so much stronger than her but she could fight him. She had that much power, that much autonomy that she could make that decision.
It was a proof she was human.]
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[Lancelot seems pleased by the suggestion of a spar-- and he enjoys this young woman's spirit and admires her canny nature, as well as her fortitude.]
The honor, indeed the pleasure, would be mine-- to spar with you.
You may name the time and place, and I shall ready myself for your knives.
[Lancelot's smile is slight, but genuine.]
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As he admires her display, he obliges with one of his own-- a black fog gathers swiftly and takes form as he extends his palm, Arondight's hilt appearing in it. He raises the finished blade vertically before his face, nearly touching his forehead to the chains winding around the hilt-- and thus salutes Nesir.
He lowers the sword to his side, point down, before speaking again.]
Verily. I shall be well pleased to meet you now, Nesir Aeser.
Where shall we Battle-- in this place? Or some other ground?
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[Lancelot finds her grin infectious, and so returns it. Knife-fighters present unique challenges, and he feels ready to fight.
He brings Arondight up to guard, nodding at Nesir over the blade.]
When you are ready then, Nesir Aeser-- make your strike, and we shall begin.
[ooc: We can handle this however you like! Action or continuing in brackets are both fine, so is handwaving the spar in large part, or whatever you're at home with, really!]
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She ran towards him, aiming to slash at his side, knowing she had to be quick.]
((OOC: I am cool with anything, I enjoy writing spars so as long as you do I am cool with writing it out. As for the format, again whichever is easiest for you!))
ooc: Hurrah! I'm happy with the bracket/action hybrid!
He will not use his other Noble Phantasms here, for this is a spar. His sword will be his only weapon. He brings the blade back as he feints to his opponent's left, his objective to leave her less well-guarded right side further exposed. Then he will strike.
He does grin at her, his teeth bared.]
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She stood up out of the roll and grinned back, daggers up, waiting for him to attack again, whilst looking for week spots, places she could strike.]
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A broadsword is a direct weapon by its nature. Lancelot makes a seemingly simple charge, seeking to overwhelm and drive Nesir backwards with his height and reach.
Should she dart beneath his blade and seek his side again, he will turn and sweep her legs out from underneath her with one of his own.]
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[She moves with the strike and he follows the dagger as she draws it back, seeking to trap it in the hilts of his sword and wrench it out of her grasp.
In a breath he is upon her and the dagger falls a few feet away, only to stick point first in the floor.
Lancelot raises his sword, waiting for the young woman to retrieve her weapon.]
I await your pleasure Nesir Aeser. Come for me when you are ready.
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She raised an eyebrow as he raised his sword though, but nodded gratefully and, not taking her eyes off him, retrieved the dagger and ran at him again. This time instead of stabbing she kicked out, aiming at his thigh hoping to unbalance him a little.]
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She is quick, is Nesir Aeser, and whether he should succeed in driving her or no, he is mightily entertained.]
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Not knowing how Nesir will respond, he breaks back, making a gesture that she should come for him.]
(no subject)