小田桐 秀利 >> Odagiri Hidetoshi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
altitonant_emperor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-23 09:00 am
altitonant_emperor) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-23 09:00 am
OO9 >> caught between two books, squeeze me till I die like a flower you need to dry
Characters: Hidetoshi, and the rest of the population of the towerofanimus .
Setting: Floors 1 and 4, the dormitory levels and anywhere else.
Format: Actionspam to begin with. Either is fine by me, but be warned that using prose equates a slower tagging time from me.
Summary: As it is the popular thing to do this week; Hidetoshi's currently dealing with the aftermath of being completely brainwashed during this month's experiment, and like his previous brilliant coping method, decides once again pretend it never happened to him personally in the first place. After he has a small breakdown.
Warnings: Post-experiment angst? Mentions of violence. Oh, and vomiting and crying too.
[ SCENARIO A || DORM LEVELS: SEMI-CLOSED ]
[ After everything is said and done, Hidetoshi is left sitting on the edge of his bed in the dormitory, staring blankly at the wall as he fought to hold his composure together and steadily kept refusing to give cruel, abusive bullies like the administration the satisfaction of witnessing even a single crack in his calm. His mind was his own now and the body his soul resided within had been restored to normal. (No holes, no burning in his fingers and the organs in his torso properly hidden away behind layers of skin once more.) He'd seen the post the blond man had left on the terminals, speaking soberly of spying, subterfuge and dozens of broken confidences at the order of the administration. He'd talked about broken trust and offered apologies.
The collar around his neck was orange again. It wasn't pink.
He calmly stood up from the bed, calmly walked down the hallway at a brisk pace and didn't quite succeed in reaching the public bathroom before a shudder racked his body and he staggered against the wall, leaned over and promptly barfed the contents of his stomach onto the floor in front of him. Hidetoshi sank to his knees, hand still pressed against the wall for balance. After a few minutes' silence, he vomited again though much less came up, and splattered on the floor this time. Some of it got onto his shoes. His shoulders heaved as the teenager curled up, frantically attempting to curb the urge to... to...
Tears. He was crying, Hidetoshi realized shamefully but he couldn't stop.
He wasn't crying because he was sad or hurt or scared. He was crying because he was absolutely revolted by what had occurred to him and others, angry beyond all expressive words, and incapable of changing the entire disgusting situation to the point where it would be impossible to allow it to happen again. That knowledge made it worse. Struggling to withhold the frantic edge from his actions, he angrily wiped away the bothersome tears dripping down his cheeks, and they kept coming despite that weak, dismissive gesture. His head bowed. The slight spasm that racked his body as he crouched there weren't as easily concealed as his face nor were the small, muffled choking sounds that occasionally escaped him.
His hand clamped over his chest, tightly squeezing the fabric of his jacket as if reassuring himself that it was true flesh-and-blood there, that his lungs were whole and unmarred and without a trace of that sickening burning or tar caught in them. Dark gray eyes snapped shut when the teenager recalled that, how violated and ruined by smoke his own lungs had been. Like he'd been inhaling toxins and suffered the price of it. His empty stomach felt like it was considering rebelling again. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR ONE: CAFETERIA ]
[ Alright, cryingfest was over and done. Reddish eyes aside, there wasn't a reason to mention it to anybody else or acknowledge he had cried at all. He doesn't want to dwell on what happened to many residents, or his own brainwashed stint as a mindless drone. But first, he needed to make some apologies of his own. Luckily, he'd been so focused on his own area that he hadn't been interested in wandering outside of it or in tormenting anybody away from it. Few people had been personally harmed by his hands.
The recollection of enjoying being in he had been convinced was actual control (but ultimately false) of his environment had been refreshed sharply. The vice president of the student council's yearning for order had been warped into a crazed need for the rules to be obeyed at any cost, and with that the urge to punish whomever failed to shape up to said rules, and the ingrained, obsessive loyalty that had permeated his thoughts under that need during the week annoyed him the more he recalled it. The administrators, Hidetoshi decided, were not going to get away with doing that.
To any of them.
Anyway; on the bed in their dormitory room, Hidetoshi had left a letter addressed to Sephiroth. Its contents were short, brisk and deeply apologetic. Inside he expressed his shame over treating the older man in such a demeaning manner and offered his sincere apologies in hope that he would not be despised for his unwilling actions. He had no control over himself during the experiment conducted by the administrator, Jason. And neither had Sephiroth had any say in the matter. He regretted ordered him around like one would an underling. If there is any way he could make it up to him, Sephiroth need not hesitate to ask.
That done and letter delivered, Hidetoshi took the elevator down to the cafeteria. He checked the menu and was unsurprised to see the usual was offered. Those stupid, cardboard-tasting, bland nutrition bars.
What a wretched man Jason was, he thought sourly to himself. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR FOUR: LOUNGE ]
[ Like many of the distasteful elements of this place, it appeared he would have no choice but simply have to put up with the knowledge that while the main experiment was over, there had definitively been an impact that would last after the rebellion itself. Such as the increase of retrieval units on certain floors, and the change in staff on floor seventy-seven. It was his good fortune that he had no potential as a large threat or a member of the resistance.
After eating in the cafeteria, he'd walked up to one of his favoured floors—the lounge, where there was no immediate threat of maiming via monsters and which had a comfortably sensible layout of couches, sofas, and tables. He wanted sensibility right now. The view could even be called morbidly impressive, if you found looking over an endless sea of dull grey fog stretching out past the horizon to be interesting.
So, whenever somebody walks into the lounge, they'll either find one of the sofas occupied by a grouchy high school student, seemingly absorbed in reading a book as to distract himself from his own thoughts, or catched him in the midst of cleaning up and maintaining his knives which had accumulated dirt and fingerprints. On one of the tables, he had left a couple of nutrient bars snagged from the cafeteria that were bland and tasteless, along with a tidy stack of sprawled notes he was recreating from scratch after the flood had ruined all of his old ones, and a pencil. ]
towerofanimus .Setting: Floors 1 and 4, the dormitory levels and anywhere else.
Format: Actionspam to begin with. Either is fine by me, but be warned that using prose equates a slower tagging time from me.
Summary: As it is the popular thing to do this week; Hidetoshi's currently dealing with the aftermath of being completely brainwashed during this month's experiment, and like his previous brilliant coping method, decides once again pretend it never happened to him personally in the first place. After he has a small breakdown.
Warnings: Post-experiment angst? Mentions of violence. Oh, and vomiting and crying too.
[ SCENARIO A || DORM LEVELS: SEMI-CLOSED ]
[ After everything is said and done, Hidetoshi is left sitting on the edge of his bed in the dormitory, staring blankly at the wall as he fought to hold his composure together and steadily kept refusing to give cruel, abusive bullies like the administration the satisfaction of witnessing even a single crack in his calm. His mind was his own now and the body his soul resided within had been restored to normal. (No holes, no burning in his fingers and the organs in his torso properly hidden away behind layers of skin once more.) He'd seen the post the blond man had left on the terminals, speaking soberly of spying, subterfuge and dozens of broken confidences at the order of the administration. He'd talked about broken trust and offered apologies.
The collar around his neck was orange again. It wasn't pink.
He calmly stood up from the bed, calmly walked down the hallway at a brisk pace and didn't quite succeed in reaching the public bathroom before a shudder racked his body and he staggered against the wall, leaned over and promptly barfed the contents of his stomach onto the floor in front of him. Hidetoshi sank to his knees, hand still pressed against the wall for balance. After a few minutes' silence, he vomited again though much less came up, and splattered on the floor this time. Some of it got onto his shoes. His shoulders heaved as the teenager curled up, frantically attempting to curb the urge to... to...
Tears. He was crying, Hidetoshi realized shamefully but he couldn't stop.
He wasn't crying because he was sad or hurt or scared. He was crying because he was absolutely revolted by what had occurred to him and others, angry beyond all expressive words, and incapable of changing the entire disgusting situation to the point where it would be impossible to allow it to happen again. That knowledge made it worse. Struggling to withhold the frantic edge from his actions, he angrily wiped away the bothersome tears dripping down his cheeks, and they kept coming despite that weak, dismissive gesture. His head bowed. The slight spasm that racked his body as he crouched there weren't as easily concealed as his face nor were the small, muffled choking sounds that occasionally escaped him.
His hand clamped over his chest, tightly squeezing the fabric of his jacket as if reassuring himself that it was true flesh-and-blood there, that his lungs were whole and unmarred and without a trace of that sickening burning or tar caught in them. Dark gray eyes snapped shut when the teenager recalled that, how violated and ruined by smoke his own lungs had been. Like he'd been inhaling toxins and suffered the price of it. His empty stomach felt like it was considering rebelling again. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR ONE: CAFETERIA ]
[ Alright, cryingfest was over and done. Reddish eyes aside, there wasn't a reason to mention it to anybody else or acknowledge he had cried at all. He doesn't want to dwell on what happened to many residents, or his own brainwashed stint as a mindless drone. But first, he needed to make some apologies of his own. Luckily, he'd been so focused on his own area that he hadn't been interested in wandering outside of it or in tormenting anybody away from it. Few people had been personally harmed by his hands.
The recollection of enjoying being in he had been convinced was actual control (but ultimately false) of his environment had been refreshed sharply. The vice president of the student council's yearning for order had been warped into a crazed need for the rules to be obeyed at any cost, and with that the urge to punish whomever failed to shape up to said rules, and the ingrained, obsessive loyalty that had permeated his thoughts under that need during the week annoyed him the more he recalled it. The administrators, Hidetoshi decided, were not going to get away with doing that.
To any of them.
Anyway; on the bed in their dormitory room, Hidetoshi had left a letter addressed to Sephiroth. Its contents were short, brisk and deeply apologetic. Inside he expressed his shame over treating the older man in such a demeaning manner and offered his sincere apologies in hope that he would not be despised for his unwilling actions. He had no control over himself during the experiment conducted by the administrator, Jason. And neither had Sephiroth had any say in the matter. He regretted ordered him around like one would an underling. If there is any way he could make it up to him, Sephiroth need not hesitate to ask.
That done and letter delivered, Hidetoshi took the elevator down to the cafeteria. He checked the menu and was unsurprised to see the usual was offered. Those stupid, cardboard-tasting, bland nutrition bars.
What a wretched man Jason was, he thought sourly to himself. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR FOUR: LOUNGE ]
[ Like many of the distasteful elements of this place, it appeared he would have no choice but simply have to put up with the knowledge that while the main experiment was over, there had definitively been an impact that would last after the rebellion itself. Such as the increase of retrieval units on certain floors, and the change in staff on floor seventy-seven. It was his good fortune that he had no potential as a large threat or a member of the resistance.
After eating in the cafeteria, he'd walked up to one of his favoured floors—the lounge, where there was no immediate threat of maiming via monsters and which had a comfortably sensible layout of couches, sofas, and tables. He wanted sensibility right now. The view could even be called morbidly impressive, if you found looking over an endless sea of dull grey fog stretching out past the horizon to be interesting.
So, whenever somebody walks into the lounge, they'll either find one of the sofas occupied by a grouchy high school student, seemingly absorbed in reading a book as to distract himself from his own thoughts, or catched him in the midst of cleaning up and maintaining his knives which had accumulated dirt and fingerprints. On one of the tables, he had left a couple of nutrient bars snagged from the cafeteria that were bland and tasteless, along with a tidy stack of sprawled notes he was recreating from scratch after the flood had ruined all of his old ones, and a pencil. ]