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. ]
no subject
[Yeah, even if Hidetoshi more than likely died before, just one less preventable death is good enough for Minato.]
I wasn't so lucky, but it's due to being trapped at the time.
[He's not strong or fast enough to break out from that situation. And in a way, dying got him out of that situation for a day.]
But I stay out of trouble for the rest of it.
no subject
That's unfortunate. I'm sorry to hear that.
[Hidetoshi selected one dirtied knife from the neat row of them on the table, pushing the pile of recopied notes and a pencil to the side. Using a piece of soft cloth, he started wiping the dried flakes of blood off the blade, and frowned at the fingerprints it had amassed.]
The administration had much to answer for. Aside from that, were you harmed?
no subject
[Physically speaking.
Minato glance at the pile of notes, before watching Hidetoshi clean the knives.]
Can I help?
no subject
Certainly. Sit down, and, ah, a moment—
[He scooted down the sofa, making decent space on the cushions for Minato to park his rear before setting the knife he was cleaning down in his lap on the soft piece of cloth, and grabbing another dirtied knife, and a second piece of soft cloth to hold out to the Persona-user.]
I imagine, being in SEES, you have had a fair amount of experience in the maintenance of bladed weapons?
no subject
That's right. I mainly take care of my sword, but I have some experience with other types.
[Everyone take care of their own weapons, but Minato wouldn't mind helping. Not only that, but he help take care of Koromaru's knives.
Carefully, he starts cleaning the knife.]
no subject
Hn. I see. Such as? Which weapons did the other members use?
[He turns the knife over in his hands and starts working on the other side of the blade.
... He might still be mildly upset that you left him out of the loop regarding SEES, Minato. Just an fyi, even if he internalizes it.]
no subject
Bows, broadswords, rapiers, boxing gloves or gauntlets, axes or bludgeons, knives, spears and guns or cannons. We have a pretty good range in the team.
[Sheesh, this particular spot is pretty stubborn to rub off. Minato's thumb apply a little more pressure to clean it.
...He figured, but if only the conversation bring up that subject.]
A-ah, sorry for lateness :<
HIdetoshi's forehead crinkles in thoughtfulness; the boxing gloves, he attributed to Sanada and the rapiers would only be used by someone as elegant as Mistsuru-san. (It was strange to think of those two being Persona-users.) He couldn't place who could have used the other weapons to defeat the Shadows.]
Where on earth did you get all of that in a region like Japan?
[While one of two of the weapons listened could be bought legally without a license, the rest were not. Such as the guns. And axes.]
it's alright!
From finding them in Tartarus...and buying them under the counter with the Kirijo Group's influence.
[And completing Elizabeth's requests, too. But no matter how you look at it, buying their gear from Officer Kurosawa would look shady.]
:<
Considering what you were combating, I suppose those methods were justified. [He wiped off the last specks of grime off both sides of the blade, and set about cleaning the handle of any stubborn fingerprints.]
'Tartarus'?
[Where was that, and why would it have illegal weapons lying around inside it?]
Re: :<
Then again, most of the funding Minato spend on SEES came from less than legitimate sources. No one need to ask about his Tartarus-found loot.]
Tartarus is...[More like "was" in this case.]...was a large tower that acts like a Shadows' nest. It only appeared during the Dark Hour. [Which was why the public was unaware of it.] We spent most of our time training and investigating it at night.
[One of many reasons why Minato's tired.]
no subject
He frowns, a single eyebrow lifting upward.]
Amazing, the kind of things that went on in the city without the public any the wiser. And you... [Surprised, because he is recalling your social life back home] also managed to keep up with your studies in the midst of all this?
[Hidetoshi had kept to a rigid schedule back home, and that had included going to sleep at a reasonable hour after completing his homework so he could be fully awake and ready for school the next day. Even losing two or three hours of sleep left him grumpy and annoyed at the world.
So staying past midnight? B| Where did Minato find the energy to even do something important like finish his assignments, much less talk and help out everyone in the school?]
no subject
It was hard at first, but I got used to it and make it into a routine. [His early days in SEES was mostly figuring out a good balance.] I find that if I can't sleep, I can use the Dark Hour to study.
[And when he does feel tired...well, he took naps during lectures before. No worries, he knows the material his teachers was talking about.]
no subject
It seems you are capable of a level of dedication I don't know you had in you, Minato-kun. [He sounds
grudginglya little admiring. And since he'd curious about these going-ons that occurred right under his nose in his own home city;] What's the Dark Hour like?[You're lucky you're a good student, Minato.]
no subject
The Dark Hour... [How to describe it?] It's creepy and weird at first. Barely anyone's around, because if they don't have the potential, they turned into coffins.
[It's shocking and so weird, Minato thought it was just a weird dream as a child. By the time he realised it's real, he tried to mentioned it but no one believed him.]
But after a while, it's rather quiet. Electronics doesn't work during the Dark Hour, so I have to do other activities without electricity. [Woe, no music for him.] As long the Shadows doesn't come to the dorms, it's not so bad.
[To be honest, Minato doesn't mind the Dark Hour. But he won't go against the decision to get rid of it. How he thinks about that time doesn't matter, when he knows people were suffering as a result.]
no subject
That's certainly an unnerving mental image. [Hidetoshi listens to the description Minato gives him quietly. Streets full of coffins, cars stilled in the middle of the road if all electronics really did crease to work, total and utter silence. It must have been dark too, without lighting. That's not a place where he would want to meet, much less fight a Shadow bent on inflicting him with Apathy Syndrome.]
The whole city silenced at the stroke of midnight. Hah, that's something else. [If the Shadows didn't come and hurt people, maybe a scene like that description could be called soothing in a creepy and surreal manner.]
... I can see why you wouldn't mind it by itself.
[He looks like he's musing over the matter. It doesn't appeal to him at all, but Minato... He could somehow see Minato enjoying it. For some reason.]
no subject
Yeah. [He won't deny that, with how often he take advantage of the extra time for himself.] The fact that things will change back to normal after a while makes it bearable.
[When day comes and Minato live his normal life again, he can compare and contrast the two different atmospheres, allowing him to appreciate what the Dark Hour offered.]
Although, once I moved into the city, turned out it's not always silent as I thought.