Phoenix Wright (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hobologic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-05-11 08:04 pm
hobologic) wrote in towerofanimus2013-05-11 08:04 pm
The fundamental things apply
Characters: Phoenix Wright and YOU
Setting: Room 4-20; dormitory floors; elevator; floors 14, 28, 32, 37
Format: Starting with prose, will match any format
Summary: Phoenix arrives in the tower and goes exploring.
Warnings: None yet. Will update if necessary.
Room 4-20 and dormitories:
After reading the letters, Phoenix sits on the bed for a while, thinking. It's a lot to take in. It seems like a joke, or a dream. It is, quite frankly, mad. Worlds destroyed? Magical towers? (And just when he'd been looking forward to a spot of nice semi-normalcy.) The problem is, as mad as it is, it feels real. He pinches himself. That doesn't work. He frowns. He doesn't know what to think, but whatever he thinks, it isn't good. Suddenly, he gets up. He changes into his usual clothes, sliding his arms into his hoodie and zipping it up, then pushing his hat on over his spiky hair.
Sitting around feeling upset and confused isn't going to get things done or solve any mysteries. He heads out into the hallway and down the corridors of the dormitories. He has to find out more about this place, and there is no time like the present. He makes his way down the hallways at an unhurried pace, every now and then stopping to examine a wall or a door, or even a suspicious patch of floor. There isn't much to examine here, but he does his best.
The Elevator:
So, it seems you're stuck in the elevator during the long trip down to the first floor. With you is a man wearing a beanie, humming to himself. Off key. He seems quite determined to keep humming, too.
Floor Fourteen:
Phoenix has gone through a number of floors now, and he could use a break.
Violet lemonade isn't grape juice, but he couldn't find any grape juice anywhere, so violet lemonade it is. He'll have to make do. He's brought two whole bottles with him into the media room. With his precious beverages, Phoenix has sat himself down in one of the room's many beanbag chairs. The setting as a whole might be unpleasant, but he does appreciate a good beanbag chair. He's currently playing a car racing game and is doing his best to handle both the game controller and his lemonade bottle.
It's not going very well. Not only are his scores atrocious and his crashes near constant, but the beanbag chair is in imminent danger of being soaked with lemonade. Still, Phoenix continues to concentrate on the game, seemingly unaware of the peril both he and the chair are in. (Or is he?)
Floor Twenty-Eight:
A musician ought to feel right at home on this floor. However, Phoenix isn't entirely at ease, much as he isn't entirely a musician. He gives the organ at the center a wide berth, but manages to find an ordinary looking piano that's more his speed. With a deep breath, he sits down and begins to play. The resulting sound could be called a song if it weren't so garbled and bewilderingly played. As it is, it's just barely identifiable as this tune.
Floor Thirty-Two:
He's surprised to see the outside floors. They defy all rules of architecture and logic. He shouldn't be surprised, he knows, not after all he's seen, but he is, nonetheless.
He makes his way out onto the floating island warily, but nothing happens. Nothing dangerous appears. He makes his way across the island, thoughtfully. He has a lot to think about, here. Playing video games and playing the piano haven't done much to relax him, and his investigations have come to nothing so far. Nothing but more weirdness. He keeps walking. He doesn't stop until he stumbles upon a cluster of plants, bearing fruit.
He pauses to study them. Grapes. There's something alluring about them. He knows, right away, that he shouldn't risk eating them. Nonetheless, he leans down to pick one, curious. He turns it over in his fingers. They seem like perfectly normal grapes. They smell good, too. Phoenix sighs. Now, this is just cruel.
Setting: Room 4-20; dormitory floors; elevator; floors 14, 28, 32, 37
Format: Starting with prose, will match any format
Summary: Phoenix arrives in the tower and goes exploring.
Warnings: None yet. Will update if necessary.
Room 4-20 and dormitories:
After reading the letters, Phoenix sits on the bed for a while, thinking. It's a lot to take in. It seems like a joke, or a dream. It is, quite frankly, mad. Worlds destroyed? Magical towers? (And just when he'd been looking forward to a spot of nice semi-normalcy.) The problem is, as mad as it is, it feels real. He pinches himself. That doesn't work. He frowns. He doesn't know what to think, but whatever he thinks, it isn't good. Suddenly, he gets up. He changes into his usual clothes, sliding his arms into his hoodie and zipping it up, then pushing his hat on over his spiky hair.
Sitting around feeling upset and confused isn't going to get things done or solve any mysteries. He heads out into the hallway and down the corridors of the dormitories. He has to find out more about this place, and there is no time like the present. He makes his way down the hallways at an unhurried pace, every now and then stopping to examine a wall or a door, or even a suspicious patch of floor. There isn't much to examine here, but he does his best.
The Elevator:
So, it seems you're stuck in the elevator during the long trip down to the first floor. With you is a man wearing a beanie, humming to himself. Off key. He seems quite determined to keep humming, too.
Floor Fourteen:
Phoenix has gone through a number of floors now, and he could use a break.
Violet lemonade isn't grape juice, but he couldn't find any grape juice anywhere, so violet lemonade it is. He'll have to make do. He's brought two whole bottles with him into the media room. With his precious beverages, Phoenix has sat himself down in one of the room's many beanbag chairs. The setting as a whole might be unpleasant, but he does appreciate a good beanbag chair. He's currently playing a car racing game and is doing his best to handle both the game controller and his lemonade bottle.
It's not going very well. Not only are his scores atrocious and his crashes near constant, but the beanbag chair is in imminent danger of being soaked with lemonade. Still, Phoenix continues to concentrate on the game, seemingly unaware of the peril both he and the chair are in. (Or is he?)
Floor Twenty-Eight:
A musician ought to feel right at home on this floor. However, Phoenix isn't entirely at ease, much as he isn't entirely a musician. He gives the organ at the center a wide berth, but manages to find an ordinary looking piano that's more his speed. With a deep breath, he sits down and begins to play. The resulting sound could be called a song if it weren't so garbled and bewilderingly played. As it is, it's just barely identifiable as this tune.
Floor Thirty-Two:
He's surprised to see the outside floors. They defy all rules of architecture and logic. He shouldn't be surprised, he knows, not after all he's seen, but he is, nonetheless.
He makes his way out onto the floating island warily, but nothing happens. Nothing dangerous appears. He makes his way across the island, thoughtfully. He has a lot to think about, here. Playing video games and playing the piano haven't done much to relax him, and his investigations have come to nothing so far. Nothing but more weirdness. He keeps walking. He doesn't stop until he stumbles upon a cluster of plants, bearing fruit.
He pauses to study them. Grapes. There's something alluring about them. He knows, right away, that he shouldn't risk eating them. Nonetheless, he leans down to pick one, curious. He turns it over in his fingers. They seem like perfectly normal grapes. They smell good, too. Phoenix sighs. Now, this is just cruel.
no subject
Still, he's not quite sure what to make of this man. He leans back.
He thinks of stopping humming in order to reply, but something in him wants to keep on, and this seems like something of a joke, so he nods instead and keeps up with the humming. Nodding has been working out well for him.]
no subject
... Yeah, you don't usually encounter weirdos on this scale. ]
He might be dying slowly!
No, no, Emily--I think he is dying quickly, I can tell from the noises coming out of his throat. Perhaps internal bleeding? Oh, my--
[ MOCK GASP! ]
Sir, if you are going to bleed all over the lift, are you going to clean it up? Or will they have to send one of those wonderful little dolls in here to cart your body away?
[ Wow morbid. ]
sorry for the slow!
Hm, what to do here? He seems to be losing this game (that is, he really hopes it's a game), and the man with him seems to be getting weirder by the minute. He's almost weird enough to be a witness at this point.
All right, no, he's definitely weird enough to be a witness. Maybe he could even be a prosecutor.
Phoenix gives a big smile and makes the universal gesture for "not dying", which consists of a wave, pointing at himself, and giving a confident thumbs up. He then nods reassuringly. Hopefully this will appease the man talking about him bleeding to death.
Still humming. He makes the tune extra jaunty as if to contribute to the whole "not dying" image he's going for. Probably he shouldn't still be humming. Sometimes he wondered what was wrong with him.]
DITTO but I'm laughing OH NICK PLS.
[ AND SO HE SCOLDS THE DOLL... marionette... puppet thing, and it moves as though taken aback. Break pouts. ]
But he's already dead!
Ah--you may have something THERE, most certainly, but I think the form of dead he is has much to do with tones, Emily. He appears to hear just fine, but whether he has suffered a tone death, we shall simply have to ask!
[ Talking back and forth as though this is totally normally, yep. Floppy sleeve waggle! ]
Tell me, Sir, was it your musical incapability that did you in?