towerofanimus | (no subject)

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Characters: Elrond & You
Setting: Cafeteria, both libraries, floor 11, 13, 25
Format: Staring with prose, but I'll match
Summary: Exploring the tower, dealing with misgivings
Warnings: None currently.

Floor 1: Cafeteria
Elrond is seated within the cafeteria studying at the bowl currently resting on the table in front of him. According to its name, it was possibly made of oats, but he had his doubts on that if only due to its appearance and smell. A bite later only increased these doubts and thus he's currently debating on if it is really necessary to actually finish the bland meal or if he'd be better off to just leave it and depart.

Floor 3: Library
Elrond had had more hope for answers when he'd first entered this library, it had at first looked more intact than the first he'd encountered. This hope faded as he wandered among the shelves taking stock of the subjects they contained. It would appear that all the subjects were for frivolous things and there was no lore to be had about this place, nor its owners.

Floor 11
The floor is strange and yet lovely in a way, and since it seems to be rather harmless in nature so long as you avoid the edges, thus Elrond decided to spend some time here in contemplation of what seems to have befallen him and the world of Arda. He has doubts on the validity of the letter he'd read upon waking, instead he more inclined to think that he's been kidnapped instead of saved.

Floor 13
He had intended on just passing through to the next floor, but the windows and the architecture gracing the room caught his attention enough for him to depart the stairway and approach the windows to study them quietly.

Floor 19
Any hopes of gaining information from this skeleton of a library was quickly dashed as he walked amid the shelves of the room. The empty shelves that still stood suggested that there had once been records held here, possibly ones which might of shed light on the situation he found himself in. If he hadn't already held doubts about the motives of those which held him here, the evidence here certainly would have given him some. Why hide such information unless you were afraid of what your 'guests' would do with it.

Floor 25
The meadow is one of the very few places he's found since he's woke that actually offers a peaceful vista that holds no unpleasant surprises within its innocence. Seating himself within the middle of the meadow, he sets his sword, Hadhafang, beside him so the weight of it doesn't intrude upon enjoying this moment of relaxation. It remains well within hands reach though, just in case.

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Another meal quietly enjoyed, the month having shown no signs of causing misery to the residents. After Jason had had his fun though, perhaps Riki was taking pity on them. It would be a pleasant change of pace for once but he held little hope of that. Peace in the tower of animus? How ridiculous! And to that point, he was heavily armed eve here in the cafeteria where things would be assumed to be safe.

Getting rid of his dirty things and brushing back his hair before leaving he paused as his eyes landed upon a familiar sight. A new arrival and a bowl of oatmeal. Except that he knew this new arrival and the sight of him made the younger elf swear in elvish.

It was the swearing which caught his attention and he turned from his silent staring match with the oatmeal to locate the source of it. Leaving the bowl behind, he stood up to close the distance between them. As he drew closer, he noted with silent concern the weariness that the younger's elf's eyes held.

"Gi suilon, Legolas."

Weariness not helped by the appearance of the elf-lord. He straightened himself, if only slightly, before giving a half bow from his waist. Respectful but still cautious. Legolas had learned not to ever let his guard down, even among friends, lest some cruel fate befall them.

"Gi suilon, Lord Elrond." And with that, he rose from his bow. With a gesture towards where Elrond had been seated, inviting him to sit once more, Legolas moved towards him.

Elrond quietly noted the caution, wondering just what could of happened to Legolas to so change him from the young elf he had known. He would have to ask him about it later and in a better place than this. During the half-bow, he noted that it wasn't just the eyes and manner that had changed.

Walking back to the table to seat himself, he gave the younger elf a look of inquiry. "You've cut your hair?"

Legolas took a seat with him, a small smile and laugh escaping him. With one hand, he reaches to touch his hair, thoughts returning to when he'd first suffered it cut and Haldir had fixed it. After convincing Legolas that he didn't look hideous for it.

"An accident but the style grew on me. And many others." Such a shame that the style hadn't come sooner, when his twin had been present but that was a story for later.

"I see, you do pull it off rather well. How long have you been here in this place?" He moved to pick up the bowl and set it aside so he could rest his arms on the table without it in his way. The single bite he had taken of the stuff had turned him off of actually finishing the rest now anyway.

"Thank you." He laughed softly, watching the lord while he counted back to his first month. While he thought though, Legolas pushed the bowl back towards Elrond as discreetly as he might. Which, knowing Elrond, wasn't nearly as discreet as it could be.

"Thirteen months now. And never has such a time felt as long as this past year."

One eyebrow rose slightly as Legolas pushed the bowl back toward them, but the question of just why the younger elf did that was for the moment derailed by the answer he was given to his earlier question.

"I have heard nothing of your absence before being brought here."

Slowly pushing his silverware towards the bowl next. You are not escaping the oatmeal, Elrond. Everyone has to stomach it, there were no exceptions before and there aren't now.

"You would not have. According to the information we've gathered over the year, none of us are from the same reality. Or from the same time."

Multiple realities and times? Excuse him for a moment while he briefly massages his forehead in the attempt to stave off the slowly growing headache. He does note the shifting of the silverware to again rest beside the bowl and gives Legolas a look of inquiry about his actions concerning the bowl and its silverware.

"Might I ask what your interest is in that bowl?"

It's okay, Elrond. You get used to it after awhile. Just pretend like they're all from the same reality and it'll work out just fine. That's what Legolas figured out.

"My interest lies in your continued health. Which is likely not to exist if you eat anything before you finish the oatmeal." He might be a tiny bit amused though.

Tohko, as usual, was cleaning up the library and putting books in their proper places. Sometimes, residents could make a mess of the library and not clean it up, so it was up to the librarians to tidy up after them. It wasn't always easy, but it was better to do it than watch the books get ruined. Her retrieval unit of a stalker didn't make the task easier, but Tohko kept at it, even though she sometimes had to hide from him just to get a few bites of a book in.

It was when she was turning a corner in an attempt to run away from him that she noticed a man looking through the shelves. Smiling, she walked up to him.

"Good morning! Need help finding anything?"

Elrond turned his attention from the row of book spines in front of him to the girl walking up to him. "Is there anything in the way of lore about this place or the actions taken by its residents?"

He had yet to find anything of the kind, but perhaps he was looking in the wrong places. He didn't expect to receive any positive answer from the young lady, but it never hurt to ask and be certain about the matter.

At that, Tohko sighed and scratched her head.

"I'm sorry to say that there isn't. The Administrators pulled all the books that might have something to do with this universe, and if the residents keep records, they don't share them with anyone. The best record for information here that you might find is the network, but scanning through it might take some time. However, if you want me to tell you everything I know about the Tower, I'll be more than happy to."

Thorin had ventured down to the cafeteria on this odd occasion to try whatever they fed the residents. He often opted to catch his own or fish at the aquarium. This time, he held a bowl of what looked like oats in his hand as he went to find a spare table. The dwarf's eyes scanned the rows of seats and tables for a vacant position until he spotted any unusual sight.

The long hair and posture might have given it away earlier. Thorin could not believe his eyes as he wandered over to see if he was correct. Lord Elrond was here in the cafeteria. Durin's beard! What next?

"Lord Elrond?" He felt rather awkward at addressing the elf lord after their last brief visit to Rivendell. He couldn't wait to depart quick enough last time.

Sam liked this floor as well, it was very pretty, and strange. But strange things were normal in this place and when all he had to chose between was good strange and bad strange he'd take this floor over the one that seemed to be inside something living any day.

He widened his eyes as Elrond came onto the floor, he had not been told the elf was here so guessed that he was new. They had brought many from his world. "Lord Elrond." He stood up from where he had been sat at the lakeside.

Holding a rather large and used book in a hand and his staff in the other, the White Wizard walked into the library-- And caught sight of a familiar figure much to his surprise. Surprised to see Elrond, but not surprised to find him wandering about the library, for this had been the one of the first floor Gandalf himself had visited upon awakening in the tower, and without the shadow of a doubt the floor he had spent the most time on.

Quietly, Gandalf put his book down on a table and approached the Elvish Lord "I am afraid no information of importance shall be found here, Lord Elrond." The wizard was probably noticeably 'whiter' than what Elrond may remember.

Elrond turned his attention from the shelves to face Gandalf, pausing in surprise at the change in Gandalf's appearance. "So I've found."

Two questions begged to be asked, 'how long' had Gandalf been here in this tower and just how he came by his changed appearance. He refrained from asking either currently as he turned away from the shelf beside him. Instead he turns to a different topic that he's been refraining from mulling over too much. He doubts still that the letter speaks true, but perhaps now that Gandalf is here, further light can be shed on the matter.

"The letter stated that Arda had been destroyed... what are your views on that?"

That was exactly the question feared, but none of it would show on his face. Elrond had not been the first to ask him, he had had to inform most of those from Middle-Earth who came into the tower at a point or another-- And it was always as painful.

"As much as my heart longs for another answer, I would have to validate what words this letter conveys for I have walked our world's ravaged lands and witnessed the desolate shape of Arda from this tower."

He paused before adoption a slightly warmer tone.

"However, many here will disagree with such a statement and believe it all to be naught but a trick devised by our hosts. None here can pretend to hold the truth, not even I."

The words were indeed not what he wanted to hear, but he would hold onto the disclaimer that followed them. If only because the alternative was something he still refused to consider at this point. If he accepted Gandalf's first words, it would mean he would also have to accept the loss of the rest of his family in much the same manner as he had lost Elros.

Turning away from that unpleasant line of thought, he returned to his previous questions concerning the man before him. "If I may, what has happened to you since you departed Imladris with Thorin and his company? How long have you been in this place?"

Was it this tower that had brought about this change in his old friend, or had the change come before his arrival here?

Before long a certain King of Evil would enter the Cathedral floor-- Whilst his title may not be obvious to all, those sensitive to such things may be able to feel a particular evil and malevolent aura around him. Ganondorf bore whatsoever no affection for a floor meant to venerate gods and other such absurd divinities, but he had taken an habit to use it as for his reunions and hence he would be inspecting the floor, to see if anything out of the ordinary had happened following the last reunion.

Upon seeing Elrond, he rose an eyebrow and frowned. He generally had nothing against new residents and even displayed courtesy to them most of the time, he only had a thing only against those abhorring pointy ears. He spoke no words but cast a clearly annoyed hateful?) glare on Elrond's way.

Elrond turned away from the window he'd been studying upon feeling Ganondorf enter. Noting the glare thrown his direction, his own eyes narrowed and he silently studied the man even as one hand came to rest near the hip that his sword rested against. The man or rather the aura he held reminded him already far too much of another malevolent spirit he'd known, and fought against.

It would be best, he decided then, if he continued on his way and with that in mind, Elrond left the window he stood in front of to make his way toward the stairs.

Ganondorf made no move to engaged in a discussion with the elvish lord, nor he did he try and prevent Elrond from leaving. Good riddance-- Still he side-eyed him as he left, and made a mental note to remember him, just in case. Given his apparent stature, he wouldn't be surprised to see him again, maybe siding with his enemies in the future.

Very few things interest Nessiah after his many, many years of existence. The most notable exceptions are books and unique swords.

Thus, Nessiah approaches Elrond's relaxation place. "Pardon me, but that sword..."

"Yes?"

The young man's appearance is almost enough to give one pause, but he refrains from commenting on it as of yet.

"Could you tell me about its properties?"

Nessiah gets that a lot. He cares more about the sword than social awkwardness.

He picked the sword up and unsheathed part of the blade to show the young man as he answered the question. "It is a Elven-forged sword, nothing more or less. Its name is Hadhafang."

"Let us suppose that I am not familiar with such weaponry." Which, technically, he wasn't. Many races existed in various times, but he'd never known one that called themselves Elves.

[Leave it to Gilgamesh to ruin the sanctity of that contemplation. The large man tromps along on his way through the floor. He winds up standing right alongside Elrond. An entire floor with which to look out beyond the walls of this tower and of course he'd choose to roam into Elrond's personal space.

The large man simply crosses his arms and frowns as he looks out over the landscape.]

Soon after the Elf Lord settles down, another steps from the staircase to the peaceful meadow. Blonde, with a regal bearing and pointed ears, she might appear a bit elfish, though her ears are longer and point outwards in a strange way. The twin daggers at her hips are definitely of elven make, however, as is the ring upon her finger, and she certainly doesn't look like she's here to relax.

Quite the contrary, she's here to train. But she has the decency to not just start swinging at shadows with a stranger around, and so she approaches Elrond where he sits.

"Pardon me, sir, but would you mind if I trained over there?" she asks, gesturing to her right. "I will do my best not to disturb you."

"I wouldn't mind, no.." He replied, gaze following the gesture, though moments after the words left one of her possessions had quite grabbed and held his attention.

"....would you mind if I asked where you came by that ring you wear?"

"Hm?" At his prompting, her gaze follows his to the gold band on her finger. Funny, it had become such a constant companion that she thought little of it on most days.

"Of course not; a wizard by the name of Gandalf gave it to me," she answers, and she is thoroughly tempted to as why he is curious about it, but she will see if he is willing to divulge that information on his own, first.

That answer had been semi-expected, as he suspected that if the wizard didn't desire to be parted from Narya, it would still be upon his hand. The question which arose after the answer was one which sought the reasons behind Gandalf's act of giving the ring to the lady before him. The wizard must had had good reason for the action, but Elrond wasn't sure if Gandalf would have shared that reason with the lady before him or not.

"Do you know it's name?" He wasn't ready to explain his curiosity just yet, instead he sought to sound out just how much she knew of what she held.

"Its name?" she questions, canting her head to the left. Then her eyes are on the ring once more, her brows furrowed in thought. It has been so long since the day Gandalf gave her the ring, and so much has happened between then and now... it takes her a moment to recall the words he said.

"It is... the Ring of Fire, correct? N... Narya?" The elvish word is clearly foreign to her tongue and oddly accented, but hey, she's trying.

A brief nod followed the questions. "Narya, yes."

So the wizard had given her its name, but how much else had he shared? And if nothing else, should he correct that lack of knowledge with what he knew of its history and importance. Almost absently while he considered that issue, he stroked the band of the ring he wore himself.

"Did he tell you anything else about it?" Elrond asked as he returned his attention to the lady before him.

Closing her eyes, she hums softly in thought, trying to place herself back in time to when she received the ring. It was so chaotic, then - the strange, flying whale had just hit the Tower, and she was holding up a barrier around the cafeteria in hopes of keeping some kind of safe haven...

"... He sounded as though he was reciting something when he gave it to me. I cannot recall exactly what he said, but... something about endurance and warming hearts when the world grows chill."

In short, nothing particularly of value. Opening her eyes again, she regards the reclining elf-lord with a tilt of her head. Her curiosity cannot stand it any longer. "Why does it intrigue you so much, sir?"

If she was to hold, use and guard the ring, it would possibly benefit her to actually know of its history, or at least of its importance and nature in a better manner than that already stated. If Gandalf had trusted her and considered her worthy enough to bear the ring, then that spoke considerably for her character already. Plus given the evil he had already encountered within the tower today, it would be best if she was given knowledge which might perhaps help her stand against it.

"I knew its maker."

"Its maker is someone of significance, then?"

She can't think he would be this insistent about her possession of the gold band if it was made by some local jeweler. No, there's definitely something she hasn't be told about it yet...

[He has left his Master among friends, and not being of a mind to pursue Slaughter until the wee hours, Lancelot has determined to beguile time in the peace of the Meadow.

Not having brought anything save himself, he plans to simply lie on his back and engage in some casual cloudbursting-- but the other presence in the field of flowers is an intriguing one. Surely-- Fae, to his senses.
Having arrived in the Meadow as a rolling Black Mist (for it is swiftest for him to travel this way) Lancelot embodies himself nearby to the seated figure, but not so close as to give alarm. Though he does not intend challenge, he is aware that his appearance sometimes encourages it in others. Dressed in his black suit and tie, his hands gloved in black, he carries no weapon-- though he does admire the sword obviously belonging to the stranger.]

I must beg your pardon, for have no wish to offer disturbance-- but I will say that you have there a fine weapon.

[The manner of arrival is curious and also telling of the nature of the visitor, though just what type of spirit the young man might be, he has no way of knowing. However, since no challenge if offered and the young man's manners were courteous, he responds in kind.]

Thank you. It is called Hadhafang. It once belonged to my grandmother.

It is formidable weapon-- your grandmother must have been a force in Battle.
[Lancelot looks curiously upon the stranger. It is difficult to judge the man's bearing, as he is not standing-- Lancelot cannot rightly say if the man is a Warrior or a King or a Scholar. Among the Fae he knew in life, this man could have been any or all of the above. But one does not simply carry about a sword like "Hadhafang" as a sentimental gesture.]

And so you must be also, as you carry Her Weapon.
We have not meant before in this place, I do not think. I am a swordsman myself-- Lancelot, I am called. A Knight of the Lake.
[Placing a one gloved hand on his chest, Lancelot offers a bow of his head in greeting.]

Sephiroth doesn't spend a great deal of time on this floor, as there's little reason for him to frequent a floor with no monsters. He spends most of his time when moving through the tower patrolling: looking to help those in danger or fighting monsters. That's not to say that he doesn't stop here briefly, just in case. There might be a monster here sometime, and with the "safe" reputation the floor has, it's more likely that someone defenseless would be in danger, if so.

He isn't intending to linger, but when he sees the sword, his attention is drawn. He's always drawn to weapons. He has a sword of his own with him, plainly visible: serviceable and efficient, although not so impressive as this man's blade seems to be.

"Hello," he says simply, coming closer. "Are you a warrior?"

Sephiroth isn't the first to notice the blade, but he is the first child that Elrond has seen in this place. He makes silent note of the sword the child holds and while he has come to the quiet realization that such weaponry is needed on everyone, the fact that a child is forced to forgo the innocence of youth to learn such a weapon is unpleasant. He refrains from allowing his displeasure to show and instead offers a smile at the boy.

"Once I was."

Sephiroth pauses to consider this. He doesn't return the smile, solemn-faced, but he nods. "I am one," he says, because it's true. He's always been in training to be a warrior, and it's what he wants to be. In the Tower, he's able to fight as much as he wants to (which is a great deal).

"What are you now?" He must still be able to fight, with such a sword. Sephiroth would like to see it more closely, but he doesn't wish to be impolite.

So solemn. Elrond had to wonder just how long the child had been trapped within this tower. "A scholar and a healer."

He has noted the child's curiosity toward the sword and he picks it up, unsheathing it partway so that he can see the blade and the decoration engraved within it. "It is called Hadhafang."

"I am a scholar, too, and I can heal." That is, his study of science counts as scholarship, and he possesses healing Materia. "I study science, especially biology."

Sephiroth studies the sword with careful interest when it's held up, nodding. "It is an impressive weapon. My sword doesn't have a name." He hadn't thought to give it one. "What does it mean?"

Bored bored bored. Tiny pirate child was very bored. The tower had plenty of things to keep her busy but there was that promise she had made about trying to stay out of trouble. And to stay out of trouble meant staying off, or quickly passing through, the more dangerous (and thereby entertaining) floors.

So she wandered until she ended up on the eleventh floor. Grabbing a handful of stones, she went as close to the edge of the floor as she dared and started chucking them outside, seeing how far she could get them. Her hair was loose rather that the tight bun she normally wore but had her regular seafaring clothes on with her bandaged right hand. She wasn't hurt but Zelda told her to do it.

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cafeteria

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Library

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cafeteria

Floor 11

Library

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Floor 13

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Floor 25

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Floor 11

Floor 25

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Floor 25: Meadow

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Floor 25

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