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towerofanimus2013-07-05 11:43 am
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-07-05 11:43 am
☠ 004 | all sufferings, all pleasures, all good and evil
Characters: Avenger and OPEN to all.
Setting: Dormitory levels, elsewhere and then the first floor, the seventy-fifth floor, and the twenty-fifth floor.
Format: Action spam to start with.
Summary: A typical open log for this month.
Warnings: All the Evils' in The World is present in this post which is a warning by itself, along with grossness/gore and blood in the first prompt? Also the expected fare for the Tower of Animus.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 75: OUTSIDE ]
[ Seated on the grass warmed by the clear weather on this floor outside the twenty-story tower, the Servant is busily pulling the slowily-cooling intestines out of a dead monster, its stomach slit wide open. Its throat is a ravaged mess. A few other organs laid spattered bloodily on the ground next to Avenger; two hearts (who knew some of them had extra hearts?), what looks to be the liver, maybe a section of the stomach? It could be an alien-looking kidney. It's hard to identify them correctly. His arms are bright red up to the elbows.
What he couldn't dig out with his hands and strength, he used his short swords to cut them up further and make the task easier to complete.
One or two lumps of maimed tendons and meat that might have once resembled the regular monsters themselves, are left nearby as well, given a similarly careless treatment.
Boredom is a strange thing, when paired with constant murderous urges that Angra is attempting to redirect away from fellow residents. At least he decided to do this in a corner of this floor far away from the stairs? Not that he's making any attempt to conceal this from prying eyes. He just likes the quiet between hunting down the Tower-generated creatures. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: THE MEADOW ]
[ His eyes are closed and he's flopped over onto his side onto the soft grass with one side of his face pressed against the ground, under the cool, dark shade of one of the trees in the meadow. His thin shoulders rise and fall in sync with his even, slow breathing. Taking a nap in the evening was pointless; it wasn't like he required sleep or even food or housing. But he felt the desire to pretend at it, and since he had no reason other than his instinctive paranoia to not to leave himself open in any manner, he went along with it. Angra had never quite regained the knack to true semblance of slumber after his first life, only managing a light doze or total dreamless unconsciousness at the best.
His sleep was restless and shallow.At least he doesn't snore.
So when somebody's feet unexpectedly impacts with the embodiment of all evils' ribs and there's a sudden, unwanted weight tripping over him, it roused him easily. Wheezing at the knee that comes down into his stomach, he rolls over, hurriedly trying to push them off of his body and sputters in confusion. ]
—!!? Wha, wh—
[ Disoriented and groggy, Avenger still snaps to wakefulness speedily in a few moments with an irritated snarl of fury as he realizes what happened. ]
—Watching where you're fuckin' going... [ He spat out, a tick mark show showing on his forehead; ] is way too much trouble, huh! Idiot!
[ VERY RUDE. ]
[ SCENARIO C || DORMITORY LEVELS: POST-SPARRING ]
[ There was a line of old scrapes and redness along his knuckles where Saber whacked him if he'd gotten careless for even an instance while fighting her, a newer bruise on one cheekbone and what felt like a swollen knot blooming on the top of his head from a blow to the skull. Generally, he looked like he'd gone biking on a deserted road, collided head-on with a small truck and come out the worse off.
Of course, that was usually the normal result of his sparring matches with Arturia: 'Shirou' getting beaten up repeatedly and mercilessly for one or two hours, stop for the day, do it again later, rinse, wash, repeat. He'd improved, yes, to the point where he could block her attacks occasionally and even deflect them, but he couldn't avoid getting knocked out. In today's session, he tried going on the offensive for a short time before changing his mind and deciding the price paid in the strength of her blows was too much, and playing it defensively in a battle against the Servant would probably work best.
His body burned with pain. 'Shirou' , ignoring his body's complaints of fresh soreness, wipes the lingering sweat off his forehead with his arm, calming his breathing down. The discomfort he was currently in would fade soon enough. As if to spite him until then, a knife of minor pain stabbed abruptly him in the side. ]
... Ow—ouch, owch...
[ He winced and dropped his arm back down to his side. ]
[ SCENARIO D || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK ]
[ Generally, Angra wanders through an assortment of floors at night and shows little concern for which ones he ends up on as long as they are neither overly threatening or extreme.
He's not a picky sort of guy.
It's possible to find him sitting on tombstones in the cemetery staring at the fabrication of the skies on one floor, not mourning the dead just looking at the view, slinking through the sandy caverns on another floor, or walking over the farmland on one of the lower floors.
'Shirou' is much more easy to run into during the day, tinkering with dented toasters in the workshop, hanging out in the media room, or obsessively patrolling the hallways and floors of the Towers as normal, bruises or no bruises. Business as usual here! ]
Setting: Dormitory levels, elsewhere and then the first floor, the seventy-fifth floor, and the twenty-fifth floor.
Format: Action spam to start with.
Summary: A typical open log for this month.
Warnings: All the Evils' in The World is present in this post which is a warning by itself, along with grossness/gore and blood in the first prompt? Also the expected fare for the Tower of Animus.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 75: OUTSIDE ]
[ Seated on the grass warmed by the clear weather on this floor outside the twenty-story tower, the Servant is busily pulling the slowily-cooling intestines out of a dead monster, its stomach slit wide open. Its throat is a ravaged mess. A few other organs laid spattered bloodily on the ground next to Avenger; two hearts (who knew some of them had extra hearts?), what looks to be the liver, maybe a section of the stomach? It could be an alien-looking kidney. It's hard to identify them correctly. His arms are bright red up to the elbows.
What he couldn't dig out with his hands and strength, he used his short swords to cut them up further and make the task easier to complete.
One or two lumps of maimed tendons and meat that might have once resembled the regular monsters themselves, are left nearby as well, given a similarly careless treatment.
Boredom is a strange thing, when paired with constant murderous urges that Angra is attempting to redirect away from fellow residents. At least he decided to do this in a corner of this floor far away from the stairs? Not that he's making any attempt to conceal this from prying eyes. He just likes the quiet between hunting down the Tower-generated creatures. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: THE MEADOW ]
[ His eyes are closed and he's flopped over onto his side onto the soft grass with one side of his face pressed against the ground, under the cool, dark shade of one of the trees in the meadow. His thin shoulders rise and fall in sync with his even, slow breathing. Taking a nap in the evening was pointless; it wasn't like he required sleep or even food or housing. But he felt the desire to pretend at it, and since he had no reason other than his instinctive paranoia to not to leave himself open in any manner, he went along with it. Angra had never quite regained the knack to true semblance of slumber after his first life, only managing a light doze or total dreamless unconsciousness at the best.
His sleep was restless and shallow.
So when somebody's feet unexpectedly impacts with the embodiment of all evils' ribs and there's a sudden, unwanted weight tripping over him, it roused him easily. Wheezing at the knee that comes down into his stomach, he rolls over, hurriedly trying to push them off of his body and sputters in confusion. ]
—!!? Wha, wh—
[ Disoriented and groggy, Avenger still snaps to wakefulness speedily in a few moments with an irritated snarl of fury as he realizes what happened. ]
—Watching where you're fuckin' going... [ He spat out, a tick mark show showing on his forehead; ] is way too much trouble, huh! Idiot!
[ VERY RUDE. ]
[ SCENARIO C || DORMITORY LEVELS: POST-SPARRING ]
[ There was a line of old scrapes and redness along his knuckles where Saber whacked him if he'd gotten careless for even an instance while fighting her, a newer bruise on one cheekbone and what felt like a swollen knot blooming on the top of his head from a blow to the skull. Generally, he looked like he'd gone biking on a deserted road, collided head-on with a small truck and come out the worse off.
Of course, that was usually the normal result of his sparring matches with Arturia: 'Shirou' getting beaten up repeatedly and mercilessly for one or two hours, stop for the day, do it again later, rinse, wash, repeat. He'd improved, yes, to the point where he could block her attacks occasionally and even deflect them, but he couldn't avoid getting knocked out. In today's session, he tried going on the offensive for a short time before changing his mind and deciding the price paid in the strength of her blows was too much, and playing it defensively in a battle against the Servant would probably work best.
His body burned with pain. 'Shirou' , ignoring his body's complaints of fresh soreness, wipes the lingering sweat off his forehead with his arm, calming his breathing down. The discomfort he was currently in would fade soon enough. As if to spite him until then, a knife of minor pain stabbed abruptly him in the side. ]
... Ow—ouch, owch...
[ He winced and dropped his arm back down to his side. ]
[ SCENARIO D || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK ]
[ Generally, Angra wanders through an assortment of floors at night and shows little concern for which ones he ends up on as long as they are neither overly threatening or extreme.
He's not a picky sort of guy.
It's possible to find him sitting on tombstones in the cemetery staring at the fabrication of the skies on one floor, not mourning the dead just looking at the view, slinking through the sandy caverns on another floor, or walking over the farmland on one of the lower floors.
'Shirou' is much more easy to run into during the day, tinkering with dented toasters in the workshop, hanging out in the media room, or obsessively patrolling the hallways and floors of the Towers as normal, bruises or no bruises. Business as usual here! ]
no subject
In the kitchens. Uh, that's where we met? It wasn't that long ago...
[ Shirou skips back over the apologetic glance at his arm, since it was only a small portion of the ruination that seemed to have overtaken most of Kariya's body and could be addressed later. (Even if he was still angry about the monster bullshit Ruana had forced upon them.) One eye was filmed over, as pale as his hair and he limped badly.
He worried about the man immediately. ]
No, I meant your body. What happened to it? Are you sick?
no subject
[Kitchens were a place Kariya made a point of keeping out of in his current condition. There wasn't much he could do there, he could barely eat, and he'd never been much for cooking in the first place.]
I don't remember meeting you, I'm afraid. [He couldn't always think clearly, but he didn't have gaps in his memory, as far as he was aware. It had never seemed like he did, and no one had ever pointed that out to him.] I wish I did, but-- [He gestures with his good arm. He quite simply doesn't.]
Yes, I'm sick. [He doesn't think it's necessary to go into the details.] I've been this way since I got here, and I've been here a while. [He's still not sure what the source of the confusion could be.] What's your name?
no subject
[ Shirou doesn't look any less confused or worried. He crinkles his forehead in thought; no, he could easily recall seeing this same person, with a less deformed face and body, in the kitchens. That's a fact. But it's also a fact Kariya doesn't remember that meeting. ]
Ah, uh! It's not your fault if you don't remember. Er, it only happened once? [ It was said reassuringly. But he frowned a little. ] You weren't sick when I saw you then. You seemed like a really healthy guy, if a bit on the thin side of things.
[ Then he asked for his name, and since he already knew his, it was only fair to offer his own in return; ]
I'm Emiya Shirou.
no subject
Oh--
[Suddenly, it all makes sense to Kariya. He hasn't seen his other self in a while, but he certainly hasn't forgotten about him.]
You must have met the other me. That makes sense. He's from a different universe, where everything went differently than it did in mine. That's why we look so different. Things like that happen here sometimes. It can be confusing.
[The other Kariya had had more power, so he'd been able to control the worms.]
It's nice to meet you, Emiya Shirou. [The name isn't at all familiar to him. Kariya isn't exactly in the know when it comes to other magi or much of what was happening in the War.] You already know my name, so I won't introduce myself.
no subject
Hm, you're right. That does make more sense. [ It would be nice if he could write off every inconsistency or difference as 'they're from an alternate universe.' Not that always explained things. It explained why Kariya hadn't recognized him at least, which was good. ] That's happened to me before, too. It does get confusing.
[ Shirou thinks about offering a handshake, but re-considers with how sickly and frail Kariya seemed. Like a person-shaped, veiny assemblance of toothpicks and pale skin wearing a hoodie. He didn't want him to get tired out on his behalf. ]
Same to you as well, Matou. It's a pleasure. [ He smiled. ] ... Yeah, no need to repeat that for me.
no subject
[Especially one who doesn't like you. Not that he likes himself very much, so maybe that's not too surprising. Everyone else seems to get along better with their alternate selves than he did...]
I hope you got along well with the other Matou Kariya. Have you been here long? Are you sure you're all right...?
[He looks with concern upon Shirou's injuries, in spite of his own.]
Maybe we could find you a healer.
no subject
He was a nice guy to talk to. [ Shirou nodded, saying he had thought well of the Matou Kariya he had first met. ] I've been here for a couple mouths by now. What about you?
[ Then he gets sidetracked. Shirou hurriedly holds up his hands, grinning sheepishly. ]
No, no, it's alright! Really. Saber's merciless when I spar with her, so I get a good collection of bruises as a result but it'll heal soon. It usually does.
[ More importantly; ] You look more like you need a healer way more than I do.
no subject
I'm sure he was. [Not to Kariya, but he was probably nice to other people, Kariya figures.] I'm glad you got along.
Oh, you know Saber? Not--not the one in black? You mean the other Saber.
[He's just checking. Saber Alter is another person Kariya doesn't get along with.]
Are you a friend of hers? I know her, too.
Me? [He nods. He can't deny this fact.] Yes, I do. There are some healers I see, but there's only so much I can do.
no subject
Hm, yeah. [ He gestured with his hand. ]
No, the Saber in white. I'm a friend of hers, yes. [ Shirou blinks. People kept mentioning the other Saber to him recently. First Lancer, now Kariya. ] I haven't met the black Saber yet.
[ The teenager frowns slightly, worried but deciding if this man has been here for that long, then the healers he saw were probably doing the best they could and knew his illness and state of health well themselves, so he doesn't press for details. However he couldn't help being concerned anyway, stupidly or not. ]
It can't be fixed right now?