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towerofanimus2013-07-14 12:04 pm
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-07-14 12:04 pm
☠ 005 | you said we were born with nothing
Characters: Avenger, 'Shirou' and OPEN to all.
Setting: The graveyard on the forty-eighth floor and the hundredth floor.
Format: The exact opposite of Kotomine Kirei's lovingly composed monologues.
Summary: 'Shirou,' on his way down to the cafeteria to do his regular job, comes across the evidence of Rin's departure, and also Archer's disappearance as well. He's not happy.
Warnings: Typical fare for the Tower of Animus such as mentions of death, the destruction of worlds, and sadness.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 48: OUTSIDE ]
[ This was a floor of pointless mausoleums, open graves, and fields of unattended gravestones. Some of the names littered on the headstones he recognized and knew—llya, Sakura, himself. He came by here every morning on his way down to the cafeteria to see them, and that routine never varied. 'Shirou' didn't leave flowers at their graves; it seemed a paltry gesture for failure to keep them safe and well. So, normally he would stand there and talk a little about random things. Saber, the food being a lie, what information they had found out, a video game he'd played in the media room.
But when he came down this morning, there was an unexpected new name among the graves.
Matou Rin, carved into the stone like it meant nothing at all. Like it didn't mean the magus was now in terrible danger, from Ruana's power-sapping to supply the Tower now that the power cores were running out. Like it didn't mean there was now another girl roaming the desolate, destroyed land of the world she came from like so many others. Like it didn't mean another failure.
His knees suddenly seemed too weak to hold him up, and he sat down hard on his rear in front of the gravemarker, one small slab of stone with a polished surface and scratched edges in the lines of gravemarkers stretching out like small, gray pittances. Shirou sat there and rebuked himself, feeling hollow as he thought about Rin, wandering alone in the ruined landscape of her world. And also thought more angry thoughts about how he was going to make the administrators pay for this injustice.
And that's how any nearby passerby's will find the teenager. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 100: THE HOLOGRAM ]
[ For those of you who don't give a shit about 'Shirou's little episode of upset—a Servant is slowly pacing about this floor, late within the depths of night. He seems to be vaguely confused.
His back is turned towards the staircase, his face turned away from it. It looks like he's trying to figure something out; ]
—Mm?
Setting: The graveyard on the forty-eighth floor and the hundredth floor.
Format: The exact opposite of Kotomine Kirei's lovingly composed monologues.
Summary: 'Shirou,' on his way down to the cafeteria to do his regular job, comes across the evidence of Rin's departure, and also Archer's disappearance as well. He's not happy.
Warnings: Typical fare for the Tower of Animus such as mentions of death, the destruction of worlds, and sadness.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 48: OUTSIDE ]
[ This was a floor of pointless mausoleums, open graves, and fields of unattended gravestones. Some of the names littered on the headstones he recognized and knew—llya, Sakura, himself. He came by here every morning on his way down to the cafeteria to see them, and that routine never varied. 'Shirou' didn't leave flowers at their graves; it seemed a paltry gesture for failure to keep them safe and well. So, normally he would stand there and talk a little about random things. Saber, the food being a lie, what information they had found out, a video game he'd played in the media room.
But when he came down this morning, there was an unexpected new name among the graves.
Matou Rin, carved into the stone like it meant nothing at all. Like it didn't mean the magus was now in terrible danger, from Ruana's power-sapping to supply the Tower now that the power cores were running out. Like it didn't mean there was now another girl roaming the desolate, destroyed land of the world she came from like so many others. Like it didn't mean another failure.
His knees suddenly seemed too weak to hold him up, and he sat down hard on his rear in front of the gravemarker, one small slab of stone with a polished surface and scratched edges in the lines of gravemarkers stretching out like small, gray pittances. Shirou sat there and rebuked himself, feeling hollow as he thought about Rin, wandering alone in the ruined landscape of her world. And also thought more angry thoughts about how he was going to make the administrators pay for this injustice.
And that's how any nearby passerby's will find the teenager. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 100: THE HOLOGRAM ]
[ For those of you who don't give a shit about 'Shirou's little episode of upset—a Servant is slowly pacing about this floor, late within the depths of night. He seems to be vaguely confused.
His back is turned towards the staircase, his face turned away from it. It looks like he's trying to figure something out; ]
—Mm?
B
... It's not terribly surprising, after all.
[ What Avenger honestly dislikes about Diarmuid, is that he insists on serious discussions. Which he doesn't enjoy at all. They're annoying and bothersome on top of that.
It makes him itch to rip the Servant's face open, gouge out his eyes and slash his mouth from end to end for it, tear his flesh and cut him up, slice him apart. His fingers don't twitch, just barely, he is held back.
He harbors no delusions about himself. It's fun to pretend to be something else, yet none of it is real. It's a convincing semblance, only that. Angra knows that.
The image of the body the Glamour system imposed upon him, could be born because a certain idiot served as an external shell, but he is still "nobody" using the mask of "somebody," and no matter what, he is originally nothing. The void, that nothingness which flows because everything exists. All else had been rubbed away, erased and eliminated. It would ages to mentally list all the ways he does (the deity the Grail had nursed, the hated and worshiped icon, all the evils in the world, etc etc) and doesn't exist, so Avenger doesn't bother.
So he then settles for silence, a twitch of the corner of his lips upward and a clear message; "I also don't see any reason to respond to your questions so I'm not going to" ]
B
[It's not so much that he's not listening, it's that he honestly can't comprehend being as disconnected from things as Avenger seems to be. One could say he has lived his whole life--lives--too close to others. Even when he had been alone, he had been a part and to be honest, despite the pain that had caused him he wouldn't change it. The last thing he wants is to be alone and separated from everything. Something Avenger seems perfectly content to be.
Suddenly, Diarmuid knows all too well the frustration Waver had felt when they were talking after he found out about the magus' encounter with Avenger. He doesn't like the unknown. He's a warrior who depends a great deal on understanding so that he can better plan how to fight and win. Sure, there are always unknowns in battle, but there are usually also ways to decrease those unknowns.
With Avenger is seems that--at least here--no matter how hard he tries to discuss and understand there is no way to decrease the unknowns. He really doesn't like that. It is what makes him so on edge and serious whenever he talks to Avenger. Why would one joke with something so dangerous and unpredictable? It makes no sense. At least, not to him.
His eyes flick from Avenger out over the floor. While Diarmuid still wishes to understand, he hasn't missed those subtle and not so subtle hints that Avenger is done talking and pressing further will only get him the same treatment as Waver had gotten.
To be honest, he's kind of surprised he hasn't gotten that treatment already.]
I doubt you actually care, but since I have asked you so much about what you see it is only fair I tell you what I see. What I see is my homestead from back when I first lived. It's quite remarkable how detailed the representation of the house and the forest are. It's just a shame it's lacking the people who should be there and nothing can be touched. It's comforting to me, though others hate to see someplace so close to them recreated in such realistic detail, yet be so false all at the same time.
B
[ It wasn't Avenger's job to ensure Diarmuid was making the correct conclusions, regardless of whether they were right or wrong. It would actually be to his benefit in the long term, if the view held of him and that lack of understanding persisted right up until the end: it would that much more difficult for Diarmuid and whose he cooperated with to combat or attack him. In hostile territory with few allies, he supposed that would be useful.
He didn't care for Diarmuid's understanding or obvious frustration, anymore than he had cared for his meaningless, foolish pity. Centuries of solitude, pain and hatred, left behind in the end by everything he loved or loathed, in a desolate corner of the world that everybody else had long since creased to remember or concern themselves with, had taught him well in that regard. Angra Mainyu was a convenient dumping ground for the negative emotions of humans. Hatred was the only means he had ever had to participate in the world, so he had hated and hated and hated. It was endless. To be scorned and reviled was simply how people treated him. To be alone with his hatred was merely part of an ordinary day to him.
It wasn't anything he was capable of grieving for.
Perhaps that in itself was a type of warped acceptance.
He watched Diarmuid averted his eyes away from him out over the floor itself, and sure, Diarmuid was pushing the limits of receiving the same treatment as Waver had. But he hadn't quite moved outside of his tolerance, so he didn't lash out. ]
Mm. [ Yeah, he doesn't really care?? But Angra listens without comment to his description and manages to avoid making a face at him. Recreating scenery with an abundance of details isn't too difficult, especially if you have memories to work from. People are way harder to replicate perfectly. ] People do find comfort in favorable illusions. That's fine, though ones ya' can't touch are pretty hollow. And lazy. [ A wicked grin. ] They also hate having what they want being dangled juust out of their reach, too. An illusion like this would count.
[ But...
That's right, that had been one thing the lady had surprised him in. He'd expected—no, he'd been certain she would reject the dream he'd created for her in favor of reality the moment she had figured it out and quit with her silly denial. Clever lady. Yet she hadn't done the sensible thing and refused. Hah, that was amusing to think about. ]
B
[Diarmuid laughs a little bitterly and shakes his head.]
You can probably guess why that is the least popular of the two theories. It assumes something that is pretty stupid to assume--that the administrators care about us. The second theory is more widely accepted because it assumes something most people accept as truth already--that the administrators are heartless monsters and they show us this floor for the exact reason you pointed out. They know how much it will upset people to have something so dear, so familiar and so fake dangled in front of them like that.
[He looks back at Avenger for a moment out of the corners of his eyes.]
We really have no way of knowing which theory is actually true, but if it is the second? They might control a lot about us, but I refuse to let them control my memories of this place. It will never upset me no matter what they do to it. Sometimes, there are benefits to letting yourself walk in a dream. Even when you know it is only a dream. Especially when you know it is only a dream...
B
[ Avenger is blunt, though he voices none of his actual thoughts on the theories and the administrators themselves. There is nothing on this floor to form an opinion on personally so he doesn't.
He pays no attention to Diarmuid glancing at him out of the corners of his eyes. The Servant strolls a little ways from him with a unbothered gait, through the noise of his quiet, soft footsteps and reply carries easily in the silence of the bare room: ]
Hey, that's your choice, asshole. It's not like whether or not you look at that place is going to change much of anything. Think of it however you want. [ As far as he can understand it, it's like a photograph, what is perceived on this floor. And yes, it was true there were benefits to allowing one to dream; to keep the mind busy, to vent, and to kill time or boredom and to allow time to heal, to draw comfort from it. Then he pauses for a moment, before adding an admission without much thought behind it: ]
But to run away from reality in favor of a dream would be inapt and a foolish thing to do, no matter how ya' slice it. Especially if you know it's nothing but that. [ He's musing about something entirely different than the topic he's mentioning to Diarmuid. A satisfying lie would make a human happy even on their deathbed, but it wouldn't save them. ]
B
Way to miss my point, but that's okay. If I can't understand you, I don't expect you to understand--or even care to understand--me.
It's interesting, though, that you assume if someone chooses to walk in a dream for a while, they are running away. Did you know someone who did that? Because, surely you realize that there are many things one can do while walking in a dream that will make them stronger when they return from that dream. They can learn things, they can refocus, they can heal...
It's not always a negative thing. Not by a long shot. Used the right way, I expect this floor can do a lot to make people stronger and that's a good thing considering this fight we are facing with the administrators. We need strength wherever we can find it.
B
Then Avenger shook his head. ]
I'm not talking 'bout for awhile! Awhile would be fun. That's not running away. I'm talking 'bout never letting go of a dream at all. Ah, but yeah. Mrn, maybe I did. Once, somebody made a wish. They dreamed. 'course, dreams have to pass, sooner or later. And that someone refused to accept that end. If they chose to leave the dream behind them, they would returned to the reality of things.
And if they chose to stay, they would have kept suffering forever at any rate and died with the dream. Still, they preferred the dream over reality. That's running away from your problems and substituting them with new ones.
[ He speaks of it as casually as if they were discussing a favorite brand of cereal. ]
Pretty much anything can be looked at in a negative or positive light, especially if you squint, so that's right. [ Not concerned about the rest of the sentence, really, so no commentary there. ]
B
He got something right! X.x]As we've said, though, anything can be looked at from a positive or negative angle. This includes the situation of the person you're speaking about.
[Diarmuid falls quiet for several moments, thinking, before he speaks again.]
My first thought is to agree with you. This person must have been running away if they decided to stay and ignore reality, but that would only apply if the dream was better than the reality. From what you say, that is wrong in every respect. That sounds less like a dream and more like a nightmare. Why would one willingly stay in a nightmare unless they saw the chance for something positive to come out of it?
[He shakes his head.]
I am not sure what that positive could have been. It sounds like it wasn't a positive for them, so perhaps a positive for someone else? They were trying to aid another and were willing to sacrifice everything for that? Unfortunately, that is the only guess I can make from what few details you tell me.
Was...this your master by any chance?
[Of course Avenger would have had one. All servants, no matter now unusual, did, and Diarmuid would not be surprised to find that a servant as unusual as Avenger had an equally unusual master.]
B
For just once! |D]Who knows?
But that was their choice, laughable as it was. If they were doing it to try helping another out, that'd be silly of them. Who could they have held a hand out to, besides themselves? They were the only person in that dream—or nightmare, I guess, right from the start. To everybody else, probably nothing meaningful happened at all.
[ He sweeps out an arm before dropping it down to his side again, resuming the slow, restless pacing he'd been preoccupied with when the other Servant had walked into the room. Yeah, that's... a really 'helpful' description with a large amount of details and reasoning not included, Avenger.
This whole conversation could be called "Diarmuid asking questions, not understanding or being rightfully confused by the replies and Avenger refusing to clarify his answers." However, at Lancer's venturing a guess towards the person of discussion's identity, Avenger's grin widened.
He wasn't bothered by it. ]
Oh yeah, it was. In several chances even!
[ He abruptly snapped around to face him, a smooth movement that sent his red mantle flaring out around his feet before settling down again. ]
B
Wait! So it was your Master?
[Diarmuid gives Avenger a shocked and confused expression. Shocked, because he hadn't really expected Avenger to answer him. Confused, because shouldn't Avenger know the answer to his questions since it was his master? And, yet, if someone had asked Diarmuid to explain Kayneth's actions, he could give opinions, but no real answers. Only since becoming friends with Waver had he begun to learn what it was like to understand a Master.]
What do you mean several chances? I thought you said you were called into the 3rd War. That is only once...
B
[ He looks tickled pink by Diarmuid's unconcealed confusion and the shock parading across his face, but there's a faint impression of what could be called genuine sincerity placed on the word "my Master."
The only one asking questions here is Diarmuid. Avenger is doing something called choosing to withhold information. There were things about Bazett the Servant had... never fully understood before he'd been taken to the Tower, but they weren't things he would question others about. ]
Figure of speech. 'By any chance,' in several chances!
[ He's messing with Diarmuid here. ]
B
It's almost like he feels something positive about her. Respect maybe? Even if he doesn't understand all of her choices.]
I see. I'm not sure if I should congratulate you or worry for her. It almost sounds like you actually...liked her?
['Figure of speech,' hu? Try again, Avenger. He's not buying it...]
As you say, though you told me once before the class was made for you to be summoned into. Not so much chance involved there...
B
But he's not incapable of affection or interest. Respect, even. (Especially when you explicitly make an exception for them as a master and impose this rule when they don't count as a human being to you, and therefore don't want to kill them immediately on principle.)
And gosh, Diarmuid, you're not the only servant allowed to develop a complex, mutual relationship with your master where you behave differently in regards to them than you do about others. ]
Oh, do you? [ Personally, Diarmuid can always do both! Ah, those were pleasant memories, their time together. Arguments. Eating at cheap remen shops. Bazett getting killed or dying in horrible agony, multiple times. Exploring the city and getting caught in harmless traps. ]
Mm? Come to think of it, I did feel some attachment to her.
[
:|a Why doesn't Diarmuid appreciate his shitty, thoughtless wordplay. :c :cHe does remember what he told him in their first conversation, yes. Avenger then lifts an eyebrow upward. ]Really. Well, think what ya' like.
B
not very good at being happynot able to let things go that easily. Not when there is the chance that he might be able to learn something that might help Waver in his quest to destroy the Grail.Besides, he can't help but be curious about who this master was that actually managed to break through Avenger's wall of indifference and make him feel anything let alone an attachment. Whoever she was, she must have been quite a women.]
Did she die in that dream, then? Or were you able to change her mind and bring her back out?
[Part of him hopes, no matter how unlikely it is, that whoever this woman was she managed to end up happy after the war. He of all people knows the value of a good Master and, if nothing else, she deserved it after putting up with Avenger.]
B
Avenger huffed exaggeratedly, and whatever his thoughts are, they're hidden from the surface of his insolent face. ]
Who knows? I got yanked here by that kid before anything happened. [ Canon points, man. Aren't they a blast? ] It's not like the apocalypse cares if you've got business to finish before it runs its course.
[ He had offered her his hand. He had held it out to her steadily with the declaration of giving up now that the fun had gone out of things, offered it and known full well what it had meant to do it.
...
Angra couldn't remember if she had taken it. ]
B
[Diarmuid's first instinct is to apologize because, while he's heard of people being pulled at bad times, that one is probably one of the worst. He knows that it would be devastating to him to be pulled here when he was trying to help someone he cared about, and even though he and Avenger are so different, he can't help but think it is hard for the odd Servant too.
Of course, he's come to realize that Avenger isn't going to react well to sympathy, genuine as it is, and so the 'I'm sorry.' remains unvoiced.]
Just one more reason to keep trying to take down the administrators and fix the worlds...
B
So it's for the best the Servant left his useless apologies unsaid and kept them to himself. Avenger wordlessly grunts, not inclined in the slightest to discuss more of the matter now that he'd said his piece. What he personally thought of it and his own current inability to complete that business, he kept to himself.
Avenger shrugged. ]
Eh, anything that'll give me a chance to kick the admin's asses or have somebody do it, I'm alright with. [ He scratches idly at the collar around his neck. He hated the collar, necessary though it was. He hated being collared, hated being restricted, he hated it, he hated it, he hated it, he hated it. ] Ah, great. You do that.
B
[Diarmuid does not, of course, mean he and Avenger. What he means is that it will take the whole Tower to succeed at this and he knows most of the Tower residents will not give up until it's done since they have things they want to go back to. Things they want fixed. Avenger has...his master if she really does mean something to him. Avenger's previous words seemed to indicate she did, but his total disregard for finding a way to get out of here and fixing the worlds seems to say otherwise.
All he seems interested in is hurting the administrators as much as they have, presumably, hurt him.
All the contradictions are giving him a headache. He's sure Avenger would be pleased to know it too, which is why he says nothing and instead turns toward the stairwell to leave. Diarmuid had come to the floor for some piece and quiet so that he could mourn Rin's loss.
He won't find it here.]
B
It's only by the time Diarmuid has made it to the stairwell and has his foot on the first step, that Avenger's words follow after him and reach his ears, easily heard since to Avenger, they're both standing in a bare, metal room with no source of noise to hamper it. ]
Good luck then.
[ It's... difficult to tell whether that was mocking or genuinely a well-wishing for his and everybody else's success. But what follows, hot on its heels is much more undeniably immature and snide, the smirk practically visible in his voice alone: ] Be seeing ya' later, mister chivalry.