Enoch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
warriorscribe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-08-13 11:55 am
warriorscribe) wrote in towerofanimus2013-08-13 11:55 am
True Darkness
Characters: Enoch and anyone (except one that's semi-closed but open to threadjacking)
Setting: Throughout the rest of the week (the first one is on his previous post), various floors
Format: Whatever works for you, I'll follow!
Summary: Enoch and the event
Warnings: Lots of angst, and a severed hand. Spoilers for El Shaddai chapter 9 and beyond. Also this is so long, holy shit.
Aug 12
Elevator
The four shadow children that had shown up yesterday proved to be patient. Enoch had woken that morning to find them clustered around his bed. It would be cute, if they weren't so unsettling, if he didn't just know something was amiss from the way Jason had said you'll see what you broke. That's not something you say when the result is harmless.
And yet, some gut feeling, some odd sense of familiarity, keeps him from striking out at them preemptively like he does any Imps he finds. Maybe he's still in bad enough shape he'll even take the dubious company of whatever these are. Either way he heads into the elevator, with any number of other residents with their own followers.
F78 - Mailroom
He doesn't realize when one more joins the crowd inside the elevator, until he steps out and it follows him. He looks at the newcomer as if asking what it's doing there. It just grins wide and trots up to the front of the group. Feeling more and more like he is leading a pack of shadowy imprinted ducks, he continues down to the mailroom.
Where he can be found, sitting slumped against the wall of boxes, cradling a broad, masculine hand, nearly identical to his own in proportions but darker in tone. The hand is open and a gold-plated hairclip, bloodstained, rests in its palm.
And he was doing so well, too.
But now he's just staring at it, weeping quietly. The newcomer shadow child wanders up and stands on its toes to get a better look at what Enoch's holding.
Aug 14, ultimately anywhere on the stairwell below F38
The hand had gone into his sauna locker. Not his trunk, he didn't want to scare any newcomer that accidentally opened the wrong one. And somehow he didn't want to throw it out. That was probably the emotional instability speaking. The hairclip was now pinning the plastic casing over the card Armaros had given him in Meridian closed. He was staring at this while the rain pounded the windows of the middle lounge, the one closest to his work floor. He had almost gotten used to the shadow children following him. At the moment, the original four had clusered around the sofa he's in, the newcomer having climbed up and onto the back to sit by his shoulder. It had been the most active and curious of the bunch, always taking a rapt interest in what he was doing. It should have been a clue, really.
"I miss him," Enoch whispers to himself.
"Armaros?" says one of the shadow children in front of him, in Uriel's voice, pointing at the one sitting on the back of the couch beside him. "But he's right there."
Enoch stares at the Uriel-shadow, and then looks back at the shadow child, fear quickening his breath. "Armaros...?"
"Yeah...or what's left of me, I guess." He says in a voice Enoch could only remember from hearing a mental equivalent in Meridian. He sounds sullen, disappointed. "Some hero you turned out to be. They shouldn't have made that card for you."
"Haven't I helped you when you needed it most, when you were about to die?" says Uriel. "Why did you leave me to die?"
For a moment, all Enoch can do is stare. The pain doesn't immediately sink in.
"I don't think you deserve that card anymore..." And with that, Armaros-shadow snatches it from his hand and rushes off. Others may encounter Enoch chasing the shadow child, desperate to get that memento of Meridian back. (Only one responder may take this. Currently:tohko_amano)
Or perhaps they'll find him having already taken it, looking very distressed at his crowd of shadow children, now in a circle and actively speaking against him. "No...please stop...I can save you." (Else)
Aug 15, Anywhere
More have shown up to follow him. Solas. Zeph. Lucifel. He might have thought it illusion if they didn't feel true the way being back in Meridian felt true. It was pure intuition and he knew that could be tricked, but it didn't change anything.
"It was supposed to be forever." I thought so too, Armaros...
"'I'm not going anywhere'. Least you could've done is return the favor..." I'm sorry, Lucifel.
"I'm dead now. Even if you restore everything, I'll be killed anyway." He didn't want to believe it. But...it was probably true. Either way, Solas would die.
"Way to get our world destroyed, Enoch. To think I actually trusted you." I'm trying to fix things, Zeph. It wasn't even his fault, but...it was his fault they were like this. Because Zo had saved him.
Enoch, his collar a lighter blue but not even noticing, leans on the wall, wherever he is, begging the shadow children to stop, his conviction wavering with each repetition until he just doesn't say anything anymore. He drops to his knees and tries to hug one, but his arms pass right through. He tries this several times throughout the day, appearing more and more distraught.
Aug 16, F101
Morning
Until he just doesn't have the energy for tears. Enoch has half-carried, half-dragged Lucifel, even worse off than he is, to Dax's sapling, his collar running mostly clear by now. He can see Princess Zelda against a tree nearby, but she seems too far gone to notice him, and to be honest, he doesn't have the energy either. He collapses with the barely-alive angel in the real dirt just as the glamour cuts out, rendering them a pair of wireframes, souls casting the barest blue and violet glows beneath their clothes. Lucifel's is much weaker than his own, and Enoch rests his hand over Lucifel's torso where the angel's soul is.
"Nice replacement," says Lucifel-shadow. Armaros-shadow wedges himself into the crook of Enoch's arm, not speaking but cooing softly, when hearing that comforting sound only hurts.
Enoch breathes shallowly, feeling the rise and fall of Lucifel's chest with his hand. Someone might be able to encounter them while they're both still alive.
After some time, Enoch realizes Lucifel has stopped breathing. There's a weak sob from him, but he can't react any more, can't lift his head, can't move his arm. He doesn't realize he's attracted one more shadow child with those that Lucifel's presence has driven away until a new voice speaks, strong and bold, female.
"My name is Ishtar, Enoch. But you will never know me by that name because you're here, playing a facsimile of my role. But instead of resurrecting me, you're trying to become me. You can't. You don't even care about people you should. Where are the voices of the Freemen?"
"That's not true," Enoch croaks.
He hears nothing more from the shadow children, feeling from them instead an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
He can still talk loud enough to be heard by someone nearby, and his presence might still drive away someone else's shadow children if his bond with them is strong enough. For however long he has left, he can at least be a guardian.
Afternoon - closed
As his consciousness grows hazier, the other shadows start picking up Ishtar's idea of who he isn't hearing.
"Come to think of it," says Gabriel-shadow, looking around, "You started families and made friends while searching for the Tower, correct? Did you love them? Where are they?"
"Um...weren't you married before Heaven?" Armaros-shadow adds. "What about your first wife and child, I thought those were important."
"You know who else you're not hearing?" says Lucifel-shadow. "Well. I guess you can't hear a voice you've never heard at all. But still, you know, He's dead too. 'Cause you're not. Just thought I'd remind you."
The color drains from Enoch's soul.
Setting: Throughout the rest of the week (the first one is on his previous post), various floors
Format: Whatever works for you, I'll follow!
Summary: Enoch and the event
Warnings: Lots of angst, and a severed hand. Spoilers for El Shaddai chapter 9 and beyond. Also this is so long, holy shit.
Aug 12
Elevator
The four shadow children that had shown up yesterday proved to be patient. Enoch had woken that morning to find them clustered around his bed. It would be cute, if they weren't so unsettling, if he didn't just know something was amiss from the way Jason had said you'll see what you broke. That's not something you say when the result is harmless.
And yet, some gut feeling, some odd sense of familiarity, keeps him from striking out at them preemptively like he does any Imps he finds. Maybe he's still in bad enough shape he'll even take the dubious company of whatever these are. Either way he heads into the elevator, with any number of other residents with their own followers.
F78 - Mailroom
He doesn't realize when one more joins the crowd inside the elevator, until he steps out and it follows him. He looks at the newcomer as if asking what it's doing there. It just grins wide and trots up to the front of the group. Feeling more and more like he is leading a pack of shadowy imprinted ducks, he continues down to the mailroom.
Where he can be found, sitting slumped against the wall of boxes, cradling a broad, masculine hand, nearly identical to his own in proportions but darker in tone. The hand is open and a gold-plated hairclip, bloodstained, rests in its palm.
And he was doing so well, too.
But now he's just staring at it, weeping quietly. The newcomer shadow child wanders up and stands on its toes to get a better look at what Enoch's holding.
Aug 14, ultimately anywhere on the stairwell below F38
The hand had gone into his sauna locker. Not his trunk, he didn't want to scare any newcomer that accidentally opened the wrong one. And somehow he didn't want to throw it out. That was probably the emotional instability speaking. The hairclip was now pinning the plastic casing over the card Armaros had given him in Meridian closed. He was staring at this while the rain pounded the windows of the middle lounge, the one closest to his work floor. He had almost gotten used to the shadow children following him. At the moment, the original four had clusered around the sofa he's in, the newcomer having climbed up and onto the back to sit by his shoulder. It had been the most active and curious of the bunch, always taking a rapt interest in what he was doing. It should have been a clue, really.
"I miss him," Enoch whispers to himself.
"Armaros?" says one of the shadow children in front of him, in Uriel's voice, pointing at the one sitting on the back of the couch beside him. "But he's right there."
Enoch stares at the Uriel-shadow, and then looks back at the shadow child, fear quickening his breath. "Armaros...?"
"Yeah...or what's left of me, I guess." He says in a voice Enoch could only remember from hearing a mental equivalent in Meridian. He sounds sullen, disappointed. "Some hero you turned out to be. They shouldn't have made that card for you."
"Haven't I helped you when you needed it most, when you were about to die?" says Uriel. "Why did you leave me to die?"
For a moment, all Enoch can do is stare. The pain doesn't immediately sink in.
"I don't think you deserve that card anymore..." And with that, Armaros-shadow snatches it from his hand and rushes off. Others may encounter Enoch chasing the shadow child, desperate to get that memento of Meridian back. (Only one responder may take this. Currently:
tohko_amano)Or perhaps they'll find him having already taken it, looking very distressed at his crowd of shadow children, now in a circle and actively speaking against him. "No...please stop...I can save you." (Else)
Aug 15, Anywhere
More have shown up to follow him. Solas. Zeph. Lucifel. He might have thought it illusion if they didn't feel true the way being back in Meridian felt true. It was pure intuition and he knew that could be tricked, but it didn't change anything.
"It was supposed to be forever." I thought so too, Armaros...
"'I'm not going anywhere'. Least you could've done is return the favor..." I'm sorry, Lucifel.
"I'm dead now. Even if you restore everything, I'll be killed anyway." He didn't want to believe it. But...it was probably true. Either way, Solas would die.
"Way to get our world destroyed, Enoch. To think I actually trusted you." I'm trying to fix things, Zeph. It wasn't even his fault, but...it was his fault they were like this. Because Zo had saved him.
Enoch, his collar a lighter blue but not even noticing, leans on the wall, wherever he is, begging the shadow children to stop, his conviction wavering with each repetition until he just doesn't say anything anymore. He drops to his knees and tries to hug one, but his arms pass right through. He tries this several times throughout the day, appearing more and more distraught.
Aug 16, F101
Morning
Until he just doesn't have the energy for tears. Enoch has half-carried, half-dragged Lucifel, even worse off than he is, to Dax's sapling, his collar running mostly clear by now. He can see Princess Zelda against a tree nearby, but she seems too far gone to notice him, and to be honest, he doesn't have the energy either. He collapses with the barely-alive angel in the real dirt just as the glamour cuts out, rendering them a pair of wireframes, souls casting the barest blue and violet glows beneath their clothes. Lucifel's is much weaker than his own, and Enoch rests his hand over Lucifel's torso where the angel's soul is.
"Nice replacement," says Lucifel-shadow. Armaros-shadow wedges himself into the crook of Enoch's arm, not speaking but cooing softly, when hearing that comforting sound only hurts.
Enoch breathes shallowly, feeling the rise and fall of Lucifel's chest with his hand. Someone might be able to encounter them while they're both still alive.
After some time, Enoch realizes Lucifel has stopped breathing. There's a weak sob from him, but he can't react any more, can't lift his head, can't move his arm. He doesn't realize he's attracted one more shadow child with those that Lucifel's presence has driven away until a new voice speaks, strong and bold, female.
"My name is Ishtar, Enoch. But you will never know me by that name because you're here, playing a facsimile of my role. But instead of resurrecting me, you're trying to become me. You can't. You don't even care about people you should. Where are the voices of the Freemen?"
"That's not true," Enoch croaks.
He hears nothing more from the shadow children, feeling from them instead an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
He can still talk loud enough to be heard by someone nearby, and his presence might still drive away someone else's shadow children if his bond with them is strong enough. For however long he has left, he can at least be a guardian.
Afternoon - closed
As his consciousness grows hazier, the other shadows start picking up Ishtar's idea of who he isn't hearing.
"Come to think of it," says Gabriel-shadow, looking around, "You started families and made friends while searching for the Tower, correct? Did you love them? Where are they?"
"Um...weren't you married before Heaven?" Armaros-shadow adds. "What about your first wife and child, I thought those were important."
"You know who else you're not hearing?" says Lucifel-shadow. "Well. I guess you can't hear a voice you've never heard at all. But still, you know, He's dead too. 'Cause you're not. Just thought I'd remind you."
The color drains from Enoch's soul.
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"You have a point, and I'm not saying that they are." Zett shuts his eyes. "But they're not helpful. You wanted to fix the worlds long before they showed up."
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Armaros lays beside him, curling up against his leg. Enoch's memory and imagination too readily supply the warmth of body heat.
"They're in too much pain to think clearly."
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You wouldn't blame a flea for doing what fleas do. It's all instinct.
"But you still won't help us?" Mirai asks. "After all we've done to to help you? Weren't we friends?"
Like that. Even though it makes Zett uneasy at least, he doesn't blame pests for being pests.
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"You keep picking up new projects, Enoch," says Michael. "You'll fail at all of them at this rate."
"You don't know that," he says quietly, knowing both how pointless it was and that to Zett, he was replying to nothing.
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What are we supposed to do? We're dead. You're the only one left so the least you can do is-
"Yeah, I get it already. Stuff it."
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"But if you don't have someone holding your hand and showing you what to do and where to go, it takes over three hundred years. I didn't know how long that was until I had to wait for you. And then this. It isn't fair, you should have died with me!"
Enoch gives Armaros a long, sorrowful look. It's one of the most genuine things he'd heard out of one of these shadows, and how unchanged it sounds is all too telling.
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Between their mental noise and a certain other source of it, he couldn't really see how that choice of words made sense. What Armaros had said, it was true, and there was no reason for him to not feel sympathetic pain at the obvious pain of the others. How was that "giving in"? What exactly was there to blame him for?
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Because then Zett wouldn't know what he did wrong to keep Enoch from fading away.
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Unfortunately for Zett, it's not a matter of what he can or can't do.
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