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towerofanimus2013-08-13 09:32 am
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-08-13 09:32 am
Entry tags:
☠ 006 | you have remembered the apple still lodged in your throat
Characters: Avenger, 'Shirou' and OPEN to all.
Setting: The meadow, the lounge and the cafeteria and the media room, set throughout the week.
Format: Action spam.
Summary: Avenger, still a little annoyed by the package he'd received on Monday, deals with the shadow children following him around. 'Shirou' meanwhile is slowly being convinced he'd being haunted by a severed arm that wouldn't go away no matter how often he throws it out.
Warnings: Typical fare for the Tower of Animus.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 25: THE MEADOW ]
[ At first, there had only been the faint sensation of something's eyes staring at him, no more. It had started in the evening; feeling like he was being watched before a shadowy figure had slipped into view and began harmlessly following him around. It had been rapidly joined by a few more shadowy things, and despite his annoyed attempts to ward them off via a couple dagger to what looked like their heads or limbs, they didn't vanish. They didn't said anything on the first day. Whispers only started drifting out of them on the second day.
They just followed him around the tower, smiling with a slash of white against the blackness of their bodies, and somehow whispered louder and louder and louder. Finally, he'd wandered onto this floor and sat down. Avenger was bemused when he realized he could pick out unexpectedly familiar voices from the chorus. Caren, her voice full of her cold high-and-mighty contempt, commenting on his worthlessness. Another voice, younger and higher, picks up the thread from among the rest of the voices, full of insults.
Bazett, a shadow biting out her scolding words full of scorn and derision.
i never trusted you, not truly. i was right to. look where believing in you as my comrade landed me, Servant.
It continues on in this length for awhile. Avenger rests his chin on his hand, and wonders why the shadows that clustered near him thinks he cares one damn whom they mimic. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 81: LOUGUE ]
[ The number of shadows that trailed his footsteps doubles, then triples in size soon enough. There's an entire horde of them, all yelling and crying and blaming. how could you it's unfair die die die repent hurts unforgivable look at us ruined and dead because of you you've survived monster beast pretender demon fake and we have not it's your fault it's all your fault we hate you. this is your fault how dare you hate you die die die so unfair you're evil you deserve to suffer for this filthy weak pathetic the world would be better off without the likes of you so why don't you just
fucking
die ]
—Yeah, that's right. Think that if ya' want. Shut up already. [ He waves them off dismissively.
The crowd surges, the voices of accusations besetting him. But by now, this late in the week, Avenger has figured out what's their deal and he's not very affected by the experience. He had little attachment to his world that wasn't misanthropic, so it did not bother him in the slightest. In fact, it bored him.
Walking through the lounge, with a severed arm tucked under his arm, and followed by that shadowy crowd instead of taking the elevator to the dorms at night seemed reasonable to him. Stupid Shirou kept throwing it out into the trash can in the cafeteria and making him dig it out again. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 1: THE CAFETERIA ]
[ Now, the person busily cooking his worries about being haunted by an arm that won't go away even after he'd repeatedly tossed it into the trash (where had the arm even come from anyway?) and confusion, in the kitchen is probably a very familiar face to whose who frequent the cafeteria regularly.
As reliable as clockwork, the teenager comes in very early in the morning to place the food inside the oversized oven to be baked and then removes it from the oven to transfer the food to clean plates, before taking the neatly ranged dishes out in the cafeteria for any resident to eat as per the job the administration had assigned to him.
Once that was done, it was back to the kitchens to cook even more, and that is what brings us to our current state of affairs: Emiya Shirou engaging in one of his favorite hobbies—cooking in times of crisis. Determinedly ignoring the one or two shadows that follow him around early in the week. B| Denying they exist at all! ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 14: THE MEDIA ROOM ]
[ 'Shirou' is not coping well with all these voices. :|a
Curled up in one of the bean bags with his eyes screwed shut, his mouth a tight line, and a good dozen shadow children milling around him, focused on him and only him, he looked frazzled and confused and guilty. ]
Setting: The meadow, the lounge and the cafeteria and the media room, set throughout the week.
Format: Action spam.
Summary: Avenger, still a little annoyed by the package he'd received on Monday, deals with the shadow children following him around. 'Shirou' meanwhile is slowly being convinced he'd being haunted by a severed arm that wouldn't go away no matter how often he throws it out.
Warnings: Typical fare for the Tower of Animus.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 25: THE MEADOW ]
[ At first, there had only been the faint sensation of something's eyes staring at him, no more. It had started in the evening; feeling like he was being watched before a shadowy figure had slipped into view and began harmlessly following him around. It had been rapidly joined by a few more shadowy things, and despite his annoyed attempts to ward them off via a couple dagger to what looked like their heads or limbs, they didn't vanish. They didn't said anything on the first day. Whispers only started drifting out of them on the second day.
They just followed him around the tower, smiling with a slash of white against the blackness of their bodies, and somehow whispered louder and louder and louder. Finally, he'd wandered onto this floor and sat down. Avenger was bemused when he realized he could pick out unexpectedly familiar voices from the chorus. Caren, her voice full of her cold high-and-mighty contempt, commenting on his worthlessness. Another voice, younger and higher, picks up the thread from among the rest of the voices, full of insults.
Bazett, a shadow biting out her scolding words full of scorn and derision.
i never trusted you, not truly. i was right to. look where believing in you as my comrade landed me, Servant.
It continues on in this length for awhile. Avenger rests his chin on his hand, and wonders why the shadows that clustered near him thinks he cares one damn whom they mimic. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 81: LOUGUE ]
[ The number of shadows that trailed his footsteps doubles, then triples in size soon enough. There's an entire horde of them, all yelling and crying and blaming. how could you it's unfair die die die repent hurts unforgivable look at us ruined and dead because of you you've survived monster beast pretender demon fake and we have not it's your fault it's all your fault we hate you. this is your fault how dare you hate you die die die so unfair you're evil you deserve to suffer for this filthy weak pathetic the world would be better off without the likes of you so why don't you just
fucking
die ]
—Yeah, that's right. Think that if ya' want. Shut up already. [ He waves them off dismissively.
The crowd surges, the voices of accusations besetting him. But by now, this late in the week, Avenger has figured out what's their deal and he's not very affected by the experience. He had little attachment to his world that wasn't misanthropic, so it did not bother him in the slightest. In fact, it bored him.
Walking through the lounge, with a severed arm tucked under his arm, and followed by that shadowy crowd instead of taking the elevator to the dorms at night seemed reasonable to him. Stupid Shirou kept throwing it out into the trash can in the cafeteria and making him dig it out again. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 1: THE CAFETERIA ]
[ Now, the person busily cooking his worries about being haunted by an arm that won't go away even after he'd repeatedly tossed it into the trash (where had the arm even come from anyway?) and confusion, in the kitchen is probably a very familiar face to whose who frequent the cafeteria regularly.
As reliable as clockwork, the teenager comes in very early in the morning to place the food inside the oversized oven to be baked and then removes it from the oven to transfer the food to clean plates, before taking the neatly ranged dishes out in the cafeteria for any resident to eat as per the job the administration had assigned to him.
Once that was done, it was back to the kitchens to cook even more, and that is what brings us to our current state of affairs: Emiya Shirou engaging in one of his favorite hobbies—cooking in times of crisis. Determinedly ignoring the one or two shadows that follow him around early in the week. B| Denying they exist at all! ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 14: THE MEDIA ROOM ]
[ 'Shirou' is not coping well with all these voices. :|a
Curled up in one of the bean bags with his eyes screwed shut, his mouth a tight line, and a good dozen shadow children milling around him, focused on him and only him, he looked frazzled and confused and guilty. ]
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