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towerofanimus2011-10-27 02:05 pm
lethechained.livejournal.com) wrote in towerofanimus2011-10-27 02:05 pm
Entry tags:
Breakfast With a Side of Hopelessness
Characters: Naminé (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lethechained)
Setting: Floor 1, the cafeteria
Format: Starting this way, will match.
Summary: Naminé's been spending most of the event trying to fight the experiment effects, but it looks like it's a battle she's losing. (Attempting to fight transition to Stage 3.)
Warnings: Angst, hopelessness, lethargy. She's still got enough of a handle on herself to not try to kill most surgical experiment victims, although the more she likes them the more likely she is to suggest an... er, solution to their predicament, but most likely will not actually act on anything unless they agree to it. Hence, possible mentions of suicide or character death.
In all of her short, short lifetime, she had never felt like this.
Third time's the charm, they said, and whether that applied to her third captivity or her third life, it fit. Even though from the beginning she'd recognized these abnormal feelings as foreign and likely related to those notes she'd received, and she'd fought so valiantly for so long, she couldn't deny that they did make sense. That hopelessness... it was the correct way to feel. It was the truth - what chance did they stand of finding a way out, especially with such powerful captors? She'd spent all of her life in cages. The only thing that ever changed was just that those cages had gotten progressively bigger. What could have ever made her think that one day the door would be open? Almost everyone else seemed to have hope, and for so long she'd tried to encourage that in them and in herself, but now... now, she realized how futile it was, how cruel it had been of her to do such a thing. It had been cruel to try to make friends, too, when they didn't even know what she was or what that meant.
Her breakfast sat unfinished next to her on the table. She regarded it silently as she mused, body slumped in her seat in sharp contrast to her usually stiff posture and her head resting on the table, turned only far enough for her to eye the breakfast she'd only barely managed to force herself to fetch in the first place, and then only because her last meal had been breakfast the day before and her stomach would not have it any other way. It was pointless, of course, but the small part of her that was still urging her to fight this sensation had been most insistent, and hunger, at least, she could do something about. It had taken her a long time to convince herself of even that. (After all, if the food was poisoned, it wouldn't make any difference, anyway. If they wanted her to eat poisoned food, they could make her do it and she wouldn't be able to resist.)
Her grief was quiet, and though it was for them, it seemed poor assistance for everyone here, for everyone else who might be (probably was) dead, for anyone that might still find their way here.
lethechained)Setting: Floor 1, the cafeteria
Format: Starting this way, will match.
Summary: Naminé's been spending most of the event trying to fight the experiment effects, but it looks like it's a battle she's losing. (Attempting to fight transition to Stage 3.)
Warnings: Angst, hopelessness, lethargy. She's still got enough of a handle on herself to not try to kill most surgical experiment victims, although the more she likes them the more likely she is to suggest an... er, solution to their predicament, but most likely will not actually act on anything unless they agree to it. Hence, possible mentions of suicide or character death.
In all of her short, short lifetime, she had never felt like this.
Third time's the charm, they said, and whether that applied to her third captivity or her third life, it fit. Even though from the beginning she'd recognized these abnormal feelings as foreign and likely related to those notes she'd received, and she'd fought so valiantly for so long, she couldn't deny that they did make sense. That hopelessness... it was the correct way to feel. It was the truth - what chance did they stand of finding a way out, especially with such powerful captors? She'd spent all of her life in cages. The only thing that ever changed was just that those cages had gotten progressively bigger. What could have ever made her think that one day the door would be open? Almost everyone else seemed to have hope, and for so long she'd tried to encourage that in them and in herself, but now... now, she realized how futile it was, how cruel it had been of her to do such a thing. It had been cruel to try to make friends, too, when they didn't even know what she was or what that meant.
Her breakfast sat unfinished next to her on the table. She regarded it silently as she mused, body slumped in her seat in sharp contrast to her usually stiff posture and her head resting on the table, turned only far enough for her to eye the breakfast she'd only barely managed to force herself to fetch in the first place, and then only because her last meal had been breakfast the day before and her stomach would not have it any other way. It was pointless, of course, but the small part of her that was still urging her to fight this sensation had been most insistent, and hunger, at least, she could do something about. It had taken her a long time to convince herself of even that. (After all, if the food was poisoned, it wouldn't make any difference, anyway. If they wanted her to eat poisoned food, they could make her do it and she wouldn't be able to resist.)
Her grief was quiet, and though it was for them, it seemed poor assistance for everyone here, for everyone else who might be (probably was) dead, for anyone that might still find their way here.
no subject
"I think so." She nodded firmly, growing more convinced that the people she was seeing were just in her mind, even though all of her senses were crying out that they were real, fear and uncertainly giving way to disgust and indignation. How could she have missed something so obvious before? Even worse, how could those people claim to have saved them while treating them like this? She swings her lengs under the table, grimacing at the sickening crunch that only she could hear resounding through the room as her heel makes contact with one of the moaning figure's heads. "I don't get it though, what are they hoping to accomplish? This isn't even experimentation anymore, it's torture!"
no subject
Had she the drive, she might have shrugged. It would have only served to look hopeless, anyway. "Or maybe they just want us to be so scared that we'll cooperate." She was no stranger to that.
no subject
"If that's what they're hoping for then the best thing we can do is to refuse to participate, right? We might be stuck in this creepy tower for now..." Her head began to tilt down as she felt something gripping her heel before bringing it back up, making a concerted effort to ignore it. It wasn't real. There was no way it could be rule. It was just an image that they'd put in her head. "But that doesn't mean that we have to just accept it. If we let this place decide how we act and feel and see things, then we're just going to be made into this place's puppets, and there's no way I'm just going to sit back and let that happen!"
no subject
"...Right." The fact that they might not ever get out didn't mean that they couldn't try to hold on to themselves. She'd been trying to do that for some time, but the logic had just fit so well with what she'd already known. "But... how are you going to stop it?" She was genuinely curious. Willpower, perhaps?