Enoch (
warriorscribe) wrote in
towerofanimus2013-10-14 06:54 pm
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Entry tags:
False start
Characters: Enoch and open
Setting: Dorm 3-18, Floor 30, various floors below it + collar research, and through the dorm levels again
Format: I'm starting in prose but it doesn't matter
Summary: Enoch finally finds his regain and feels nostalgic, then farms for weapons, then finally gets one, only to find his plan wouldn't have worked anyway.
Warnings: None yet
Dorm 3-18, backdated to the day after his graveyard breakdown
Enoch had long since figured out that Lights of Blessing (fake blessings to restore fake divine armor) appeared in his trunk after a day, so it was for them that he opened up the trunk...and found something else there too. He dismisses his restored armor and puts on the robe, right arm free for writing and the other covered in a long, draping sleeve. He doesn't know why, but the weight makes him feel nostalgic. He feels a fold of the fabric between his fingertips, his eyes closing as he realizes the impossibly high quality of the cloth could only have come from one place he'd feel nostalgic for. He sits on his bed to try to reminisce, hoping for a buried memory to resurface, but Eleven keeps his focus in the present. He lowers his head, gripping the edge of the bed tight in frustration.
Floor 30, Floor 15, Floor 14, Indigo Fluid Research; up until the 14th
Enoch didn't let the fact that he had a new set of clothes keep him from his plans. For a week or two, he can be found following much the same routine. He fights monsters in the floor where it is always night, and when his armor is dangerously low or gone, he retreats, killing any pursuers on the stairs.
He can thus also be found in the workshop gathering fabric and thread with his armor either absent or in various states of disrepair. But he doesn't stay there. He takes the supplies down to the media floor below and sits to work in one of the chairs there with a pair of headphones - good thing, too, against Eleven. He has them on loud enough to be heard faintly by anyone standing next to him. He has a pile of cloaks he's already made beside him, some child-sized, that he's been putting together for weeks now. When he finishes a new one, he puts it on top of the pile. A note on a sheet of notebook paper by the pile reads One per person, please.
Of course, this means he is largely not present during the bulk of the collar fluid research these days. He comes in after a good deal of work has been done and gathers up the paperwork done, copying it so it's neater and more easily read by others. At least, though, every day until they all have one, every other member of the team gets a cloak.
Dorm floors to 3-18, 15th
And then all this work and the focus his rage earlier put him in, they finally pay off. He's got a real sword off an orc, and now he's returned to the dorm hallways. There's a growing chain of bedsheets trailing behind him as he visits each empty room or room with an empty bed and takes the sheets off it. A psychelysis phantom follows him, and he occasionally glances down at it, but doesn't seem to be bothered - how could he be, when he's walking with such purpose? Eventually, he reaches his own room. He stands staring at the wall where he knows an elevator is, never looking away even when the psychelysis phantom - or anyone else - speaks to him. He's poised with the tip of his sword pointed at the wall, as if ready to strike.
The glamour glitches. He lunges at the crack of the elevator doors and wedges the tip of the sword into it. He strains at it, and sure enough, the wall itself opens as he forces the real doors beneath the glamour apart, wedging his body between them and pushing them the rest of the way open.
And he just stares at the completely smooth elevator shaft, not a cable in sight. Not for long, though, as he immediately unwinds the rope of bedsheets from himself and ties one end around the leg of the bed. But when he drops the other end into the shaft, it dissolves, coming apart into the film it really is.
With an exasperated huff, he gets up and reaches under his bed for something - another orcish sword. Holding one in each hand, he leans over the shaft, prepared to try to slow an otherwise uncontrolled descent. Until a thought comes to him and he jerks back in fright. "No. No, our skin is film, too..."
With his plan ultimately foiled, he sits back on the remains of the sheet rope, the swords falling from his hands as he stares at the open door. The psychelysis phantom looks up at him and he looks back, muttering, "Quiet."
Setting: Dorm 3-18, Floor 30, various floors below it + collar research, and through the dorm levels again
Format: I'm starting in prose but it doesn't matter
Summary: Enoch finally finds his regain and feels nostalgic, then farms for weapons, then finally gets one, only to find his plan wouldn't have worked anyway.
Warnings: None yet
Dorm 3-18, backdated to the day after his graveyard breakdown
Enoch had long since figured out that Lights of Blessing (fake blessings to restore fake divine armor) appeared in his trunk after a day, so it was for them that he opened up the trunk...and found something else there too. He dismisses his restored armor and puts on the robe, right arm free for writing and the other covered in a long, draping sleeve. He doesn't know why, but the weight makes him feel nostalgic. He feels a fold of the fabric between his fingertips, his eyes closing as he realizes the impossibly high quality of the cloth could only have come from one place he'd feel nostalgic for. He sits on his bed to try to reminisce, hoping for a buried memory to resurface, but Eleven keeps his focus in the present. He lowers his head, gripping the edge of the bed tight in frustration.
Floor 30, Floor 15, Floor 14, Indigo Fluid Research; up until the 14th
Enoch didn't let the fact that he had a new set of clothes keep him from his plans. For a week or two, he can be found following much the same routine. He fights monsters in the floor where it is always night, and when his armor is dangerously low or gone, he retreats, killing any pursuers on the stairs.
He can thus also be found in the workshop gathering fabric and thread with his armor either absent or in various states of disrepair. But he doesn't stay there. He takes the supplies down to the media floor below and sits to work in one of the chairs there with a pair of headphones - good thing, too, against Eleven. He has them on loud enough to be heard faintly by anyone standing next to him. He has a pile of cloaks he's already made beside him, some child-sized, that he's been putting together for weeks now. When he finishes a new one, he puts it on top of the pile. A note on a sheet of notebook paper by the pile reads One per person, please.
Of course, this means he is largely not present during the bulk of the collar fluid research these days. He comes in after a good deal of work has been done and gathers up the paperwork done, copying it so it's neater and more easily read by others. At least, though, every day until they all have one, every other member of the team gets a cloak.
Dorm floors to 3-18, 15th
And then all this work and the focus his rage earlier put him in, they finally pay off. He's got a real sword off an orc, and now he's returned to the dorm hallways. There's a growing chain of bedsheets trailing behind him as he visits each empty room or room with an empty bed and takes the sheets off it. A psychelysis phantom follows him, and he occasionally glances down at it, but doesn't seem to be bothered - how could he be, when he's walking with such purpose? Eventually, he reaches his own room. He stands staring at the wall where he knows an elevator is, never looking away even when the psychelysis phantom - or anyone else - speaks to him. He's poised with the tip of his sword pointed at the wall, as if ready to strike.
The glamour glitches. He lunges at the crack of the elevator doors and wedges the tip of the sword into it. He strains at it, and sure enough, the wall itself opens as he forces the real doors beneath the glamour apart, wedging his body between them and pushing them the rest of the way open.
And he just stares at the completely smooth elevator shaft, not a cable in sight. Not for long, though, as he immediately unwinds the rope of bedsheets from himself and ties one end around the leg of the bed. But when he drops the other end into the shaft, it dissolves, coming apart into the film it really is.
With an exasperated huff, he gets up and reaches under his bed for something - another orcish sword. Holding one in each hand, he leans over the shaft, prepared to try to slow an otherwise uncontrolled descent. Until a thought comes to him and he jerks back in fright. "No. No, our skin is film, too..."
With his plan ultimately foiled, he sits back on the remains of the sheet rope, the swords falling from his hands as he stares at the open door. The psychelysis phantom looks up at him and he looks back, muttering, "Quiet."
Stairs near Floor 30 (the 14th yo)
-only to get skewered by a sword from behind. Aleph withdrew his sword and, once he confirmed that the Worrit was dead, looked over at Enoch. Taking note of the state of his armor, he asked, "Hunting monsters?"
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"Thank you."
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He looks down at his armor. There's barely any left - the breastplate is only half-intact, pieces of it clinging to his back as if attached to his skin, though the front looks, aside from one chunk being missing, a little better off. Gloves, pauldrons and neck guards are all gone, and one leg is free of armor entirely. Safe to say deliberately fighting more would be a bad idea. The effort of Recovery should be reserved for unforeseen emergencies.
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Aleph assumes it'll be his room to rest, but might as well ask.
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After all, given what happened last December, Enoch doesn't want to wind up with only ten cloaks to give away on short notice.
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Aleph's skills in craftsmanship and anything that isn't fighting leave a lot to be desired. He's getting better at cooking, but he definitely doesn't know how to make clothing.
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/fudges specifics again
/hooray fudging specifics!
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Floor 14 - 14th
[He stalls on the landing, weighing his options. On the one hand he worries about the scribe intolerably much, particularly after their last meeting, and he wants to make sure he's doing okay. On the other hand--and for the same reasons--he's cripplingly embarrassed about his behavior and would like nothing more than to hide in his room and never come out again, rather than have Enoch judge him. But Rick didn't know him to be the critical sort...and how selfish could he be, putting his own guilt before the safety of his friends?]
[With a subconscious kick in the back, Rick forces himself to make the long, awkward walk into the media floor, approaching with leaden steps, hesitant and heavy. It seems like hours before he finally manages to shuffle into Enoch's peripheral vision, open his mouth to speak--]
[--and he's wearing headphones. Rick closes his mouth and flushes pink; he briefly considers turning around but is too mortified by the idea of Enoch seeing him leave to go through with it. So, after an uncomfortably long pause, he settles for waving a hand past him instead.]
[...Oh but that was incredibly rude. His blush goes dark red and he loses his nerve, and turns on his heel to escape.]
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Rick?
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...H-Hello. [His voice cracks; he clears his throat and slowly turns, cheeks burning with embarrassment.] --S-Sorry, I--you l-look b-b-busy, and--I d-don't want to b-bother you or a-anything.
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[He stares at his shuffling feet.]
...w-well I just...w-w-wanted to m-make sure you w-were h-holding up a-alright.
[Enoch's behavior had been pretty worrying, after all.]
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*But hey. He's sewing things, that's a perfectly normal activity, right?*
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Floor 14...the 14th
At least he didn't have to wear the Raven uniform all the time now that Ganondorf had unmasked him. Today, he opted for his Turk suit, having taken it back from Shion for a while. Passing 14 (and he seems to be doing this a lot lately on the way to 15) he stopped and noticed Enoch sitting with a whole bunch of clothes next to him.
Vague memories surfaced from that dark room. Enoch had seemed... awfully quiet for what he knew of the guy, which wasn't too much actually, but the forced silence was one thing. Maybe it was concern for Enoch, or maybe it was just curiosity, but he stepped off the staircase and wandered over.
"Hey, Enoch. How's tricks?" He asked, running a hand through his shorter than usual hair. The guy seemed contemplative, and-
Hey, wait a minute.
That music was coming from the headphones...
Frowning, the Turk bent over and pulled one of Enoch's earpieces off. "I said, 'HEY ENOCH, HOW'S TRICKS?'"
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"I'm sorry. Ah..." He rubs his now-uncovered ear and pushes the headphones all the way off in the process. "...tricks?"
He hasn't heard that turn of phrase before.
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"Got to say, ya didn't feel like the type to listen to music with headphones. More like the type to play it. Seems kind of weird."
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"I need a distraction, these days. Something...something happened to me. Two or three months ago."
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"Yeah? What happened?" It's more than idle curiosity. Reno's still trying to put together events while he was gone. Talking with more people tended to fill it out, even if they tended to be bias.
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Trying to tell this story was like pulling teeth now. Was he still loath to tell it on some level?
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Floor 15, 14th?
Enoch-kun!
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*Work is nice. Conversation is a good distraction, too. And in all honesty, it had been a while.*
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Mn! It has! How have you been?
[He hasn't been doing too well himself... since Mondo, though a different Mondo came back then disappeared again.
He looks over curiously at the cloth pile.]
What are you making?
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I'm making cloaks for the winter. I wouldn't want us to be caught unprepared in another situation like last year.
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I see! That's a good idea! How many people are you making these for? Do you need any help? I'm not too good with the actual sewing yet but I could help you cut the cloth.
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