towerofanimus | You're the one that they used to hate but they like you now [OPEN]

Entry tags:

You're the one that they used to hate but they like you now [OPEN]

Characters: Caster/Gilles de Rais and YOU
Setting: Throughout the Tower
Format: Action, but will match
Summary: Gilles arrives in the Tower and goes exploring.
Warnings: Blood, gore, monster death. Mentions of murder, Gilles' crimes. Also, Gilles is an unpleasant person and his permissions post is here. (Although at his current canon point, Gilles is somewhat altered, having had a revelatory experience.) Let me know if there are subjects I should avoid, or if you'd prefer to avoid tagging with Gilles altogether. It's cool! I'm also reusing a couple prompts from my test drive thread. If anyone wants to continue anything we started there, let me know.

Room 1-10 & dormitory floors:
What have I--

[Gilles starts awake, eyes snapping open, tears streaming down his face.]

--done?

[That was what he was going to say, wasn't it? What have I done? It's suddenly difficult to remember, although he can yet see, clearly, his vision of Jeanne at the cathedral. Radiant, beautiful Jeanne, standing at Charles' right hand as he'd stood at Charles' left. How is is he here? Where is he? He doesn't know. Where is she? Where is Jeanne? He has to find her. Nothing else matters. He doesn't care about anything else. She was with him, moments ago. She must be here! Gilles rises from his bed, then heads out into the hallways, searching for her.]

Jeanne?

floor 1 (cafeteria):
[It's a good thing Gilles doesn't have to eat. Since he hasn't actually read any information, he knows nothing about the oatmeal. Fortunately, he doesn't try to consume anything yet. No, instead of eating, he's busy in the kitchen, curiously and furiously moving ingredients around, filling pots and pans and turning the oven on. What he's doing can't exactly be called "cooking" so much as "making a huge mess". The tomato soup splattered everywhere is certainly alarming, although the tiny pasta alphabet letters dotting the walls and floor add a whimsical touch.

It's not that he's not looking for Jeanne, he's just been temporarily distracted. Everything here is so strange and new to him! And his constant urge to cause chaos is difficult to resist.]

floor 13 (cathedral):
[Gilles has noticed that he is unable to summon his monsters. The reason for this must be simple. He he hasn't made the necessary sacrifices in this place. They require flesh and blood to summon. All his old work was destroyed, or used up in his final act.

He hesitates, but in the end decides that he will do it. He will make his sacrifices. He finds these creatures, these monsters, and he determines that they will do for now. He has a place for the ritual already chosen: the cathedral he found. Where else? The altar draws him. He regards it with a mixture of love and loathing, fascination and revulsion, and in the end, he is driven to defile it. That is what he does. In the end, perhaps he cannot change what he's become.

He catches and maims the creatures, then kills them in this holy place. When his grisly work is done, both Gilles and the altar are covered in blood. Viscera are strewn across the floor. Bones litter the nave. It's impossible to tell, judging by what's left, what exactly was slaughtered there. The huge man, nearly seven feet tall, stands gazing at the stained glass windows, blood dripping from his robes.]

floor 28 (music floor):
[It's no surprise to hear music playing on this floor. It's often the case that the instruments will play by themselves. Yet this time, the music is exceptionally loud. That is thanks to Gilles, dressed in his voluminous robes, standing at the pipe organ. The pipe organ, which he has no idea how to play, as is evident from the assortment of sounds he coaxes out of it. If anyone needed further proof that Gilles de Rais is a sadist, well--here it is.]

floor 45 (observatory):
[Gilles hardly notices the glass walls and the skittering creatures. Skittering creatures are old news to Gilles. He has other things to think about.

If there's one thing he can't understand, it's why he has his armor. It's the very same armor that he wore during the war, when he served France so loyally, fighting at the side of Jeanne d'Arc. Black and dull, it makes the huge man look even larger (not that his robes don't do the same). He stares down at his armored hands, frowning. He has his sword, too. The sword his grandfather refused to leave to him in his will. He takes it in his hands, studying the blade of the longsword as he swings it experimentally through the air.

He remembers that bright light, washing over him, but now that he has come to this new Hell, he is not sure what to think. His thoughts are erratic, unreliable, but he tries. So for the moment, Gilles looks relatively subdued: a tall, dark, and gloomy knight casting a reflection in the glass. His swollen eyes protrude from his face less than usual.

Why, why does he have such objects? Surely he is not meant to be a knight again. Not the monster Gilles de Rais.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sometimes, when Lancer walked by the kitchen, he could smell delicious things cooking. Today he smelled raw ingredients and heard the clamor of pots and pans. When he peeked into the kitchen, he could see it was a huge mess. Bigger than when Diarmuid had tried to make cookies, even.]

What the fuck?

[He mutters, staring at the kitchen and the man who seems to be...scribbling on the floor.]

[He's not scribbling, but the alphabet soup is novel to him. Soup with letters in it. He scratches at them on the counter with his long fingernails. Perhaps he could spell something out...

But he looks up at the sound of a profanity. Another Servant? Well, that matters very little to him.

Having never "cooked" before, Gilles has no idea what he's doing. He stirs his "soup" and more of it spills out over the floor. Something gristly falls at his feet.]

Are you a cook?

[Because he looks just like a cook. (Actually, Gilles suspects he isn't one, but hey, there could be a Servant who's also a chef!)]

...No. Are you?

[Up until now, he's seen all manners of Servants. Just not one makes the biggest mess ever while cooking.]

[Come to think of it, a Servant doesn't need to eat. What's this guy doing cooking in the first place!?]

I am not. I was a nobleman, and a knight.

[He doesn't have to have a reason to cook, he just wants to mess with things. He doesn't like this food, anyway. Even if he was going to eat, which he isn't.]

...Right. A good number of our kind are.

[But they usually didn't dress in such a funky manner. And they usually had the good grace to at least not make a mess of the kitchen.]

So, uh...what are you making?

Yes! I have my sword with me here.

[He makes no mention of having been summoned in the Caster class, as that is not relevant to him.]

I do not know. I thought that if I combined enough elements, they would coalesce into something palatable.

[He is trying to distract himself, but non-killing based creativity is hard, and this doesn't alleviate his longing. Perhaps cooking is not for him. Gilles holds up a spoonful of whatever it is he's been making.]

Will you try it?

...I guess you tried?

[Given the look of the food, and the explanation the other knight has just offered, he's severely tempted to refuse. However, that would also be a breach of etiquette, not taking food offered to him in good will.]

...Maybe? Sure.

[He walks over. He gulps and then closes his eyes before putting his mouth around the spoon.]

I did! I tried!

[Gilles nods, because surely his effort counts for something, his effort to make something other of himself.

He watches, curious, as the other Servant tastes his food. He hasn't tasted it himself, which is good, since he hasn't eaten any oatmeal yet.]

How is it...?

[Lancer's face has turned a particular shade of green as he chews the food. It's sour and burnt and almost tastes metallic. It has the consistency of liquid rubber or phlegm, meaning that while it's smooth and seems to flow, it's also awfully chunky. It takes a while before it finally slips down his throat, and when it does, it makes him gag.]

Ugh...fuck. Maybe you should stop trying...

No?

[Gilles shakes his head, but he doesn't look surprised.]

I have had no training in the kitchen. I do not know if it suits me.

[He was more interested in spilling things than mixing them together, and when he had mixed them together, he'd thrown them in at random, without any regard for--well, anything. He's just not interested in food.]

There must be something I can do!

It doesn't.

[He spits twice to get the taste out of his mouth. The only reason he doesn't vomit is that he doesn't want to taste that nasty cooking again.]

Well...there's always stuff like protecting people, or making weapons, or even teaching.

Hmm. I do not much like it, either. [No, cooking's not really working out for him.]

I cannot make weapons. I have no skills to teach!

[He can fight, but he's terrible at teaching.]

Who would I protect, and why?

I dunno. Make a friend or two here? There's a whole fuckton of people.

[He raises an eyebrow.]

What, a knight needs reasons to protect people they like?

I have made friends. I must do more than that!

Of course I will protect those who are dear to me. I thought you meant I should offer myself up as a mercenary! Simply protecting my companions will not be occupation enough.

[You don't understand, Gilles needs to be busy all the time.]

[He shrugs.]

There's lots of people from different worlds here. You'll make enough friends to have your hands full with protecting them. And, of course, you could help with the science stuff if you feel like it.

No... it is not enough.

[Trust him, he knows. He needs something special to distract him from his unholy drives.]

Science? You mean, like alchemy?

Yeah, like that, but modern. And you're working with collar fluid.

[He taps his collar.]

Basically we've got these collars and there's fluids in them as well as running through our bodies. Keeps our souls in check and all.

[Gilles leans in. He can't really see his own collar well, so he taps at Lancer's with a long, pointed fingernail.]

Yes, I have seen we all have them. Yours is the same color as mine.

Our lifeblood is this liquid? Does it spill out in that color?

[Can blood really be so vivid and colorful here?]

Not right now. The glamour's on.

Glamour? What do you mean? So we bleed violet sometimes?

[Gilles wasn't exactly paying attention to what was going on around here.]

Yeah, sometimes. When the glamour is off and we look really different. You'll know when the glamour is off.

I once looked much different than I do now!

I am interested to see this new form. I await the moment I might witness it. Glamour, it has such a charming sound, like the spell of a bad fairy.

I guess it sort of is. It's mostly Ruana's trick. And she's a bitch.

Is that so? This place is ruled by fairies?

[Good luck explaining things to Gilles.]

More like...things with psionic powers.

[He's not sure Ruana is human.]

floor 1

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His geasa are always getting him in trouble

just gonna assume this doesn't taste too good

that's a safe assumption

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