αveɴɢer (アヴェンジャー) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
destructiveprinciple) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-12-01 07:53 am
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-12-01 07:53 am
☠ 008 | the cosmos cares nothing for us and our like
Characters: Avenger and OPEN to all.
Setting: Wildcard wanderings, the tenth floor, the twenty-fifth floor, and the fifth floor.
Format: Action spam would be preferred.
Summary: Coming off a short hiatus, Avenger kills time and avoids doing anything of value. And interacts with other people, somewhat unfortunately for them.
Warnings: All The Evils Of the World, that's it, that's the warning (also dead fish)
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 10: AQUARIUM ]
[ Angra has strange ways of amusing himself to pass the time, and it had been awhile since he'd gone to play with the fish.
The glassless tanks of water suspended in place contain a countless, teeming multitude of fish, all darting to and fro or drifting lazily through the blue and caustic light dappled the ground and the tiny black figure of the Servant in front of it rippling patterns. Schools of the fish swirled and dove in unison, faint light glimmering off their scale. Down further, people could be able to make out the distant blue shapes of larger marine creatures, much less harmless and much more deadly.
The Servant dipped his arm into the horizontal surface of the water, dozens of bubbles flying upward inside, and after several patient attempts, snagged a small fish. Pulling his dripping wet arm out of the aquarium, he inspected the fish that wiggled and squirmed in his grip, the curved lines of the gills flaring pointlessly for oxygen, and then calmly ripped it in half.
Once he was done with pulling the unfortunate fish apart, he would toss the bloody bits back into the aquarium so the carnivorous fish could have an easy meal. It wasn't like he himself felt any hunger for what he was killing. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: MEADOW ]
[ The meadow is as warm and flowery as ever. But the bright atmosphere over in one corner of the grass expanse is kinda ruined by the usual strong taint that comes off the asshole lazing away from the stairs.
The Servant is sitting with his head down, in a reading position and seemingly engrossed with something in his hands. It's not a book he's preoccupied with: it's a picture puzzle, a simple, childish game with the picture broken up into 16 pieces, and one piece removed so the rest can be shuffled about like he is doing. It's something that had been in his trunk from the beginning of his stay in the Tower, and even if it's just a piece of stupid film, he still plays with it out of habit. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 5: VIEWING STATION ]
[ Recently, Avenger often himself at a loss for things to do. Killing other residents like he wanted to was only appealing when the death actually stuck, and the distraction of killing the Tower creatures was rapidly beginning to grow. . . stale. And it took more effort than he was willing to bother with to come up with something new. He was getting trapped into a rut of boredom, restlessness, and the steadily increasing, itchy sense that he was slipping downward. Like he was enclosed in a cramped space much too small for him and it was slowly growing smaller and smaller every moment.
So he wandered aimlessly from floor to floor.
After spending an hour or two at one of the viewing stations, looking at the ruined wasteland of his dead world, you can catch him leaving the outer area and heading back towards the stair through the central security station. ]
[ SCENARIO D || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK]
[ Generally, Angra wanders through an assortment of floors at night (or during the day) and shows little concern for which ones he ends up on as long as they are neither overly threatening or extreme. It's entirely possible to cross paths with him at some point. He's more likely to be met at night however. ]
Setting: Wildcard wanderings, the tenth floor, the twenty-fifth floor, and the fifth floor.
Format: Action spam would be preferred.
Summary: Coming off a short hiatus, Avenger kills time and avoids doing anything of value. And interacts with other people, somewhat unfortunately for them.
Warnings: All The Evils Of the World, that's it, that's the warning (also dead fish)
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 10: AQUARIUM ]
[ Angra has strange ways of amusing himself to pass the time, and it had been awhile since he'd gone to play with the fish.
The glassless tanks of water suspended in place contain a countless, teeming multitude of fish, all darting to and fro or drifting lazily through the blue and caustic light dappled the ground and the tiny black figure of the Servant in front of it rippling patterns. Schools of the fish swirled and dove in unison, faint light glimmering off their scale. Down further, people could be able to make out the distant blue shapes of larger marine creatures, much less harmless and much more deadly.
The Servant dipped his arm into the horizontal surface of the water, dozens of bubbles flying upward inside, and after several patient attempts, snagged a small fish. Pulling his dripping wet arm out of the aquarium, he inspected the fish that wiggled and squirmed in his grip, the curved lines of the gills flaring pointlessly for oxygen, and then calmly ripped it in half.
Once he was done with pulling the unfortunate fish apart, he would toss the bloody bits back into the aquarium so the carnivorous fish could have an easy meal. It wasn't like he himself felt any hunger for what he was killing. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: MEADOW ]
[ The meadow is as warm and flowery as ever. But the bright atmosphere over in one corner of the grass expanse is kinda ruined by the usual strong taint that comes off the asshole lazing away from the stairs.
The Servant is sitting with his head down, in a reading position and seemingly engrossed with something in his hands. It's not a book he's preoccupied with: it's a picture puzzle, a simple, childish game with the picture broken up into 16 pieces, and one piece removed so the rest can be shuffled about like he is doing. It's something that had been in his trunk from the beginning of his stay in the Tower, and even if it's just a piece of stupid film, he still plays with it out of habit. ]
[ SCENARIO C || FLOOR 5: VIEWING STATION ]
[ Recently, Avenger often himself at a loss for things to do. Killing other residents like he wanted to was only appealing when the death actually stuck, and the distraction of killing the Tower creatures was rapidly beginning to grow. . . stale. And it took more effort than he was willing to bother with to come up with something new. He was getting trapped into a rut of boredom, restlessness, and the steadily increasing, itchy sense that he was slipping downward. Like he was enclosed in a cramped space much too small for him and it was slowly growing smaller and smaller every moment.
So he wandered aimlessly from floor to floor.
After spending an hour or two at one of the viewing stations, looking at the ruined wasteland of his dead world, you can catch him leaving the outer area and heading back towards the stair through the central security station. ]
[ SCENARIO D || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK]
[ Generally, Angra wanders through an assortment of floors at night (or during the day) and shows little concern for which ones he ends up on as long as they are neither overly threatening or extreme. It's entirely possible to cross paths with him at some point. He's more likely to be met at night however. ]
no subject
Looking for some kids to roast on a wooden spit, eh? Would that be more to your taste?
[ His gaze strays from Gilles back to the wall of water, absent-mindedly watching it for any fish that could drift close enough to be in range to shoot out an arm to grab. The blue, watery light of the aquarium casts black, rippling patterns on both their faces and the floor. ]
Me . . . ? Haa, that's a really meaningless question by now.
[ Angra smiles. ]
no subject
I don't wish to cook them... ah, but do you know me?
[This is the comment that makes Gilles think he might be recognized.]
I don't kill children anymore.
[He continues to watch Avenger, then rips his fish in two. In spite of being separated, the two halves remain alive as Gilles preserves their life, or seeming life, and their pain, their writhing increasing, blood splattering.]
How is it meaningless, can you not be satisfied?
no subject
Sorry, I ain't got a clue who you are besides the obvious. What, did you once kill lots of 'em? Oops. Sorry 'bout bringing it up~
[ The apology is clearly insincere. There is no recognition from Avenger. He is aware, now that he actually thinks about it, that this is the Caster from the Fourth War and of his status as a malicious spirit that didn't met the original rules of the Grail Wars that would only allow "good" Heroic Spirits to be summoned, but he doesn't really know what his true identity is. The joke about roasting kids on a spit was simply him being an asshole.
When Gilles declares he he no longer kills children, it earns a blink. ]
Well, that's a shame.
[ The world could always use some more dead human children, in his opinion.
The fish blood splatters down in a red puddle in front of Caster's wet feet. Avenger's gaze flickers back from the water to the impossibly squirming chunks of the fish. The other Servant's next question is greeted with a laugh. ]
Not really.
no subject
[Gilles looks woeful at this, but he could look woeful for any one of a number of reasons.]
Do not apologize, it does not distress me, although perhaps it should.
[He looks up and blinks when Avenger says it's a shame. Another kindred spirit, perhaps?]
You think so? Most people don't appreciate my actions. They loathe me for them. I believe I am the same, my hunger is endless... But sometimes, I do almost feel satisfied! For a brief time. Certain things can bring me joy.
[He watches the fish blood splatter along with Avenger.]
This creature, you see, does not truly feel despair. It does not understand. It knows only that it suffers. Its pain is pure, but uncomplicated! It lacks depth and richness and color.
no subject
[ That moved right from offhandedly insincere to cruelly sarcastic. But he's back to cheerful in a heartbeat. He unlaces his fingers apart from behind his back and waves a hand. ] 'course I do, didn't I just say so?
But a human with the proper sensibilities ain't gonna appreciate a murderer, no way. It's a no-brainer that you'd get hatred in return for that. Did ya' seriously think otherwise for even a second?
[ They are not the same, though they are both being that could be called "anti-heroes." In words that he would personally use, Avenger kills to live. He is a monster.
Caster is the sort who lives to kill. It is not a requirement for his survival. He nods. ]
I see! That type of thing. . . You have twisted tastes in satisfaction, eh? That's nice.
Despair? Pure? Haa. . . [ He clicks his tongue, staring at the fish, still wiggling about pieces. He has to agree there. But Angra kills for amusement, not because he wants to give his kills depth or richness or color. Indifferently; ] You talk like inducing suffering needs to be an art.