Enoch (
warriorscribe) wrote in
towerofanimus2013-12-15 05:44 pm
Entry tags:
A couple promised closed (or semi-closed) logs
Characters: Enoch and Lucifel, and anyone who would visit his room too. Just let me know! Also, Enoch and Lancer.
Setting: Dorm 3-18 backdated to November 1st, Floor 62 backdated to December 1st
Format: I'll match!
Summary: Enoch has had something very unpleasant happen to him as a punishment for too many failed riddles. That is an understatement. Also, he and Lancer agreed to a sparring match.
Warnings: Talk of being flayed may happen if you press for information. (If this is one of your listed squicks I'll actively avoid it coming up), maybe blood or broken limbs in the sparring match? There is a tangent involving sexual discussion.
Dorm 3-18, November 1st
He woke with a scream.
Or tried to. In his sleep paralysis it was only a choked sound as he stared at the ceiling wide-eyed. Unable to move or speak, all he had was the nightmare he'd just lived, punctuated by Eleven's shrill screaming. All he had was that he was not in pain. Parts of him were still numb from revival, but he was not in pain.
An involuntary, low, distressed moan was what told him he could move again. Shaking and pale, he pushed himself up. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and his gaze was unfocused, glazed-over. He raised a hand, still numb and tingling, and pressed it to his own chest. With something between a laugh and a sob, he curled up on himself, a tight human ball on the bed.
Unlike the time that had given him such an adverse reaction, there was nothing driving him to keep going. Only the horror of what had happened.
Floor 62, December 1st
The beach had always been a calming place for him. That is, until his return to Meridian. As he waited for Lancer, he watched the waves, arms folded as his thoughts wandered. Mostly, they wandered to Armaros, and their time in Meridian. Time spent there, he on a large dune watching as Armaros swam.
And now, he was here. Torn apart. In so much pain he could only blame him.
A nautilus shell washed up against his foot. He bent down to pick it up, idly playing with it as he waited for Lancer, stewing in his own thoughts.
Setting: Dorm 3-18 backdated to November 1st, Floor 62 backdated to December 1st
Format: I'll match!
Summary: Enoch has had something very unpleasant happen to him as a punishment for too many failed riddles. That is an understatement. Also, he and Lancer agreed to a sparring match.
Warnings: Talk of being flayed may happen if you press for information. (If this is one of your listed squicks I'll actively avoid it coming up), maybe blood or broken limbs in the sparring match? There is a tangent involving sexual discussion.
Dorm 3-18, November 1st
He woke with a scream.
Or tried to. In his sleep paralysis it was only a choked sound as he stared at the ceiling wide-eyed. Unable to move or speak, all he had was the nightmare he'd just lived, punctuated by Eleven's shrill screaming. All he had was that he was not in pain. Parts of him were still numb from revival, but he was not in pain.
An involuntary, low, distressed moan was what told him he could move again. Shaking and pale, he pushed himself up. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and his gaze was unfocused, glazed-over. He raised a hand, still numb and tingling, and pressed it to his own chest. With something between a laugh and a sob, he curled up on himself, a tight human ball on the bed.
Unlike the time that had given him such an adverse reaction, there was nothing driving him to keep going. Only the horror of what had happened.
Floor 62, December 1st
The beach had always been a calming place for him. That is, until his return to Meridian. As he waited for Lancer, he watched the waves, arms folded as his thoughts wandered. Mostly, they wandered to Armaros, and their time in Meridian. Time spent there, he on a large dune watching as Armaros swam.
And now, he was here. Torn apart. In so much pain he could only blame him.
A nautilus shell washed up against his foot. He bent down to pick it up, idly playing with it as he waited for Lancer, stewing in his own thoughts.

no subject
no subject
"But, from all humans, I like you best, Enoch."
no subject
"Because we're friends?"
no subject
"There's... there's no word stronger than friend, is there?"
no subject
Which, certainly, doesn't really help the conversation.
no subject
Fumbling with the scribe's hair seemed really interesting as well.
no subject
"Well I don't know, either...I suppose we need to make up a word."
no subject
"Mm, sounds good..."
no subject
"Friend should be the base, but...hm...how do we give it more meaning? Why don't you try to describe what you feel?"
no subject
"Oh... 'm feeling happy..." Actually, now that he was actually trying to think harder... "Enoch... Enoch, I remembered something."
no subject
"What did you remember?"
no subject
"Some humans made up a word for... really... really..." He yawned. "Really... close friends... they called it... bromance... or something."
no subject
"Bromance..." he tried the word. "...But...but we aren't brothers."
no subject
"That's not, not important at all, just, stressing it. Two guys being very close friends..."
no subject
He seemed to realize, for an instant, how stupid that sounded, and chuckled a little.
no subject
"'m... voting for a sleepover..."
no subject
Sure, they were both liable to have nightmares, but then, maybe they wouldn't. At least, like this, he could fall asleep happy and content.
Never mind the hangover they'd be nursing the next day.
no subject
However, once he was fully wake his eyes went wide, realizing that Enoch was sleeping in his arms. Well, that they were holding each other.
What had happened. And why was he missing his shirt.
no subject
Eleven's screaming was more like a piercing screech with his headache, and he groaned, burying his head against Lucifel's neck in protest. Not that he was completely aware of who it was next to him or anything, with the way his senses were screaming at him. This had been just as bad an idea when he'd inadvertently started that party, and it hadn't gotten any better.
Once the headache went away, he'd consider the respite worth it. As it was now, though, he stubbornly refused to look at the light or leave what little warmth and comfort was left of their drinking that morning. Or the morning before. He didn't know what day it was.
no subject
Lucifel wasn't moving at all. Actually, he was feeling rather tense at this moment and tried hard to remember what happened exactly before they ended up like this. And against this hangover of his.
At least one of them didn't seem too worried about any of this.
no subject
With another pained groan, he attempted to get up, though he didn't get very far, squinting against the light in the room.
no subject
Lucifel looked at the scribe then. "... Enoch..."
no subject
"Mm?" Enoch looked down at him, obviously trying to recall what had happened before, as well.
no subject
"You're drooling on me."
no subject
"We need to get up, but..."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)