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towerofanimus2014-03-10 08:14 pm
neverbeamemory) wrote in towerofanimus2014-03-10 08:14 pm
Log 030 | Tower of Jenova Phase #1
Characters: [OPEN TO ALL] Sephiroth via Tower of Jenova Phase #1
Setting: 10-22nd March, Starting in the Dormitory Levels, spreading around the Tower via those Infected
Format: Prose and/or Action, Mingle-style. Please put date and/or relevant locations in the subjects!
Summary: Sephiroth releases his will and manages to envelop the Dormitory Levels of the Tower, Side effects commence shortly after in certain individuals. Meanwhile, he begins to siphon energy into his very core. Feel free to use this post for plotting.
Warnings: Sickness, mutations, copious amounts of Geostigmatic black goop and generally bad feels including but not limited to homicide, suicide, hallucinations. Eventually.
It was now or never.
The Tower had ripped his soul, the very core of his being from it's rightful place and bound it indefinitely in wire frames and nano film. Since he had awoken here all those cycles ago, the proverbial dagger had been stabbed, twisted and turned in defiance of his self-control, in spite of his indomitable will, again and again. This was not his Destiny; to be played with as such a literal child's-toy with no regard whatsoever for his divine birthright. He had worked tirelessly since then, one way or another, to gain for himself the means by which he could flip this game in his favor. The boycott, the fluid research, the countless infiltration attempts and new vessels he had gone through - all culminated to this point.
His real powers were unlocked, and with them the game changing realization that whatever he could put his mind to in this new Realm wouldn't be as simple as all that. In the absence of even an atom of his particular, real genetic makeup Sephiroth discovered quickly that he could only ever cultivate his power -his will- to a certain point before, by the constraints of the Tower it would not go any further.
And so it had turned full circle, right back to the sore fact that there had only ever been one, real resolution.
Sephiroth needed out.
It was sometime late afternoon on 10th March, when Sephiroth decided to settle in his Dormitory to make that final, brutal push against his cage. Within only a few moments of well-practiced, meditative charged silence sat atop his bed Sephiroth's consciousness was released further into his core than he had ever let it sink before. His will only had one intent; to wrap around all of his power at once and expand it outwards away from him in one almighty push. There were a few attempts that rippled through the very fabric of his core as he teased more of this force against the barriers that had kept it contained for so long.
A sharp breath was taken and Sephiroth threw all of his consciousness into exuding itself through the bars, all in one go. His large black wing burst itself violently out of his right shoulder, but it didn't stop there. At it's fullest extension the black monstrosity shimmered before collapsing it's form smoothly into thick, inky black, shadowy tendrils which sped out from Sephiroth's form in every direction. They quickly wrapped themselves around everything in Sephiroth's direct vicinity and then -as he opened livid, glowing eyes to the room- sped away from him. Enveloping doorways, hallways, rooms and stairwells like a vast tidal wave of black ink.
The Dormitory levels were enveloped with this blackness within a matter of minutes and then quickly faded up, into the very fabric of the Tower. A held breath was broken as Sephiroth swooned heavily with his own energy release, a severe backlash of lethargy would see him disoriented for a while at least.
But it was worth it, he could feel it. This extension of himself around these floors of the Tower.
It pulsed with promise.
Setting: 10-22nd March, Starting in the Dormitory Levels, spreading around the Tower via those Infected
Format: Prose and/or Action, Mingle-style. Please put date and/or relevant locations in the subjects!
Summary: Sephiroth releases his will and manages to envelop the Dormitory Levels of the Tower, Side effects commence shortly after in certain individuals. Meanwhile, he begins to siphon energy into his very core. Feel free to use this post for plotting.
Warnings: Sickness, mutations, copious amounts of Geostigmatic black goop and generally bad feels including but not limited to homicide, suicide, hallucinations. Eventually.
It was now or never.
The Tower had ripped his soul, the very core of his being from it's rightful place and bound it indefinitely in wire frames and nano film. Since he had awoken here all those cycles ago, the proverbial dagger had been stabbed, twisted and turned in defiance of his self-control, in spite of his indomitable will, again and again. This was not his Destiny; to be played with as such a literal child's-toy with no regard whatsoever for his divine birthright. He had worked tirelessly since then, one way or another, to gain for himself the means by which he could flip this game in his favor. The boycott, the fluid research, the countless infiltration attempts and new vessels he had gone through - all culminated to this point.
His real powers were unlocked, and with them the game changing realization that whatever he could put his mind to in this new Realm wouldn't be as simple as all that. In the absence of even an atom of his particular, real genetic makeup Sephiroth discovered quickly that he could only ever cultivate his power -his will- to a certain point before, by the constraints of the Tower it would not go any further.
And so it had turned full circle, right back to the sore fact that there had only ever been one, real resolution.
Sephiroth needed out.
It was sometime late afternoon on 10th March, when Sephiroth decided to settle in his Dormitory to make that final, brutal push against his cage. Within only a few moments of well-practiced, meditative charged silence sat atop his bed Sephiroth's consciousness was released further into his core than he had ever let it sink before. His will only had one intent; to wrap around all of his power at once and expand it outwards away from him in one almighty push. There were a few attempts that rippled through the very fabric of his core as he teased more of this force against the barriers that had kept it contained for so long.
A sharp breath was taken and Sephiroth threw all of his consciousness into exuding itself through the bars, all in one go. His large black wing burst itself violently out of his right shoulder, but it didn't stop there. At it's fullest extension the black monstrosity shimmered before collapsing it's form smoothly into thick, inky black, shadowy tendrils which sped out from Sephiroth's form in every direction. They quickly wrapped themselves around everything in Sephiroth's direct vicinity and then -as he opened livid, glowing eyes to the room- sped away from him. Enveloping doorways, hallways, rooms and stairwells like a vast tidal wave of black ink.
The Dormitory levels were enveloped with this blackness within a matter of minutes and then quickly faded up, into the very fabric of the Tower. A held breath was broken as Sephiroth swooned heavily with his own energy release, a severe backlash of lethargy would see him disoriented for a while at least.
But it was worth it, he could feel it. This extension of himself around these floors of the Tower.
It pulsed with promise.
no subject
If there is one thing familiar to Berserker, to Lancelot, it is thwarted Desire. Indulged from his infancy, let to run Wild, Restraint and Acceptance were two lessons he never learnt well. The Faeries had no knowledge of those ways.
Indeed He Lusts now, but not for Blood or Vengeance, only Rest. What Arthur has always refused him. Judgement, followed by the Peace of Death.
Berserker's mouth moves soundlessly, every word driving his sharp teeth against his lips. Black blood spots the floor at his knees, the weight of his white hair dragging through it as he bows his head.]
no subject
He raises his sword to rest it's tip just within the chink of armor between Lancelot's collar and neck, standing as close to Lancelot as the length of his sword will allow.
His room mate has become his most perfect Vessel, and now it's time to reset the clock.]
Tell me, I want to hear to speak it.
[He uses his will over Lancelot to urge him to talk, despite the near-impossibility of the same on account of the teeth ripping his lips to shreds.]
no subject
[Speak--says the Being, and so he does--
in a voice so raw it sounds to come from a throat full of broken glass.]
what you Will-- your Will is my own
mother, please
[It is his own Mother he calls-- the first and last word of every man. But she is farther away now than any Star.
Fresh blood gouts from between his teeth.
Let it be soon.]
no subject
'mother, please'
Those words he hasn't expected. How beautiful that Lancelot holds deep within himself a similar affinity to himself; both the softest part of themselves that they guard so fervently.
A reminiscent smile broadens across Sephiroth's whole face, lighting up emerald eyes powerfully as Masamune is slid back across it's resting place one final time.
Sephiroth then leaps up in to the air and brings the great sword impaling down into that same spot that he's already bloodied. Down through Lancelot's chest from the top as if he were a makeshift sheath. Scarlet and black-laced the curve of Masamune protrudes without a hitch, out from underneath Berserker's ribcage. A well placed leg upon Sephiroth's landing, holds the meat of the body in place.
The discharge of power from one to the other swims in the air between them as Lancelot's life slips away and the energy is returned to it's origin. Sephiroth swoons heavily still with Masamune inside of this Vessel, but then manages to change his stance and shift the weight of the Berserker slowly to the floor- he both withdraws and dismisses Masamune within a miasma of black smoke.]
I will see you on the other side, friend.
(many thanks for the glorious death, my dear!)