Grainne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
athousandcurses) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2014-04-03 01:30 pm
athousandcurses) wrote in towerofanimus2014-04-03 01:30 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Characters: Grainne and you!
Setting: Floor 3, Floor 55, Floor 86 and 1-17, April 3rd
Format: Either or!
Summary: After hiding during all the commotion, Grainne ventures out of her room for longer than a few hours and gets into trouble.
Warnings: Blood and slightly carnivorous plants, Irish cursing and some general NSFW in one thread (it's marked)
Floor Three
She had been in the Tower for weeks now, rarely venturing out of her room when everything shut down and she saw her true form for the first time. She had been warned, but it was still a shock to see the fluid inside her wire frame.
With her powers gone, she felt helpless and stayed out of the way, and it's a fair thing to say she had no idea what was going on. Hilda had disappeared before hearing any word from her, and it left Grainne with nothing but an empty spot in the pit of her stomach. She felt a sort of kinship to the Princess, having arrived at roughly the same time and knowing little to nothing about the place. She worried for her, but there again was nothing she could do without her Servant status. Grainne was no fighter and she could not even use the knife in her trunk properly to defend herself... her Noble Phantasm knife was inaccessible and did not require anything but getting shoved into a body to work.
If only she hadn't taken that advice to try to get her 'real' powers back. She would not be helpless now... and she did not think her powers are going to be returning any time soon, if ever.
Well, helpless in battle and certainly against the monsters that roam the place, but maybe not useless entirely. The few times she went out, she tried to make a stop each time to gather materials to hand stitch some clothes... even with so few months left, she should have a few pieces done in a day or two.
Today, she was out of her room for a reason other than food, grooming, or sewing. During her first life she had heard stories from bards and well traveled men of a place filled with all the knowledge of the world in it, and while she never got to visit that great place in life, the library held a certain allure to her. Exploring this floor a little, she stumbled on instruction manuals for something called "knitting" and "crochet"... the former of which looked an awful lot like nålebinding and something Grainne had excelled at in her first life.
Taking an entire stack of the books, she sat down at a table to read for a while. As she made progress through her stack, she tucked some into her bag for later.
Floor Fifty Five
After her stop in the library, Grainne got on with business. It hadn't just been a visit to the library she came out today. With how things have turned out, the reminders of the past in her trunk only get more painful each time she got inside it to choose a button, a thread color, or to retrieve a project. The smell of the pouch haunted her while she worked, clinging to the garments for hours on end. She could not bear it any longer, and had gathered the items given to her on her arrival into a bag she made for herself before she ventured out. It was time to move on, and she would; with a fierce determination.
She isn't sure how she found this floor, and in fact she couldn't really remember exploring here except for seeing the flames from the stair case on one of her initial walks about the Tower. She stood there in front of the incinerator, feeling the heat wash uncomfortably over her body, and for a moment she stared into the flames, reminded of other times in front of bonfires and celebrations during the holidays. Beltane would be soon... and she was sure nobody but her remembered. In a way, this could almost be considered a celebration. She has the fire and the smoke, and in a way what she had planned could be thought of as being purified of the past...
Shaking those thoughts off, she pulled out the pouch first, frowning at the decorated fabric. One of the first things she had made after she married, filled with flowers that grew around their home every year. It's only made of film, she told herself. Not even real. And neither were the memories it brought back. In it went, bursting into flames and disintegrating within moments. Next came the knife with the sheath, made and given to her by her sons as a present. This time a tug of sorrow pulled at her heart when it went inside, going almost as fast as the pouch did.
She hesitated at the carved comb though, holding it in her hand and running her fingers over the figures in the wood. Another memento of her first life, but one that came much later... the cranky old man had made it for her one winter, whiling away the time in front of the fire. She had been impressed by his skill, but age had dulled her eyes and she never realized how much work he had truly put into it. If this is anything like the original she once carried, that is...
She swallowed once, wrapping her fingers over it tightly. Perhaps it had been the only time of her life that had been true. Maybe not entirely happy or worry free, but comfortable, and filled with companionship and good people. Good years that someone could be proud of. Remembering them now, those years seem more precious...
Letting out a breath, she tucked the comb back into her bag and turned to leave.
Floor Eighty-Six
This floor looked like an innocent enough meadow to Grainne when she first stepped on to explore. If it was one less traveled than the one in the lower Tower, it would be a nice place to sit and relax for her, without getting interrupted every five minutes. Her first thought had been she could do some sewing or something with yarn here, and in fact she got so absorbed for a moment she hadn't seen the mushrooms half hidden by grass as they were.
It was a foolish mistake and she would have immediately left if she saw them, but as it was, it was too late as she had already intruded into a ring, and paid the price. For some reason, the Queen had seen fit to spare her life, and terrified as she was Grainne wasn't going to question it, but the Fair One might as well have killed her because this was much, much worse...
Not far from the staircase and covered in vines, Grainne laid pinned to the ground, too scared to call out and prevented from struggling by the thick thorns that coated every inch of the vines. She already had deep scratches all along the length of her body, and holes torn in her clothes and blood soiling the cloth. She knew she had to escape or she would die here, stripped of her powers as she was. Why did she even think that exploring is a good idea?
Room 1-17
Grainne sat on her bed, looking at her clothes in despair and tears stung her eyes. If her powers were working, she would have healed by now, but a thousand thorns had done their damage and she ached, and was sore. The brief shower she took to sooth them hadn't worked, but at least it washed off the blood. With her clothes damaged, she wore her white bodysuit and coat, as that seemed to have suffered the least.
Still, she had thread and there was no reason she couldn't get the blood out. Getting blood out of clothing seemed to be her lot in her first life, it shouldn't be a problem. Holding up her white summer dress, she made a note of how many places she would have to mend, and then let it drop to the floor, feeling exhausted.
Workshop April 12th
With her new roommates, Grainne has been seeking out alternative places to sit and work quietly. Today it's the workshop, mercifully empty for the moment, and a good opportunity to try and fix the comb that had broken over a week ago.
Looking at the comb hurt, reminding her of every terrible detail of that day. Not what it should remind her of. That by itself made her angry and resentful. That is why she was trying to glue the broken teeth back to the body, and not doing too good of a job with it. The comb was so delicately carved it made re-affixing the teeth difficult, and then the glue was slow drying, so whenever she thought it would work, they sagged and slowly fell off.
Setting: Floor 3, Floor 55, Floor 86 and 1-17, April 3rd
Format: Either or!
Summary: After hiding during all the commotion, Grainne ventures out of her room for longer than a few hours and gets into trouble.
Warnings: Blood and slightly carnivorous plants, Irish cursing and some general NSFW in one thread (it's marked)
Floor Three
She had been in the Tower for weeks now, rarely venturing out of her room when everything shut down and she saw her true form for the first time. She had been warned, but it was still a shock to see the fluid inside her wire frame.
With her powers gone, she felt helpless and stayed out of the way, and it's a fair thing to say she had no idea what was going on. Hilda had disappeared before hearing any word from her, and it left Grainne with nothing but an empty spot in the pit of her stomach. She felt a sort of kinship to the Princess, having arrived at roughly the same time and knowing little to nothing about the place. She worried for her, but there again was nothing she could do without her Servant status. Grainne was no fighter and she could not even use the knife in her trunk properly to defend herself... her Noble Phantasm knife was inaccessible and did not require anything but getting shoved into a body to work.
If only she hadn't taken that advice to try to get her 'real' powers back. She would not be helpless now... and she did not think her powers are going to be returning any time soon, if ever.
Well, helpless in battle and certainly against the monsters that roam the place, but maybe not useless entirely. The few times she went out, she tried to make a stop each time to gather materials to hand stitch some clothes... even with so few months left, she should have a few pieces done in a day or two.
Today, she was out of her room for a reason other than food, grooming, or sewing. During her first life she had heard stories from bards and well traveled men of a place filled with all the knowledge of the world in it, and while she never got to visit that great place in life, the library held a certain allure to her. Exploring this floor a little, she stumbled on instruction manuals for something called "knitting" and "crochet"... the former of which looked an awful lot like nålebinding and something Grainne had excelled at in her first life.
Taking an entire stack of the books, she sat down at a table to read for a while. As she made progress through her stack, she tucked some into her bag for later.
Floor Fifty Five
After her stop in the library, Grainne got on with business. It hadn't just been a visit to the library she came out today. With how things have turned out, the reminders of the past in her trunk only get more painful each time she got inside it to choose a button, a thread color, or to retrieve a project. The smell of the pouch haunted her while she worked, clinging to the garments for hours on end. She could not bear it any longer, and had gathered the items given to her on her arrival into a bag she made for herself before she ventured out. It was time to move on, and she would; with a fierce determination.
She isn't sure how she found this floor, and in fact she couldn't really remember exploring here except for seeing the flames from the stair case on one of her initial walks about the Tower. She stood there in front of the incinerator, feeling the heat wash uncomfortably over her body, and for a moment she stared into the flames, reminded of other times in front of bonfires and celebrations during the holidays. Beltane would be soon... and she was sure nobody but her remembered. In a way, this could almost be considered a celebration. She has the fire and the smoke, and in a way what she had planned could be thought of as being purified of the past...
Shaking those thoughts off, she pulled out the pouch first, frowning at the decorated fabric. One of the first things she had made after she married, filled with flowers that grew around their home every year. It's only made of film, she told herself. Not even real. And neither were the memories it brought back. In it went, bursting into flames and disintegrating within moments. Next came the knife with the sheath, made and given to her by her sons as a present. This time a tug of sorrow pulled at her heart when it went inside, going almost as fast as the pouch did.
She hesitated at the carved comb though, holding it in her hand and running her fingers over the figures in the wood. Another memento of her first life, but one that came much later... the cranky old man had made it for her one winter, whiling away the time in front of the fire. She had been impressed by his skill, but age had dulled her eyes and she never realized how much work he had truly put into it. If this is anything like the original she once carried, that is...
She swallowed once, wrapping her fingers over it tightly. Perhaps it had been the only time of her life that had been true. Maybe not entirely happy or worry free, but comfortable, and filled with companionship and good people. Good years that someone could be proud of. Remembering them now, those years seem more precious...
Letting out a breath, she tucked the comb back into her bag and turned to leave.
Floor Eighty-Six
This floor looked like an innocent enough meadow to Grainne when she first stepped on to explore. If it was one less traveled than the one in the lower Tower, it would be a nice place to sit and relax for her, without getting interrupted every five minutes. Her first thought had been she could do some sewing or something with yarn here, and in fact she got so absorbed for a moment she hadn't seen the mushrooms half hidden by grass as they were.
It was a foolish mistake and she would have immediately left if she saw them, but as it was, it was too late as she had already intruded into a ring, and paid the price. For some reason, the Queen had seen fit to spare her life, and terrified as she was Grainne wasn't going to question it, but the Fair One might as well have killed her because this was much, much worse...
Not far from the staircase and covered in vines, Grainne laid pinned to the ground, too scared to call out and prevented from struggling by the thick thorns that coated every inch of the vines. She already had deep scratches all along the length of her body, and holes torn in her clothes and blood soiling the cloth. She knew she had to escape or she would die here, stripped of her powers as she was. Why did she even think that exploring is a good idea?
Room 1-17
Grainne sat on her bed, looking at her clothes in despair and tears stung her eyes. If her powers were working, she would have healed by now, but a thousand thorns had done their damage and she ached, and was sore. The brief shower she took to sooth them hadn't worked, but at least it washed off the blood. With her clothes damaged, she wore her white bodysuit and coat, as that seemed to have suffered the least.
Still, she had thread and there was no reason she couldn't get the blood out. Getting blood out of clothing seemed to be her lot in her first life, it shouldn't be a problem. Holding up her white summer dress, she made a note of how many places she would have to mend, and then let it drop to the floor, feeling exhausted.
Workshop April 12th
With her new roommates, Grainne has been seeking out alternative places to sit and work quietly. Today it's the workshop, mercifully empty for the moment, and a good opportunity to try and fix the comb that had broken over a week ago.
Looking at the comb hurt, reminding her of every terrible detail of that day. Not what it should remind her of. That by itself made her angry and resentful. That is why she was trying to glue the broken teeth back to the body, and not doing too good of a job with it. The comb was so delicately carved it made re-affixing the teeth difficult, and then the glue was slow drying, so whenever she thought it would work, they sagged and slowly fell off.
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[Do you see the whiskers twitching, Waver? She smells blood in the water...]
Why is that?
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[Goddammit.]
I don't suppose you know what the term 'fanclub' means, do you?
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[The utter despair and humiliation in Waver's voice might as well be tangible.]
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Wha- [Waver instantly turned bright red from embarrassment.] No,, nothing to do with the bloody chickens!
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