towerofanimus | (no subject)

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(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.

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[The mask comes off easily, but startled, she steps back several times trying to process what just happened... and then he asks his question and she finds herself unable to avoid answering. It surprises even her when it comes out, and she sounds frightened.]

Do you love him more than me?

[Why?! Why did she say that?!]

You expect me to answer yes; you hope that I will answer no. The truth is, though, that neither of those answers are correct.

[Diarmuid shakes his head, glad that the floor is at least 'intelligent' enough to allow for answers that are unexpected as long as they are the truth.]

I can't rank two things that are so dissimilar against each other. I love you and Waver in different ways and for different reasons. I...

[His voice trails off. Beyond the truth the floor requires, Diarmuid can't find a way to fully explain the love he feels for each of them. Everything just ends up boiling down to what he has already said...]

...wish I could explain better than that, but I cannot. I just know it is different between the two of you. Very different.

I don't understand is why you are asking such a question when you seem so eager to throw me out of your life. Why does it matter so much to you, Grainne, when you act as if all you want is for me to be gone from your life?

[His answer confuses her, but also heightens the anger she has at this whole situation, especially with that question. Is he so naive to not see what is right in front of him?]

You asked that... stupid question first! And it matters! It matters... [She stops there for a moment, the confusion clouding her mind. There's a sharp pain, a sort of pressure to answer more fully. The why.

Grainne takes a deep breath and summons up her courage.]

I was hoping you would say yes, so that I could leave and not hurt as badly as I do now. I am tired, Diarmuid... I have been in pain for so long, and since losing my War and coming here it is almost unbearable, especially when you are near.

[She places one hand near her heart, the comb still clasped in it.]

There has been a piece missing right here, since you died...

I hate to tell you, Grainne, but we are all tired. We are all in pain, but we don't run from it. This place only makes the pain worse if you run from it. If you think things are bad now, continue to run and continue to hide. I promise you, in a short time there will be nothing at all left of you!

[He shouldn't snap at her, but for a moment all Diarmuid can remember are his own foolish mistakes and he can't help it. It would kill him to see her brought as low as he was.]

I don't know what happened to you to take the steel from you, but I beg you to find it again before it is too late. Before...

[Diarmuid's words cut off then as she adds that last line. A part missing? But if that is true, it makes even less sense she is pushing him away. If she wants to be in less pain, why won't she allow him to fill that spot again? Things can't be the same as they were, but...]

That piece is here. If it hurts to have it gone, why push it away? It will not fit the same--that much is true--but it will still fill the emptiness and it wishes to. It doesn't want to see you hurting so much...

There would be nothing left of me if-- [She started speaking before he was done, but breaks off when he finishes with that...

Anger flashes, and then a sort of calm rage. Whatever else she might tell him is locked away again, buried under the anger and rage and page and the urge to answer yet another question mounting. Pressuring.

Steel? He wants to see steel?]

Oh, yes... I am sure. It wants to see that piece that's missing filled in, while in the arms of another! No. Never. If he is who you want by your side, please by all means, you are entitled... as I am entitled and within my rights to declare what once was is no more! I will NOT give my permission.

[She's infuriated, hot angry tears spilling over despite how much she tries to rub them away.]

I tried to give you back your life in my world, and I failed. I would have given you anything, including a life as the one you have chosen here, and if you had wanted to say goodbye I would have given a glad one and on good terms knowing you would be happy and could life out the life that was cut so short.

Because of you I learned what real love is, and it is to have feelings for someone so much that their happiness is more important than anything... but I will not stand aside watching! I will leave or if things were different would have stayed, but that is where I have set my limits and I will not cross them... not even for you. Maybe it is selfish, but that kind of pain is too much to ask of anyone.

[Once she has started, she can't seem to stop again, but this time it is more from the prompting of the place they found themselves in. And her anger only mounts.]

You did not even say that you loved me until I said I thought you didn't! I know you do not, and maybe can not feel for me the way I do you, and maybe you never have. I don't know. You only said you needed him. It fills me with sorrow but if that is the case, after all the years we were together you still do not, I would rather you were free to find something that you could share mutually...

You have asked me if I ever loved you, and I know you asked because of the curse. I say to you no curse could have ever spawned a love that rips a part of someone's soul from them.

[Grainne falls silent for a few seconds, lower jaw trembling slightly, and her hands white knuckled around the comb. He wanted to see steel in her again...]

Edited 2014-04-05 02:56 (UTC)

No curse could have ever spawned a love that rips a part of someone's soul from them...

[Diarmuid's voice is deadly calm as he repeats the words. However, that is the only calm thing about him. Rage burns in his eyes and he doesn't even try to keep it off his face.]

Mother Night, I am beginning to think you have gone mad. I don't know how you can say that considering what that curse did to every women I ever met. What it did to you. What it did to...Iseult...

[His vision goes red then. First from rage and then as that fades, from memory. Diarmuid feels the blood spraying warm against his face, he hears the last gurgles of life as a body falls against his. Maybe this would not be such a harsh memory if it was happening on the field of battle, but this...this memory takes place far from any battlefield.]

She was a victim of my curse like so many others, and like so many others I did my best to explain that I could not be with her and that she needed to fight what she felt, that someday it would be all right and she would find another to love. I thought, when I did not see her waiting for me after training for a few days, that things were settled.

[It is the first time he has talked of it in so long, since the full power of what his curse was capable of doing to a person was laid bare before his eyes. It should hurt more than it does, but at the moment his lingering rage and his need to make Grainne understand overrides that pain.]

Oscar and I were walking to the training grounds when she approached us. She asked me once more if I would still refuse her. I remember it so vividly. She was dressed in her best gown, hair loose over her shoulders. Would I still refuse her? Of course. I did not love her and she did not really love me. We had been over this...

[Rage-filled eyes close, though shutting them only seems to make his voice more intense.]

She stepped to me; we were only an inch or two apart. And she slit her throat before me. The blood is so warm on my face...on my clothes. It's everywhere. Her dress, her face, her hair, her... I couldn't... There was nothing... Nothing I could do! She died because of the strength of that curse. Because she wanted to leave life if she couldn't live it with me!

[Diarmuid's eyes fly open and he suddenly takes an angry step toward Grainne, his voice nearly snarling in anger.]

Don't ever tell me my curse is not strong enough to tear someone's soul from them. I have seen it happen and I know how strong that love can be. There is no other reason I would question the love and compassion you showed me after that night. None other than I had seen before just how completely it can control a person. But that does not seem to matter to you. You who tell me in one breath how much you cared and how much losing me hurt and then in the next tell me that I am a bastard who would love more than one at a time. You who have decided that I am the womanizer they all called me.

Tell me, what happened to the woman who I once called wife? What changed her so that she sees only the negative in everything that I say? What changed her so that she cannot see hope or good will any longer? What changed her so that she would rather twist my words than hear the simple truths that they hold?

What changed her so much that I cannot even recognize her when she stands before me?

[Grainne would respond to the things he says, to all of the horrible story he tells her, and maybe even tell him that he is wrong. The curse hasn't had hold of her in... she can't remember when the feelings for him shifted. Were they still on the run, when she had realized fully the kind of person he is inside? It must be...

But his accusation shocks her as well, since that is not what she had meant... she had not meant in that sense, of the rumors and reputation that followed him, but it is too late to take back the words.

He is so angry, and a part of her is frightened, almost as much as she was on that night so long ago, but the rest of her only flares with more anger.

And then the questions.

Her head hurts so much, and she drops the comb to clutch at her head, fingers threaded through her hair and mussing it. The loss of the comb seems to weaken her spirit a little, and her voice is flat when she starts speaking. She doesn't even seem aware of what she's saying at first, letting the floor take her where it would in Truth.]

She died a very old woman, forsaken by everybody she cared for except for one. Her own actions led to that and her sorrow. Her actions led to every sorrow in her life... and if she could change them, she would. Erase every mistake that cost someone their life.

She would not have run away with another man that night on her betrothal ceremony when her would-be husband frightened her. She would not stab a knife into the leg of one that tried to protect her, just because she did not want to see another person dead because of her... she would not have led him to his death and the loss of their child on the same day.

And she would not have betrayed his memory by giving in and marrying that horrible person at his insistence because she thought it would save their surviving children from dying on a battlefield-- because of her and her stupid wish for revenge against somebody too powerful and foolish to see he had won. And I hate her.

[The anger is gone by the time she is finished, but the tears still remained.]

I wish I had been under a curse.

You can't change the past! More importantly, you shouldn't!

[Why? Why is it when things go wrong, the first thing people wish for is to erase what happened, to erase themselves? Saber had wished that as well and all it had gotten her was more pain and an eternity of slavery with no hope of escape. Now to hear Grainne wishing for something so similar...]

We have to fight to correct our mistakes, not erase them. That is the easy way and the wrong one...

[Diarmuid's anger burns out of him then, leaving him as empty of emotion as her voice is. He's in shock and he knows it. Without the shield of his anger, the things she has said are starting to sink in. Things he has been to afraid to look into; ends to legends he has avoided because he is worried of what he will find there. She married Fionn to protect their children? She lost...

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, pushing back the overwhelmed feeling that is threatening to fill the emptiness in him. Right now, he can't let it take control of him. Not now. Later...later when he can look into the information the Grail has given him. Later when he can talk to Waver and see if his partner has details from his own research...

To distract himself from thinking, Diarmuid opens his eyes and moves forward, gathering first the comb and then her mask from the floor. If she lets him, he will carefully pull her hands from her hair and wrap them around the comb and mask, holding them there should it seem like she cannot do it herself.]

Thank you. For everything. You have sacrificed so much...

I...think I understand better now. More than anything, I want you to be happy and to not hate yourself. If...it is really the only way, I will go. Just promise me you will move forward and take this second chance. Leave the past. Leave your hate. Live again. No matter how much or how little time we have. Just live. You deserve it just as much as anyone else.

[He will always have love her; he will always find joy in the past they shared together. But if she really needs it...she will be free.]

That is why I only wanted to wish you back...

[Grainne stares at the things in her hands, her voice still dull and flat. Her head is only working without thought now, but some part of her still working inside is glad he didn't ask more questions. And then... she realizes exactly what he is saying. It takes her a long, long moment to get control of herself again. Still, she turns an angry look on him and pulls her hands away, both holding the mask and comb.]

You can thank me better by not treating me as if I hadn't thought of those things before. I'm not the foolish girl you left behind.

[The anger is brief, though; her face falls into something more sad, and she sighs.]

I was trying to move forward before you found me. I have been doing that for the last forty years of my life.

[She peers up at him, several emotions warring on her face. There is something in his expression that seems familiar, and normally, in their first life, she would not have called him on it... but this is a different time and place. Different people.

They are different people, aren't they? He is not her Diarmuid any more than she is his Grainne. She keeps forgetting that Second Magic is in every corner of this place. Out of her anger, so many things are forgotten... if she can go home and survive, maybe things between them will be different there. If she can find some way of achieving her goals.

Even after everything they have said to each other here... she realizes with surprise, she does not want to give up.]

Do not thank me. For all the lives lost because of me and the shame I brought on myself, I do not want to be thanked. I want to go home.

And I will not promise anything. It is not your place to ask for such promises when you are not even being honest in a floor that is supposed to enforce it. Why are you hiding?

Oh, will you both just fucking spare me? I can't watch this anymore.

[Waver would have been a poor Master indeed if he failed to sense the emotional turmoil through their contract. Tracing it here was simple enough, and now he threw his mask over his shoulder and crossed his arms, foot tapping impatiently.]

Christ's sake, will you listen to yourselves? Both of you, stop bitching in circles like petulant fucking children and step back. Are you both so stupid to fight over who can slam your head against this brick goddamn wall the hardest?!

Because it doesn't matter...

[Diarmuid begins to say more--to explain why--but he is cut off by Waver's entrance onto the floor. He looks to his partner, eyes wide with shock and fear. There is a bit of neediness in there somewhere, but it is quickly buried. Now is not the time...especially with the floor pushing him to answer the questions they have just been posed no matter how rhetorical Waver might have meant them as.]

I didn't call you here!

[Indeed, he would have spared Waver this. Diarmuid would have spared Grainne it too if he had known how.]

Neither of us are hearing the other and no! We are not arguing...not anymore.

[The decision comes quickly. Diarmuid turns to Grainne, bows to her and then starts to walk away as if he is leaving floor before he can hurt anyone else. There is too much at risk with them both here. He can't risk losing them both at the same time...

Someone should stop him.]

[Grainne's surprise is enough to prevent her from answering right away. Waver's appearance is the last thing she expected, but given that they obviously have a contract... maybe she should have.]

I told him to leave me be and he would not! I wanted to spare everyone this by staying away but he had to be stubborn, just like always.

[After that, she scowls and lifts the mask to her face, preventing any more questions from reaching her.]

Calm down. [Waver put a hand on Diarmuid's shoulder to stop him, speaking in a more steady voice that lost a good amount of irritation.] And I'm saying that to both of you, stop shouting and use your fucking brains.

[He looked to Grainne, trying to follow his own advice and steady himself.] You're both being juvenile. Who said your presence here had to be some terrible nuisance? I have neither time nor patience for some foolish love triangle. Why exactly do we have to engage in this pathetic dance when all three of us could be far more efficient working together?

You- [Looking back to Diarmuid, Waver frowned.] -need to calm yourself and not keep being so self-sacrificing that you're blinded to simple logic. And you- [he turned his attention to Grainne, hand still on Diarmuid's shoulder] -need to stop playing fucking martyr and trying to isolate yourself from people that don't want to be isolated from you! You've got a brain under all that fucking hair, so use it!

[Pot, kettle, etc.]

[Diarmuid stops at Waver's request, the hand on his shoulder actually working to comfort and relax him a little He would actually remain quiet, taking time to sort out his thoughts and emotions, except Waver has asked a question. The first seems directed at Grainne and so he is not forced to answer it, but the second...

That one causes him to raise his bowed head so that his gaze can meet Waver's.]

There is no dance, Mo Stór. No triangle. You are the only one I love like that. What I feel for her is only the love one feels for a family member. I have so many of them in the Tower now. You know me. I want us all to work together. I hope we...

[Sad, golden eyes make their way from Waver's face to Grainne's.]

I am sorry that wishing for that has hurt you. It seems...my hope does that a lot...

[Grainne may have the mask on, but it is only to keep from being pressured into things. She answers truthfully anyway, removing the mask for a moment to address Waver, though her face is blank and much like a mask itself; partially shock, partially from pain.]

A nuisance... do you hear him? My presence here is breaking him apart. And you must be insane if you think I am playing a martyr. Has it not occurred to either of you I do not want to be around you. I do not want to work with you.

Just... take him and leave me be. It is the best option for all of us.

Bullshit, you don't. [He crossed his arms again, frown deepening the hard and cold lines worn into Waver's face.] Since you only knew me as a dumbshit kid, let me clear this up for you: I'm not stupid. So if you think for a second I currently believe you actually mean that, then you really don't know me worth shit.

You want this fucking idiot to be happy, we both know I have undeniable proof of that. And it's not your presence that's making him miserable, it's your stupid, brainless, idiotic insistence that we can only be happy if you fuck off to some unknown corner of this fucking hellhole.

Answer me this: Do you really want to leave knowing that, Grainne?

We're on a floor that makes you speak truth. Are you calling me a liar? I don't even have my powers so I don't have magic resistance! Yes, I want him to be happy, but I don't want to be in pain either.

[Something makes her choke, sputtering before she can answer his question.]

No, but I have to leave knowing that, and he will get over it.

[It's not everyday that Lancer can hear an argument so loud it spills into the stairways on floor 82. His curiosity aroused, he goes to investigate.]

[As he steps onto the floor, he spots three familiar forms among all the anonymous dancers. And he's quick to get the wrong idea about all this.]

[He steps up to the three of them, his mask still on, and claps Diarmuid on the back.]

Hey, Bro, I know you want some time to catch up with your two loves, but I don't think taking them both out on the same date is a good idea.

[In his mind, that would explain the noises. Grainne and Waver had both just gotten a bit jealous.]

[There are things Diarmuid could say in response to Grainne's words, but so far his statements have done nothing but hurt her and so he stays quiet. He trusts Waver after all. How often has his partner made him see the truth when no one else can? However, just because he is not saying anything doesn't mean he's not focused on what is being said. That is why he doesn't know his brother is there until the hand lands on his back and Cu Chulainn speaks.]

W-what?

[Shock...embarrassment...and a moment of fear all hit Diarmuid at once and that is the only word that he can get out of his mouth.

Give him a moment to reboot...]

The hell you do. You don't have to go anywhere, you blasted idiot. There must be some medium here in which neither of you are fucking miserable.

[And then the other Lancer showed up, his voice having grown to grate on Waver's ears in a way only Flat Eskardos' own ever could.]

You. Do you ever know when to shut your fucking mouth and leave well enough alone?!

If there is--

[There, the distraction she needs. Grainne doesn't know the person that has come onto the ballroom but it doesn't matter. She starts running for the staircase.]

...Hey, don't go!

[Lancer calls toward Grainne. Maybe he had embarrassed the three "lovers" a little too much.]

[Diarmuid is still recovering from the shock of his brother's previous words when Grainne makes her dash for freedom. He reaches for her in a vein attempt to stop her and then looks toward Waver as if hoping the magus will be able to do something.

Funny, he doesn't think of stopping her himself. He could do it easily enough with his speed. The problem is...he's not sure if he has the right to do it. Maybe it would be for the best if this ends now before things get any worse...]

Oh, fuck no. Fervor mei sanguis!

[Waver, on the other hand, was having none of Grainne's childish escape attempt. His hand went to his pocket and in a moment there was a flash of silver racing underneath Grainne and forming into a maid that had the woman slung over her shoulder.]

Enough. Do you think running away from your problems will really work?

[Hanging upside down suddenly, Grainne squeaks in surprise and suddenly she's clad in her robes out of reflex.

Hey, since when could she summon her robes again?

She'll think about it later, for now she doesn't have her mask on. Growling like a cat, Grainne turns her head towards Waver, avoiding looking at Diarmuid completely.]

You have no idea what my problems are, but if running stops this torment, then I will. What do you hope to accomplish here, Waver?

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OMG...so many Warnings: Swearing and mentions of Blood, Death, and Suicide...

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