01 May 2013 @ 12:22 pm
[It takes a moment for Sam Erstwhile to speak- when he finally does, his voice is quiet and strained, as if he's doing his best not to break down and cry right then and there.]

I....I'm sorry. For what happened back then, with the brainwashing and all. I mean, god, I remember hurting people, and...killing them...

[He grows quiet for a while, before suddenly speaking back up again.]

And I know it wasn't me. I was changed into a...monster. They experimented on me and changed me and now I'm back to myself again. But I still remember it all- the memories just won't go away, you know?

[And a shuddering sigh.]

The whole point of this is, well...first I wanted to apologize.For what I did, even if I wasn't myself... And second of all, I wanted to ask something. When they change us back to our normal selves...they don't leave anything behind, right? Because after doing that, it still feels like I did it with my own hands. Like what I was then and what I am now are still the same, like part of that thing is still inside me and I can never get it out...

[It's been inside him for a long, long, long time, but like he'll ever say that.]

I mean, it's the first time I've gone through this thing, this experimentation, and I've heard other people have went through it multiple times in this Tower...so I want to know. How do you deal with something like that when you return to normal? If you really do return to "normal".

How do you convince yourself that you're still a good person after all of that?

[If you're in the library later on, you'll find him curled up in a corner with his fairy tale books, murmuring quietly  to himself:]

I wonder if they saw...? No. It's alright. Yes, yes, I know, I'll get over that...it can't have happened, right?

[And then he just shakes his head and continues reading, frown on his face.]

[Well, if this isn't the most pathetic sight you've seen on this network.]

[There's something on the screen looks like an extremely dirty mop of a person...before you realize that oh, wait, that isn't a mop, that's his hair. Sam Erstwhile seems soaked to the bone, wet hair plastered to his face as he gazes in utter misery at the camera. And when he begins speaking, his voice shakes and shudders, as if ready to crack any moment.]

H-honestly, I do like the rain, I really do. It's nice, after a period of warmth and all, and water is good in general, for plants and things, but...

[He holds up what looks like a couple of seriously waterlogged books- if you can make out the titles on the damp covers, they say "Children's and Household Tales" and "D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths".]

[Sam, in the meantime, looks like he's on the verge of crying and adding to the water already dripping down his face.]

Please, I don't know if there's anyone out there, but the rain..it's getting to my books! My books started getting water on them in the chest I had them in and...oh god, oh god, I don't want to lose them...

Somebody, please help me save them, I really don't want to throw them away! But I don't know what to do, I've never had this happen before...

[He seems oddly unconcerned to the fact that he's a lot more soaked than his fairy tales are, but at the moment he just hugs the books to his chest, as if that will protect them from the pouring rain.]

Why did this have to happen...?

[And anyone on the second floor will see him shuffling around in a slight panic, unsure what to do about this whole situation. Sure, he would take rain any day, he loved water, but when it ruined the things he owned? There would be no love to be found in that case.]
09 March 2013 @ 11:15 pm
Legend League! Where you at?

Roll calls aside, need some help/advice/whatever the hell. Anyone have a clue what floor it is where power fizzing starts? It's total bullshit that it goes all the way up to that atrium right under the apartment floors. Forewarned is forearmed and all that.

Oh, and if there are any monster nests or something I should keep the hell away from. Walking into the beehive is not what I had planned for my week, thanks.
08 March 2013 @ 01:47 pm

[He's been staring and prodding at the terminal for the longest time, wanting to at least have a basic grasp of its function before fiddling too much with it, though as of right this moment, Barbossa will fully admit (privately) that he really doesn't understand it. Witchery, devilry, some sort of voodoo...He's not entirely sure, and really, given the circumstances, he doesn't really care. What matters is that he's pretty sure it's for communication. And communicate he will.

There are far more important things afoot, thanks to the letter he's tucked haphazardly into the sash around his waist, because in it, the worst is delivered. He cares not for the world, but his ship...That's enough to make his blood boil.

But none of that shows on his face - for now. He's already raged privately, before deciding it is, plainly and simply, false. Instead, he looks more than a little amused at the circumstances, as he taps thoughtfully at the screen with one long, black nail.]

So, it do seem me home managed to get itself blown apart like a dinghy hit with chain shot. Funny, that. [He doesn't believe a word of it, and it's evident in his tone, and the quirk of his mouth.] Ye'd figure there'd be a tad more warning. Trumpets. Horsemen. Jack Sparrow running away from the scene of the crime. Alas, can't say as I remember a speck of any of that.

So what be the truth of it, aye? Did our saviors rapture us from our dying homes, convinced of our purity and contriteness? Be we the lambs before the slaughter? [Hilarious.] Nay, there be more to it than that. And since it seems ye have me at a disadvantage, I'd be thankful for some...Insight.