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savetheearth2013-09-24 08:29 pm
theearth) wrote in savetheearth2013-09-24 08:29 pm
Entry tags:
- !open,
- !plot,
- #action,
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[General Log] Tuning Towers, Sept. 22 onward.
Who: Any and all!
Where: The site of Tuning Towers (and/or en route accordingly), at the heart of the business district in Locke City's downtown.
When: September 22nd and onward.
What: Following that mysterious buzzing sound to its strongest point! Perhaps you made plans with numbered associates for a trip downtown, or perhaps you went a-wandering alone to follow the noise yourself - surely you'll hardly be the only one.
[Tuning Towers, the third-largest building in the United States and Locke City's most prominent feature, from a tourist perspective in one sense and quite literally by another - look up and marvel, if you will, should you not be a bit too distracted by the circumstances.
Even if you needed to focus to tune into the buzzing in your brain at the start of whatever trip you took, you'll find that by the time you come close enough to the tower to feel a rising sensation of tremors beneath your feet - unnoticed, as far as one can tell, by the crowds, which almost never lack presence around the building - you'll be able to hear it very easily without even trying. It isn't terribly intrusive in the first couple of days after the return of the lights in the sky. As September moves on and into October, however, the intensity will grow all the more overbearing.
It is, indeed, even worse if you enter the building - only the ground floor is accessible to the unauthorized by the tower's maintenance and management or personnel of the companies making use of it. Apart from that, among the indoor crowds, you'll find nothing unusual on the ground floor - and if you'll find that the buzzing loses its strength the higher you go if you take a trip up to one of the observation floors.]
Where: The site of Tuning Towers (and/or en route accordingly), at the heart of the business district in Locke City's downtown.
When: September 22nd and onward.
What: Following that mysterious buzzing sound to its strongest point! Perhaps you made plans with numbered associates for a trip downtown, or perhaps you went a-wandering alone to follow the noise yourself - surely you'll hardly be the only one.
[Tuning Towers, the third-largest building in the United States and Locke City's most prominent feature, from a tourist perspective in one sense and quite literally by another - look up and marvel, if you will, should you not be a bit too distracted by the circumstances.
Even if you needed to focus to tune into the buzzing in your brain at the start of whatever trip you took, you'll find that by the time you come close enough to the tower to feel a rising sensation of tremors beneath your feet - unnoticed, as far as one can tell, by the crowds, which almost never lack presence around the building - you'll be able to hear it very easily without even trying. It isn't terribly intrusive in the first couple of days after the return of the lights in the sky. As September moves on and into October, however, the intensity will grow all the more overbearing.
It is, indeed, even worse if you enter the building - only the ground floor is accessible to the unauthorized by the tower's maintenance and management or personnel of the companies making use of it. Apart from that, among the indoor crowds, you'll find nothing unusual on the ground floor - and if you'll find that the buzzing loses its strength the higher you go if you take a trip up to one of the observation floors.]
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Still chatting away, he starts guiding them towards the first isolated area that he sees. It's only once they've got some relative privacy (and are facing some ... plastic-enclosed tourist thing that he's not really paying attention to) that he stops and takes a deep breath.
Keeping his voice low, he asks, "Is it just me, or is it loud as hell in here?"
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"It's not just you," Adam mutters, resisting the urge to rub at his ears to try and make the ringing stuff. Still, it's pretty obvious that it is just them.
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"You think this was—"
Whatever he's about to say is abruptly cut off. His eyes are wide, staring at something only he can see.
Fourteen figures, all wearing black coats. He can't see their faces; the hoods hide them from view. But he knows, without a doubt: this is Organization XIII. And he's Number VIII.
There's a change; something drapes over his free arm, like he's been carrying it this whole time. A black coat, just like the ones he sees the figures wearing. He doesn't notice. Right now, there's nothing in his head but the vision and the knowledge.
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Like Axel, he's caught up in a memory that he didn't know he had before now. Running away from... something. In a cave. Was that a three headed dog?!
Adam jerks back into reality, glancing around and trying not to look too conspicuous as he sees Axel's still out of it. So he'll just take his arm, and... hope that'll help.
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Then his vision clears, and he blinks. Still wide-eyed, and now breathing a little faster, but definitely there.
He opens his mouth. Closes it; for once, at a loss of what to say. Instead, he looks down at his arm, curious about the added weight.
"...."
Unlike a strange vision, this thing is physical. Tangible. Real.
And there's still no words, it seems.
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"Uh..." he says, glancing around to make sure they're not about to be arrested, "Let's... go over here, ok?" He starts leading Axel towards another 'tourist' spot that's been recently vacated. At least it looks like they're moving and not staring blankly into space.
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"... Sorry."
His voice is controlled. Too controlled. If Adam looks, he'll see that Axel's expression is one of tightly constrained anger and ... fear...? Certainly nothing like the confidence he's been portraying thus far.
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"It's fine," Adam replies quietly, still trying to keep his voice low. This was entirely too public to have this kind of conversation. "...Come on. Let's go somewhere else." At least one of them (aka the one with the less traumatic memory) can pretend that nothing's going on. Right?
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He's regaining his composure, but it's slower than he'd like. It's not often that something really shakes the redhead; when it does, it takes him a bit to get back on his feet.
Mentally, he begins running through a list of things he knows for sure. Things about himself. Things about his life. Slowly but surely, his carefully crafted image reassembles.
By the time they've gotten away from the building, Axel will look as though nothing happened at all.
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"Y'know, I'm really not a fan of the timing of these echoes." He sounds irritated, but otherwise unaffected. "This is the third. Or the third and fourth, I'm not sure how it works. Second one happened while I was in the middle of talking to someone. But the first one? That happened while I was having to fire someone."
He sighs, shifts the coat hanging over his arm, and moves to wrap his other arm around Adam's waist again. No hesitation, even if he doesn't have the excuse of providing a cover.
"And this one smacks me in the face while I'm trying to get to know you. It's irritating."
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He needs to get better at this. It kind of feels like this always happens.
"Yeah, that... sounds really annoying." He'll just stay here pressed next to you, then. "I've only had one before this, and it was in the middle of the night."
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Yes, he remembers the name of the instrument. And, even though he's not particularly interested in it, he latches onto that subject and continues with:
"From the way you described that thing, it's lucky no one else was around. No hiding that, right?"
It serves two purposes. First, to check and see if Adam was with anyone the night he received his echo. Second, to steer the conversation farther away from his own loss of composure.
And yes, he's keeping his hand right where it is, like it's no big deal at all.
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As it turns out, this is a perfectly good distraction technique. Adam doesn't know Axel that well, anyway, so he wouldn't want to press too much. So... having these other options is helpful. "Yeah, I'm really lucky. Hell, even if I had a roommate it would hard to hide. The thing doesn't exactly fit in my closet. At least a coat is easy?"
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He lets the coat fall into his hand so that he's able to hold it up before them. Although folded in half, it's clear that the silver zipper shining bright against the black material runs the entire length of the coat.
"What's this even made of? Leather?"
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If his fashion sense ever starts getting messed with ... well. These echoes will be far more than an inconvenience.
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