accordancy | Entries tagged with !:coil lenn

[it's taken him a little bit, but he can move again. Enough to stand, slowly walk, carefully wash his face and arms in the sink. He can't quite manage the task of getting a shirt on over his head, but he's cold and doesn't feel like showing off the extensive mural of bruises and healing wounds on his torso, so he settles with bunching a sheet around his shoulders.

And he has a question. It's an important one; he can't be the only one thinking about it. Who knows, maybe someone has figured out an answer by now. And if not? ...He'll settle for hearing guesses.

So, silently, a few words scrawl themselves in very neat script across the page--]

'Why are you here?'

[and then, steeling himself and clutching the sheet around his shoulders with one hand, bracing himself carefully against the railing with the other, he hobbles his way down the stairs in the Hideout. He's heading toward the couches in the main room-- those really comfortable ones. It's been a little while since he's been able to hang out in them]

mortalcoil

[he wakes up choking.

It's like he's picking up right where he left off. Panicking, clawing, fighting for air. There is no voice, but there is still sound for the book to catch. The kind of struggled breath that comes from barely fighting back sobs, air thick in the lungs, raw in his throat as he tries desperately to come to his senses.

He's just not used to this. Breathing. Feeling. Suddenly existing again. As bad as the nightmares have been, this is abruptly worse.]

((ooc: Coil's back! ...not that many people knew he was even gone, or anything. Robin is finding him in person, but if anyone says anything over the journal, he'll get back to them after he can find a pen))

deadwhisperer.livejournal.com

( There was nothing about this situation that was good. )

mortalcoiling.livejournal.com

[the sun is new, white and cold, seeming as though it is leeching warmth from the frigid air instead of adding to it. Perfect weather to train in. And now that he has a new staff from town--made of heartwood as heavy as iron--he can start making up for all the time he's lost, having gone for so long without the so-important ritual of keeping his skills in top shape.

So, chest bare in the cold, facing the sun as if it is his opponent, Coil begins to practice. Slowly at first, the staff winding around his arms, spinning in his hands while he warms up, reminding his limbs of the familiar routines. And then, when he is awake and alert and doesn't notice the bite of the air any longer, the real training begins. He picks up speed, the staff whirling until it makes sounds through the air, the whisper of it occasionally turning to a sudden hiss as the staff whips out in imaginary strikes. Pushing himself, shifting stances and keeping his feet moving always, striking at the knees and throats and eyes of unseen enemies until the muscles of his arms burn.

He moves as though the staff is an extension of his own limbs, hands shifting and landing along the weapon in perfect time... but he's distracted. A ripple runs through the clear meditative state of his mind until it begins to wander. The things that are bothering him, preoccupying his focus, begin to creep in. Thoughts of home, and a certain book, and water, and failure begin to creep in...

...And then, over the grimoire, there is a sudden meaty SNAP.

The hissing of the staff abruptly stops. One of the shifts of his hold on the staff didn't quite hit it's mark... and now Coil is standing on the lawn of the castle, staff laying nearby in the grass, leaning with his hands on his knees, blood drooling from his mouth.

Oops.]

mortalcoiling.livejournal.com

[today, there is someone raiding the music room, and the sounds of their exploits are caught over the forgotten grimoire nearby. There is the wooden clatter of instruments from the cabinets being taken out, set down, moved around, put back. And then, amongst the busy sounds, the occasional pause and peal of a few expertly plucked chords. Just experimentally playing with the instruments as he finds them--testing the sound, comparing them to one another, inspecting the exotically foreign forms of each one.

Whether he's looking for a specific instrument in particular, or just exploring the tower's library of stringed instruments, Coil's going to be at it for a while]

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ACCORD [the clockwork city]

an original character musebox game

Entries tagged with !:coil lenn

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