Pieces of the Puzzle
Who: Cain Knightlord and EVERYBODY (no seriously, he is knocking on every door in the residential areas)
Setting: All dorm rooms on each level
Format: Starting with Prose, but will match you
Summary: Cain has some questions to ask of everybody!
Warnings: Cheerful derpiness?
( First Part // Private to Abel )
Setting: All dorm rooms on each level
Format: Starting with Prose, but will match you
Summary: Cain has some questions to ask of everybody!
Warnings: Cheerful derpiness?
( First Part // Private to Abel )
It had, however... given him something that he hadn't had in an extremely long time -- hope, and the taste for a freedom that seemed just beyond his reach in this place. After his conversation with Edward, and then Cain -- it had all fallen into place. If they were far enough away from the Red Mars Project that neither were recognizable, their identities just as generic and indeterminable from the next pair of faces in the crowd, then that meant that maybe a life as 'normal' was not as impossible as he had come to believe it was.
Hope for a life away from a world where they were nothing but tools... expensive pawns, guinea pigs and lesser beings -- monsters...
He wanted it. God, he wanted it more than anything. A place he could protect them properly -- a place they could actually be... happy.
But the Tower of Animus was not that place. Perhaps it was a stepping stone to reaching it -- but it, itself, was far from the ideal paradise despite the 'freedom' that existed within the overlying entrapment. It was true that no one knew what he and his brother were, here... that they held no rank, no daunting responsibility, were held to no higher standard despite supposed lesser standing... they were merely faces. Faces... collared and bound to the same rules of captivity as everyone else.
Quite the double-edged sword, in Abel's opinion.
He had endured the first real trial since coming to the Tower, it was true... stubborn will had done him wonders alongside his brother's affinity for guilt-tripping him into something approaching obedience (and self-preservation). They had escaped it relatively unharmed, if he was resigned to the irritating migraine from dealing with those ridiculous shocks for 'disobedience.' There was no way in hell he was allowing himself to comply to orders... even ones he might be inclined to follow on his own volition otherwise. There was no love lost between Abel and the general populous, here, after all... But he was no dog to bark on command.
He was determined to teach them that lesson, no matter what it took.
And that was where his mission objective had begun. He was intelligent; he knew there was very little chance that they would find any genuine information about their captors without waiting a fair amount of time to get it through slip-ups or opportunities that might present themselves once in a blue moon. And while he was intelligent... he was also sincerely impatient. He didn't have it in him to, like his brother, sit back and bide his time. Instead, he took the proactive route... the success was arguable, and perhaps measured only in time.
He would sit outside those fucking elevators, and he would wait. They had to show their faces, eventually. These doors had to open... and when they did, Abel would be there. God help him, he would fucking be there.
...That plan lasted long as it took for his body to determine it was a failure for the necessity of sleep in his own dormitory bed through consequences he didn't quite understand the logic in... He wondered if this 'punishment' for straying from the set 'routine' they seemed to fix in place without every really saying anything at all was only implemented to irritate and subjugate, to teach the prisoners their place. It only made his hatred and determination burn all the harder.
But... it worked, as he had eventually forced himself to conceded; he didn't intend to kill himself... and he would return as soon as he'd gotten a decent night's sleep in his own bed to dissuade the side-effects of doing otherwise. It was after that night of remaining quite dead to the world that he was woken by his brother's greeting, accompanied by the smell of pancakes. ...Ah. One of his favorites, and...
He cracks his eyes open grudgingly... lifting a hand to groggily rub with a slightly quizzical (and arguably half-asleep) glance in his twin's direction. As expected, his hair is going every which way and that might be some drool at the corner of his mouth. He really is a charmer.
"...Cain?" The hell are you doing up at this UNGODLY HOUR. ...Regardless what hour it is, it's SURE TO BE UNGODLY.
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Aside from the holes in his logic, Cain was worried that this would be seen as an act of aggression and would make Abel a target for experimentation, someone to be made an example of. He refused to lose his brother here, where there were no safety nets of being a valuable commodity... yet he wasn't actually out attacking anyone, and for that grace alone, Cain wasn't arguing with what he chose to do.
"I brought you breakfast, lazybones. I cooked it myself~"
Which had been a distinct adventure, and the reason they were a little burnt crispy around the edges. Advanced in many ways though they were, neither had been given cause to even make toast for themselves before, all their meals provided by the UNASF cafeteria.
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But food was definitely a good motivator to bring him into the waking world. He's reaching out for the tray curiously.
"...what's the occasion?"
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He gave a mock pout, sitting on the edge of the mattress and handing the tray off to Abel so he could eat.
"I even catered to your disgusting and unrefined tastes!"
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Not that he's going to admit as much aloud, eyes drifting side-long to him at the quip, and a brow arches.
"Unrefined tastes? You're hardly one to talk, Cain."
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"My tastes are highly distinguished, I don't have the tongue of a toddler on a sugar binge."
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Abel nudges Cain's ribs in retort, grunting but far too interested in eating than whole-hearted argument. It might be why his reply is muffled.
"Sugar is a refined treat. Fish is... fish." Yeah. Take THAT.
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He grinned slyly, before digging his fingers into Abel's side and wiggling them around a little. Heh.
"Might explain why you're looking so porky these days."
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He is abruptly squirming and almost choking on what he was swallowing as he laughs, coughing a few times as he moves, trying not to spill the tray over his lap and glaring at his twin while involuntarily... laughing.
"C-cut it out, asshole! Jesus, what are you... five?"
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So he's not stopping.
EVER.
"I can't stop myself, I must be under some kind of spell!"
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"Cain! I'm guh-- h... HAHA-- gonna-- ki... kick your ass, just--"
AAAHH CUT IT OUT HIS MANLY REP--!!!!
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"I'm so frightened, I can see you're gearing up for the dreaded laugh attack."
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"I'm-- goi... going to-- HAHAhaha--"
Get you back for this? Kill you?
Punch you soon as he were able to form a fist and hit you at a non-awkward angle?
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God help them if either of their roommates walked in now, because two fully grown brothers wrestling on a bed looked perfectly normal.
"Going to what, Abel? I'm dying to know."
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"--k... kill you, I'm--"
Well, he's just gonna die laughing, first, it seemed.
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"What was that? I hope it was: "Cain, you are the best brother ever, and I love you"."
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