Mateotis

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@Melo Done. You're up, buddy!

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

The possibility of meeting an insider right off the bat was slim even in optimistic calculations and thus Daimyon was neither too surprised nor dismayed when it turned out that the man—Cyrus Brandon, the Infinite Politician himself—was pretty much walking in his shoes. Which would not have been that bad—Daimyon led a good life and wore comfortable shoes—were it not for all the questions and uncertainties that currently plagued him and everyone else. Everyone else, for there were many people in the general vicinity, a fact that aside from the steadily growing sound level the various figures coming into view also confirmed. The first one to approach the two men with certain direction was a girl, for a change.

Actually, no he was not. Daimyon knew exactly who he was from the picture displayed in the elevator, yet was still fooled from the distance. The boy hopped, skipped and jumped over to them with glee like a child to his parents. The poet felt inspired to record the occasion with a few lines but his hand was taken by the arriving boy before he could have reached for his notebook.

“Hi!” Daimyon said with a bright smile, answering the passionate handshake. “You're Caora, right? The pleasure is mine!”
He considered being able to relax in a stressful situation a vital trait and Caora seemed to have exactly zero worries about what happened so far and what was going to unfold in the near future. They would get along well, he was sure of that. Nevertheless, he made a mental note—to be recorded in writing later, for it was very important—to never fall for the trap again.

“I think we should find more people.” He turned back to Cyrus. “It's better together, especially if we're in trouble.”
He looked around to find an actual direction and give some merit to his words. Caora was long gone, he noticed, no doubt enjoying the adoration of others by now. They could have followed her, perhaps...
“That-a-way, if we may.”
He eventually decided against it and instead pointed to the left where he saw a smaller congregation.

“So, how did you get here?” He threw a question at his newfound partner while they walked. “Aside from waking in an elevator after sleep...”

Once they were there, in front of some elevators and a couple locked rooms, it became apparent that there were four people gathered around—hardly a ‘congregation’ but a good company regardless. Full of exciting personalities, no doubt!

Taking a peek in his notebook beforehand, Daimyon then cleared his throat to make his grand entrance:

A wanderer approaches with a friend
As fast as a free runner? I don't pretend
I don't come walking down from Broadway,
Not from a good day's shift at a café
Won't even mention the Perfection,
Though I did come here with affection.

Things like syllable count had long stopped bothering and limiting the Infinite Poet. Sometimes he even let go of rhyme, though in this case he found it easier to stick to a well-established form.

“Hello, people!” He clapped his hands together. “I hope you found this little verse to your liking. I'm Daimyon, at your service!”

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@BrokenPromise Right-o. I'm posting right now with Daimyon (and Cyrus, if Melo doesn't have any other ideas) approaching the second group. As you said there's not much to reason to get into serious discussions yet, seeing as we're about to get personally introduced to the Des-bear himself!

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@Aewin Noted Krista, thanks! I took Caora's change of place into consideration from the get-go.

Glad I could be of help too, haha.

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

Okay, so, there are basically two groups of people right now.

First: Mondatta, Ice, Aleecia, Kara, Shaun, Mary, Caora, Rika, Calvin

Second: Davis, Mason, Krista, Felix, Quill

Daimyon and Cyrus are together and Shona is off exploring.

Is that correct? I'm sure everyone will get together soon but it'd be good to know if I got it right. lol

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

"Yes, um... (adding on to Ice's and Krista's question) Whatever happened to the hospital...to Axis Mundi anyway?"
Daimyon gripped the pen, suddenly unable to formulate any thoughts worth jotting down. He could not even come up with a rhyme in that moment.

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@AimeChambers Reading through the IC posts and matching them with the Char section posts... I think everyone's done with their opening!

It has only been a day... It's impressive!

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@Aewin So that's why I ran into some difficulties at the end...it was the forces of nature holding me back from finishing earlier so you could get #5!

@Melo, my friend, get ready for some rhyyymes!

You guys have been wonderful so far, I hope mine matches right up!

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

Daimyon Londe

O blessed swallow, show me the way
To a land where the dryads stay
Where on golden fields fairies play
O blessed swallow, show me the way!

So said Daimyon Londe who stood entranced by the sight of a beautiful white bird fluttering its wings ahead of him, a heavenly glow around it. It heard the poet's words and took flight, gliding through the clouds with grace. Daimyon leapt after it, off the mountaintop and into the air, carried forward by a gale of wind as if he was weightless. He kept the swallow in sight and flew behind it, inching closer but unable to ever catch up. He did not mind that too much, though. Being here in this magical place filled him with bliss and elation in itself. He floated in the air for a good while before he was satiated with the sight. After which he took a glance downwards from the dizzying height and—

—woke up.

---

Rough awakening, it was. The endless mountains were replaced by suffocating steely-grey walls; gone was the smooth wind as well, instead he felt a bit of sweat trickling down his brow. In the moment he opened his eyes he desperately sought the swallow, the last but brightest memory of the dream, but that too had disappeared, perhaps flying to greener pastures. The only source of light in the dim place was a shining screen which displayed nothing else.
Once the last vestiges of his wonderful adventure in dreamland were kicked out of his mind by the harsh reality, Daimyon instinctively reached for his vest pocket. What followed was a relieved sigh as he fumbled—limbs still feeling kind of numb—to pull out the notebook that laid inside. His focus was now all on the pad which he held delicately in his hands: with an unassuming, plain brown exterior and small size for a notebook, it was a question why the poet regarded it with almost feverish attachment. The pen that was neatly affixed to it was quite stylish with its black cylinder and golden roller ball, sure, but that alone was not satisfactory explanation.

Daimyon wasted little time in opening it up and flipping through the numerous pages in the thick journal. He allowed himself another sigh and a reassured smile upon seeing writing, his own handwriting in fact, on the papers. This notebook was his safe, his diary and his treasure trove all at once: filled with poetry, thoughts, musings and even the occasional mundane reminder. Without it he felt lost—with it he was ready to take on any of life's challenges.

Such as this one.

He stood up and assessed the situation. There was not much to investigate, even for a groggy poet—a minute later most things were clear as day. He was in an elevator of normal size and interior, except for the slight inconvenience that the apparent lack of buttons meant. Oh, and the somewhat bigger inconvenience of not being able to open the door which, as icing on a lousy cake, also had a scary blood-painted message on it.

Another minute later Daimyon had to realise that nothing at all was clear: he did not know where he was, how he got there and how he was going to get out. His problems encompassed past, present and future. The orderly man he was—in that situation, not many would agree he was particularly organised in general—, he was going to tackle them in that order and reopened his notebook to do just that. He skipped to the last entry:

Been prone too long
Glad to be upright again
I'll soon be o

It was not like him to leave works unfinished, so the fact perturbed him a great deal. Still, his memory got the refreshment it needed and he now remembered spending his last day in the hospital after a successful treatment of his pneumonia—the process of which was outlined in previous poems—and getting ready to return to the normal world. These facts answered fewer questions than he would have liked to, but it was all he had to work with. Figuring it was useless to slam the iron door, cry for help or just generally panic, he slumped back down on the floor to read some more from his notebook.

Before he sank too deep into the realm of words however, the screen which until now was only bright whiteness came alive with a different picture: that of a black-and-white bear. A talking black-and-white bear. With a name and a doctorate.

Daimyon Londe listened intently.

Listened intently and scribbled furiously, to be precise. As the bear listed people one by one, he took the sudden inspiration and wrote a few lines for everyone with commendable speed. He only looked up from his work when he himself was presented—with a poem no less. His smile widened at the gesture.

By the time he was done with everyone, the impenetrable-seeming door had already slid open smoothly.

“That's two out of three,” he noted to himself casually, putting away his pen. All but one of his immediate problems were dealt with and that was without him allowing his blood pressure to spike in even the slightest. All right, he conceded, perhaps the beginning was a bit disconcerting. Uncertainty, after all, was often worse than a brick wall right in a man's face. Once he was equipped with his notebook and his carefree attitude though, the troubles started melting away. He ran a hand through his grey hair and found it more unkempt than usual...but that really was just a poor attempt from life to aggravate him.

Stepping outside the confines of the elevator was an all-around exhilarating experience. The freedom to move, to explore, to breathe without hearing your breaths were entirely fantastic. Daimyon placed an emphasis on these small joys instead of letting the heavy presence of white concrete walls weigh him down. The last push he needed to ignore these material worries was the sight of another human being in the flesh: ahead of him walked a man, younger than the poet at first glance, wearing a proper black suit that suited his dark hair. Despite his earlier decision, he could not disregard the similar-looking elevator that stood next to his either. Though he had a sinking feeling that this man had been in the same exact situation as him, locked inside the transporter, but he did not give up the small glimmer of hope that he was actually some kind of official or staff member who could tell him something about the situation.

“Hello!” He approached him cheerfully. “My friend, I am in quite a bind. Could you help me with my plight?”

While he quickly stepped up to the accosted, he noticed other things vying for his attention: more elevators ahead of him and to the left, a long hallway to the right just begging to be explored, and most importantly, a host of other voices bringing the cold, concrete-walled area slowly to life.

“Oh, excuse me for being blunt. I'm Daimyon Londe.” He continued talking to the man, neglecting any outside influence for now. “Rhymes with bond and fond; not with blondie, sorry. And you would be...the politician, right-y?”

Okay, that last one was a bit forced. He blamed it on the circumstances.

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@AimeChambers You posted incredibly fast, haha. And in good quality, too. I envy writers like you!

...but hopefully I won't be long behind now!