Re: Battle Royale! Round 4: Artistry
01-09-2010, 12:21 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.
In the lower levels of the castle, Whit found the eraser. It was incredibly easily found- sitting against the wall in a dining room, as if it had been simply forgotten as the artistic process stopped needing it. The eraser was a big piece of artistic rubber eraser, easily molded. Whit fiddled with it a little, interested. It was an object that he felt vaguely suit him. In his life... His past life, it seemed... He had wiped out everything that had been put on the table against him... Erased it, it could be said. Slight difference though- things he won did not simply dissapear- he claimed them as trophies, as proof of his superior fate. He shaped it into a thick rodlike shape and gave it a lackadasical swing at the dining table. There was no resistence- the segment erased simply vanished. Whit smiled.
"Yes... This is good."
It was something he could shape, and always erased... But didn't erase him, or apparently, his clothes. Whit figured that the tools didn't affect foriegn objects.
Suddenly, an idea struck Hit It was obvious that the others would use these tools to make weapons... But he knew what to do about that. He analyzed his surroundings. It was a large room with one door- he'd know if anyone was close. He left his godgun out just in case. He took off his jacket, and pressed the eraser, shaping it into a cube, and took out his... Well, itzal's knife. He began making thin slices of the eraser,and then lined it on the inside of his jacket. The slightly sticky nature of the eraser made the pieces stay in place easily. After he finished, he still had plenty of eraser left. He took half of it with his hands this time, and rolled it up so that it was a long, rounded segment. Then, He took it and split it in half, wrapping both segments around his forearms. Putting on the coat, he felt successful. He was now practically drawing- proof, and even if the eraser parts were seen they were unlikely to be identified as such. Picking up the last piece, Whit rolled it up into a rod, about the length of his forearm, and tucked it in the backhook of his jacket.
In the lower levels of the castle, Whit found the eraser. It was incredibly easily found- sitting against the wall in a dining room, as if it had been simply forgotten as the artistic process stopped needing it. The eraser was a big piece of artistic rubber eraser, easily molded. Whit fiddled with it a little, interested. It was an object that he felt vaguely suit him. In his life... His past life, it seemed... He had wiped out everything that had been put on the table against him... Erased it, it could be said. Slight difference though- things he won did not simply dissapear- he claimed them as trophies, as proof of his superior fate. He shaped it into a thick rodlike shape and gave it a lackadasical swing at the dining table. There was no resistence- the segment erased simply vanished. Whit smiled.
"Yes... This is good."
It was something he could shape, and always erased... But didn't erase him, or apparently, his clothes. Whit figured that the tools didn't affect foriegn objects.
Suddenly, an idea struck Hit It was obvious that the others would use these tools to make weapons... But he knew what to do about that. He analyzed his surroundings. It was a large room with one door- he'd know if anyone was close. He left his godgun out just in case. He took off his jacket, and pressed the eraser, shaping it into a cube, and took out his... Well, itzal's knife. He began making thin slices of the eraser,and then lined it on the inside of his jacket. The slightly sticky nature of the eraser made the pieces stay in place easily. After he finished, he still had plenty of eraser left. He took half of it with his hands this time, and rolled it up so that it was a long, rounded segment. Then, He took it and split it in half, wrapping both segments around his forearms. Putting on the coat, he felt successful. He was now practically drawing- proof, and even if the eraser parts were seen they were unlikely to be identified as such. Picking up the last piece, Whit rolled it up into a rod, about the length of his forearm, and tucked it in the backhook of his jacket.
Spoiler