Nightshift 61: M-C Block Hallway

[somesoulsearching]

Again, Brook had been forced to watch as his roommate was escorted away, and again Brook was determined to assist the man in any way possible. But first things first: he had to make sure that stepping out of his room wouldn't have him warping to the Arena. Things were just too similar to the night before that he couldn't be too sure the same wouldn't happen twice.

Taking up his sword, the man was quickly into the hallway where he willed with every fiber of his being that he would remain there. Which, thankfully, he did. The good luck continued with a few more dared steps that took him into the connecting hallway. There he finally accepted that, no, he would not be teleporting anywhere that evening.

"Don't worry Michelangelo-san!" he assured as he drew his sword and lowered it to his side, "Even if my sword finally breaks this night, I'll be sure to help you this time."

Brook wasn't about to let Landel experiment on his friend a second time. Not if he had anything to say about it!

[CHARGE!]

Comments

[bereavement]

[From here.]

It was dark in the halls, much darker than he'd expected. The boy's fingers gripped the handle so tightly that his knuckles flared white, the quiver of the pale circle of light illuminating his path betraying the uncertainty Hope tried to swallow down. It was not too cold, at least, thanks to the coat he'd donned just before exiting his room. One hand held in a pocket, only the hand that clasped the flashlight felt a slight chill, along with his cheeks and nose.

Hope sniffled and pressed onward. All that passed beside him was a seemingly endless row of doors— though he noted that the numbers on their face had a clear pattern to them. He'd actually ended up taking a step backward to note the number of his own room—M114—just in case. A landmark. The thought to try the other doors' locks did cross his mind, but ultimately the fear that gripped the boy's heart had him pushing onward instead. He didn't like this at all, this unknown path of black.

But he had to remain strong.

It was a good thing he'd made a mental note of his initial location, because the first way he went happened to turn into a dead end, and he had to backtrack once more.

I can do this, chanted the litany in his mind. Clenching his teeth, Hope mentally counted the doors he'd passed, watching their numbers flicker upward and upward. When he got to 120, there seemed to be an end.

An end. Hope's eyes widened slightly behind the dim light, and he raked the flashlight this way and that before him. He found himself standing at a corner of some type. One direction was the way he'd come. The other way seemed to lead to more blackness. And before him...

Before him, there was a door. Naturally, of course, Hope drifted that way. Instinct bid him to shy away from the dark that loomed around him in all directions. He tried the door, pressing upon it. Much like his luck in the bedroom – if it could really be called that – it was unlocked, too, and slid open.

How is this even possible? Hope gnawed upon his lip for a moment, attempting to see beyond the door.

Nothing but darkness, of course.

"Great," he muttered to himself without really thinking about it. "Black... or more black."

In the end, of course, he decided the door would be a better bet. It would lead him into an area that was not this one, after all, and that seemed to draw a little more luck on his side. At least, he hoped that would be the case. He didn't have much more going for him right now, beyond the things he'd gathered and his own wits – honed by the soldier he'd traveled beside, but that didn't mean he was necessarily ready to strike out entirely on his own just yet. Lightning was stern, but she offered a source of comfort and support he couldn't find anywhere else. And that had been ripped from him, just like his mother, just like the rest of his life thus far.

Yes, there was nowhere to go but forward at this point. Hope's palms had gone damp from nervousness, and he paused to wipe each one against his sweatpants, the flashlight passing between them. He drew in a shaky breath, and moved through the opening this door provided, letting it fall shut behind him.

[bereavement]

[To here.]