Klavier Gavin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rocksthecourt) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2012-03-21 05:33 pm
rocksthecourt) wrote in damned_institute2012-03-21 05:33 pm
Night 62: West Wing, South Hall 2-B
[from here]
The hall stretched out far ahead of him. Further than his flashlight could reach from the opposite end. It gave that claustrophobic illusion of simply walking forever into the eternal ink of darkness. And so, at first, he moved slowly and carefully. He scanned the area around him so he wouldn't be caught off guard by... something. Ach, he didn't even know what he'd do, to be honest. He'd probably just have a heart attack if something were to randomly jump out at him out of nowhere. (For the record, he always couldn't stand horror movies.) But he held the metal pipe out ahead of him, nonetheless. It made him feel a little more protected, at least.
His flashlight came across a door. The one labeled "Disciplinary Therapy Corridor." And then... he was reminded just how useless this blasted pipe was in his hands. As well as reminded of that child all over again. And in turn, it made him think of last night again.
Surprisingly, this just... annoyed him. And it prompted him to drop all sense of caution and simply move down the hallway at a fast pace. He was sick of this. Sick of feeling helpless and sick of having absolutely no control over anything here. And he was sick of always looking over his shoulder. That was no way to live. You know what? If something was going to come and get him, it wasn't going to come and get while he was sneaking around like timid mouse. Something wants him, let them try. He didn't have time for this garbage.
[to here]
The hall stretched out far ahead of him. Further than his flashlight could reach from the opposite end. It gave that claustrophobic illusion of simply walking forever into the eternal ink of darkness. And so, at first, he moved slowly and carefully. He scanned the area around him so he wouldn't be caught off guard by... something. Ach, he didn't even know what he'd do, to be honest. He'd probably just have a heart attack if something were to randomly jump out at him out of nowhere. (For the record, he always couldn't stand horror movies.) But he held the metal pipe out ahead of him, nonetheless. It made him feel a little more protected, at least.
His flashlight came across a door. The one labeled "Disciplinary Therapy Corridor." And then... he was reminded just how useless this blasted pipe was in his hands. As well as reminded of that child all over again. And in turn, it made him think of last night again.
Surprisingly, this just... annoyed him. And it prompted him to drop all sense of caution and simply move down the hallway at a fast pace. He was sick of this. Sick of feeling helpless and sick of having absolutely no control over anything here. And he was sick of always looking over his shoulder. That was no way to live. You know what? If something was going to come and get him, it wasn't going to come and get while he was sneaking around like timid mouse. Something wants him, let them try. He didn't have time for this garbage.
[to here]
no subject
Another dark hallway, but they were almost there. Just one more hallway to pass through after this, then it would be the final door on the left...
The door into the last corridor wasn't locked, by the look of it. Someone or something had already been this way. Interesting.
"Not much further now." Even Ilia's ears barely detected her words as they made their way forward. She gestured ahead, so Seishin would know they weren't to turn off into any of the other rooms, no matter how tempting.
no subject
The morgue. Was it not ironic that he was heading for an area that was so closely associated with Death? Sotoba had been a village of Death. He had watched bodies pile upon one another, yet he did nothing to stop it. It had been funeral after funeral, performing rite after rite, his hands shifting from bead to bead as he held the Juzu, counting and counting. Burial after burial, corpses disappearing in the cold hard earth of the woods surrounding the village. Some corpses had crawled back out, but as it seemed, they had been returned to death without ceremony, discarded into the cold earth as faceless lumps wrapped in bloody sheets. All that remained was chaos and bloodshed. But Sotoba as he had known it no longer existed -- could everyone truly return to how everything was? Seishin did not know. But it did not matter to him, his ties were severed -- there was no more walking through the woods of fir trees, a coffin carried behind him. No more rites. The beads of the Juzu had scattered on the blood-soaked earth.
And yet, Seishin found himself walking towards the morgue. But it was different now, wasn't it? Priesthood had been abandoned, so he couldn't offer Rose-chan any last rites. It would have been inappropriate.
He hadn't known Rose-chan very well. She was young. But all Death was equal, wasn't it? Death chose its victims without discrimination. Yet, the circumstances had been undeniably cruel. Again, he wondered whether Rose-chan and Gamzee-kun had been friends.
[To here]