damned_institute | Night 66: West Wing, North Hall 1-A

[From here.]

Out into the hallway now. One step closer. Still nothing obviously unusual, still seeing few other prisoners about. Oh well; keep going forward.

And no, as he hurried through the hallways, coming closer to areas where more people would be able to see him, Zero did not care if anyone stared at the long-haired 'kid' wearing a girl's pink-colored coat over grey Institute wear and military-issued combat boots. Nope, didn't care at all. His thoughts were only on finding his friends, and that was it. 'Fashion' would forever be the least of his concerns.

[To here.]

Edited 2012-10-04 20:34 (UTC)

[From here]

As he should have expected, there was nothing to distinguish this hallway from the previous. It was almost exactly identical, save for the label on the door: M-B Blocks. There would be more rooms in here, then.

Scar pushed open the door without hesitation, making his way into the next hall.

[To here]

Edited 2012-10-04 23:37 (UTC)

[from here]

Loki paused, listening in the hallway. There didn't seem to be much movement thus far, and none that could be hostile. He kept moving, footsteps quiet. Experience told him this wasn't the dangerous part anyway.

[to here]

Edited 2012-10-05 08:22 (UTC)

[From here.]

Normally a trip from his room and to this hallway should be a cinch, but already Sechs was feeling the side-effects of his M-U kicking in from his spine. The tightening chill and abusive whispering from the results of his torture always made some of the most basic of things difficult, like walking down a hall without having to bend over slightly from growing discomfort. All he could do was clench his teeth together and move on.

[To here.]

Edited 2012-10-06 02:35 (UTC)

[ from here. ]

This one.

Her heartbeat accelerated strangely in her chest. The energy it took to walk over to this side of the institute was marginal at best, but her lungs were on fire, her pulse was a frantic drumming in her ears. Orihime broke for the lone door on her left the moment she stepped into the hallway, a several-steps dash that might’ve qualified her for track-and-field back home.

There was no reason to exaggerate, to try to make this anymore nauseatingly exciting than it already was, but her imagination went with it: she was on stage, spinning a wheel of pure chance, hoping she’d win the prize, the boat ride for three to the top of the Alps. Here, the doorknob was the wheel; the right answer, her prize.

I’ll take what’s behind door number one--!

[ to here. ]

Edited 2012-10-07 03:14 (UTC)

[from here.]

Once more the doors were close by, and once more there were more people around than Gabriel was expecting. Perhaps that was what happened when he waited; heading out early avoided the rush. It made sense, and Gabriel preferred it this way to the night before. This way, he knew there were others. The corridors didn't feel empty.

That is until he remembered that any number of people could turn at any moment, and they were potentially as much of a threat as the darkness. Repressing a shiver down his spine, Gabriel waited a moment to make sure the doorway was clear before passing through himself.

Having to face and fight a patient-turned-monster was the very last thing he wanted to do.

[to here.]

Edited 2012-10-07 13:11 (UTC)

[from here]

His eyes adjusted slowly, but Murphy found he was able to see well enough. Again he found himself with no set goal, no direction. He didn't know where the medical wing was, and he was no doctor. No, he was a guy who knew how to swing a chair and beat something off with his his fists. He needed to find someone who needed that.

And wanted it. Because he'd tried before and it hadn't ever gone well.

But tonight....

to here]

[From here.]

With the glow from Inoue's healing, it wasn't as difficult to see in the dark as it had been the night before, but it wasn't enough to see where they were going very well. Lloyd paused only long enough to drape his jacket over his shoulder before fishing out his flashlight and turning it on.

"I haven't been here long," he said softly as they continued on. She already knew that from their conversation at breakfast, but he felt like he should say it again, just in case she hadn't heard or remembered. That conversation had been pretty confusing at times and hard to keep up with himself. "So I'm just going off what I remember from when my nurse was walking me around. I'm pretty sure we just keep going through those open doors." He shined his flashlight in the direction of the West Wing South Hall.

[ over here! ]

[From here]

Link continued to follow Sechs into yet-unknown territory. By his calculation (sense of direction had always been one of his strongest points) they were right alongside the bathrooms, at this point. Sora had told him to jump the courtyard wall. At this rate, whatever door they took would take them just west of the courtyard. And the river was to the east.

He hoped to the goddesses it wasn't too far. Nights seemed to fly, here.

Taking the lead this time, Sechs continued his dash down the corridor until his flashlight caught sight of the exit door. He slowed down to a tired trot until he reached his destination, panting more from the pain and lingering sickness than just the exertion of running.

"Ok... Rec field's through here," Sechs explained, his tone strained slightly as he fought to repress his tired panting. "We gotta get to the wall on the other side as quick as we can, but we can't attract any attention, got that? There's gonna be someone or something out there... I know..."

And with that warning, Sechs shoved his shoulder against the door and pushed it open to the outside field.

[To here.]

Edited 2012-10-11 04:29 (UTC)

[From here.]

Other than a second pair of patients, both unfamiliar to Guy, the hall was empty. He didn't hear any sounds of possible monster attacks, either. He remembered last night, when they'd had to work their way past that fight, and wondered what had happened in the end.

Maybe it wasn't his business, but he still worried. Claude and Anise weren't the only people caught up in this, and it bothered him to realize that some people had already had the worst case scenario take place.

Despite his troubled thoughts, though, Guy tried to keep conversation light. "Did you have an okay day? I mean, considering the circumstances," he shot back to Claude.

An okay day? Well, it had been pretty quiet, anyway -- that is, until his mom had all but cornered him in the Sun Room. But Guy didn't need to hear about that for a lot of reasons. Besides, now that they were out for the night, that all seemed pretty far away. Anything Claude did or didn't do now (regardless what it was about) wouldn't mean much if he wound up turning into a monster in the end.

"Yeah, it wasn't so bad," he replied. Admittedly, that didn't mean a whole lot, but it was about all he could say.

Like Guy, he remembered what they saw last night. Even though they were trying to cut the tension with some light conversation, Claude did his best to stay alert as they made their way down the hall.

((To here.))

[From here]

Without any delay, Scar began heading north into the direction of the Recreational Field. All the while, he kept his watch on his companion for the night - this Murphy. Though it was convenient the man had offered his help so readily, but the former lion would hardly trust someone whom he had just met, after all.

"Yeah, the field was how I tried a few nights ago," Murphy agreed, following along with Scar. How many guys named 'Scar' were running around this place, anyway? He wasn't quite sure what he thought of the buy, either. There was something about him that the ex-con couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it was just the way he talked. To a poor kid from the city streets, it sounded sort of uppity.

But who was he to judge?

"The walls look like you can scale them."

Right, the wall. Scar was fairly certain he wouldn't have had any problems with the wall had he not been stuck in this inconvenient human form, but he was not so certain now. Not that he outwardly showed any of that, of course.

"Well, I suppose it's worth a shot," he commented as they reached the door on the other end of the hallway and pushed it open.

[To here]

[from here]

"So, um... you know how butterflies come from cocoons, right? Some people on the bulletin were suggesting that the disease has the same kind of stages, in the same kind of order. Barnaby thinks so, too." Not that Barnaby was an expert as far as she knew, but being the guy with a 'butterfly' in his stomach, his opinion counted for something. He hadn't said anything specific about his symptoms, but maybe he could somehow tell that his condition was advanced.

Remembering that Luke might not have heard about the x-ray results, Anise glanced over in his direction as she continued. "So, since the thing in Claude's scan didn't have wings... it might be like an earlier stage." She then turned to Claude with an encouraging smile. "So it probably means that Claude's going to be okay for a while!"

How long 'a while' was, she didn't really know. And whether or not Anise also had 'a while' to go was also unknown. But this was still good news, wasn't it?

Guy lent a careful ear to Anise's words, and the second that it all clicked together, he felt stupid for not figuring it out before. Of course -- butterflies, some with wings and some without. The cycle of life made complete sense, not to mention the relation to transforming. But in the case of these sick patients, they transformed not into a pretty winged insect, but something horrific.

Still, the bottom line was that Claude was in a good spot, and that caused Guy to send a relieved smile in his direction. "Well, at least we know that much." It didn't change the fact that they were floundering when it came to finding a cure, but it did take a small weight off of Guy's shoulders.

Anise was still a mystery, though, because they hadn't gotten around to scanning her. "Maybe you guys should have headed to the X-Ray room tonight..." It was possible for them all to still split up, but Guy didn't know if Anise would want to do that. It was up to her in the end.

He met Guy's gaze, the knot of anxiety in his stomach loosening somewhat at Anise's words. At the end of the day, they couldn't be one-hundred percent sure about their ideas, but that butterfly theory made as much sense as anything else Claude had heard.

At the very least, he could try to trust that the wingless thing in his stomach had bought him a couple of extra nights. It wasn't much, but he'd take what he could get.

That still left Anise, and Guy pretty much took the words out of his mouth. "I'd be willing to go with you," Claude offered with a reassuring smile in case she wanted to get herself checked.

The tension in Luke's shoulder fell slightly as Anise explained the situation. They couldn't get complacent of course, but at least they had a timeline and one that could be measured by scanners. Turning his eyes on Claude, the young man was happy to hear he wasn't too far gone. But where did that leave Anise? What did her butterfly or whatever look like?

He was about to outright ask when Guy beat him to the chase, albeit a lot more subtly. It was probably for the best that he had jumped in first. "It's up to you," he added in case she felt pressured to leave their group. It couldn't hurt, but it would also be a waste if Guy and he got to the river and found a cure, but no one to try it on. Either way, Luke stopped walking any further. There was no point in dragging her up the institute if she would have to double back to the X-Ray Room.

Going to the X-Ray room? It was true that Anise wanted to know how much time she had left. She wanted to know really badly! But did she really have time for that? She had to choose fast.

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. It wouldn't change anything." The best it could do was give her some peace of mind if the result was good, but at worst, it could waste valuable time, or send her into a panic if the result was bad. It was better to focus on getting cured as soon as possible. Maybe they'd even find something tonight, and then it really wouldn't matter what stage she was at.

"Besides," she added, looking to Claude, "if the river has something that can be used for a cure, we should be there."

With that decided, it was time to head outside.

[to here]

[from here]

As he sped down the hallways, Niikura tried his best not to think about what kind of condition Shiina would be in. Last night, he'd only had a few minutes (or perhaps it had been seconds) to revel in his victory before the night had ended, and the facts of life said that it wasn't exactly a walk in the park after you got your stomach sliced open. She would understand, though, no matter how much pain she was in. Hopefully. If she'd really died in the past, she'd be okay...

Actually, he wouldn't be a happy camper either if he had to recuperate from massive stomach trauma, and he'd died how many times now?

[to here]

Edited 2012-10-13 08:58 (UTC)

[From here.]

Turning on his flashlight, the Scarecrow made his way toward the main corridor, making sure Scar was still behind him every few steps. Though he couldn't feel it, his legs showed the telltale signs of the fatigue still wearing on him, his gait unsteady and growing more so with every passing moment. He rubbed at his eyes as he waited for his companion, forcing some of the blurriness from them.

"The room where he'll be is on the second floor," he explained over his shoulder as they walked. "There's a hallway we're going to have to cross on the way, and nothing good ever comes out of it."

Scar followed closely behind Frank, keeping as much of an eye on him as he did on the hallway. Despite the eased tension on his face, Frank still seemed wobbly on his feet. The Ishbalan flicked on his flashlight as well, reaching for the door into the southern segment of the hallway.

"I made it to the second floor once." It had actually been on the first floor that he and Lust had run into that ghostly child. Scar had a difficult time of containing a shudder. He hoped to never have to look into that poor child's face again.

[To here]

[From Here]

As soon as he passed the threshold from one hall to the next he would have sworn someone had just thrown a knife into his skull. He staggered and fell against the wall as the headache he'd had before worsened to unbearable levels. His hands went to his temples as though he could hold his head together, for surely it was splitting apart with how much it hurt.

Vision speckled and fuzzy, he looked down the hall --suddenly seeming longer with how much further he had to go-- but he had to try. He couldn't just stop here, the process was starting and if he didn't barricade himself in time-!

He had to run; run as fast as he could until he was far enough away. The treasure hunter took one step from the wall, two, and collapsed, crying out as the pain shot down his spine.

He wasn't going to make it.

Rational thought fled his mind and all he could think of was the burning pain and the one feeling that he had to go. He had to keep moving. He had to-

Brown eyes flew open and lightened to a bright, ruby, red. Nails elongated and sharpened as skin tore, ripping apart to be replaced by dark fur that looked as though it was stretched across the bones. Sickening cracks echoed as Locke's bones broke and reformed to a feline structure, his spine became more prominent and elongated out into a thick tail. pointed ears sprouted up from his skull and two, long, tendril-like, whiskers shot out from a newly-formed snout and whisked back and forth as though they had a mind of their own.

Silence reigned except the sounds of fur scraping across the floor as the cat's tail twitched and swished.

It had to do something.....something important. Protect it's territory. It had to chase off any invaders. The cat got to it's feet, red eyes scanning the area for anything that didn't belong and then set off, large paws padding softly across the floor.

Edited 2012-10-20 10:38 (UTC)

[From here.]

Unfortunately, they were running out of time; that fact was made even clearer by what— or who, rather— they met in the next hallway.

Keeping his pace slower than he'd have liked so his sickly comrade could keep up and he didn't aggravate his own injuries, Edgar crossed into the northern portion of the hallway later than he would have liked. It had its advantages- there were less people around, passers-by no longer lingering in the halls at night. Each man had a mission, and theirs was clear: find Locke and keep him from harming himself or anyone else, and in the same vein, keep them from harming him. Whether they'd be performing impromptu surgery was yet to be discovered, and an option Edgar hoped they wouldn't have to take.

They hadn't time to worry about it. Edgar put a hand out to stop Tolten behind him, listening to the sound of paws padding across the floor, their sound softer than the slippers patients were issued, gait a far cry from that of a human. Edgar readied his shovel and turned on his flashlight, sweeping the hall before them, hoping they weren't too late.

Tolten inhaled deeply, both drawing up his strength and steadying his own resolve. He was disheartened but unsurprised. Oh gods, how were they going to do this? Truly? As weakened and under-equipped as they were...

The best they could hope for, realistically, was containment.

But he couldn't allow himself to give in to those thoughts. There was always hope. There was always a way, always. The young king had learned that lesson well. Even in the darkest times, there was a light to be found. He tightened his grip on his sword and nodded to Edgar, letting the other man know he was preparing himself.

He wondered if he could use his voice to knock Locke out. It worked sometimes...

The cat paused mid-stride and lifted it's nose to the air. It could smell them. Intruders.Enemies. They were in it's way.

It carefully crept closer till it could see the pool of light cast by the humans; there, it stopped, only it's flickering whiskers darting into the beam.

The cat hissed and growled, ears flattening and tail swishing in agitation. It shifted and tensed,Preparing to pounce should they not get the hint: this was it's territory. Get out or die.

Edgar returned Tolten's nod, his eyes on the whiskers that danced just at the edge of his flashlight's reach. The way they twitched was unmistakable, especially after the previous night- their movement was burned into his mind, something sickening about the way they reached out for him. Perhaps it was because the monster was his friend; perhaps it was Landel's determination to drive them truly mad by turning them on one another, forcing them to waste time by containing those who had been changed in a bid to protect them from themselves and everyone else.

No matter what the reason, Edgar felt his stomach shift uncomfortably, his stitches sending a dull ache through him as he lowered his shovel, wielding it like a weapon. He took a step forward, prepared to retaliate should Locke strike. They had to drive him back into the patient halls, to the first room they could find that was unlocked and unoccupied. It was risky, given there might still be other patients down there, but it was their best shot. Above all, they couldn't let him get away.

Tolten nodded in turn, his own body language shifting as he pushed himself into a defensive stance. He hated to think that they would likely have to wound Locke in order to drive him back, but wounds healed. He had to stell himself. There was a cure.

He kept pace with Edgar, covering the other side of the hall.

Gods I wish I had magic at my disposal...

Real magic. He realized now that even the small abilities he was possessed of were useless at the moment. His voice was too weak and his throat to raw to put them into practice.

The cat growled again, eyes shifting from one to the other. They weren't taking the hint, in fact, they were getting in it's way. Fine. If that's what they wanted.

One seemed weaker than the other, more vulnerable, but the other was injured. The cat paced, never turning it's back on it's enemies. A sudden shift in stance and the cat tore forward, fangs and claws out and ready to rip apart the uninjured one.

Edgar steeled himself, tensing as the cat suddenly bolted for them; while neither man was at the peak of health, he was surprised to see the beast make a mad dash toward Tolten rather than himself, having thought his injuries from the previous night would have made him the more likely candidate for attack. It was unfortunate how perceptive coeurls could be.

Though he took a swing with his shovel at the cat, he was trying to deter it more than actually injure. He used the movement as an opportunity to step behind the beast as well- he backed down the corridor a few steps to block the path to the other end, hoping any offense Tolten offered might drive it back into the side passage. They had to get it toward the patient halls, toward a room they could use to trap him. More importantly was keeping him from going to the other end of the hall and out the door to the recreational field, where their fight was more likely to draw the attention of other monsters and trapping him would be nearly impossible.

Edited 2012-10-26 19:48 (UTC)

Tolten could only pray he had the strength of body and mind to manage the thin line between defending himself and hurting Locke. He hadn't expected to find himself the transformed man's target, but why wouldn't he be? He was the one burning with fever and dragging his feet. He was the weakened prey.

The young king's arm came out, his sword held out to the side, to push Locke back with everything he had. He felt a sting in his arm and cried out, his empty hand balling into a fist to knock against the feral wildcat's head. Oh gods it hurt! It hurt and he was weakened and ill and already tears were burning in the corners of his eyes.

But he saw what Edgar was trying to do and put all his strength into shoving the now-monstrous Locke to the side hall as he struggled to shove it off.

Oh please, all the gods and my great ancestor, grant me the strength to dislodge him...

The cat yowled and fell back, shaking its head to clear it from the blow. Snarling, it took up an offensive stance and backed up a bit. But not out of fear.

Whiskers whipping about as though there were a breeze in the hall, the cat gathered Its power. Red eyes flashed, the only warning before a red beam of energy shot from them and at its opponent.

It would get to the other intruder once this one was dead; the man was already injured, he couldn't hurt the cat.

Though behind the coeurl, Edgar's first-hand experience with the creatures paid off as he realized what was happening, the beast's whiskers whipping audibly as his eyes began to glow with an unearthly light. If there was one thing coeurls were known for in his world, it was their affinity for magic. They were dangerous beasts with their claws alone, but magic in such a tight area as a hallway, especially one where patients often trekked, brought the potential for mayhem through the roof.

He called to Tolten to warn him to move, his own feet skidding across the smooth floor as he broke into a quick dash. His stitches pulled painfully against his skin as he swung his shovel from the side, aiming to land the flat head of the tool against the bulk of the coeurl's body. He could apologize to Locke for injuries later; he'd be in far more trouble in every conceivable way if he let one of the few allies they had in the institute perish. They'd be even shorter-handed than before, and neither Locke nor Edgar would never forget himself.

Unfortunately, Edgar's reaction came a second too late, the coeurl's eyes firing a beam of energy just as he got within striking distance.

Oh gods that made it worse! Tolten struggled for breath, his sword threatening to slip from his fingers as he tried to roll out of the way. But he was so weak and so tired, and the initial defense had taken s much out of him already.

The young king felt an indescribable line of pain along his leg, as though someone had drawn a hot iron over his skin. His sword came up automatically, blade flailing as his vision blurred. He felt like he was on the plains, the plains full of those monsters and not enough allies and he'd nearly died there so many times...

This wasn't really any different. His chest was too tight. He was so tired. And now he wondered if he'd be able to get up, walk, do anything more than lash out desperately with his sword.

The shovel connected solidly with the cat's side and sent it sliding across the floor. When it regained it's bearings, it stood, though, favoring the side of it's body that had been hit.

Clearly, it had been wrong about the injured one.

The cat glanced to it's former prey, deciding it was in bad enough shape -certainly worse than the other intruder had been- to refocus it's attacks. Red eyes turned to the one with the weapon and it growled and hissed. If the human wanted a fight, it could have one.

Again, the cat gathered energy, whiskers whipping in a non-existent breeze, as it prepared to use the energy beam again; it didn't want to risk getting too close and being hit again.

Edited 2012-11-02 18:14 (UTC)

As the cat prepared for another attack, Edgar braced for it, readying himself to move the moment it occurred. Adrenaline made his heart pound, his muscles tense from the fight, his brow flecked with sweat. He felt worn, out of practice- it had been some time since he'd been in a proper battle rather than a wild brawl against a creature with more physical and magical strength than he had in his entire body. Worse was that he knew how to use both effectively.

The stakes were much higher now as well, given both his and Tolten's conditions from their efforts the night before. Still, he refused to back down- not until they'd gotten Locke into a room and were working on that cure. Options slipped away with their good health, and they were running out of time. There was always deadly force as a last resort, but that was something Edgar was hoping to avoid until it looked like it was either the coeurl or them. If an ultimatum appeared, he already knew his choice.

Gripping his shovel tightly, his gaze moved to Tolten for only a moment. He gave his companion a nod, trying to tell him that this was his chance to attack and hopefully drive the creature into the side hallway.

Tolten lurched to his feet, wobbling some but keeping his balance. His sword felt loose in his hand, but he supposed it didn't matter. He didn't intend to use it properly, only to help in herding Locke to the other hallway. The fact that this was Locke was truly the only thing keeping the young king on his feet at this point.

Hoping to catch the creature - oh gods, he hated to think that way! - by surprise, Tolten staggered up behind him while he was focused on Edgar and lashed out to catch him on the flank with the flat of his sword.

The cat fired the energy at its prey. The sudden strike to its flank startled it and it jumped to the side, hissing and growling. But that's what they wanted, they were trying to team up on it and defeat it! Well, they couldn't.

The cat turned it's attention back on it's pray, ignoring the weak one, and launched itself, planning to pounce and rip its target to shreds.

As soon as this stronger one was out of the way, the other intruder would be easy.

Edgar dodged the beam of energy, watching as the coeurl hissed at Tolten, taking the brief pause to glance over his shoulder as he thought he heard a commotion from down the hallway. They needed to get out of the corridor before someone else joined the fray, not realizing they had it under control.

Or so they thought they did, rather. In the moment he'd taken to survey their surroundings, the coeurl had turned its attention on him once more- it was a mistake to take his eyes off such a dangerous beast, a poor decision Edgar realized only a half a second too late. The creature's pounce hit its mark, paws landing hard against his chest and taking them both to the ground. The pain that shot through him from the impact caused him to let out a sharp cry, one cut off by a gasp as coeurl's teeth bore into his stitches, the threads holding together wounds the same coeurl had caused only the night before.

Far worse some something else he noticed, a sensation emanating through him so strongly that he forgot his mortal peril almost immediately: he could literally feel the feline's magic coursing through him, as though his claws and teeth were imbued blades. It was enough to reignite that fire that nested in his chest, a remnant of his infusion at the hands of the institute coming to life in an instant- it got hotter and hotter, becoming an uncontrollable blaze in only seconds. As it scorched him on the inside, it fought its way outside his body as well, manifesting in his hands as a lively set of flames.

He struggled to swallow it down, the stress on his already wounded body making it impossible. While his threshold for pain was fairly high, there was no way to prepare himself for an attack from a beast with similar abilities to his own. Simply being near Terra had stoked the fire in his chest, presumably due to her nature as a half-Esper; the attack from another magical beast had made it all too clear he still couldn't control his infusion-granted magic.

And unfortunately, he realized he might never have the chance to gain such control as fire exploded all around them, lighting every inch of hall as the corridor became home to an inferno.

Edited 2012-11-04 09:49 (UTC)

It happened so fast. Before the young king could react properly and give aid, Edgar had unleashed fire magic. There was no warning and nothing he could do as his horror mounted.

All Tolten could do was fling up his arms to cover his face when flames filled the corridor, trying to protect himself in the confusion. He wished he had his armor, or anything more substantial than the flimsy sleep clothes he was wearing...

And also he prayed that the fire drove Locke back without doing too much damage to him. None of this was his fault, it was those bastards who taunted them over the intercom! Locke shouldn't have to pay for the evil they did, the evil they heaped upon dozens of innocents!

Oh gods above and holy ancestor, the Uhran prayed, let us all come through this. Please.

The cat was certain it had this fight, the taste of the intruder's blood was gratifying and it fully intended to go for the throat. It felt the energy around the human building, but before it could react heat and flames and pain erupted all around it. Every part of it was in agony as the fire engulfed the Coeurl Cat and fur and skin burnt leaving a horrendous smell in the hall.

It leapt away, yowling, and tried to run as if it could escape the pain, but it barely took a few steps before collapsing. The fire melted away leaving a heavily burnt and smoking body. All was still...and then, as though flaking away, the skin and what fur was left pulled away, bones snapped once more and reformed to that of a more human nature. Parts of the man laying in the hall were still heavily burned, if not as badly as the cat, but one certain similarity their lifeless state.

Edited 2012-11-06 04:40 (UTC)

Though Edgar could feel the fire all over him, he knew that most of it was coming from within, the flame that welled in his chest from his infusion scorching his veins as it fought to escape. He heard the yowling of the cat, the rank smell of burnt flesh flooding his nostrils; it took him several moments to recover once the cat leapt off him, the magical flames dying around him in tandem with the beast that had once been his closest friend.

He'd been injured plenty of times, but burns were horrific in their own right; with no healing magic or potions to deal with them, Edgar was in a world of pain at that moment. He made it worse as he pushed himself to check on Locke's condition, using his hands to ease himself off the ground- he was back down in an instant with a stifled scream, his hands shaking, muscles twitching as he could hardly manage the agony he was in. His palms were badly burned, flesh peeling away from just past his wrists and along his forearms. The fabric of his shirt stuck to him in places, threads melding with scorched strips of skin on his chest. The coeurl had taken the majority of the flame himself, preventing it from reaching Edgar; that only made the situation more grim in Edgar's mind, as he was sure Locke couldn't have survived an attack of that severity.

He gasped for air, struggling to breathe and stay conscious as he looked around from his vantage on the floor, trying to see the aftermath.

[From here]

"D'ah!" They were already moving outside. Damn spry little children! Didn't they know their elders didn't walk so briskly? Grumbling, he put his long legs to work and sprinted down the hallway until he reached the double doors to the recreational field. With a handle in each palm, he pulled them open as fast and as hard as he could so he didn't lose sight of his prey--Err, guides.

[To here]

Edited 2012-11-28 23:24 (UTC)

Night 66: West Wing, North Hall 1-A

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