DAY 54: GREENHOUSE (FOURTH SHIFT)

[deathandgin]

By the end of lunch, Alaric was still hungry and still stuck on the middle of a perfectly balanced scale, the only difference with the scale having a new, possibly unrelated third option: it was either some sort of conspiracy (obviously of the supernatural sort), he was actually crazy, or he’d just had the very bad luck of being kidnapped by radicals. Radical what hadn’t been decided yet, but considering the two years of his life, he was really gunning for the last option. He had already invested in his own insanity, anyway – it was either him or the world that was crazy. The only problem was that the world hadn’t forced him to try to drug a werewolf in order to help the vampire who’d killed him.

Well. C’est la vie.

Except the part where there might not be a lot of life from Jules if that whole “mark” thing turned into what he assumed it was. What could he do now, though? For better or worse, he’d been kidnapped and put into a mental asylum that was trolled by armed guards who thought using tear gas on children was a good idea. The least they could have done was worried about heightened insurance costs or something. The least he could say was that this kind of topped the luck he’d had for a while.

At least he wasn’t the only one getting screwed, if that new intercom message was any indication. Considering he’d only heard two messages from this man – one slightly threatening and now this - it was left up for debate if he was merely incompetent or the world was against him. Maybe someone like Anise was used to this sort of thing, but a newbie just found the words confusing and basically meaningless. From all Alaric could tell it was just another guy getting crap from his boss. Any potential sympathy he could have felt had been nixed by… well, by everything right now. Especially while he was currently stuck in a hotbox.

The weather from the journey from building to greenhouse had been chilly, but the greenhouse itself was hot and humid. Alaric wasn’t new to the idea of humidity since he’d lived most of his life in North Carolina and Virginia, but it wasn’t usually so saturated. Whatever uplifted mood they were hoping for was lost on him; green thumbs didn’t run in his family. Mowing the lawn was kind of the end of the line for him, and even some weekends that hadn’t gotten done back when he’d had a lawn to mow.

Lack of green thumb or not, he was still conscious of the situation. Despite clearly not wanting to be there, he had taken to carefully investigating each plant already cultivated, searching out a particular purple flower that could be pressed and dried – not that he thought vervain would actually be around, but it was a hopeful thought.

[For his convenient alliance partner.]

Comments

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

The last time he'd been here, Kibitoshin realised as he was hustled and bustled into the greenhouse, he'd been really far more intimidated than was really befitting for a guardian of the universe. To be fair, though, he had been sitting with only the most terrifying man in the entire Institute. Forget the Head Doctor, the person he would have least liked to be locked in a room with for an hour was Manfred von Karma.

So why did he still feel guilty about him being gone?

With a little sigh, he meandered over by the bags of compost, kicking his heels out at the floor. Scary though he was, von Karma had still been a prisoner here, which meant that he was equally worthy of saving- as much as he disliked the man, it really wouldn't have been fair to ignore him just for that reason. And maybe it was also partly because he felt badly for Franziska, even if he would never have said as much to her face; he just had to think of Ritsuka crying in their room the night before to know how much it hurt to lose family. Heck, he knew it first hand.

But enough of that. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he just moped around all shift, especially not when this was his last chance to be out in the day. His last chance to be safe.

Maybe he could do something creative- plant something, like vegetables or flowers. That would be nice, right? Decided, he gathered together a pot and a seed (the nurse told him it was a sunflower- that sounded pleasant enough, even if he didn't reocognise it) and sat down at the work table to trowel in a little soil. Productivity! He could do it!

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

Carter trembled slightly as he was led into the greenhouse. He recognized what it was, of course, he wasn't a stupid hick, but it was different from the usual Sun Room/cafeteria/recreation area shuffle and any change today felt scary.

But there were plants growing in here, and flowers. That was nice. You didn't get much besides weeds in the old stalag and certainly not a full-on garden. For a man raised in a rural farm town it was comforting. Carter ran his fingers over the slowly-unfurling leaf of one little shrug, a faint smile coming to his face. They wouldn't herd them all in here and kill them with these pretty plants around. Nobody was that crude.

Oh hey, was that the alien from the bookstore? Carter went over to crouch beside him. "What're you up to?" he asked, watching the alien's digging intently. What could it all mean?

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

Things seemed to have calmed down somewhat since that morning, as in there was no need for them to line up and respond to their names before being let into the greenhouse. The military presence was still around, and there was clearly something going on behind the scenes even if what they'd been privy to over the intercom didn't yet give them much to work with.

There were still some faces he'd yet to see that afternoon and it would be a lie to say this didn't bother him. He hadn't seen them on the bulletin or around the institute itself, although given the general mess of things that day this could mean next to nothing. He wouldn't put it past a couple of them to have been put into solitary and this shift was divided up again. There was also the matter of individual doctor appointments. He didn't yet want to write them off.

The ninja flipped the trowel around in his hand, musing at the amount of times he'd aimed one of these at the back of a monster's skull. It would be impossible to walk off with one this afternoon and he had better weapons back in his room now, but he couldn't help thinking another trip to the greenhouse at night might not hurt anything. Of course that was only if the night didn't end too soon and they didn't get attacked by anything particularly terrible along the way.

[Free]

[hiddenbadass]

Things were better than they had been. While meeting another superhero from the comics had been amazing, the subsequent failed escape attempt followed by them getting sedated was significantly less so. Not that Mike expected to make it to the doors to open them back up, but they had to try. They couldn't just stand there while others were tortured.

Why they had used teargas in an enclosed room, Mike didn't know. But considering they had superheroes as prisoners, you would've thought they had ample amounts of sleeping gas that they could've used instead. Villains always had sleeping gas. This just rang as too cruel, considering the innocent parties left inside.

For the past two shifts, Mike's nurse had mostly left him alone and hadn't insisted that he should spend time with others. One look at the paranoia in his eyes had convinced her not to. He had been sedated. He had been sedated and couldn't control his already-strange body like he should have. If another 'patient' of even moderate skill had attacked him, he could've been easily overpowered. Add in the fact that he was surrounded by soldiers with guns and orderlies with sedatives, and Mike was in no condition to be social. The power struggle only made it worse; anything could happen as a result of it, and he was helpless to influence any of it.

But now he was regaining his ability to move rapidly, and his nurse had taken notice of the different light in his eye. Mike knew he'd be forced into another awkward situation. He at least hoped he could gain some information from it.

"Right this way, Michael," his nurse chirped as she brought him up to Sai. "Why don't you be a dear and work with Simon? Simon, this is Michael. He's new here, so please take care of him."

Mike already had an eyebrow raised, having spotted the way Sai had been looking at the trowel. No, at the weapon. So this kid was skilled, then. In what, Mike didn't know, but it was obvious that his nurse hadn't noticed anything amiss.

"Hi," Mike offered, waving for a moment.

[saviored]

Accidental conversation leak. Cute.

Elena would've wanted to talk to Stefan—she didn't have to say it—so Damon had left her to do just that. She was dealing. She'd be fine. There wasn't much he could do by hanging around, anyway. Stefan could play caring boyfriend to his heart's content. Damon, on the other hand, had settled back into playing Upstanding Citizen. Or Upstanding Patient, whatever. His nurse seemed infinitely pleased that he was down with trimming the hedges instead of bitching his way into the Sun Room. They were so easy sometimes.

Granted, now that he was actually in the greenhouse, he had no intention of pruning the roses. Not that it mattered. As long as he looked busy, they couldn't say anything.

He strolled between the rows of little potted flowers. Typical stuff, nothing exotic. Things you'd find in Martha Stewart's garden. Though maybe—actually, no. If they had vampires on their payroll, it'd be a stupid move to have vervain lying around.

He glanced up, shifted his gaze to the left—

Rick?

Damon blinked. Someone was late to the party. From the looks of it, he had the same thought about vervain, if his wandering about was any indication. Damon would've wondered what the hell they were doing dragging in a self-taught vampire hunting high school history teacher, but that right there kind of answered itself, didn't it. The only question was, why the delay? And if Rick took his sweet time getting abducted, who else was in the queue? John? Liz? The witch? All of Mystic Falls?

Still thinking, he waited for Alaric to pause over a patch of white orchids. He strolled up, stopping just over Alaric's shoulder.

"I'll save you five minutes and tell you you're not gonna find what you're looking for."

Oh right, was the man's memory even intact? Whoops. Hoped so. Otherwise they'd have to go through the whole stabbing and existential crisis thing again which was vaguely entertaining, he supposed, but mostly annoying. Definitely not with a repeat viewing.

[deathandgin]

If Alaric was any indication as a stunning example of a human who spent way too much time around vampires than was reasonable or healthy, it was probably safe to say it was impossible to get used to them sneaking up behind you with that whole utter silence thing and breathing in your ear. Which was exactly why he visibly cringed when he swung around. He'd already recognized the voice before seeing the face, but that didn't lessen his surprise.

"Damon? What the hell are you doing here?" Scratch that. It took the second immediately after saying that to realize that was a stupid question. A more appropriate question would have been Why did they waste the time on me when they already had you? but he would have hated to give Damon an inflated ego, though he was probably thinking the same thing... if he had any idea what was going on. Chances were that he did, considering the extent of Alaric's current bed of knowledge involved knowing there was tear gas in any passing soldier's arsenal and - well, that was about it.

Of course, before he could unleash a torrential downpour of questions that Damon was probably going to either not answer or be completely vague with, Alaric noticed the wound on the vampire's neck. Three things immediately went through his mind:

1) There was a wound on a vampire.
2) Said wound looked startlingly like a bite mark.
3) There may have been some irony there to appreciate.

And - okay, Damon was a dick, but the sight still made Alaric feel cold. What had happened last night? Had Damon actually listened to him, or had he gone after Jules? Self-consciously touching his own neck, his face turned hard. He didn't even care about the vervain at this point; he wasn't surprised it wasn't around, anyway. "Your - did you go after Jules? Is that what that's from?" Aside from that, Damon didn't really look any the worse for wear... besides, there was always a chance the werewolves had made the thing about the bites being lethal up, just like the silver weakness. He wouldn't have blamed them for it.

[prodigalson]

It had been... a strange day. Strange, but fulfilling. He had a plan tonight. He'd talked with Bella - not face-to-face, but even the bulletin was better than nothing. As terrified as he currently was, he was trusting her, her and whoever she was going with. He'd been terribly tempted to ask who it was, but he remembered vaguely how Claire thought of him sometimes - controlling, over-concerned. If he asked Bella who she was going with, it sounded like he didn't trust her. The problem was he didn't trust anyone else... and right now, that included himself. Edward just kept repeating to himself how he wouldn't be a helpful guardian either. Last night had been a big risk, and he was glad it had gone well. He was not willing to do it again.

And by this point, the thirst was much stronger than it had been when he'd initially woken up. As much as he enjoyed Stefan's mind - calm, kind - he felt like this was partly how Jasper suffered, another vampire's hunger amplifying his own. The burn was here now, coating his throat in fire, no longer allowing itself to be forgotten. When he walked into the warm, humid house, everyone was a target. The greenhouse, while large, was packed with human scents and magnified by the warm air.

But he could last through dinner. He wasn't starving like Stefan. He didn't even know how the other had managed to last four days. Edward hadn't made it past three until he'd found his own prey.

For once, the choice of location was apt. It allowed him an activity to focus on, one that required concentration, even if he had little knowledge about plants outside medicinal qualities himself. He could sit at a bench and help cultivate whatever was given him and attempt not to worry over leaving Stefan to fend for himself.

[Free.]

[lighthearted]

While it had been good to talk and plan with Riku, their conversation had been long and involved, so Sora entered the greenhouse feeling a bit worn out. Still, they'd made plans and Riku had his theories to test, so he was sure that this night would go better. Well, he hoped, anyway.

He was sure that his friend had some more thoughts after what had been revealed over the intercom, but was too late for them to talk about that now. Hearing the Head Doctor acting like he was the one at the disadvantage was pretty rare, but whether that meant this place was going to get taken over was still hard to know.

For once, Sora decided to be patient. The result of this would be made clear one way or another, right?

So that left him to spend the last shift of the day in the greenhouse. He didn't really know much about plants, though, so he generally didn't have much to do with himself in this place. Sora decided that he would just wander around and at least look at the different plants, though it wasn't long before he'd made it down one of the aisles and reached the end of the enclosed space.

Glancing over the benches briefly, he was surprised to spot a familiar face there. Venom's friend -- Edward, right? They'd only spoken once at Doyleton, so it was actually kind of odd to see the older patient here at the institute. Still, he'd seemed nice before, so why not go say hi?

Moving closer, Sora remained standing while he pulled his hand up to wave at Edward. "Long time no see!"

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

This day had been rougher than he'd ever expected it to be, with getting gassed the first shift and then having to deal with both Claire and Isaac in the subsequent ones. Neither one of them was adjusting to this place well, though that was to be expected. If anyone did adjust well, that would have been a larger concern -- and yet it still meant that Peter had to do his best to hold it together and be the solid pillar that could handle everyone else's problems.

Seeing how he'd been here the longest out of all of them (he was pretty sure he'd arrived before Sylar, even), he was pretty good at it. But that didn't mean that he could make it through a day like this without feeling like he was at the end of his rope.

Still, it seemed like he wasn't the only one who was having a bad day. Landel's little mistake with the intercom meant that they were treated to a conversation they probably weren't supposed to have heard; it looked like he was getting chewed out for this morning after all. "Good," Peter muttered to himself as he moved from the cafeteria into the greenhouse. At least something could come out of that mess.

But now he was expected to... plant seeds or something. Peter had never really known what to do with this shift, and the muggy air really just made him feel even more tired. Rubbing at his eyes, he moved to the back of the greenhouse and claimed one of the spots on the benches before they all got snatched up.

sorry for the delay! my internet ate itself. >:

[scalyfishman.livejournal.com]

It was kind of embarrassing that he'd let himself get so riled up by a kid of all people- Soren wasn't exactly Rattrap, for Pit's sake- but having lunch to himself helped Depth Charge cool his jets a little. That had been the tear gas talking, he guessed. When you hadn't even had guts to spew before getting to this place, that seriously wasn't the way you wanted to be introduced to them, and to top it off the soldiers weren't just annoying him anymore, they were outright setting him on edge. Why did this Eagle guy or whatever need soldiers around, anyway? Just what was he planning? Whatever the reason, it didn't bode well for any of them.

So to say that his bad mood had lifted by the time fourth shift rolled around and he was delivered to the greenhouse probably wouldn't have been something you could swear to on the stand, if you caught his drift. If his temper was the weather, you'd have been looking at a fine haze rather than a thunderstorm.

Which, incidentally, wasn't exactly great weather for gardening. He still didn't see the point of this one, but since he didn't particularly want to get mauled by over-eager cats in the Sun Room he was willing to deal with it today.

Having company certainly helped. "Hey." Depth Charge slipped onto the bench and rapped the table next to where Peter was sitting to catch his attention; the guy looked beat, and no wonder with what had gone down today. "You doing okay?"

[toxicspiderman]

By rights, S.T. figured he should probably hate the greenhouse. Loam and all-natural fertilizer, more processed than the bullshit on the intercom but no less redolent. It smelled like home. This wasn't Brighton soil, full of old trash, granite chips ranging up to the size of a Yugo, and needing a year's supply of GEE heavy-metal test kits before he'd eat anything that had fallen on it let alone grown there, but it was dirt. He took a deep sniff.

Then he spent five minutes doubled over in a corner sneezing. Shit. Wasn't even the pollen. He wasn't allergic. Just sensory overload. He told five nurses and three orderlies to fuck off before they did.

When he was fit to re-enter polite society, he jockeyed for a tray overflowing with green. Oregano. Actual oregano. That almost triggered another sneezing fit, but he bit his lip and waited it out. Then he grabbed a bucket of soil, a larger tray, and started emancipating seedlings.

Poor things had started growing roots out the holes in the bottom. He teased them back through with a gentleness very few people (most of them ex-girlfriends or people who'd seen him pick a lock) would grant him. At least they'd be getting somewhere today.

[Soren]

[hissecondshadow.livejournal.com]

After the surprise meeting with Ranulf at breakfast, Soren hardly expected to see anybody else that he recognised. One familiar face was enough for him, even if it was a laguz. Needless to say, he would have preferred that it had been Ike, or perhaps one of the more tolerable among the mercenaries. But the goddess didn't favour him that much, nor did he expect her to.

So when, barely a moment after being shuffled into a strange glass building filled with plant life, he recognised a face amongst the crowd, it caught him off guard. The idea of approaching him suddenly seemed less intimidating when the man started sneezing uncontrollably. Soren guessed something in the air had triggered it. After a lengthy period of time in the stale atmosphere of the main institute building, it was an understandable reaction. Most of them had been out in the fresh air that morning, but as Soren had noticed several people retreat back inside shortly afterwards, there was the possibility that the man hadn't been. Not to mention the whole fiasco at breakfast which, from what Soren had gathered in the aftermath, had involved gas of some sort. No wonder some of them appeared to be having difficulty breathing.

Soren waited for the man's little fit to subside before approaching him. "Hello again. S.T., wasn't it?" Soren knew that was the name that he had been given the day before, when they had first met - it was part of his job to remember names and faces - but as he couldn't think of any particular conversation starter, it would have to do. "How did things go last night?"

[nobleman]

While the day had gotten off to a bad start, things had actually picked up from there. All of his company had been good, from Anise to Okita and Claude to Ilia. The talk he'd had at lunch had been surprisingly laidback, which was probably a good thing. With the chaos of that morning followed by the roll call, he'd needed some time to just calm down.

However, the day didn't stop being out of the ordinary, as the intercom announcement turned out to be more of a conversation that the patients were allowed to eavesdrop on. Guy had noticed the awkward glances on the faces of the nurses when it had gone on, and it soon became clear that it had been a mistake that Landel hadn't been ready for.

Was it really possible that he'd be thrown out? Guy found it hard to believe; if anything, chances were there would just be some changes made to the protocols. He figured that was actually a bad thing for them, but it wasn't like they had any say in it in the first place.

That, at least, he was used to -- as sad as it was.

Heading into the greenhouse, Guy realized that he was actually in the mood to do some gardening work. It would be good to put his hands in the earth, to do something to make him feel grounded. He didn't know much about this planet even after being stuck here for a while and hearing stories from Claude and Ilia, but he felt that somehow this sort of tactile work would make him understand it better.

So, moving over to one of the planters, Guy grabbed a pair of gloves, slipped them on, and knelt down to start to work. While he knew there were a lot of other things he could be thinking about, he had his plans for the night set in stone and that was enough to put him at some sort of ease.

[For Sync.]

[godforsaken]

And that was when a slipper came into view just as its owner made an attempt to step on Guy's hand.

"It's almost like we just can't get away from each other," Sync sneered as he circled the swordsman. Unlike the rest of the populace who'd been shaken up to some degree, the God-General had found himself enjoying the chaos conducted by both the patients and the military. There were a few additions he'd rather do without, but it wasn't as if he was expecting perfection. He just wished he could've been close enough to frame any one of them to spend some time in solitary.

Sync briefly wondered what would be done to them now that they'd made a mess of things. Maybe Landel would actually find it in him to 'undo their progress'. Raise the walls? Throw out more monsters? Kill them all in their sleep and replace their corpses with replicas? It all seemed possible at this point.

But then the latest announcement raised an eyebrow. It was times like these that reminded the replica that Landel was still a living being, prone to moments of humiliation like the rest of them. However, he wasn't there to discuss the finer details with the bastard before him. No, Guy and his little group had made it obvious enough that they'd rather stay stuck here for the rest of their lives. But that was fine with him; he could use the company until he left them all behind.

"I hope you didn't lose anyone in that minor scuffle. That'd just make it too easy for me in the long run."

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Slowly but surely, the drugs in his system were wearing off. Zack didn't know if the nurse had been right about the food helping or if it was just that enough time had passed, but he could actually walk without feeling like he was going to pitch over and his vision was a bit clearer. He could tell that he wasn't completely back to normal yet, but he was pretty sure he'd be good by the time that night rolled around.

In fact, that thought even allowed him to remember that he had to make plans for the night, and the soldier made it over to the bulletin to put up a sloppily-written note for both Tifa and Ms. Greatest Ninja Ever. Hopefully he wouldn't regret it.

As the nurse then led him into the greenhouse, Zack focused on what he'd been able to make out from that intercom announcement -- if it could be called that. Landel's tone was one he recognized from when he'd heard other SOLDIERs getting reprimanded by their superior officers, so he had some idea of what the guy was going through right then. But what did this mean for the rest of them?

Apparently they weren't allowed to know yet, since that weird automated system came on. Zack sighed, deciding to focus on setting one foot in front of the other for now.

However, the greenhouse was a place that stood out to him, mainly because this was where he'd first reunited with Cloud. He glanced around the area, almost as if he expected to see a spiky head of blond hair hiding behind one of the plants.

But Cloud clearly wasn't around anymore. And was Aerith even still here, or had that one meeting of theirs been a fluke?

Sighing, Zack shook his head to himself and started wandering through the plants, hoping that the two of them were at least together, wherever they were. And maybe they were better off than they would be if they were still here, but... it was hard to say.

[rischiarare.livejournal.com]

Roxas didn't mean to come out of third shift with a glare and a wrinkled brow stuck on his face, but he couldn't manage to shove either one off. Terra hadn't exactly managed to get on his good side; he hadn't attempted to really do so at all. What kind of person would just keep insisting he was lying about who he was? The Nobody, despite how stupid he knew it was, just wanted to think it was someone's idea of a joke. No one could look like him except Sora. It only made sense because he wasn't even the original. Sora was. If anything, Sora would be the one to have people look like him. Maybe if he had a brother or something...

And Terra hadn't even answered his questions about Keyblades, so the fact that someone else knew about them was just hanging over his head, continually taunting him as he left the cafeteria to head into the green house. It was his first time going into the hot, humid little building. He wasn't in the mood for planting, shrugging off any questions from his nurse about whether he'd like a little help on what to do.

Plants were Marluxia's element. Roxas wasn't interested.

He stared daggers at the rough floor, watching his slippered feet move him... wherever. Right now, he didn't really care as long as Terra didn't talk to him again.

In retrospect, it wasn't something he'd usually do. Bumping into someone was exactly one reason why. When he lightly collided with someone's back, the Nobody quickly looked up to mutter a half-hearted apology. At first he'd thought the hair was Terra's and something in his chest clenched, but... it was just someone else.

Phew.

[pullstrung.livejournal.com]

Most of today was a hazy blur, though Woody could still pin-point the exact moment everything took a nose-drive into a downward spiral. Thankfully (or not-so-thankfully, depending on how you looked at it), whatever they'd stuck him with this morning had worn off, letting him think much clearer -- and get an earful from his nurse.

"Really, Mr. Wheeler, you're far too old to be causing a scene like that," she scolded him in a way that sounded uncomfortably like Andy's mother. "I hope that you'll stay calm and set an example for the other patients the next time things get out of hand."

Woody barely refrained from rolling his eyes. That would have been all well and good if he hadn't seen those soldiers beat Scott up. Not that Scott should have thrown himself at them the way he practically did, but what kind of friend could he call himself if he'd watched a fellow patient get pummeled without doing anything at all?

It sure hadn't been one of his brighter ideas, though -- he could admit that much to himself. Woody wasn't about to forget it anytime soon, either. That gas they'd pumped into the cafeteria had left him wanting to pull his eyes off for the better part of the morning. Woody was going to avoid getting another face-full of that stuff again, that was for sure.

Still, his own experiences only highlighted why it was important to make sure Buzz and Scott were okay. Once the nurse let him check the bulletin board, he she escorted him into a place she called the "greenhouse".

Woody knew what greenhouses were, of course. He'd gone with Andy before, catching glimpses of all the different kinds of plants while dangling from the boy's hand. Still, nothing quite prepared him for how small this one felt. Lapsing into silence, he breathed in the moist, heavy air as he looked around. All the other patients were either mingling, or using some gardening tools.

"Take this," the nurse instructed as she suddenly pressed a small shovel into his hand. "If you want to move some of the potted plants into the garden, you can talk to one of the supervising nurses for further instructions." Before Woody could even protest, she brushed past him and stepped through the exit.

"Moving some potted plants," he muttered to himself as he gave the shovel an irritated look. "Gimme a break..." Personally, he had no interest in this kind of stuff, so he wasn't sure what the nurse thought he'd get out of digging around in the dirt. There were so many other more important things he needed to do!

[For Riku.]

[monkeyboy]

"Uwwwa!" Goku stopped dead in front of his nurse once he set eyes on the large glass house brimming with greenery. She waited patiently behind him until his big black eyes had gotten their fill and promptly pushed him forward so he could go in and appreciate it face to face. Whether this would be an enjoyable activity that helped calmed his outrageous ADHD, or one that just overloaded him like those four plates of waffles yesterday wouldn't be clear until it was too late. Hopefully he wouldn't break too many pots if he got out of hand.

"Billy...? Have you ever planted flowers?"

Eventually he turned around and acknowledge her question with a tilt of his head. "Planted?"

"You know, in the earth..." She mimicked digging up the ground. "So the flowers can grow bigger? You can even grow food!" She pandered to his one other hobby besides fighting. Most families grew a small patch of tomatoes or cucumbers in their backyard.

"Nope!" Throwing his hands back behind his head, he grinned remembering his time in the wilderness. "If I needed food I went hunting! Plenty of fish and dinosaur, you know?"

"..." The nurse didn't dignify his fantastical explanation with a comment. Nodding, she led him inside to look around. He immediately sprinted toward a pathway down the middle of the greenhouse, and his nurse followed quickly behind.

Mouth hanging open in awe, the monkey boy stoo in front of a large-leafed plant. Though nothing bloomed from it, he really liked the smell. Goku pulled a leaf closer to his face so he could take a big whiff. It smelled like the jungles back home.

"D-Don't eat it, Billy! Nothing in here is edible..."

He turned slowly to meet the white witch's eyes and just stared. He wasn't stupid. Goku had lived in the jungle long enough to learn what you could eat and what could give you explosive diarrhea. It was kinda important. The fact that she thought him so naive made something akin to frustration simmer in his chest and he frowned down at the ground.

"Ah--" He had a good idea. Turning back to his nurse to get her attention, Goku opened his mouth and slowly creeped toward the leaf.

"Billy, don't you dare! If you so much as--I am serious, young man!"

His teeth bit into the dry flesh of the leaf and tore off a chunk. He began chewing slowly, pinching his eyes shut from the terribly sour taste. Proving a point or not, it was just too digusting tasting. The monkey boy opened his mouth and let the chewed cud slide ou of his mouth and onto the floor, to which his nurse came scrambling over and picked up with a few napkins.

"I told you not to do that! That poor plant..." Before she stood back up, the nurse took a deep breath to keep her emotions under control. She had never met a patient as draining as this boy before. It would take a miracle to find another young man to pawn him off to for this shift.

[Spock!]

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Security had only tightened since the incident in the cafeteria. Spock had yet to make contact with the rest of the crew outside of the bulletin. He was confident Uhura managed to see to herself without getting caught up in any of the violence. Kirk's present status, however, was something he was considerably less confident about. If there was one thing he could be sure of, however, it was that he likely did not remove himself from the room at the first sign of trouble. The disciplinary measures taken against patients seemed to range from a mild sedative to some time in solitary confinement. In light of those circumstances, Spock knew the odds were in favor of the captain's safety.

Even so, he needed to write notes to crew members in order to ascertain their condition. Once he checked the bulletin, he allowed the nurse to escort him to the greenhouse. Yet as interesting as it was to see what sort of variety they had in their botanical collection, Spock was more concerned with the message they'd overheard a few moments ago. It had not been intended for patients' ears, which made it all the more intriguing. Of course, once Landel realized his mistake, he'd once again implemented the I.R.I.S. system to take his place.

If they were fortunate, the results would not be as bloody as the last time the computer ran the intercom.

Before Spock could get an opportunity to further question the nurse about it, however, she turned to look at him with a serious expression. "Mr. Penn, could you keep one of our younger patients company during this shift? Perhaps you can help him develop an interest in plans." There was a beat of silence as Spock glanced over the woman's shoulder and noticed another staff member cleaning up the floor, in front of young Goku.

Mistaking his silence for agreement, she nodded with a smile and brought him closer to the boy. "Good, good! He needs older patients to look up to, you know? And you'd make such a good role model for him." As much as Spock wanted to remove himself from the situation, he had little choice in the matter. The nurses quickly scattered, leaving him staring after them with a faintly raised brow.

[ippo]

"Did you ever do any gardening when you were younger, Hiro?" His nurse walked beside him on their way toward a green house.

"No ma'am." Ippo followed along obediently. He didn't even bother correcting her. He didn't have the heart to. She wouldn't believe him anyways, so it alleviated some of his shame from being so easily kowtowed. "My house didn't have a back yard, actually..."

"Oh really?"

"No, but I... we were right by the harbor, so I did a lot of fishing," The boxer continued on talking, happy to share his time at home to anyone who would listen.

"That's a nice way to spend childhood," She said as the doors to the greenhouse were opened for Ippo. He was handed a pair of gloves and a trowel and instructions to talk with one of the supervising nurses if he needed help with potting and planting. Then the boxer was left to his own devices in the middle of the humid greenhouse.

He watched those around him anxiously, trying to figure out what he should do next. Ippo didn't want to get in trouble for slacking off, but it seemed like quite a few of the men had no interest in planting or even pretending for the sake of preservation. Most seemed offended just standing in here, let alone actually gardening. Still, he had no wish to be labeled as a problem patient. The better behaved he was, the sooner he would be discharged form this place. If that meant digging around in the dirt, it was a small price to pay for freedom.

But.... He didn't want to do it alone. Ippo searched the small crowd of boys in hopes of finding someone with the same mindset as he.

[Ritsuka~]

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

This place was full of strange people, Ritsuka decided. People who were from the past, people who were famous in fiction, people who were unknown, people who were from the future, and people who weren't even human. But he supposed it wasn't so bad. There weren't a lot of kids his age and even those who were seemed to be okay in their own way. They weren't stupid like his classmates, obsessed with the latest music trend or fashion or whatever. They had something more important going on, something they had to get back to.

Even if it seemed like none of them could get free from this place.

Miku was back now. Maybe Alfons would come back one day, too. As much as he hated the thought of bringing his friends back to such a dangerous place, at least now he knew she was safe and herself again. Maybe that was pushing his own values onto her, but he figured that being yourself even if it put you in danger was better than living a complete lie forever.

"--dan? Jordan, are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" His nurse was kneeling in front of him, trying to smile through her concern. "Oh, yeah, sorry."

"Good, then maybe you can help some of the new boys here?"

Here? Ritsuka blinked and looked around, realizing that he was in the greenhouse. When had they come here?

"Uh...sure.....?"

"Good."

His nurse stood up, patted him on the head the way Ritsuka absolutely hated and then disappeared off somewhere, probably to find him someone to pick up worms with. Rolling his eyes, Ritsuka moved a little further into the area and found himself standing next to an older, stocky boy who seemed to be scanning the crowd. "You looking for someone?"

[freewill]

The conversation with Orihara had gone surprisingly well. Even though he was a young man from Japan who had little to no connection to anything Castiel himself was involved in, somehow they had found a reason to work together. That was what made human interaction so interesting, and it was still odd for Castiel to realize that that's what he was performing during these everyday conversations.

Lockpicking couldn't be a normal topic of discussion for most, but that just showed how humans could adapt.

With plans made for the night, Castiel had some hope that more would be accomplished. Even if all he managed to do was learn the skill of picking a lock, that would make his subsequent nights in this place that much more fruitful.

As the shift ended, Castiel had quietly listened to Landel's words on the intercom, trying to puzzle through who he was speaking to. The Eagle -- that had to be a title of some sort. Humans liked code names for some reason, and that was likely to be one. In that case, Landel was being talked down to by a higher officer? It was difficult to imagine that doctor as being part of the military, but...

Not knowing enough of human politics to interpret it, Castiel was soon distracted by a nurse coming by and mentioning something about a greenhouse. As he obediently followed the woman, he was led to a part of the institute he had not yet been to; as promised, a sizable greenhouse was there.

As he walked in, Castiel could not help but think of Joshua's gardens. Just thinking of that particular angel was enough to cut a wound for Castiel at this point, but the association was still there. As he tried to forget the orders he'd given the Winchesters when they'd gone to Heaven and then their subsequent report back, he wandered through the area.

[Free!]

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

[H-hope this is alright...]

Lunch had been quiet, and Kratos was looking forward to another shift spent in a similar fashion: he certainly had plenty of things to think about now, the first of which was the reappearance of I.R.I.S. Only a few days ago, he had written the strange, automated voice off as a red herring, and yet here it was, come back to haunt them. At least now they knew what it was: Informational Relay Intercom System...how clever.

The second was the little side conversation that none of them were meant to hear. It sounded like the sort of talk he'd had long ago with some of the research staff at a ranch: Take better responsibility for your test subjects. This sort of oversight is unacceptable. My superior will not be pleased. And so forth. The difference was that, unlike Landel's, the response had been one of extreme deference.

By this time, his nurse had led him to the greenhouse that I.R.I.S. had advertised, and was now standing by expectantly, waiting for him to apparently plunge into gardening with enthusiasm - unfortunate, since Kratos had never possessed a green thumb and did not expect to miraculously sprout one any time soon. But, perhaps he could humor her, just once. Picking up a trowel, he edged toward a row of plants, only to accidentally cut off a man walking through.

"Ah--sorry." Out for a stroll, was he?

[terriblehaiku]

Hijikata's day was not getting better. While he'd learned a few things during lunch, most of the information had just lead to more frustrations. He was irritated, and wanted nothing more than his pipe, and for all of this to go away like the bad dream it was. Unfortunately, demanding the return of the aforementioned object had earned him a stern look and a lecture on how bad smoking was for him. What was bad was what he was liable to do to someone if he didn't get the damned pipe back sometime soon.

And then he'd been dragged off to the greenhouse. The last thing he wanted to do with his day was tend to plants. It was an uncomfortable reminded of what he'd spent his whole life trying to escape. If they thought they were going to use him a free labor, they were wrong. He cast a look around the room, taking in the various rows of plants. Most of them were utterly worthless ornamental things, from the looks of it, with a few vegetables tossed in. And then a grouping of medicinal herbs caught his eye. He walked over to take a better look. It wouldn't hurt to familiarize himself with what was here, would it? As much as he hated to admit it, his old trade might end up being useful here, and if it was, he needed to know what was available.

[Free]

[corvus-veritas.livejournal.com]

[Hope you don't mind! And sorry for the TL;DR. XD;]

Damnit. It seemed like every shift gave Byrne more to worry about. First tear gas, then that anonymous note with a Yatagarasu symbol on it, then Detective Gant and everything he had to say, and then even the intercom became unsettling when that suspicious conversation between (assumably) the Head Doctor and some other man broadcasted. This day was getting weirder and weirder, if not more and more disturbing with everything Byrne was learning about this place.

At least he'd finally gotten a response from Renamon on the bulletin board. She was alright, more or less. That alleviated one of his fears. But he was still deeply troubled by...well, everything else. Why did this situation have to be so complicated? It was giving him a headache just trying to think about it.

Looked like this next shift was all about 'relaxation and recovery among soothing plantlife' -- that was how his nurse had described the greenhouse, anyway. Wonderful. It was tempting to just ask to go back to the Sun Room again. At least lounging about on a couch trying to piece together the information he'd gathered all day was more productive than wasting time messing around with plants. But the prosecutor realized it would be stupid to stay in that one area all the time. If he was going to find a way out of here, he needed to actually figure out where he was, and there was no way sitting in the Sun Room the whole time was going to make him magically figure out the layout of this place.

As he was led through the institute to the greenhouse, he paid careful attention to his surroundings, taking note of every detail that caught his eye. A major hallway here, strange rooms over there, this way must go back to that one place and this way might lead to some sort of exit. He also found himself gazing at the ceiling from time to time to see if there were any security cameras looming overhead. Force of habit.

The greenhouse itself wasn't much to look at, just a stuffy glass box filled with plants of all kinds. Guess he was expected to actually plant something, judging from what everyone else was doing. Thankfully he was able to get away from his nurse before she decided to shove any tools at him. Gardening wasn't his thing, anyway. Instead he casually strolled through the area, observing the other men at work and looking for someone that might be willing to give him more information. Everyone appeared to be preoccupied with some mundane task or were already chatting away with another person. Check that--not everyone. There, standing in front of some herbs, was a rather somber man who was only busy with staring at the plants. He looked reasonable enough to talk to, and hopefully he'd been here long enough to be able to prove a good fourth testimony. Couldn't hurt to start up some conversation, right? Byrne approached him, smiling warmly to look as friendly as possible.

"Looks like they've got everything in this place, huh?" the prosecutor remarked, obviously talking to the man but his eyes remained focused on his surroundings.

[stellarregions]

Gren had debated going back to the sun room after lunch, but his nurse had chided him for being antisocial, and in the end, he'd decided it wouldn't exactly be a hassle to go to the greenhouse instead. And once he was there, he was glad he'd let himself be convinced.

He wasn't really a plant person. He had trouble keeping a houseplant alive. But the greenhouse was warm and humid, with rows of well tended plants. It smelled alive in here, which was an odd sentiment but one he couldn't exactly shake. How long had it been since he'd seen this many plants in one place? Some time before the war, certainly. The desolate scrub outside the institutes walls hardly counted, and everything on the grounds was bland landscaping.

He wasn't really interested in any gardening, but he was more than happy to enjoy the scenery and the warm, humid atmosphere, finding a nice bench he could sit on and just enjoy it while the quiet sounds of conversation drifted around him.

[Free]

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

Thank god. If he had to sit next to that smug little kid any longer he might have been tempted to start another riot. Badd really hated the know-it types...though for all the kid's gloating about Badd's 'blindness', he'd been surprisingly helpful. The 'torture rooms' were somewhere upstairs, and there was a basement of some significance. That meant the place was even bigger than Badd had assumed.

And apparently there was a greenhouse. For 'therapy'. They were really going all-out with this charade.

Or was it a charade? Badd's mindset reworked itself and he pondered himself as of last night, wandering the twining hallways, checking each door in vain. A mouse running a maze hunting for its cheese. Maybe the facility wasn't the smokescreen but the entire point. It was a 'Doctor' Landel, after all, a title that went as easily to researchers as it did therapists, and the military types seemed very interested in his prisoners' performance and obedience.

Badd strolled the edges of the greenhouse with his thumb hooked in his pocket, eying the ceiling for cameras and the walls for weaknesses. Whatever they were using to watch the experimental subjects, it was very well-hidden. He paused by one of the benches and leaned on the glass, watching the far more passive crowd grubbing about in the dirt. "It's classy, I'll give 'em that," he murmured.

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

As the day wore on, Howl's mind began to return to him. While this had earlier been a state he had coveted and been attempting to achieve in vain, now that he had found it, he discovered that it only served to make his misery more acute. His despair more detailed. Because now, he could once again grasp all of the intricacies of his complete and utter failure and how his life had crumbled over the past week. It was almost tempting to fake another outburst, just to lure a nurse into brandishing that needle. Then he could spend the rest of the day in blissful ignorance lying on a couch where everyone would excuse his half-sober ramblings on his inebriated state.

However, he did nothing of the sort. He docilely allowed himself to be led to the greenhouse as his nurse advised he relax, apparently somewhat concerned when he wouldn't answer her questions about why he was being so taciturn. Really, he thought she would be grateful for his silence! And maybe in truth she was. She didn't pursue the topic very aggressively. He saw the look on her face that indicated she'd leave it for his next therapy appointment. With her no longer attempting to engage him in heartfelt conversation, Howl looked with more attentiveness at the young women that they passed as the shifts changed. Beautiful all, but none were what he sought. Soon enough, he was in the greenhouse without a single mousy ginger to be seen.

Admittedly, the plants did have a pacifying quality to them. Howl recalled Wizard Suliman's plans to fill the Wastes with flowering bushes and gobs of vegetation to smoke out the Witch with pure life. In the end, it hadn't done much, but it was beautiful. He had scouted it out once or twice, and was always enchanted by the sight despite himself. He never stayed long, though.

What little greenery lived on his own properties had paled in comparison. If there was any there, it was either very independent (likely a weed), useful to Howl's occupation, or it had Michael and Sophie to thank for its survival. There were some spells that called for plants and such, of course, and so Howl wasn't completely naive to the concept of gardening. Several of the subjects here were outgrowing their containers, and Howl took to addressing the mindless, delicate take of repotting them. The one benefit of his dreary uniform was that there were no sleeves to rip or soil, although it was an inconvenience he would tolerate for access to his good clothes all day long (and the ability to magic them mended and clean). At first, he addressed the work reluctantly, but as he fell deeper into the project he became so absorbed that he didn't bother to fix his hair as it fell into his face unevenly. When it obscured his vision, he quickly tucked it behind his ear with one dirty hand.

[Waiting for L to sweep him off his feet. ♥]