Day 55: Male Showers

[lighthearted]

The conversation that Sora had had with Sam had definitely made all of the cleaning far more bearable. It wasn't even that they had talked about anything that groundbreaking, but the man had been kind to him and it had given him something else to focus on. All in all, being forced to clean hadn't been as bad as he'd expected.

And now that it was over, it sounded like it was time to go to the showers. That was for the best, seeing how cleaning actually ended up making you kind of dirty.

More than that, Sora was lucky enough to be one of the first people who was led into the showers. He considered asking the soldier who was escorting him about the pins for his hat, but in the end it made more sense to wait until he was getting dressed again.

Changing out of his clothes, new as they were, wasn't a problem; his own outfit that he wore back home was far more complicated, after all, and so he had the buttons undone and the belt removed in seconds.

After that, Sora quickly moved toward the back of the shower area, turned on the water, waited for it to heat up, and then stepped under the spray. He'd learned some time ago that trying to talk in the showers usually didn't work so well; all the running water was too loud and he was too awkward, even if he'd gotten much better about it over time.

It was still better to just get it over with and then head out into the Sun Room, and so once he was decently clean he turned off the water and headed out to get changed again.

[To here.]

Comments

[moarnomsplz]

Being punished for something he'd had no part in still stung Ax's pride, but he was pleased he had spoken to someone able to understand the difficulties of finding oneself in a very different body. Brainiac 5 had been helpful, even if their conversation had raised more questions than it had answered. The purpose of this place was still a mystery. Ax wondered what Prince Jake would have told him to do, and decided that continuing to blend in as much as possible was the best strategy.

After being led out of the cafeteria and directed into a tiled room, he quickly discovered another difficulty. He did not know what a shower was. It appeared to be some kind of human ritual that involved shedding their artificial skins and standing under water. The rules for when you were supposed to wear clothings and when it was not acceptable were truly bizarre.

After a struggle with the buttons, and with the leather strap that went around his midsection for some reason, Ax successfully removed all the artificial skins, and navigated the primitive water retrieval system. He then found he had neglected to remove the head covering. He did that, stood under the lukewarm water for the few minutes that seemed required to complete the ritual, then proceeded to the next stage he had observed, patting the skin with a cloth to remove the water. Why deliberately get wet, only to immediately dry off? It did not make sense.

He tried to remember the order in which he had removed the artificial skins, and to put them back on in reverse, starting with the soggy head covering, but something was not working with the buttons on the shirt. He could not make them line up correctly with these clumsy human fingers. And he was left with the leather strap when everything else was done, and couldn't recall exactly how it and the leg covering had gone together.

[livesbyinstinct.livejournal.com]

Kiba was not in the best of moods. He could take scrubbing floors, though it was stupid and menial and irritating, and he had wanted nothing more than to smack his "escort" in the face—and Kiba just about had, though he had by some miracle managed hold himself back. Perhaps it was because he had been able to convince himself that getting angry was exactly what the bitch woman barking orders at him wanted, and he was stubbornly determined to not give the woman any sense of satisfaction. She wanted to break them, just like Landel had. Well, whatever. Like they could ever break him anyway. The Landel bastard with his air-headed staff and deranged pets certainly hadn't. This new management wouldn't either.

Kiba could not, however, tolerate being treated like a child. He wasn't some stupid snot-nosed kid who didn't know his head from his ass. He had stopped being a child the moment he was taught how to kill. So when it became obvious that the guard was escorting him not into the courtyard but into the showers instead, he had visibly stiffened. His hands, flushed red from work, balled into fists. He resented it, even being thought of as a kid. He didn't care how old he was or how young he looked.

His voice was as rough as his hands and as cold and irritable as the angry ice in his eyes. "I'm not a kid."

The guard said nothing for a few moments, meeting his gaze before stating simply, "Then prove it."

Kiba clenched his teeth. "Whatever." With a sneer on his face and a snarl in his voice, Kiba pulled himself away, turning on his heels and walking into the showers before the guard said anything more, because he was this close to being done with caring about what the new management wanted, and just about ready to do what he wanted instead.

Once inside, he stripped down, tossing all his clothes to the floor, not really caring what happened to them. He made the water as scalding hot as he could force it, fingers digging into his scalp, bearing with the water even as the temperature died into an uncomfortable cold. He wrenched the shower off, the burning feeling in his stomach lessening.

He quickly dried himself off and began putting on his clothes. He had barely wrenched the belt around his midsection, his shirt and beret still where he had left them on the floor, when his eyes caught on some guy he hadn't seen before. Kiba stopped, staring at the kid, watching him fumble with the buttons to his shirt. They were laughably uneven. Was he really having trouble with his clothes, or was this his idiotic way of rebelling? Kiba quickly decided it was obviously the former. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when was putting on shirt hard?

Geez. Now he was looking at his belt with the same sort of dumbfounded perplexity.

Kiba snorted, tightening his own belt around his waist. "Having trouble?"

[moarnomsplz]

Ax looked up from his efforts when the young human male, who appeared to be approximately his own age, spoke to him. He was reasonably certain he recognized the tone of voice Tobias had once called 'snide.'

"I am not familiar with this type of clothing-ing," he said, sulkily. He did not wish to request assistance. However, the armed human whose job appeared to be making sure he did not wander off had already objected to Ax's unwitting mistakes with the artificial skins. In the interest of blending in, he needed to keep from calling further attention to himself.

"I prefer a classic look." He used the phrase Rachel had, which had seemed to him to be, unlike Marco's choice of words, complimentary. "Which does not include this strap. Or buttons. Butt-ton-zuh."

The human had not yet completed the strange ritual, in that he had not replaced the garment that was to cover his chest, or the thing called a beray. This did not seem like the most prudent time to bring these omissions to his attention.

[livesbyinstinct.livejournal.com]

Kiba arched a jet black eyebrow at his neighbor. "Right." He could only guess at what this "classic look" consisted of if belts and buttons weren't in the running. Who knows, if the guy kept on butchering words like he did, Kiba might even be galled into believing that maybe he hadn't ever set eyes on a button before. Might.

Hell, maybe the kid was just plain weird, and that's all there was to it. Well, whatever. There were weirdos lurking in every corner, and this guy had nothing on the freak that was Shino—not by a long shot. He needed a few more insects crawling out of eyes and a dumber face.

Kiba smirked, flashing a fanged half-grin. "Well, guess you can't help it if this look ain't your thing, but those morons will be up your ass if you can't get yourself looking all nice n' pretty,and you're looking like a wet cat from where I'm standing." Kiba jerked his head towards the belt the teen was holding. "That's called a belt, by the way. You wrap it around your waist—thread it through the loops on your pants. It ain't complicated."

[tightsofmight]

For such a prim and proper type, Lion seemed at least mentally prepared for Landel's challenge. And she was pretty nice, too. That didn't stop it from sucking any less that she had to be here. Or that Landel's was still pulling in a steady influx of new patients. That meant there were a bunch of empty beds to fill. Peter's eyes drifted to the floor, bowing his head.

Yeah. Today was full of all kinds of fun. And even more exciting, it was now his favourite shift in the world - communal showers. Oh boy, oh golly gee. He sure was raring to dive into a sea of naked boys. He hadn't done that in like forever.

Though a chance to clean up was most definitely appreciated. He was sure he was getting that distinct human smell. Not quite BO, not yet, but a subtle odour only beginning to be detectable by the human nose. It was fine, because almost everyone else smelled like that anyway, but he felt gross. He would jump in, soap up as quickly as possible, and duck back out before anything unseemly could be seen by himself or others. Besides, it wasn't like he was lacking in mental distractions today.

Peter shucked the uniform off. It took a touch longer than usual, having to deal with buttons and buckles now instead of drawstrings and t-shirts. Soon enough he was twisting the tap and buffeted with a spray of unforgiving water, unsure if he should be feeling lucky or cursed to be one of the first inside.

Maybe if he did this quick enough he'd beat the rest of the boys out.

[For Kurt]

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

Kurt had never been a huge fan of the communal showers either, but he had to admit, getting clean after scrubbing down a dirty cafeteria did sound appealing. Even if he was going to be naked with a bunch of other guys. It had gotten less weird, at least, as time had gone on. In fact, now the only weird thing was how hard it was to get undressed for showers. Belts, buttons, fitted pants--but at least he was out of all those fancy clothes now. Even if he was in... nothing, now.

Eh, it made sense in his head.

Given soap and a towel, Kurt walked into the showers, spotting Peter despite the lack of hair-puff. They hadn't really talked in a while, had they? Since Terry and Logan had disappeared, it seemed like they were at arm's length. Or passing each other briefly.

"Hey Peter!" Kurt said cheerfully, starting up the showerhead next to his friend. "Some morning, huh? Glad to be out of that, strangling collar, yeah?" he grinned.

[tightsofmight]

The abrupt sound of his name nearly had him jumping where he stood. Which would have no doubt landed him lying naked on the ground with a cracked skull, and the most undignified death to ever occur in Landel's Institute.

Fortunately for him, the thick German accent assured him that the newcomer was a friendly face. Peter actually grinned as he turned his head to catch Kurt. "Kurt! Geez, it's been ages, man. I was starting to get worried."

The crack about the collar was a bit befuddling. Could have been a reference to the sling Peter had been toting until now - the last time he'd seen Kurt was the day after he'd gotten shanked. "Chyeah, some morning. Guess they're not bothering with pretenses anymore. Pretty sure that's got doomidy doomy doom spelled all over it." He waved the matter off, for once not caring that they were both in a distinct state of undress. "What have you been up to? I left a note for you yesterday and you never replied."

[sdatislife.livejournal.com]

The conversation with Minato - the other boy's presence - had helped bolster Shinji throughout that long, long morning of cleaning. It had seemed to take an eternity, but there was finally an end to it and then he had been hustled off to the showers by a grim-looking, rather unfriendly soldier. Once inside and undressed, he had found a shower head for his own use and he stood there, letting the hot water beat down on him.

Maybe he could stay here for a while. Maybe they wouldn't try and drag him back out again. He sighed and let his shoulders drop. Some of his tension was bleeding off and he felt a bit better already - even if he was still in public. Right now there was just him, the water and the echo of droplets off of the tile floor. It was almost peaceful. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

He'd wash when he felt up to it.

_{[For Kaworu.]}

[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

The soldiers didn't need to explain much of what was required of him, and so they didn't. Again, they were satisfied with his silence, as long as he complied. There was no reason to change this pattern, and although it was different than it had been in the past, those differences were not substantial. The result was the same. Kaworu didn't register the change of scenery, at least not as a new experience. The presence of these escorts was easily substituted into his memories of the hallways before, and then the showers that he was led to afterwards.

With their clothes gone, things seemed even more unchanged. His life had become unmoving again. Still, there were things that were noteworthy here. The Lilim that surrounded him now made individual marks on his memory. Kaworu couldn't say if it was because they were different, or because he was.

There was another source of stability waiting for him when he entered. Already, the room was heavy with steam and water, as they lined up under the shower heads. One of them was Shinji. Whereas Kaworu's surroundings were greeted with neutrality, the constant presence of Shinji drew him in. To think about it created an illusion of comfort. He didn't approach immediately, desiring a moment to watch. Shinji was alone, the drum of the water on his head isolating him even further. And yet, he seemed less strained here. Was it the presence or absence of others that gave him peace? Would Kaworu change it?

Still, he stepped across the wet tiles, heading not towards his own place at the showers, but to Shinji. He knew what to expect when he reached out and touched Shinji's shoulder. He wanted attention, but perhaps he also wanted to understand.

[sdatislife.livejournal.com]

He didn't notice Kaworu's arrival - his head was bowed, eyes closed. Too focused on the water and trying to lose himself. Trying to figure out who he really was. Shinji Ikari. Sean Inoue. Another Shinji. Which one was he? And why did he try so hard to be different for different people? He wasn't sure. He didn't know.

And then he felt Kaworu's hand on his shoulder. For a moment, he was aware of the texture, the thin, bony strength. Then he was elsewhere for a brief moment, memories (or dreams) swimming into his mind .

It's sunny out and he remembers this - these are the ruins of Tokyo-3. He's talking to a pale boy. Kaworu. Kaworu's fingers tighten and Shinji recoils as the cat's neck snaps-

And with a gasp, he was himself again. That had never happened. Had it? He hadn't met Kaworu there. There had been no cat. At least that was how he remembered it. He swayed and braced himself against the wall with one hand as he turned his head to see who had wanted his attention, cringing slightly. Why-?

It was Kaworu. Kaworu as he remembered him. There was an immense outpouring of relief, of happiness, confusion, embarrassment and apprehension. He didn't want to drive the other away. He wanted Kawouru to accept him. To still be there for him. And they were both nude - again, he was struck of their meeting only a few weeks ago (was it really only a few weeks) in Tokyo-3. His mouth worked as he tried to regain his senses.

"Kaworu..."

His voice was quiet but still echoed slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Which was a stupid question and he hated himself for it immediately. He was making it sound like he didn't want Kaworu around.

[godforsaken]

In the end the shift had gone as smoothly as he expected, which wasn't exactly much considering everything they'd gotten used to was flipped sideways. Still, this was nowhere near the trouble he had to worry about back with the Oracle Knights, and that alone deserved little room for complaint. Regardless, the God-General left the cafeteria without much in mind, following his designated soldier to the shower room in order to get cleaned.

And luckily for him he was one of the first to arrive, quickly removing and folding his clothing before making his way to the showers. Sync went for one that was near the corner, waiting for the water to properly heat up before jumping right in. Despite the all the free space he knew that wasn't going to last long at all, and so the replica was relatively quick with his work, scrubbing and rinsing off the suds without any fuss.

He was pretty pleased to find that no idiot decided to walk up to him and make small talk; the last thing he needed was to waste his shift trying to act pleasant. Once finished Sync stepped out of the stall, quickly drying himself off with his towel before going back to his clothing to get dressed.

[To here.]

[sasuke-of-sound.livejournal.com]

Despite Sasuke's determination to complete as little washing as possible (some mixture of anger and habitual rebellion against mundane commands), by the time the end of shift was called his arms were slick with soap and his fingers wrinkly with water despite their calluses. This was, he reflected, probably the civilian attempt at meaning business or whatever it was Aguilar claimed he was here to do in Landel's place.

As it were, for all that the soldiers were insisting on obedience and efficiency, Sasuke couldn't avoid remembering genin missions and how long ago they had been. And, inevitably, how thoroughly he'd grown out of them. When the soldiers came to collect the cleaning materials, as if they could do something dangerous with soap (to be fair, they probably could), Sasuke tossed them into the bucket and didn't bother waiting for the so-called command before marching toward the shower.

Evidently rudeness was fine as long as they moved in the direction they were aimed. That might well have been an improvement over his nurse, but Sasuke was still far from being in the mood to approve. He stripped perfunctorily, snapping the buttons on his shirt through each hole with a deliberate focus.

He hadn't worn a shirt with this many buttons since ... probably since the Third's death. Konoha's standard mourning gear, the first time he'd been issued a set since ... too much of this hearkened back to Konoha.

Not safe territory, not when Itachi's things were still missing and Sakura might have taken too much hope from their work last night. Sasuke rinsed the remnants of soap off his hands and scrubbed down as quickly as possible, letting the mechanical simplicity of washing smooth out his thoughts.

[sasuke-of-sound.livejournal.com]

[[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1058467.html?thread=76451747#t76451747)]]

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

Neku did feel slightly better after the cleaning project and meeting Zack, but even so, he was pretty pissed about the last 24 hours and this new idiotic military game everyone was playing. Uniforms were exactly the opposite of expression, creativity, freedom... and the more rigidly they enforced them, the more Neku wanted to throw them back in the soldier's faces. But for all his grumblings, he still went to showers, making a show of throwing the clothing to the floor as he stalked in and found an empty faucet.

The water was enough to flatten his hair out some, maybe even to the point that it wouldn't look like he was trying to smuggle a family of spiky brown birds under his hat, but it hardly pleased him. He liked his big spiky hair thank-you-very-much. But after some scrubbing, he got himself presentable (or at least to the point where the soldiers weren't forcing him to fix his uniform anymore) and walked back out, fresh and clean.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1058944.html?thread=76428160#t76428160)]

[purgatio]

He had a headache. That was all there was to it. Thinking about anything made his head throb. It hurt to look at anything. Siblings had already become a topic to stray from. Thinking about them would just rib him to shreds without a chance for anything else. And so what should he think of? Ritsuka? There wasn't just a little heartache with that one. Peter, then, and Albedo's actions to help him, small as they were. Battler. And Albedo being easily forthcoming. What was happening to him? No action of his made any sense, and normally Albedo saw his own movements as logical. What was he trying to do here? Was there even an endgame at this point? What was he doing, the way he was now? Could he even focus enough to staple down his reasons?

...No. Because there weren't any. He couldn't think about Rubedo because that was not allowed. He couldn't move to Nigredo because Nigredo quite possibly thought he was nothing but a problem. An obligation, to put it clearer. He had followed and clung to Ritsuka because the other boy was likely the only source of comfort Albedo had left. And that frightened him beyond measure. Made him not want to see Ritsuka at all. He had meagerly helped with Peter because Ritsuka would like him if he helped. Because Ritsuka would help. He had informed Battler of certain things because of... Greta? He wasn't even sure on that. Because he wanted to see movement. He wanted to watch Battler, and see how he did against his own broken-hearted sibling. Except she wasn't here anymore, was she? No, it had been confirmed again on the board. She was gone. And Albedo was cold.

He could remember all of their names. That was what cemented the fact. He could remember them in detail. Angel. Hikaru. Greta. Yomi. Ritsuka. They moved in his mind and disappeared without stabilizing their meaning. Why had they affected him? Why had three of them disappeared? Hikaru hadn't been close, but he understood as much as Yomi did in another way. Angel was... Something. Safe. Maybe. Something that gave safety. Greta and Hikaru were teachers. Yomi was something of a peer. Ritsuka could comfort and offer affection and understand in ways. That was the general point within the group. All of them could understand. Different points to different parts, but the fact remained.

They fulfilled different needs. One person could not, but with the group, they did better than anyone ever had. Was that the divine truth?! No one would ever be able to accept and love all of you! You couldn't look to one person for everything! Haha, it was marvelous! Of course! Why not! Why not-- There was no other way, was there? Should he just close his heart, and never again think of--

He shuddered. No. He wouldn't go down that path. Not yet. There was a difference between tearing at wounds and ripping your own heart out. The irony would be lovely, really, at a later date. But it remained. That pleasure was not his, now was it? And there were... Too many things yet remaining. Too many things pressing on him, weighing him down. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

In the spray of water, Albedo put an arm to the wall, pressing his face against it. He didn't have the energy any more. He couldn't think at all.

[taken]

[falseblack]

It was the sensation of looking in from the outside, thick glass separating one from the object of his sights. It came as second nature to notice a sibling at a distance and assess his condition while carefully constructing the reasons and the motives. Nigredo's head turned without prompting, and from the entrance, he watched his older brother, unabashed in the invasion of privacy. Not that it wasn't warranted. His waveform barely grazed the other's, and the result was a dull form of pain.

Albedo was...lonely. The sensation couldn't be denied. The source, on the other hand, Nigredo could not help but wonder. Who else would lie at the end of this emotion? Did he even have to speculate?

Nigredo had two choices before him. He could deny his brother, act as a silent witness and never speak of what had been seen. It was the easier route of the two, and if he had been his former self, Nigredo would have taken to it completely and without remorse. In contrast, the second existed as a difficulty. He could approach Albedo and offer what was ultimately useless, remember the reasons he lacked as a family member, and hate himself a little bit more. All for the chance to better the other boy's condition.

After a moment, he moved, steps treading toward his mirror. Emotions and expressions were suppressed and pushed beneath the skin, though Nigredo allowed some amicability to show. Albedo hated his neutrality, did he not? It was supposedly-- Ah, he couldn't even begin to guess the reasons. Most people appreciated a lack of emotion under duress; they did not reject what was stable. And Albedo--

He stopped at the nearest stall next to his brother, but his sights remained on Albedo. There, he pressed his lips into a thin line as thoughts of approach passed through Nigredo's mind. What does one say in this situation?

"Are you," he started, hesitating in the syllables, "all right?"

[purgatio]

Should he be surprised? Maybe it wasn't surprise as much as resignation. Wasn't Albedo a bother? And yet, here was baby brother, approaching with caution and wariness. Was Nigredo afraid Albedo would lash out or sob? And which, in the end, was worse for him? And if it was something to be called worse, why was the baby forcing himself to deal with it? Nigredo could have ignored Albedo, and he wouldn't have shifted in any direction. Here, existed only questions, and more than anything Albedo wished for no false sympathy. No pity for the turmoil rocking through him. If Nigredo didn't care--

...No, that wasn't the issue. Nigredo cared, but in a different way, hadn't he said? You could love someone and feel differently for them as well. Didn't Albedo know? But he didn't want that. Not from Nigredo.

He didn't move at his brother's question, only let out a bitter laugh. "Don't come to me if you feel it's an obligation," he spat out from his arm. Then his tone softened. "I won't be angry if you leave me alone. I won't blame you. But don't come to me if you feel like you have to." He took in a shaky breath. "I can't deal with that."

[prodigalson]

It was probably much more fortunate for Edward than it was for the soldier that the man hadn't decided to do much else besides verbally separate him from Bella. With the girl tied up in bandages and his own protective instinct digging out from underneath his skin, he would have attempted to tear the man's head off if he had touched her. The fact that this army, this force was probably not particularly concerned with subduing them with less than violent means wouldn't have even occurred to him for that moment.

What would it mean to him now to get shot? Would he come back again, like he had the first night? A bullet was much different than a disease that ate him out from the inside, but the end result was the same.

Either way, it wouldn't have mattered to him. Maybe he was used to being thrown around and beaten like a dog. It was for the best that his brother was gone; Emmett, Edward thought, would not be able to bear this kind of treatment, like they were something to be stepped on or something below the human force itself.

As the vampire undressed, stepping under the scalding hot water (mostly to go through the motions, having found it was much easier to simply do what was necessary to appear well-behaved and human), he attempted to puzzle through what Marc had told him last night. Aguilar wanted something as a result from the trials the patients went through, certainly. Why else use the force? It could be just about resources, but that seemed too easy a solution.

Marc had almost said something before his block (or what he said was his block) had interrupted. Train was what Edward had thought. If this was a military takeover, it made sense that they would want to train patients. Considering some of the abilities he had seen, he could understand why some of the patients had been chosen. But for what? A war, already going? The wars that had been occurring in his own time weren't necessarily what came to mind. If they could come from multiple worlds, it didn't necessarily mean they were on what he recognized as the world where Forks would be. Different worlds, different times...

He sighed, scraping his fingers through his hair. And here he'd thought eternity was enough to deal with.

[For Stefan.]

[sainted]

Even though the female soldier had announced it to everyone in the cafeteria, it took until he was looking into the men's bathroom for Stefan to realize he was getting lumped in with the children. As if it wasn't enough he had to enrol into high school every time he settled somewhere new. As if it wasn't enough that he got asked for ID every time Damon forced him to restock the liquor cabinet. Seventeen years old for eternity. If Katherine could've just waited one more year before destroying their lives...

Attempting to get out of it failed quick. His escort let him get three words into Do I really need to shower? before slamming his hand against one of the metal lockers and ordering Stefan to get moving. Armed guards aside, this situation wasn't too different from what he'd had to go through before. He'd been a football player for a short time, after all, which had entailed a certain amount of hanging out in locker rooms with pubescent boys. Yeah. Moments like these were why Stefan had a reputation in Mystic Falls High for being a loner.

Stefan realized his plan to get in and out without looking at anybody was going to be harder than expected when he saw that the showers was just one big room with no stalls... and filling up quick. He could imagine Damon laughing at him if he saw— Actually, no, better to never let his brother find out about this. Stefan was about to beeline for a corner and stare at a wall for ten minutes when he noticed Edward. He really wasn't trying to look, but even from the back, Edward's height and the unusual paleness of his skin attracted attention.

It occurred to Stefan too late that approaching someone he knew might actually make this whole thing more awkward, but he spent the last second he could've used to get away debating that point, then realizing that Edward could probably mind-read him debating it, then realizing if that was true, awkwardness and embarrassment were already unavoidable. Should he say hello, then? Not say hello? Try to escape anyway?

"Hi," Stefan said, after much too long. How could he be 162 years old and still be so bewildered by social interaction? Hopefully he just seemed like he was confused by the shower... no, wait, that wasn't better at all. Oh my god. Stefan quickly switched on the hot water and tried not to do or think anything else idiotic.

[prodigalson]

Admittedly, Edward might not have given showers enough credit. It had been a pain to unwrap his sling one-handed, but the hot water hitting his broken collar was more than enough to make up for it. He could probably stand here long enough that they would run out of hot water... it was rather amazing, really. He knew running warm water over tired muscles would ease soreness or tightness, but he hadn't ever really been able to experience it himself simply because his muscles normally did not become either.

Of course, he was going on the assumption that someone would re-wrap a new, fresh gauze around the bandages when his shower was over. Otherwise he would have to spend the rest of the day looking as if he were giving himself a half-hearted hug.

The thought of his name broke him from his revelry in the water, recognizing it as Stefan's mind before he had instinctively turned to look in the source's direction. The source was... terribly awkward, actually, but Edward didn't seem the least bit bothered by it as he smiled at the other vampire's curt greeting. Suffice to say, he was a bit surprised to see Stefan in the children's showers (he was a terrible judge of age, either way) while noting how old he was. 162 years old. Impressive. Older than me. He did the mental math. Born 1845? Assuming it's the same year and same world. Which didn't seem very likely, considering how different they were. His eyes flicked to Stefan's mouth, remembering the fangs - or what he had thought were fangs - as well as the blood which pooled under Stefan's eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said, sounding almost jovial. The meeting with Bella, while painful, had been what he needed after not seeing her for an entire day. The promise for tonight? Even more so. Thanks to Stefan's help, he would actually be able to be close to Bella without losing control. And he was... well, Edward thought of him as a friend already, and he didn't have many of those.

"Feeling any better since yesterday?" He gave him a considering look after that, adding before he could answer, "17, I'm assuming? How fun is that?"

[rischiarare.livejournal.com]

Even if Roxas wasn't happy about this whole soldier thing, meeting Claire had lifted his mood a little. It always made him feel weird that there were such nice people here sometimes - like Goku and her. Even if Goku had seemed really weird (and that was in comparison to all the people Roxas had seen on other worlds) he hadn't hesitated in helping Roxas find Neku. The other two people they had met seemed nice too, but they hadn't really had more than a few moments to talk and stare bewildered at each other before the darkness sucked him up and threw him back into bed.

For once, the Nobody was actually glad to have a shower shift scheduled that day. His body had recovered even better from the night with Ruby, but it still had a few achy joints, mostly around his shoulders. Now that his hat fit better and sat on his hair more solidly (Claire's bigger hat had better balance on his spikes) he didn't have to worry about following the soldier with his normal gait. He undressed near the wall and tossed his things in a unceremonious pile before stepping under the faucet. Luckily he'd had a nurse long enough to figure out how everything worked for himself, so he didn't need to ask for help. The warm water felt really good on his bruises, so he took his time with standing under the stream.

With his blond hair flat and mostly hanging in his face - which he attempted to blow out of the way with a puff of breath from his mouth - Roxas ran a towel through the mess of dripping locks and the rest of him, then started piling back into the uniform.

That took a little longer than getting out of it, since there apparently was a specific way to wear it and he did need help with that.

[emotionl4arobot.livejournal.com]

After the morning of work, Brainiac 5 found he was surprisingly hungry, and it was more difficult to ignore the odd, empty feeling in his stomach than he'd initially thought. It didn't help much that he knew he'd have to wait until lunch to eat anything, assuming that they weren't punished then either. Nor were the showers an improvement. He wasn't particularly found of having to shower around others even after doing so several times now, and the addition of soldiers hardly made it that much better.

However, he had to admit it could have been worse. Aximili had to be having an especially difficult time adjusting, judging from the sketchy image he'd given the Coluan on what he'd looked like before being abducted to the institute.

In retrospect, he should have offered to stay with the other alien and assist him in adapting as best as he could, but Brainiac 5 hadn't realised that they were due for showers in the next shift, so he hadn't foreseen the likely difficulty the Andalite would have. And now there were so many other patients around, he couldn't catch sight of Aximili anywhere.

He'd simply have to hope that the soldiers either knew enough to understand that not everyone was default human in the institute, or that they were more patient with such things than they initially appeared. Which, judging from earlier, wouldn't be especially difficult for all that he thought it was unlikely.

Dismissing those thoughts, the Coluan quickly saw to the embarrassing yet necessary task of stripping himself off and washing himself, studiously ignoring the faint marks on his body that documented the time he'd spent here and ensuring he was completely clean before shutting off the water again and drying off. Then it was simply a matter of clothing himself again and departing the showers before anyone got it into their heads to try talking with him.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1058944.html?thread=76486528#t76486528)]

[hissecondshadow.livejournal.com]

Soren was more than glad of the chance to rinse off the dirt he'd gathered since arriving here. Considering how often the mercenaries had travelled around in the past year, showers were considered something of a luxury to him. He was grateful for the water, cold though it was to begin with. If anything, the burst of cold helped to clear his head. He doubted that would ever be a bad thing around here.

He didn't plan on wasting time under the water, though. Of course, everybody around here thought he was a child, so there weren't likely to be any raised eyebrows at just how small he was underneath the clothing. Even so. He waited just long enough to rinse his hair through and then stepped out. The soldiers weren't likely to raise complaint; he was helping to keep things on schedule. And from what he could gather, patients were allowed to visit the Sun Room at almost any time.

Perhaps there'd be somebody else of interest there.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1058944.html?thread=76512896#t76512896).]

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

That had been interesting, to say the least.

Sai had not interest in sticking around in the showers longer than he had to. There were things to learn, and since he was apparently on the highest rung of this new social scale, he needed to make good use of it.

He was clean as fast as anyone could get clean (not a hard feat given they didn't seem to wake up that dirty in the morning anyway) and heading out to join the rest of the patients in whatever activity they were set for that shift.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1058467.html?thread=76445859#t76517539)]

((sorry for the multiple posts, OP 8( ))

[adiostoreadurr.livejournal.com]

Fortunately, Tavros was not taken to a drone to be culled.

Unfortunately, he was taken to a room filled with naked human males. While that had the unexpected effect of taking his mind off of his paralysis, it also had the effect of making him extremely uncomfortable.

He blanched, considering very seriously just stopping his chair and rolling away as fast as his arms would allow. It was as if the adult human could read his thoughts, though, and he gave the troll a level glare before he could put his plan into motion. Shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to make himself look less threatening, Tavros rolled into the showers with great reluctance.

This must be some human ritual, he thought, very hesitantly pulling his strange clothes off. They were similar enough to clothes made by trolls, so he had no difficult with them, although shimmying his trousers down his legs was always a hassle.

It was easy enough to figure out how the showers worked, and soon he was drenched in warm water. Tavros refused to look at any of the aliens surrounding him, not exactly thrilled with the idea of comparing anatomical differences right now. He just stared intently at the wall as he scrubbed himself down, unaware that a red flush was spreading across his face.

[Free!]