damned_institute | Nightshift 55: Sun Room

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Nightshift 55: Sun Room

[from here]

Only a couple more rooms and then he was going to eat everything he laid eyes on in the pantry. Even the condiments, at this rate. How much nutritional value did tomato ketchup have anyway? And was he really in any position to turn it down if that was all he could find?

Even with the hunger twisting his stomach and making him feel slightly sick, Wally wasn't quite so bad off that he needed to just rush into the room beyond. His luck had been pretty good so far, well, apart from his speed dumping him into a wall like that, but that didn't mean a thing here.

But the sun room seemed empty, from what he could make out in the darkness and with only a flashlight that had seen better days, so Wally relaxed and headed further into the room, weaving through the chairs and things as he aimed for the cafeteria doors.

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The Sun Room was empty, at least of life. A particular quiet pervaded the room, the sort of soft and muffled silence typical of snowfall, and through the large windows the pale light outside was clear without definition. As Wally moved past the glass panes there were breaths of cool air -- normal, certainly, for chilly weather, irrespective of how comfortably insulated the building was.

A peaceful scene, overall. The notes from the day shift rustled slightly against the bulletin board, stirring in a faint, sourceless breeze typical of large rooms like this one; the same breeze stirred through a curtain of black hair snarled down the front of a white dress --

That was there, and then gone by the next blink. Even a cautious patient who looked twice (or thrice) would see nothing: but with that second's worth of presence, the light shifted. The snow seemed to grow suddenly heavier, shadows slanting deeper until the room's two exits were swathed in an unnatural darkness.

"Huh?"

For a second there, Wally thought he'd seen someone else at the edge of the room, but when he turned back to check, the place was empty. But there was a faint feeling of dread starting to creep up his spine, and since he'd had stuff like that turn out to be important before? He wasn't about to just ignore it.

"Okay, maybe speeding up just a little could be a good idea..." he muttered, taking a few faster steps in the direction of the cafeteria doors.

Speed meant that Wally was moving through the sun room at a pace that should have taken him within sight of the doors in mere moments. Instead the room seemed to lengthen with the shadows: a subtle distortion, areas blacker than they should have been, walls longer, the joint of each corner angling just barely inward and upward. Each step led him deeper into a space that was compressing and narrowing, and then abruptly the muted thud of footfall on carpet gave way to smooth rustle.

The comfortable pile of the rug had transitioned into tightly-woven tatami mats, dusty and dry. Where the doors to the cafeteria had once been were instead sliding paper doors, and to each side was not the soothing green of the Institute walls but smooth off-white plaster.

If Wally were to turn, he would see the same plaster stretching out on either side of the room, and the same tatami mats panelling the floor where the rug had once been. The large open ceiling above still remained, for now, but darkness was creeping rapidly along the edges and seeping inward.

Okay this? Was seriously freaking him out. Wally wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but his every instinct was that it was something really, really not good. The kind of not good that was probably synonymous with 'seriously just run now and save yourself the trouble'. It was giving him horrible reminders of all the times the League had faced really creepy things like that Doctor Destiny and his thing for trapping people in nightmares until they died from whatever he put them through. You know, fun things like that.

But it looked like running wasn't going to be much of an option here; he should have made it to the doors by now, but the room was suddenly a lot bigger than it really should have been and when his foot came down on something that wasn't carpet, Wally stopped immediately.

The room had changed around him and the nerves that made the hairs on his neck stand up under his costume were screaming at him now that not running as fast as he could towards the doors was probably the worst mistake he could make in what was probably his, at this point, rapidly shortening life. Wally ignored them, though. Running now wasn't guaranteed to help at all and could only burn up energy that he'd need soon enough. Instead he turned slowly on the spot, eyes struggling to make out a shape that wasn't furniture in the darkness, and edged a little further towards the door.

"Seriously, if there's someone there, I'd really appreciate it if you said something. Unless you're a monster, in which case I'd really appreciate it if you just left me alone," he tried, though he wasn't expecting it to work. "...why can't the room changing ever mean anything good like 'congratulations, you found a way out of the institute by way of...' Japan, I guess. Could be worse."

Edited 2011-04-03 13:59 (UTC)

As Wally might have expected, the room failed to respond to his polite request to be left alone. The darkness spread until it spanned the entirety of the ceiling, a black mass that stretched all the way across what would have opened onto the balcony above and whispered with movement, faint and barely noticeable. The change was complete, and he was in her space now.

But it wasn't a bad space, at least thus far. The chilly draft that had breathed from the windows of the sun room was gone, replaced by a deadness of air that felt more like late summer than winter. Slowly, as if an eye blinking open, a rectangle of light formed on the tatami mats and then swept wide.

If Wally were to turn back again, he would see the sort of glass window to be expected in a house rather than a large building such as Landel's -- and that the paper doors had become plastered over with brown packing tape keeping them shut. Outside the window was bright sunlight, a detail that would likely vie for attention with the sudden thump behind the doors.

A thump, and then scratching sounds -- and then a yowl, the beleaguered and unhappy sound of a cat that had gotten stuck where it did not want to be.

Wally flinched as the darkness spread up to cover the ceiling, wondering if maybe he should have gone with his instincts this time and run for the door while he still had the chance. It was probably only a matter of time before something horrifying leapt out of the darkness and proceeded to eat his face or something, and since he actually liked his face, he'd rather avoid that if possible.

He jumped back, automatically avoiding the square of light in case it turned out to be a horrible death laser in disguise (it could happen!) and only relaxing a little when it was apparent that nothing was happening.

"This is too weird," he complained, in part just to hear the sound of something in this place. "It's night, otherwise I'd be back in my room and not wondering if something's about to eat me, so why is there sunlight there?"

He considered the window, still edging back a bit to the door. "Maybe this really is some kind of dream or something? I'll find a way to wake up and then everything will be back to normal and not super creep--"

Then the doors thumped and Wally jumped what felt like a good foot in the air. His superspeed also kicked in automatically, and he was in front of the door and pulling at the packing tape before he even had time to wonder when his self-preservation instincts had gotten so messed up that when something started rattling around the place, his instinct was to run towards it.

Probably around the same time he'd gotten his superspeed, he decided as he struggled with tape stuck to his gloves and the door.

"Well at least if this is something that's going to try and kill me, I'm not going to be freaking out over where it is," he muttered. It wasn't a very reassuring thought.

As Wally's back turned the black mass covering the ceiling turned as well, shapes slowly shifting and slithering through the seething substance before settling. Strands of darkness separated before weaving back in, tightening and flattening out until -- just as the last of the tape was torn away from the door -- it resolved into a sleek plaster ceiling, considerably lower than what had been the Institute's roof and making the room look downright homey in the warm light.

And what sprang forth from the doors once they were free of tape was nothing more than a plain black cat, yowling in distress and feline displeasure. The animal had stuck a paw around the side of the frame as soon as enough tape had been ripped off for it to be possible, and as soon as it could shove the sliding door aside it did.

A piece of tape stuck to one paw as it raced away from closet -- for that was what it was, a storage closet with a few unmarked boxes -- and it stopped in the middle of the room, emitting another distressed noise and attempting to bite it off.

If Wally chose to look, the closet revealed little more than those boxes. The ceiling inside the closet was interrupted by a latched panel, clearly one of those rarely-used entrances to the attic crawlspace typical of many standalone homes.

He jumped back as the cat emerged, half-expecting it to be some sort of monstrous version set on him by the institute in the name of whatever freaky tests they were running now, but it turned out to just be a normal cat. It was a little unnerving, actually. Not that he really minded when things didn't try and kill him but, this place was almost surreally normal. And that was coming from him.

The room had a ceiling now, and when Wally risked sticking his head quickly into the closet, that turned out to be normal too. Even the darkness around the place earlier was gone as near as he could tell. He didn't even seem to be in the institute any more.

"Did I really get teleported somewhere? And with nothing bad happening afterwards?" he wondered aloud. Maybe he'd stumbled across some kind of portal thing that was a way out? It would figure that there was one that gave no sign or warning of being there. No one would know escape was even possible; it would just be more people disappearing never to be seen again.

"Still, it would of been awesome if I could have at least hit the pantry first before getting teleported wherever I am," he commented. "Not that I'm complaining that much at all."

The cat's cry of distress caught his attention and Wally turned to see it struggling with the tape. "Hey, kitty, lemme get that for you."

Moving slowly so as not to startle it, Wally approached and crouched low, reaching for the cat gently.

[From here.]

After you. Well, that was kind of what he needed to cement his answer for his internal argument over whether the vampires that had gotten stuck in here were actually in danger. Considering he had now been upgraded from "potential food source" into "meat shield", that would point to an outstanding, neon sign flashing and exploding into sparks that spelled out yes.

Speaking of neon signs, he wouldn't have really minded if anyone decided to hook one up on the sun room's ceiling any time soon. Even if some Frankenstein-tribble-monster wave was coming out to kill him, he wouldn't see them coming; the room was totally pitch black and the light of his flashlight was rather pathetic in comparison. He'd spent at least a few hours in the room during the day and it sure as hell hadn't looked this big.

At least he wasn't tripping over everything anymore. This meant even if he hit a couch on the way across it wouldn't end up with him breaking his neck (again).

Further comments? No? No further comments, then.

Damon wouldn't have minded giving more detail, but it wasn't his style to bother when he hadn't been asked. Alaric didn't need to know, which was already reason enough for him to not care about passing on the information, and Alaric also didn't seem to want to know. Well, of course. Considering the question had been about assuaging his fear that Damon would snatch the next person to brush shoulders with him...Hardly surprising, was it.

Though yeah, as he followed just a half-step behind Rick into the Sun Room, he was considering what he'd do if he did find this alleged blood fountain. What, was there a dispenser of disposable cups next to the thing? Bendy drinking straws you could suck blood through? Because short of those options, he'd end up with blood everywhere which, really, was not his idea of fine dining. Especially not with company on hand. That would be...impolite. He was a vampire, not a goddamn zombie.

But no need to get ahead.

He made sure the door was shut behind them and moved quietly through the room, neatly avoiding the flashlight as much as possible. Easier to see when his vision didn't have to keep adjusting. Important when his vision was all he had now. Stefan hadn't heard his fuzzy squirrel friend. Damon hadn't heard his attackers, either—not the way he should've. And he definitely hadn't caught their scent.

See, Rick was lucky, what with already being human. He was used to glancing over his shoulder and still never seeing anything coming until it was too late. People were bait by design. Nature practically made them that way. Damon, on the other hand, was not. The adjustment period: highly not recommended. It was throwing his instincts off.

He didn't glance over as he asked, "You manage to catch up with my little brother today?"

Rick hadn't, he knew. Stefan would've brought it up during their afternoon chat if he had. But he wanted to know if Rick intended to anytime soon. The fact was, Katherine was involved and it when it came to Katherine, Damon had no desire to have a third party like Rick go over the details with Stefan. It might've been different if...but he'd caught the message between the lines clear enough, even if Rick hadn't lit a spotlight on it. 145 years of history, this had always been between him and his brother. It'd stay that way.

Edited 2011-04-07 09:32 (UTC)

Alaric would perhaps be grateful that what lurked in this room required him as neither potential food source nor meat shield; indeed, that what awaited them here, stirring to awareness the second time tonight, wanted both of them in equal capacity and with equal unbridled rage. There was bloodlust in one of them in a certain manner, but the needs of a vampire were something less than the all-encompassing desire for blood that was soaking slowly into the Institute with each night of terror that passed.

But for now, the room was quiet. Peaceful, even, with the silence amplified by the snow falling outside. A breeze ruffled through the intruders' hair and the notes on the bulletin board -- and for a second what moved the papers was was visible, a white hand protruding from a black mass --

Then nothing but the night. Alaric was right, however, to notice that it was darker than usual, shadows deeper, longer, thicker. The light of their flashlights would barely penetrate through them until they reached the end of the room, where the doors to the cafeteria were located: except instead of the mental-institute standard fire-proofed doors there was a sliding screen, made of a light-coloured wood and delicately papered.

A glance behind would find the snow-dampened moonlight outside rapidly diminishing until the sun room was swathed in heavy darkness and the door from which they had entered covered in shadow in turn. If they were to try to find those again they would soon realise they no longer existed, replaced instead by a blank patch of wall.

If there was anything to be thankful for about these ridiculous uniforms, it was only that they held heat a little better than sweats. With the weather outside, it wasn't any big surprise that the institute wasn't exactly the warmest place. Considering no one was big on paying the electricity bills at night (or just wanted to up the creep factor), there probably wasn't heat pumping into the place, either.

Yeah, speaking of heat. It sure as hell hadn't been winter when he'd left - er, been taken from - Mystic Falls. So where were they supposed to be now? Canada? Did Canada even have snow this time of year? He'd lived in the south his whole life, so that wasn't exactly the hardest thing to picture.

Alaric shivered involuntarily in the draft, noting the distinct echo of Damon's voice in the empty room. Not a single patient in here? Seriously? "No, I haven't even seen him yet. I figured since we're all stuck here, there's no rush." Well, that was kind of only a little bit of the reason. The biggest reason was Alaric was not exactly keen on describing this whole Katherine business for either Salvatore brother, let alone both of them. It just happened to be that Rick was just slightly more comfortable with the more unstable brother because he was... still somewhat predictable. And, of course, he hadn't really expected to meet a Damon who was out of the loop.

The teacher kept his light leveled close to the ground just so he could avoid tripping, whether or not his bad luck seemed to have faded away. It was a relatively slow journey through the room, but he still wasn't taking chances.

"Besides, I thought you'd want to be the one to bring up the Katherine, uh. Stuff." Bad enough that he'd had to relate all of the curse and doppelganger crap with Damon, and even that was just a quick summary.

The sooner they could get out of here, the better. Not that escape seemed like such a close goal anymore, not now when his biggest priority was finding something sharp. Damn. All those unfinished weapons...

His flashlight finally hit a wall after a few careful maneuvers around couches and tables, but the door wasn't reflective like he'd expected. Instead, it was...

Alaric pressed his fingers against it. "Paper?" Did he get turned around or something?

All right. All right. He knew he was a newbie and he'd only been in the sun room once, but he was pretty sure there hadn't been any paper sliding doors in there. "Are you sure this is the sun room?"

Inclined to mind his own business. Damon could like that in a person.

He started to comment, but cut short when a rustle to his left caught his attention. He glanced over, slowed just a touch. If that was a breeze, it wasn't coming from an open window. No window was gonna be left open in this weather. The more he walked, too, the more he realized that it wasn't just growing darker so much as blacker. There was an unnatural density to the darkness, the moonlight filtering out, and he couldn't help getting the distinct sense of being...stalked. Or toyed with. He'd done more than enough toying of his own to know it when he saw it. Fog, anyone?

So. Awesome. What was it now? The variables on that one were too wide for his liking. He wasn't an idiot—just over six days, yeah, he'd well caught on that things got a bit outside his expertise from time to time around here.

Damon had wandered away from Rick, eyeing what little he could see if the room, but strolled back when the teacher stopped in front of...

A paper wall. What? No, a door. A sliding screen. What the hell. And what kind of question was that?

"Well, the sun room is only the single largest room in the middle of this floor." Unadulterated impatience colored every word. "Yes, I'm sure."

Someone had just decided to dick with the interior design, apparently. He turned around, but it was like looking through a bottle of ink. The entrance was gone, blotted out. As was pretty much everything else.

Okay. That was it. He didn't appreciate getting the atmospheric equivalent of a blindfold.

Eyes narrowed, he reached over, grabbed Alaric's hand, and switched off the flashlight. Little test, no big deal. The darkness swallowed them. So much for that bit of night vision he had left. He could barely see a foot in front of him. Damn it.

However. There was a door and doors opened. Why not? Good idea as any. If they stuck around, they'd be bait, and he wasn't about to stumble through the darkness searching for a way out, either. He doubted Rick wanted to reenact a generic scene from a million teen slasher flicks. Minus the pseudo-Hitchcock score.

He glanced at Alaric, shrugged, and slid open the paper screen.

Edited 2011-04-14 06:51 (UTC)

As soon as the door slid open, an inhuman yowl rent the air -- something that might have been feline in nature if not for the loudness of it. A dark animal-shaped blur leapt forth, passing between them with a touch that snarled over cloth and skin like tangled, water-drenched hair, and landed behind them, the sound never stopping. As it hit the ground it resolved briefly into visibility: not a cat but a human boy, about seven or eight. Completely nude and ghostly pale in a way that caught an invisible light-source, he turned his head toward them to with a mouth gaped open to reveal nothing but blackness inside.

And then with the next blink he was gone, leaving behind a ringing that seemed to reside in the ears and yet echo around the room. As it bounced back from the walls, the darkness receded.

But the room it revealed was not the Sun Room: rather, a much smaller, domestic-sized room, with whitewashed walls and a ceiling made of a dark wood panel. A single window was embedded in the wall, but the light it let in was of a sickly grey quality, casting the room in sombre shadows.

Behind the doors they had opened was a standard storage closet with a few boxes stashed in the corner -- the only feature out of place was a trapdoor above that looked as if it would lead into attic crawlspace. Masking tape had been liberally plastered around the edges of it, as if shutting something in, and should they attempt to peel it off they would find it a stubbornly and unusually sticky task.

And indeed, as soon as the rest of the room had fully come into being, there came from the attic a loud thump.

[[From this point on, they will be able to hear the goings-on in the Wally thread, but they won't be able to get all the tape off until threadmerge proper. :|b Also, nobody saw me had to repost this three times.]]

Rick's response to that was automatic, snapping his head as he asked, "What the hell are you -" before realizing that, yeah, the darkness was a hell of a lot more palpable than a simple absence (total goddamn absence, thank you) should make it. He put his hand on the paper door thing just so he had some kind of idea of where he was just in case his body decided to lose balance without any kind of guiding light to stare at.

This is what you get, a little voice told him. That little voice had been speaking up a hell of a lot more in the last two years than it ever had before. Traveling with a vampire.

His personal Jiminy Cricket was very welcome to shut up now.

Alaric was used to crap jumping out of him from his stints at hunting, so he didn't scream so much as have his heart snap into a startled run when he heard the - the cat. It was also the reason his finger snapped back to the switch on the light and nearly blinded him. Regardless of whatever Damon had wanted, he was not walking around in an insane asylum without a flashlight. Every Friday the 13th movie he'd seen warned against it.

Not that flashlights had really, uh. Ever saved anyone's life. Crap.

Of course, that didn't really stop anything. The howling went on and Rick knew, before he'd even switched the light back on, that something had brushed past them, loud and wet and god, if he ended up dying again tonight he was going to be so pissed.

When he could focus on freaking anything, his poor human eyes could see that Damon was flat-out wrong. There weren't couches here, or huge windows in the ceiling, or anything that said hey, you're still in the asylum. This was a house. A very. Not American house, if he had any idea about architecture. Jesus, this place would give Tanizaki a hard-on.

"Yeah, well. I think it's safe to say this isn't the sun room." If only he had the voice to sound smug, with his heart still pitter-pattering against his chest.

The last thump made him jump. Just a little salt in the wound. There was something underneath the noise, a sound that made it obvious there wasn't silence in the darkness - the darkness that had creeped away from them, letting light reflect more prominently off every surface. It sounded like gurgles or something, so maybe it was that... cat. Thing. Whatever it was, it made his spine turn cold and Alaric didn't want to try to focus to pick up what it really might be.

What the hell was going on?

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[from here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1069168.html?thread=77182064#t77182064)]

Tea, of course, was a staple of any Japanese meal and England was kind enough to suggest something that he was certain he could find at least most of the ingredients for. Nikujaga was a simple dish and as long as the pantry here held sugar, soy sauce and some manner of cooking sake, he could create something appropriate. The manjuu would be a little harder, but he didn't want to deny Prussia's request right away. He would need to see what was in the kitchen first.

"I would be glad to make these things for you." Mostly because if he was cooking, it meant it would take their minds off finding weapons. Bowing his head, he walked through the door to the Sun Room and felt his heart fall at the sight of the pitch dark in front of them. Was it always like this? His flashlight did nothing at all to pierce the inky black and while Japan was fairly certain someone else had to be in this room, he had no idea where they were. What if he bumped into someone? How was he supposed to apologize properly if they couldn't even see each other?

Then again, the darkness reminded him of the old days when ninja searched through new moon nights for a lone samurai hiding in the reeds by the riverbank. With that in mind, this was almost...a bit nostalgic, and Japan felt his spirits bolster a bit. Of course, if he was a real ninja, he'd have a sword and shuriken and-- Oh, wait, that would...be against the constitution. Just like the uniform in the bag at his side.

With a sigh, Japan continued across the room, following Prussia and England as he dismissed thoughts of the ninja costume sitting somewhere at home.

Sword and shuriken were probably items Japan would soon wish to have, constitution or not. There had been blood spilled in this room already, soaking into the curse and slaking its thirst only barely. Though dark and moonless, the sun room was otherwise as it was in the day -- at least structurally.

The couches and footstools had been overturned and thrown throughout the room, splintered in places, stuffing leaking out where the upholstery had been ripped. Notes from the bulletin board had been crumpled, torn from the cork and scattered until the patients' feet risked landing on sharp tacks as much as carpet. The ceiling above was the most heavily obscured by darkness, inscrutable and invisible.

But likely of more attention for the patients was something that happened as soon as the doors shut behind them: a thump, heavy and crisp, emanating from the side of the room that was still swathed in shadows. It repeated, and then again, patterning into a sound rhythmic and regular.

"Thankyou," England said with genuine gratitude showing through. The slop that they had served today certainly wasn't the worst thing that he'd ever had to eat, but he had become used to the finer things in the last few centuries. Not to mention it was another sign of their imprisonment at the hands of a madman, and the humiliation of being treated as a raw recruit by their captors. He was used to being shown proper respect after all!

England felt a shiver run down his spine as soon as they entered the room. It was black as pitch inside, the shadows deep and forbidding. Suddenly, talking about ghosts didn't seem quite as amusing as it had done earlier. They were usually mindless things, memories stuck repeating themselves, but some were truly malevolent.

He winced as the doors closed behind them, feeling suddnly rather trapped. he didn't have time though to ponder that feeling before there was a thump across the room which England quickly turned to face. "What was that?" he hissed, only for it to happen again, and again. It couldn't be an accident though. Nothing occurring by pure chance had such a regular beat.

If Prussia had thought about thanking Japan along with England, the thought vanished as soon as he caught sight of the state of the Sun Room. The smell of blood hung in the air (he thought he saw a few places were it had been spilled), furniture had been overturned, and the notes from the bulletin board were scattered everything.

It was only his second time in there after lights-out (if he excluded that time with the 'teleporting'), and it was also the second time it had been like this. The last time he'd seen the room in this state, he'd wondered what the hell had happened. Tonight, his question was a little different, "It's like this again?"

If it weren't for the blood, it could have been just someone venting their frustration on the furniture, but... Whatever had happened in here—both tonight and the last time—must have been one damn big fight.

Prussia started across the room, glancing back when he heard the doors shut, and then stopped at the sound of a thump from across the room. "Probably just another prisoner in here," he commented in answer to England's question. But last time he'd been in here, there had also been... He pointed the light of his torch in the direction of the sound as it repeated, trying to see if there was someone or something there. "....Or maybe a cat."

Japan didn't notice the state of the room until he was further into it, and even then only when the smell of blood hit him like a hammer to the face. The sudden appearance of everything at once was like a physical blow and Japan started, taking a step back as he realized what was going on. The couches were thrown all over; the chairs, too. Tables were overturned and Japan's boot-clad foot kicked a crumpled paper ball, causing him to look down at the same time that the door snapped shut behind them.

Your party has encountered--

A thump emanated from across the room, cutting off the pop-up before Japan could finish reading it. He took another step back as the sound came again and again, bringing the pillow sack up to his chest, clutching it in both hands. England's question was likely echoed by all of them and he took a third step back as the hair on his neck raised and chills ran down his spine. Prussia's statement, however, caused a different sort of jolt to run through Japan.

"A-Again?" Was the Sun Room always like this at night? Maybe this wasn't something as unnerving as he feared and it was merely someone...being extremely unpleasant to the furniture. He could deal with that. Japan disapproved of reckless violence, but he could deal with it. "Does...this sort of thing happen often, Prussia-san? M-Maybe it's just..." No, that likely wasn't it. Drawing closer to England, he looked at the other nation and said, "If I may make a suggestion? Perhaps we should move along now? Quickly?"

[from here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1069168.html?thread=77238128#t77238128)]

As he feared... The room was darker than it should be - and silent. Okita had been fairly certain he'd seen others come through here, moving ahead while he and Hijikata had waited for Yomi to appear. In fact, he'd been sure he'd seen someone go in just a little while before them. And yet, when they entered the room, it was as silent and dark as a new moon night in the countryside. No wind stirred anything here, and no footsteps disturbed the night to bring some measure of human comfort to the eerie emptiness.

Okita tightened his grip on his sword and frowned, trying to peer into the dark now that he could no longer owned a flashlight to pierce the black. He wasn't completely unaccustomed to working at night, not with his job, but this sort of thing was new. No lights at all, just...unending darkness.

"...Straight through to the cafeteria, then beyond that to the kitchen. The entrance is in the thing called a 'refrigerator,'" he said, trying not to trip up over the unfamiliar word as he moved further into the room.

No light at all, and even a blade that might have caught a gleam of starlight was merely a muffled grey, smothered by darkness despite the faint light of flashlights slicing through the doorway as they entered. The world was quiet here, a dead silence that made even the footsteps of trained warriors sound clear, but the tranquility of sound made no suggestion of temperament.

Blood had fed this curse, in this room, before, and that blood had been subsumed by it. From the shadows ahead there was a faint noise, someone's light shuffling footsteps, and a flap of cloth -- a hint of movement where there had been none when they entered.

Movement, but not life; but that was not for the patients to discover just yet. From the far corner of the room came a faint rattle, breath through ruined throat, but it was faint enough that it might have been no more than the wind through the woodwork. Still, as the doors closed behind them those patients more perceptive would sense that they were far from alone.

It was dark when they stepped into the Sun Room. Darker than it should have been, given the existence of windows in the roof overhead. It was virtually impossible to see anything, and the lack of any sound only compounded the the feeling of wrongness that seemed to pervade the place. Even as Souji laid out their course of action, he knew it wasn't going to be that simple.

And as they began to move deeper into the darkness, that certainty grew. There was noise, somewhere, too faint to be properly made out. Something that might easily be dismissed, but Hijikata knew all too well that doing such a thing could prove fatal.

His grip tightened on the katana in his hands as he hoped whatever was there with them would have as much trouble seeing them as they were having in this inky blackness.

Unfortunately, he also knew how infrequently luck was really on their side.

No one seemed willing to share their thoughts more than was necessary to slot them into their roles for the night, and so for the moment Yomi settled into hers. Where teamwork was concerned, ideally Yomi would have preferred the lead, but since she lacked the same authority she had while human, the next best position was in the rear. It allowed her to avoid being sandwiched between the two men. As far as she was concerned, the two of them came as a package, and the ground had already thinned around Okita; if she was going to be here, she was going to be the observer, not the observed.

As a result, Yomi was the last inside, but it took no time at all for her to be able to confirm that they were not alone--and also what that something was. You’re back again, are you?

From their responses, neither Okita nor Hijikata had the same awareness, which she could have guessed. It would have been a strange quirk if they had arrived with supernatural abilities, too. But though for some reason the Institute let them see things that might normally have gone unnoticed in Yomi’s experience, their ‘sight’ didn’t appear to extend past the five senses. And, perhaps, what the lead spectre wanted them to see.

“Haunted space,” she clarified. “Violent spectres are feeding off the energy here.” And at least one that Yomi had encountered before, in this same spot. But as she spread out, ears trained on the all too corporeal sounds of movement within the black, she suspected she wouldn’t be able to run past the disturbance as easily as before. The sesshouseki’s voice was knife-sharp--one tainted essence acknowledging another. They were right in its nest. “Get ready.”

Not to mention, she was with “team members” this time. Leaving them behind could be perceived as rudeness… among other things. Make first contact, then? Stay in back? She disliked the idea on sheer principle, but her next act was going to be based on their ambusher’s first move.

At the sound across the room, Okita froze. If luck was on their side, it was merely another patient moving through the room. Soon enough, Okita would see a flash of blue and some frightened face shuffling across the floor toward them, just as shocked to see someone else as they were to see them. Unfortunately, luck was never on their side and Okita knew better than to hope it could be. He placed both hands on his sword hilt, turning his body toward the faint sounds and bringing the blade around to bear. He wanted to believe he could deal with this threat better than last night's unexpected ambush, but as soon as Yomi spoke, he felt his blood run cold.

Haunted space. Violent spectres? Feeding off the energy here - the undercurrent of violence that flowed through this room, building like a pool of anger and grief from those lost and those mourning.

Ayumu.

How did one fight a ghost if that was what this was? Okita had no reason to doubt Yomi's words. He had seen and heard what her shadow had said and if she could sense spirits, it would explain the sensation he felt around her. It would explain a lot of things, really.

"Whatever comes, you two get through first. I have your backs." Spirit or no, he would not allow this thing to stop them. With his sword at the ready, Okita began to move across the room, choking back the feeling that tonight's encounter was going to be far worse than any before.

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