Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

[damned-intercom.livejournal.com]

Despite the rough start and the heavier snowfall, the buses managed to stay on route and on schedule. With minutes to spare, they arrived at the gates of Landel's Institute, back to the waiting arms of the military. All pretenses seemed to drop at this point, and the soldiers again took on their patented gruff exteriors. Patients were filed out of the buses in an orderly manner, eventually being escorted to their rooms for dinner in much the same. There, as promised by the personnel, well-behaved patients found their purchases among their returned possessions. A few even found new faces, though whether they brought as much joy as bought goods remained unseen.

The woman manning the intercom seemed to have missed the notice about the day's trip as her announcement remained no different from the usual. "Attention all subjects and personnel," she said. "Lights Out will commence within the hour."

A pause.

"I repeat, Lights Out will commence within the hour. All personnel: please report to your stations. The General will begin his address once preparations are underway. Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

Comments

F8

[ninelivesonce]

For once, Taura wasn't ravenous when she reached her room.  She'd dropped by the restaurant long enough to wolf down a second lunch before boarding the transport.  It had had the added benefit of putting her somewhere she knew was easily defensible if their rides didn't show up.  For once the stares she got didn't bother her -- she was too busy racing bites with the clock.  When the buses rumbled past, she'd dropped her coupon on her empty plate and left.

The ride back had been quiet too -- she'd watched the landscape, memorizing the route, again.  It hadn't changed since last week, but being too careful wasn't in Taura's vocabulary.

She was all too happy to shed ill-fitting clothes for a uniform, though they insisted on the old one, rather than the crisper new clothes. As soon as they left she changed, and checked her stuff -- everything accounted for, even the old paper receipts from the stores.  She set out the materia and her arsenal and put the rest away.  Hopefully the box would keep out the wildlife -- larger containers of food were more economical, but they didn't reseal.  

Then she started on the gruel, which was positively revolting when she wasn't hungry.    

M14

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

The first thing Badd did when he was returned to his room was check for his notebook. It was there, and seemingly undisturbed (not that it wasn't a given that the institute would go through their things), but the shard of glass was missing. Guess it was too much of a weapon to be allowed during the day. Badd unfolded the notebook and began updating his notes of the day as he waited for Javert and their dinner.

At least Javert was professional. Unlike with the brat, it didn't sting as much to surrender and say he was right.

Re: M14

[unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com]

The heavy snowfall had made moving from building to building difficult in Doyleton, and as a result Javert had made very little headway, both literally and in terms of his own investigations. Nevertheless, he had managed to get more fresh air than he usually did in a week, and the entire patient population had managed to reach the relative safety of the institute without incident. It was the little things he had to appreciate here to keep him sane.

Not that it particularly mattered, he reflected as he entered his room, his supper following close behind him. His roommate thought him mad anyway. Reynolds would be laughing if he knew. Javert supposed it was only fair.

He bade his escort good night and shut the door behind him, choosing to ignore Badd for the moment. God knew what the other man thought of him by now. He had no real desire to further complicate the situation.

F14

[gald_digger]

The ride back had been a quiet one for Anise, but that was okay since she'd had a pretty busy day. While on the bus, the girl spent much of her time with her head against the window and her eyes closed, but she didn't fall asleep. It was nice to rest for once, but she didn't have time to nap. The knowledge that an ambush could come at any time made it impossible to relax that much, anyway.

Fortunately, she was brought back to the building and to her room without incident. Her belongings were waiting for her, along with the purchases she made at Doyleton. Binoculars, a miniature flashlight, two bags of gummies, and some granola bars... All in all, it was a pretty good haul.

But most important of all, she had Tokunaga back! It was really cruel how the military didn't let her keep it during the day. Anise made a point of putting the doll on her back where it belonged before she did anything else.

Next, she laid out her things on her bed for the night. Normally, she'd wait until her roommate's nurse came and left, but since the military wasn't bothering with pretenses, they probably wouldn't care. They were the ones who put her belongings there in the first place. On top of her comforter, Anise set down her black jacket and gloves, her binoculars, her miniature flashlight, and her meat tenderizer. Now she was equipped and ready for an outdoor adventure! At least, she figured that was what was happening tonight.

With that settled, she sat down at her desk and started eating her curry. The more she ate now, the less she'd have to eat in front of Rei, and the less guilty she'd have to feel, so she ate as quickly as she was able to.

M16

[girlsandgadgets]

Though the trip went without incident, Edgar was completely exhausted by the time they returned. The cold weather had provided him some relief from the sweltering heat that radiated through him, but his illness still left him more fatigued than he'd ever admit. There wasn't to say there weren't positive points throughout the day, namely the part where he discovered that Natalia was still around. No, he wouldn't wish a prolonged captivity- especially one at the Institute, where specialized experimentation was on the regular schedule- on anyone, and while Guy had implied that her being released and brainwashed was the best hope for her, Edgar couldn't accept it. She had spoken so adamantly of her people! To be robbed of one's self, especially when there were people counting on them... unless there was a chance their memories could be returned, it wasn't much better than death.

He set his tray on his desk (how tragic that he'd been ill all day, and therefore without much of an appetite- the pink sludge had made a return), eyeing the box of possessions for a moment. All of his equipment- the scavenged goods, the items from Edward March's box, and the bag he'd purchased in town- were all present. Thus far, Aguilar had kept his promises. It was strange to think of him as more reliable than Landel in any way, though Edgar wasn't sure which of the two heads he preferred. The Head Doctor, while his aims had been mostly unclear, had seemingly given the weaker patients some form of a chance; the General was aiming to weed out those unfit for survival, and held a much tighter grip on the patient population. Personally, he found Aguilar's directness to be the marginally better option; however, he couldn't stomach the casualties that were inevitable with the military's methods.

In the end, it didn't matter which of the two was the better head of the institute. The patients were prisoners- no, test subjects for some project, running through the maze and giving their all in a bid to be allowed to live. All were pushed to their limits, but for what end? It was one thing to have soldiers and specialists battling within the building, but what of the civilians? And of the children? Not everyone was capable of protecting themselves- it left those without such training at a disadvantage if they didn't find safety in numbers. Then again, that might have been one of the aims: to see who would work together, and who would go alone.

They didn't have all the answers, but it was clear that both Aguilar and Landel were vile beyond words.

With no sign of Gren, Edgar flopped onto the bed in a heap, turning onto his back, making no attempt at feigned composure. Though he closed his eyes, he was listening for the door to open. He needed to make sure his roommate was all right, relatively speaking... or still at the institute at all. A rattled sigh escaped him; the frustration just kept mounting.

[stellarregions]

While his conversation with Leela in the bar had bolstered Gren's spirits some--the illusion of hope, however fragile, could still do wonders for the soul--the day had declined from there. The cold, achy feeling had persisted and by the time the bus trip home had rolled around, he'd begun to feel distinctly ill.

He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what was going on, but he wouldn't--couldn't--give that dread in the pit of his stomach a name. He just knew he recognized this feeling all too well, and if they'd done to him what he thought they had, he was going to have to make some hard choices in the near future.

The military was no more talkative than usual as they forced dinner upon him and marched him back to his room. If he'd disliked them yesterday, something akin to actual hatred had now lodged itself in his chest. He didn't like to think of himself as a vindictive person, but it was hard not to want to exact some sort of revenge for the previous night. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and kept walking until he reached the room.

It was a relief to see Edgar. He hadn't caught sight of his roommate in town, and he'd been morbidly entertaining the thought that he might not see the man again. From the look of things, however, they hadn't been any kinder to Edgar than they had been to him last night. He set his tray down on his desk, abandoning it in favor of the momentary comfort his bed could offer.

"You look about as awful as I feel." Make a joke of it. It was easier than remembering, that was for sure.

M67

[contentincloset.livejournal.com]

The half of a bottle of wine had been the best part of his day and, he believed, his time there. But even that had had some annoyance with it. If they'd given them the money and had let them into the bar then why the hell had it been taken away? Being forced to leave hadn't put him in the best of moods either, especially given that Fai had been allowed to remain. Something told him he'd never live that down.

Then again... after today he didn't think anything would be quite that predictable when it came to that man.

What he could predict was his soon to arrive roommate, and since he wasn't in the mood for two problems as once, he focused on the more imminent one as he sat down to his food.

F26

[shorttank.livejournal.com]

That announcement didn't sound encouraging. At least the not-DOOP lady hadn't preceded it with 'good news, everybody!', a sure sign things were about to get slimy, deadly, stingy, or some combination of all three. On the other hand, Leela was pretty sure by now that every announcement in this place could be taken with an implied 'good news, nobody,' and her silent reply was one that had served her well in the past: I intend to do as little dying as possible.

Back to pink glop for this meal, she saw, with displeasure only equaled by her lack of surprise. She'd managed to get a pretty good meal in the town, and after the cow and those beers, thought she should probably skip the substance of questionable nutritional value and even more questionable taste. It would probably be a thousand years before they got around to adding flavor to the stuff. She got the heck out of the ugly purple sweater, and back into the infinitely more stylish uniform. Maybe the concept of the thing ought to have bothered her, but hey, it came with boots, it wasn't velour, and there was plenty to object to here without dragging the poor clothes into it.

She sat down at her desk, and took out the journal she'd thought about using, but hadn't yet. It might be useful to try to recreate those maps she used to see posted sometimes. She'd never gotten far in looking around the second floor, but knowing where she and Gren shouldn't bother to look tonight was a start.

M83

[promisedawhale.livejournal.com]

What an excellent day he'd just had! Brook could not recall the last time he'd been allowed such a good time in this place without his friends being there. He hoped that there would be more opportunities for such outings - once a week just was not enough, they should have the whole weekend!

Though given the way he'd been escorted out of the bar, once a week might have been the better option. Brook may have been a pirate, but he was pretty sure that with enough time and money anyone could get to the same rowdy, cheerful state he tried to keep up 24/7.

"...As we all set sail to the ends of the sea..." he sung softly as he entered his room, finding no roommate there as of yet. He hoped that Michelangelo had made the most of his own trip out as well. And if not, Brook would be sure to cheer him up as best he could!

M83

[hiddenbadass]

So there were some "normal" people after all.

That was what Mike had gathered from his trip to Doyleton. Even if it was all an illusion, even if they were all brainwashed and part of some large conspiracy, they were better off than the enslaved workers at Shredder's labor camps.

Mike was distracted from his thoughts when he finally reached his room that he shared with his overly cheerful roommate. In another life, maybe they would've gotten along. But, now, Mike found him slightly annoying.

Not having any other choice with his guard nearby, Mike walked into the room so that the door closed behind him. "Yo."

M17

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

Well, they'd made it through the day without incident (Peter and Pilgrim's obsession with the Skywalker kid aside). The first thing Indy did when he came in was check his box; everything was where it should be, with the side of his leather jacket unscathed and with the new addition of the book he'd bought late that afternoon.

He picked up the paperback and studied the cover with a frown. Raiders of the Lost Ark. A novel of high adventure...adapted from the screenplay. The battered used copy had cost him $6. The drawing on the cover was undeniably him--more of a mustache than he usually wore, Indy told himself, but even the braiding of the whip handle was right.

He hadn't read it or even opened it, just took it to the register as soon as he pulled it off the shelf. Now he tossed it face-up on the desk and sat down to face his dinner. Indy'd eaten a large, late lunch to compensate for the gruel, and he was glad for it now. Still worth getting down a few spoonfuls in case Taylor's promise of more food tonight rang hollow. Indy picked up his spoon and managed three bites before he couldn't contain his curiosity anymore and picked up the book.

M31

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

There was no satisfaction to be found in his suspicions being right when it meant the night would present yet more new and different dumbfuckery for the prisoners to deal with. Mello ignored the presence of the pink gruel, and immediately reclaimed the chocolate bar from his possessions. He did a quick inventory to make sure everything was still there, got the hell out of that idiotic orange hoodie and back into the uniform, then perched on his desk, as usual at dinnertime, to tear the candy bar wrapper open and snap off a bite.

The rules had changed, that was certain. Aguilar's apparent mania for results seemed so far to display itself as a willingness to let the prisoners be more dangerous to themselves and others, outright allowing the items that would've been confiscated under Landel. It went with the parts the principals had played: Landel faking that he wanted what was best for the prisoners, the father figure dispensing tough love; Aguilar trying to goad them into giving him what he wanted, the implication being that playing the game was better for everyone, that some nebulous reward worth achieving was available thought merit.

Mello still didn't buy either angle; it was all no more than ways to fuck with them, mentally and physically, as far as he was concerned. He was no closer to seeing the picture of what the Institute was really about come clear, but all the necessary pieces were there. He was sure of it, and damn the bugs trying to tell him otherwise. He snapped off another bite of chocolate, viciously. Whatever the night held in store, he wouldn't let it distract him from his goals.

F36

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

In the end, Rita's patience paid off. It had been a struggle to keep from punching any of her captors in the face, but here she was, with her belongings (new purchases included) set on top of her bed.

If it weren't for the promises she made for the evening, Rita probably wouldn't have restrained herself so much. Thinking of those first and foremost, she first took the magnifying lens and Leon's notebook from the possession box and set them on her desk for convenience. She also collected her usual nightshift equipment - backpack, chain belt, flashlight, and radio - and set them on the floor next to her desk. The red portal ring was slipped on her right ring finger. Hopefully her obligations wouldn't keep her for so long that she wouldn't have time to get out and investigate more of the institute.

With her preparations more or less complete, Rita sat down at her desk. Her roommate was sleeping, and while Rita would have liked her to share more of her dinner tonight, she didn't feel it was necessary to wake the girl. But the gruel... How was she supposed to eat this slop?

F20

[stylebythemile]

But... what if I disappear?

The question she had asked at Maeve's house was still ringing in her ears, and she couldn't help but ask it again as she nervously looked down at her transparent body. All she could do right now was wait, and make sure she didn't move--she didn't know, maybe if she saved her strength, she could fight this off! But the tingling wouldn't stop.

This was all her fault. There were still so many things they hadn't done yet, like finding Mother. And what about Sonic and Manic? What if she never saw them again? Those two would be hopeless without her!

A light rumble suddenly shook the cave, and Sonia glanced around at the pebbles that fell from the ceiling. What was that? But she had bigger things to worry about than whatever had caused that tremor; she couldn't feel her face! Oh no! Her hands quickly moved up to it. Now that was beginning to fade, too!

Relax, Sonia. You'll make it. Everything's going to be fine! The princess lowered her hands to her sides again and stared ahead at the dark passageway. Her brothers wouldn't let her down. They'd be back any minute. She knew it!

--

She had closed her eyes for five seconds to try and collect herself, but what came next made her wish she hadn't. "Ah!" She cried out in surprise and shut them again. Sonia knew better than a lot of people that letting your guard down could be the worst mistake you could make, so keeping her eyes shut for longer than three seconds in a place she might not be familiar with was a bad idea. Too bad she hadn't thought of that sooner.

Let's try this again. Very slowly, she squinted against the white surrounding her. No one was in the room with her, but in her line of work, situations had a tendency to change when you least expected them to, so she wasn't going to assume anything just yet. That was why when she hopped out of the bed sheets and looked around her, she was wary. Her eyes moved across every surface and her ears listened for any sounds of approach. "Huh?" The princess cast a wide-eyed glance at the closed door, hearing hurried footsteps and unfamiliar voices outside. "Where am I?" she asked no one in particular, then took a quick look at the other bed to double-check no one was there. But why wasn't anyone here? Why have two beds if it was only her?

The glint of metal on top of the dresser caught her eye. Dog tags. Who could they belong to? But a small glimpse of her hand as it reached for them was all it took to kick-start what was sure to be one of her worst days as a Freedom Fighter.

"Ahh!" Her body was tangible again, but...! Horrified, she flinched and jerked her arm out in front of her, trying to get as far away from her hand as she could. Except this wasn't her hand!! Her hand was smaller, and--! Her jaw fell even further when she got a look at the rest of her body, and she took a nervous step back, unable to keep herself from letting out a loud gasp. "Oh my gosh!!" The princess raised her arms away from her body like it was covered in paint and stared. As she trembled, she hesitantly felt her face, afraid of what she'd find there. "Wh-What happened to me!?" she cried, then gingerly ran one hand over the other. They were as soft as satin. Smoother than velvet! "What if instead of making me disappear, the pendant gave me a new body?"

Re: F20

[stylebythemile]

The thought gave her pause. Shaking, she gradually lowered her arms and looked them over. One of her hands clutched at her chest for the pendant, but came back empty. "The pendant's gone!" And as if things couldn't get any worse...! "And my medallion, too! I've got to get them back!" Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, but she paused again to try and catch up with her racing thoughts. Focus. Someone must have taken them. But who? Whoever had brought her here may have been taking care of her. Or maybe they just didn't follow Robotnik's example of what a prison ought to look like. It certainly didn't smell like a cell she'd ever been in.

What could have happened? She closed her eyes again and hugged her arms around her chest. Nobody had been in that cave where they'd left her. There hadn't been any SWATbots outside either--they'd made sure of that. The last thing she remembered was standing in that cave, so that must have been where she got caught. ...But she had only closed her eyes for five seconds! How could they have transported her this far in such a short time? Her body had to have changed by the time they'd found her, too. Sonic hadn't been able to grab her arm before that.

I don't think I fainted...

The pendant disappearing wouldn't be that unusual--without the other half, it wouldn't have taken long for it to vanish--but her medallion? What if it...? No, she told herself with a shake of her head. She had come out intact (mostly), right? Besides, it'd survived worse than that. She couldn't just say it was lost. Her medallion was practically her birthright! For all she knew, it may have been what saved her from disappearing! She knew it was a stretch, but if it was true, maybe it could change her back; after all, it had helped her during that Sonic Tonic fiasco, though she'd had to activate it that time. Whether it could help her out of this jam or not-- no matter what had happened to it, Sonia wasn't about to give up on finding it. If she did, she might have to forget about fitting into her wardrobe again, but right now clothes were the least of her worries!

The princess shot another worried glance downward and curled her hand around where her medallion should have been, swallowing the lump in her throat. She then steeled her nerve and made her way to the door, but not before grabbing the dog tags (last time she checked, her name wasn't 'Sophie Vallance'. Somebody must have left them here). She couldn't waste any more time. Right now, what was important was that she found a way out of here, before--

Clang. Someone was coming! She let out a low gasp and retreated two steps, bracing herself.

M58

[sasuke-of-sound.livejournal.com]

Dinner had been silent for enough days that Sasuke questioned occasionally whether his roommate was actually still around or not -- for all that the boy had expressed confidence when they'd first met, confidence was as poor a predictor of lasting in the Institute as was competence. Whatever metric was used was one that Sasuke had not yet grasped, however clear the structure of its measure had become over the past few days. He listened carefully as the soldiers shut the door behind them for the end of the day, one of the few remnants of the farce.

There was a presence and movement at the other side of the room, but no speaking. He had been too caught in his own thoughts over the past days: the seemingly endless frustrations and the tease of being close enough to an age-old goal that he could sense it across his fingers. The length of time it took to accomplish something and the weight of reliance on others -- one of these was familiar and the other no longer so.

Not as obviously as this, anyway, speaking to Sai on the bus and hearing Sakura's voice calling to him over the crunch of snow, brief exchange of information and times with the cold biting at their skin.

Whatever the case -- someone else was in the room. Whether it was the same roommate as before was something Sasuke had not observed closely enough to be certain just by listening, but he made no bid for conversation before starting on dinner. Tonight was not a night to be concerned for anything but time.

Re: M58

[purgatio]

When the door opened, Albedo had been crouched on his bed, eying the box near the closet. The dark-haired other came in, moving straight to his side, and the door closed again. Albedo looked at it for a moment, before hopping off of the bed, striding over to the box. There was a point tonight, two things to be accomplished, and he wouldn't waste any time. He opened it, first digging out the used ring and idly sliding it on a finger. It would need to be set outside the door. In case his timing was better, Nigredo's room key was slid into a pocket, shoved downward.

As he did these things, he called over, tone bland, bored. "So we're both still here, hmm? Tell me, then, if you will." He glanced from his crouched position, violet eyes peering through his bangs. "How many fools have you seen pass through this place?"

If Albedo was to start keeping track, he was already a few handfuls behind. Ah, but-- That wasn't the actual question, now was it? Yet, still, it was too tempting to just let lie.

M114

[oneman-onekill.livejournal.com]

So, that Lana Skye seemed pretty even-keeled. He could tell that she'd been seriously scrutinizing him the whole time, though, probably to see if he matched up to whatever Gant or Badd had said about him. What a pain...but, that was the price he paid for his excellent personality.

Niikura walked into his room and grimaced at the sight of the bowl of pink sitting pretty on his desk. With a resigned sigh, he fell into his desk chair and prodded it glumly with his spoon. Suddenly, that burger he'd had in the afternoon seemed ages away, and a week stretched on before his eyes. Seven days couldn't pass fast enough, and he hadn't even gotten to the first.

At least it sounded like things would be interesting tonight - hopefully not in the "we messed with your food" way again. Phoenix had some interesting information, and he was all for getting his hands on a metal baseball bat: now that could do some real damage.

f1

[see-my-back.livejournal.com]

Sakura had mixed feelings coming back to her room. While today had been only slightly productive, it was better than nothing. And even if she did feel a little guilty spending her money on hair care products, it wasn't like they'd have let her bring back a weapon. Especially considering the body search they'd gone through. She understood routine and procedures better than most, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

When she was escorted back to her room, she was surprised to see the real food, rather than pink goo, nevermind how nice and sociable her escort was being. While they'd confiscated the products for the ride home, he told her, they should be in the metal box with her name, along with her other belongings. While she was sure he meant things like her flashlight and pens, when he left and she opened the box, it was everything that'd disappeared the night before. What the hell? Clothes, weapons, test tubes, razorblades, Jiraiya's dirty novel, all of it was here.

She left the box on her bed, closed, while she sat down to eat her meal. After pink sludge, it was surprisingly welcome and though suspicious, in much better spirits.

F15

[giftofstars.livejournal.com]

Sakura abruptly woke from her slumber as the woman manning the intercom made the announcement. Her first instinct was that it was now morning and time to go to breakfast, but the lights out announcement set off an alarm in her head. So that meant it was almost night? How long had she been out? Sakura had slept through days in the past before, but she thought she had already overcome that exhaustion.

As the young girl sat up, she had the worst feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had something happened to her friends and family? Was Yue or Touya okay? Was Tsubaki okay? It seemed like every time she slept through a day or two, something bad always happened. She only hoped that she was wrong.

Trying to shelve her bad feelings, Sakura took a gulp of her gruel. It wasn't a waffle, but Sakura was willing to eat anything at this point not only for nourishment but also to get her mind on something else.

Re: F15

[thecamellia.livejournal.com]

Out of the whole day, the worst of it had been the searches on the way home, and in the grand scheme of things, they were just a small moment of discomfort. Tsubaki’s fears had so far been unfounded, which wasn’t at all a bad thing. Though she hadn’t seen a lot of people, the trip had actually been nice. She hoped Sora had liked the snowman.

As a matter of course, there was no accounting for what nightshift would bring after the pleasantness of the day, and she could only guess if the military had some kind of surprise in store. She wasn’t surprised when the soldiers ceased pretending to be hospital staff once the buses unloaded; the last few days had set the tone for what their leadership would be like.

Tsubaki arrived back at her room escorted by her female soldier, cheeks still a bit pink from the cold. “Thank you,” she murmured in her usual way as the door was unlocked for her.

Inside, already eating, was Sakura. Oh, good.

The girl had still been asleep when Tsubaki had left in the morning, but now that they were both awake, she gave her roommate a smile. “Hi! How are you?” Actually, that was weird, Sakura was already back in her hospital uniform…

M42

[scarefaux]

The door closed behind the Scarecrow with a solid clunk, leaving the former strawman alone in his room. Though not much had happened throughout the day— or at least there didn't seem to be many changes from the way Wizard Landel handled the day trips, though that might have been the military trying to keep the townsfolk from knowing any changes had occurred at all at the Institute— he was glad he'd gotten to enjoy the snow for a while, even if he hadn't accomplished a great deal.

Well, that part about not accomplishing much wasn't entirely true. He had managed to catch up with Sangamon, learning about the basement and the dangers hidden there, and his conversation with Mele, while he never did find out if they'd truly met the same person in the Entry Room, gave him hope that the Burning Man may have been a wayward patient, one who was still around if the nurses patched him back together. If he could be found and his safety assured, the Scarecrow was positive it'd be a relief to Sergeant Carter— and himself, as well. To have thought he watched someone actually die was very distressing.

That brought him to Depth Charge, who he'd not seen since dinner the night before. The nurse had changed the Scarecrow's bandage again before allowing him into the building; the stiffness of the fabric and his own wounded skin was uncomfortable enough, but the accompanying pain was enough to have him shaking. He could ponder why his body reacted to pain the way it did later— his primary concern for the moment was Depth Charge, and how he might be concerned. And what good did worrying about it do? He would get that fretful look on his face, but it wasn't as though the arm could be unburnt. It couldn't be helped now; in the future, the Entry Room was just going to have to be avoided, and that was that. No need for him to be upset.

Of course, this was all coming from a former strawman who, having deposited the tray on his desk (he wasn't hungry anyway, having had a good meal at lunch), was pacing around the room, waiting for his roommate to arrive so he could see just what kind of condition he was in after his journey through the basement. Sangamon's basis for 'just fine' had been more than a little discouraging.

Re: M42

[scalyfishman.livejournal.com]

Another Doyleton trip, another day wasted wandering around that empty little town like he knew what he was doing. As tempting as it had been to try and buy something useful (read: dangerous) with his spending money, Depth Charge had decided with great reluctance that holding back was probably a safer bet for now- who knew if those military knuckleheads would even let him keep a nice, heavy wrench or something? This way he at least had his money saved for next week, when he could come back and get something twice as good.

If there was a next week at all.

But, as bad an influence as talking to Kaworu had been, he didn't have much time for getting overly existential and angsty about the whole deal; as it turned out, the Scarecrow was a far more potent source of concern for him.

At first, as he slumped into his chair and saluted a lazy greeting at his roommate, he hadn't noticed anything wrong aside from the anxious pacing. Then he spotted them- the bandages snaking around the Scarecrow's hand and arm, tightly bound and as fresh as his own were now that they'd returned to the Institute. Talk about a spark attack.

Depth Charge froze for just under a nanoklik, trying to work out how he could have been injured- was something broken? Cuts? Burns? Worse?- but then, where was the point in thinking about it when you could just ask? "What happened to your arm, Scarecrow?" He'd ended up sounding a lot more serious than he'd intended, more concerned than he should have been for an arm injury, but then who was to say there weren't more bandages he couldn't see?

F7

[she-is-ruin.livejournal.com]

Well, the day had been slow and mild, with a small gain and a small loss, the loss of course being time. It hadn’t been as exciting a trip as when the landscape had shifted and the Category Ds had appeared, but Yomi was content. There wasn’t much to do without resisting the soldiers, anyway. If they actually intended the field trips to be a time for the prisoners to relax as Landel had claimed, that remained to be seen.

Back in the cell, Yomi tossed her jacket on her bed and peeled off the shirt underneath. None of the hand-me-down clothes would be suitable in a fight this time. Looked like it was going to have to be the military uniform.

Speaking of… “You kept your word,” she observed once she had taken a look inside the metal box currently storing her “belongings.” The day’s purchase--a length of dusky plum-colord silk cord--was with them, as promised. Huh. Room, board, and even spending money. Landel’s Institute was turning into a regular home away from home.

M64

[terriblehaiku]

The return trip had been as unpleasant as the one into town had been, but they day hadn't been a complete waste, at least. Though he hadn't done much of anything in particular, he at least had a better idea of how things operated. It made him feel less frustrated and confused, though not any less annoyed with the world at large.

At least there hadn't been any ridiculous demands placed upon them. Being left to his own recognizance instead of being ordered around like a child had been a welcome reprieve, even if it hadn't given him a chance to talk with anyone he knew.

The room was empty when he entered it, so he sat down at his desk with his meal, and pulled out both his journal and a pen. Nothing about the place was inspiring him to write, however, so he simply made a few notes to himself before settling in to eat his flavorless meal.

M85

[vstheworld]

One session of feeling mildly violated and a sleep on the bus later, and Scott found himself back in the always welcoming arms of the Institute. Happy birthday to him.

Scott wasn't even touching the gruel on his nightstand. He had a room party to look forward to, and there would be food aplenty there. Not least of which included the food he had busted his ass (among other body parts) to take back with him last night. Maybe it was only cereal, but goddammit, it was like mousse a'lorange in comparison to a bowl candy-coloured vomit.

Besides, he was more focused on the one thing he did want to see in this room, and that was one Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Oh You Know What Goes Here By Now™. He hadn't gotten a chance to speak with his roommate since the night before, and he could only hope that with the ridiculous rate of Landel's healing, the man's injuries would be more bearable by now. Either way, Scott was determined to make this dinner shift less awkward than the last. There was only so much a couch punch to the ribs could get between friends, right?

[threepwood]

[Sorry this is so completely, ridiculously, inexcusably late! D:]

With his stomach rumbling all the way down the hall, Guybrush finally arrived at his room, tray in hand and ready for a good night's rest (or what the institute considered one, as it was anything be restful any given night). He'd been escorted back to the bus shortly after his chat with Morgan- something about how his lengthy stay in the antique shop, coupled with the fact that he was attempting to see how various objects fit into his pockets, sent off red flags with those whose entire job it was to watch the patients with "kleptomania" scrawled on their files and keep them from succumbing to their disorder. Unfortunately, that meant he'd skipped a meal, and all he was getting at the institute was the pink stuff. His stomach grumbled again as he opened the door- he knew he should've eaten before going to the antique store.

In good news, he was eager to satisfy his hunger for exploration that night. Just himself and Morgan, taking on the Institute and maybe the town with files in one hand and swords in the other. He was feeling marginally better, despite his lack of food: his nose was still a little swollen, but at least the bandage was gone; however, his ribs still rattled when he walked. He sighed as the door closed behind him- maybe after a while of sitting and talking with Scott, he'd be ready to go. He probably should have followed the 'experienced' inspector's assessment and stayed in the previous night.

Oh yeah, Scott. Guybrush gave him a nod on the way in, setting his tray on his desk, figuring he could stand to starve a little longer. Even though apologies had been exchanged, it was still a little awkward chatting with the guy who'd knocked the stew out of him. Guybrush felt badly for not being able to do anything about Scott's kidnapping, and Scott felt badly for the whole mess in the first place, even if it hadn't been his fault in any sense.

Guybrush tried to perk up, putting on one of his more winning smiles as he took a seat and turned it to face his roommate. "Hey there, Mister Pilgrim. How'd the day treat you? Great? Great."

F6

[thestormishere]

And what had Lightning somehow missed doing entirely? Meeting up with Snow again, of course.

Frustrated, the young woman was like a wild animal in a small cage, going over everything from the day, chastising herself mentally over and over for what she could have done. Even forcing down the thankfully-bland pink dinner down was difficult in her tense state, but she made herself do it anyway as she paced from one end of the room to the other. She needed her energy. She needed to get out of here. Now.

Or at least as soon as she could track down Hope again, and ideally, Snow at the same time. And somehow figure out an escape without them killing each other--

... She needed to figure out how to keep them from killing each other, damn it! Snow wasn't so much a worry if she could somehow convince him to think before he blurted things out in front of the boy, but Hope... if he was really in the place mentally and emotionally that she suspected, it was possible he was still after the older man. After revenge.

She glanced over at the long knife laying on her bed, next to the too-short sword, and wondered for what was far removed from the first time what had happened to the survival knife that she carried with her as a gift from her sister. The same pseudo-weapon that Hope had apparently tried to finish the NORA leader off with.

What to do...?

ew it's this loser again :|

[36-24-35.livejournal.com]

Freshly changed out of damp hand-me-downs, Tifa was escorted back to her room. She hadn't been the first to arrive, and the young woman gave her roommate a quiet smile of acknowledgement as she moved to her own side of the room.

Her "dinner" was flat out ignored this time around. She hadn't achieved that completely satisfyingly full feeling from Twin Pines, but there was no point wasting that feeling on something the institute probably scraped off the back of this General Aguilar's ass. Actually, now that it was a clear image in her mind, Tifa wouldn't have been surprised if this was mushed up people bits.

Wow, yeah she was never eating dinner again.

Safe--well, safer--in their room, Tifa watched her roommate take stock of her findings.

"Glad to see your night hadn't been a waste!" she offered, just a friendly comment to lighten the silence that hung on them both like an oversized jacket. Or maybe it was just all on her.

F5

[sortaheadstrong.livejournal.com]

After last night's explosion in her room, Celty was more than thankful to find that her roommate was subdued by the time she arrived in the room. She wasn't sure why that was, but with a careful nod Celty decided it wasn't a good idea to ask and tried to keep to herself.

It was back to the pink mush for dinner which she would have to try eventually if she was going to keep being served it. At least she'd gotten to try a hamburger in town for the first time. Not her favorite of things - really slimy (or greasy probably) - but still, it had had a good taste. As for the mush... she ended up in a staring contest with it for a while, debating.