Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freewill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-05-29 02:26 pm
freewill) wrote in damned_institute2011-05-29 02:26 pm
Entry tags:
- aidou,
- albedo,
- alyssa,
- anise,
- badd,
- byrne,
- castiel,
- cloud,
- dexter,
- doctor facilier,
- edgeworth,
- erika,
- gant,
- grell,
- gren,
- guybrush,
- ippo,
- izaya,
- jessica drew,
- klavier,
- lana skye,
- leela,
- luke skywalker,
- maya,
- meekins,
- mello,
- morgan,
- niikura,
- peter parker,
- phoenix,
- rapunzel,
- rei,
- renamon,
- sechs,
- sora,
- stefan,
- sync,
- taura,
- ted logan,
- the flash,
- tolten,
- venom,
- zack
Night 56: Main Hallway, 1-West
[From here.]
He had reached the meeting point in less than a few minutes and there was still not another patient to be seen. Castiel paused, standing near the wall as he moved his flashlight up and down the corridor. There was nothing, not the sound of a shadow slipping through the dark; not the whisper of something less than human.
The only sound was the static that periodically came from his radio. He couldn't seem to get it to let up, and he wondered if it was reacting to him or if he'd been given a faulty one.
He would have preferred the former option, but he had been knocked down too many notches when it came to the loss of his abilities, his divinity, the very things that made him him.
Castiel let out a breath that had been caught in his chest and then lowered his flashlight. He wondered how long this whole process would take, but he supposed that all depended on how well he did as a student. He fashioned himself a fast learner, but he had never been able to grasp things like popular culture.
He imagined he would do a bit better with lockpicking, though. Leaning himself against the wall, Castiel stood there quietly, waiting for Orihara to show himself.
[For Izaya.]
He had reached the meeting point in less than a few minutes and there was still not another patient to be seen. Castiel paused, standing near the wall as he moved his flashlight up and down the corridor. There was nothing, not the sound of a shadow slipping through the dark; not the whisper of something less than human.
The only sound was the static that periodically came from his radio. He couldn't seem to get it to let up, and he wondered if it was reacting to him or if he'd been given a faulty one.
He would have preferred the former option, but he had been knocked down too many notches when it came to the loss of his abilities, his divinity, the very things that made him him.
Castiel let out a breath that had been caught in his chest and then lowered his flashlight. He wondered how long this whole process would take, but he supposed that all depended on how well he did as a student. He fashioned himself a fast learner, but he had never been able to grasp things like popular culture.
He imagined he would do a bit better with lockpicking, though. Leaning himself against the wall, Castiel stood there quietly, waiting for Orihara to show himself.
[For Izaya.]
no subject
He actually wasn't.
It felt like it was becoming harder to walk the more their discussions went from one tangent to the next, like forcing an over-taxed machine to keep watch over a tennis match. The sound around him melted into a sort of low-level hum, each footstep and word fizzling into the air. The world was getting darker and if his head really kept spinning like this--
"Hey, look who it is!"
He most likely wouldn't have even heard the statement without the sharp tug on his wrist (and as it was, he could barely process it with the quickness he normally could). Truthfully, irritation at someone pulling at him was quicker to reach for than the focus it took to look at whatever Sora was waving at, though the latter was eventually...
"...what is that." and why is it so red
no subject
Edward had apparently noticed him even through the darkness, since he waved back to him. While Sora wouldn't have minded chatting with the older teen for a short while, the very fact that Venom could barely follow what was going on meant that it was better to keep moving.
Sora just hoped that Venom's question was directed toward the guy dressed in red rather than Edward himself. "It's a guy in a costume," he explained over his shoulder, keeping his voice down this time. "And Edward."
But Venom was in no position to be having a four-way conversation right now, and so Sora knew that they needed to keep going. Edward looked kind of busy with costume guy, anyway. And so without another word, the boy grabbed for Venom's wrist once more and tugged him further down the hall, past the other two.
[To here.]
no subject
Now it would be just straight down the hall and they would reach the Entry Room. Sora hadn't headed outside that way very often; for some reason he always chose to jump over the wall at the field. Maybe this would be a good test to see if this way was better.
Before he could say anything else, however, the radio that was hanging from his wrist burst to life with static. It was Marc's voice, just like he'd gotten used to over the past few nights, and yet it sounded like he was speaking to someone.
And then... that voice.
Sora stiffened and stopped in his tracks for a moment, staring at the device in disbelief. The conversation continued and it became more and more clear that it really was Landel who was speaking. But why was he with Marc? Had he bullied his way in with him because he had nowhere else to go?
Eventually the two stopped fighting, though, and Landel tried to argue that he was now on the side of the patients. Sora wasn't that willing to believe it, but he doubted anyone would be. The man did go so far as to give a specific clue, though, and it went back to the basement.
Sora had never had much luck trying to get down there, and he didn't know if it was worth checking out just because Landel said so. The broadcast ended not long after that, and Sora finally snapped out of his thoughts and glanced over at Venom. For once, he didn't really know what to say.
no subject
But he did want to see him again...
He had almost been too distracted by cold in his chest to notice the radio's static, but it somehow broke through. The voice that spoke first was immediately recognizable, but the bickering tone he was using was not. From what he recalled, Marc always spoke alone on these random messages. Who is he talking to--
Oh. Him.
Slowly, his eyes turned down to the device hanging from his company's wrist, mouth turning into a barely open scowl. To be honest, the words the man was saying never registered. It never really mattered to the assassin what that pompous, idiotic child was saying; he had already come to the conclusion that 90% of what came out of Martin Landel's mouth was pointless bragging and condescension. No, all that mattered and all that the assassin could focus on was the implication of him speaking on this broadcast in the first place.
Landel was with Marc. Edward found Marc in the forest. Landel was with Marc.
"We have a change of plans." There was no hiding the amount of loathing in those words. Without offering an explanation, he was storming down the hallway.
[To here]