Day 57: Sun Room

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

It figured that night would end before Rita and Taura could progress any further. Rita wasn't particularly disappointed to wake up abruptly, as they had reached a dead end. Really, the institute was doing them a favor by bringing them back to the starting point, where they could regroup.

What she didn't appreciate was the loss of valuable time, and the fact that her equipment had been confiscated once again. Rita didn't have time to mess around... which was precisely why the cheery voice broadcast over the intercom only served to grate on her nerves more than usual. In fact... how was the Head Doctor even giving that announcement? She doubted he'd managed to take the institute back in such a short amount of time, though the broadcast itself was suspicious for a number of reasons. Even though she could clearly hear the man's voice, it didn't necessarily mean that he was there. She had to look at things critically.

Still, it seemed almost as if everything had returned to normal... with a few exceptions. The different staff was one, and her lack of possessions was another. It didn't seem like the staff was expecting to fool the patients into thinking this was the same old institute, so why...?

Even as she went about preparing for the day and walking to her first destination, Rita kept her most pressing questions in mind, coming up with multiple hypotheses to explain what was happening. Since she didn't expect that the Chapel would hold anything of interest to her, Rita opted for the Sun Room instead. She was interested in seeing the bulletin board, for one.

When she entered the Sun Room, Rita brought a pen and her journal with her. If no one approached her, she would at least have a chance to document her discoveries from the previous night. First, however, she checked the bulletin board, only to find it completely empty. That confirmed a few suspicions of hers. Content to see evidence supporting her ideas about the strange occurrences, Rita sat down on a couch, opened her journal, and began to write.

[Free!]

Comments

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

They weren't even trying, were they?

Well. Weren't even trying to convince the patients, that was. An outsider might not have seen anything wrong with that little introduction, but a brief check of his database revealed that it had been spoken word-for-word by Landel precisely a week before: they'd simply replayed it and cut the outdated references to the weather.

Side-by-side with his escort, Lunge walked to the Sun Room. Even with his new-old nurse's uniform, it was easy to recognise the tall, broad-shouldered soldier hidden behind them, faintly ill at ease out of uniform so far as the trained eye could measure. Just as they had been in the town, the military were undercover.

It had made sense, there, trading the military uniforms for clean white medical gear; overt military presence was likely to alarm the townspeople and raise suspicion. Perhaps the same was true of today, and the aim was not to surprise any of the usual Sunday visitors. But that didn't make sense. Surely the visitors were brainwashed to some extent anyway, or simply empty ciphers made to look like friends and relatives? In that case, why was the military making such a careful effort to conceal their activity from them? Surely their opinion was either a moot point or nonexistent? In fact, if Doyleton was the illusion Landel claimed it was, why had they bothered at all yesterday, too? Was there some sort of double bluff going on here simply to throw the patients off, or had he overlooked something critical?

The lack of a conclusion frustrated him. Lunge surveyed the Sun Room briefly for anyone he could air the thought to, but it was still too early for there to be many people around or new bulletins put up. The young woman sitting by herself and writing looked promising enough, at least; it implied a certain level of organisation, and that she actually had something interesting to write about. Very few patients here seemed to actually use their journals at all.

How tenuous- but then, he hardly had a fistful of options.

His approach was casual, and he settled into an armchair opposite with a thoughtful sigh. "Hardly convincing, is it?" he commented, eyes swivelling briefly to the intercom before he gave a faint smile. "Would you mind if I sat here?"

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

Rita's pen stopped for a moment when she heard a man speaking to her. Normally she'd completely tune out any voices around her while doing research, but with the room relatively empty that morning, it wasn't so easy to ignore her surroundings. She glanced up at the person who'd addressed her, and gave a small snort. "Hmph. You mean how they're pretending to pretend to be a normal institute now? It's pretty stupid if you ask me."

To his question, Rita gave a slight shrug of the shoulders, indicating that she didn't care too much either way. She was almost done recording what she learned from the object Taura brought to her last night, and the man wasn't so disruptive that she couldn't finish writing while he was there.

Since there were plenty of other seats around, Rita supposed the stranger might be interested in conversation. While she wasn't much of a conversationalist herself, Rita knew by now that the other patients were the best source of information there was in the institute - books and staff members were pretty much useless.

Without looking up from her journal, she asked after a pause, "That announcement this morning... It's the same one we heard a week ago, isn't it?" That was assuming this man was around back then, but this was one way to find out whether he was new or not.

[escapedpandora.livejournal.com]

...Okay. Perhaps what was more unnerving than anything else had to be how he seemed to be blacking out. Ending up back in his room. With different clothes each time. (Although as much as he had disliked the baggy Doyleton outfits or the stiff uniforms, this was much worse.)

Good enough for pajamas, but not anything else. But maybe that was just him being picky because he wanted his own clothes back. Even if they had been dirty and worn from the number of times he had tripped or skid on crystals and dirt. He wanted his gloves back, and his scarf. It felt weird to go without them, and even the outfit yesterday had covered his neck, even if they had skimped on the gloves in the snow.

Another thing he was more than ready to complain about to someone, anyone, was just how crappy he felt in general. Tired with an itchy throat and far too warm even in this cold weather (it was still cold outside, right? This strange place hadn't magically changed seasons through the night, right?). Maybe they had cranked up the heater, and he really wished they would cut that out. And he just seemed to hurt in general. Not as bad as two days ago when he had marched all day and into the night with little breaks, but irritating none the less as it grated on his nerves and made him feel extremely lethargic.

Still, his protests fell silent as he met the glare of the nurse this morning, and he shrunk back subconsciously and tried to ignore all his physical aches as he was herded to... somewhere he had never been before.

[Open?]

[ofthemotions]

[from here]

And... No. Being deposited in a large room with numerous others was nothing close to gaining answers. Mikado stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, as the man who had escorted him just left. The attempt to follow him out the door was stopped by another man, who shooed the boy towards the center of the room. Uh. He. Had no idea what was going on now. A holding area? If it was a holding area, what was it for? And why were everyone dressed the same? It was as if--

He looked down belatedly. "Ahh!" He pulled the shirt out from his chest, staring at it. Okay, he was dressed the same. Obviously, this meant something that he couldn't discern. The men who escorted him and stopped him were dressed differently, and weren't... All that willing to answer questions. He'd do better focusing on someone dressed like himself, maybe?

What was going on?

Nearby there was a boy that looked around Mikado's age, maybe a little younger. Mikado approached hesitantly, stopping a few feet away. "Ah... Hello," he greeted, smiling nervously, the expression soon deteriorating back into pure nerves. "Do you know what's going on here?"

[dualistic]

Well, that had certainly been an interesting way to end the night. That girl had burst into the room, covered in undead secretions and with a bottle of vodka in hand. It was the sort of thing that you couldn't really argue with, and it had made the night a little more worthwhile. Harvey still couldn't decide whether or not going to that "party" had been a good idea, though the fact that he was ambivalent about it probably meant that it hadn't been a total loss.

He'd be seeing more of Jones, Sangamon, and Scott in the coming night, and under much more stressful circumstances. And until then? Well, they had a day to worry about it. Harvey didn't see much point in dwelling on things like that, but it was hard to push it to the back of his mind when the moment of truth was so near.

But with the morning came the voice of Martin Landel himself, something that made Harvey scowl even while half-asleep. It took him a second to realize that it wasn't right and another two to realize that it wasn't the real deal. He really hoped that Aguilar and his men didn't think that that would honestly trick anyone, although it might actually serve its purpose with some of the newer patients.

Not that that was Harvey's problem. Instead he forced himself out of bed, taking stock of his wounds. He wasn't as sore as he'd been the day before, but his burns and cut still needed to be bandaged. Depending on how the coming night went, he might wake up tomorrow seriously resembling a mummy.

Once again, Harvey rejected the offer from the fake nurse (the cover-up was obvious now) to go to the chapel. The Sun Room might not be as interesting visually, but he didn't need to be surrounded by all of those religious feelings. No, this room would do him just fine. It was going to be much quieter, too, with more than half of the patients upstairs.

[For Lana.]

[fourstonewalls]

Night ended with no accusing shadows, no unearthed ghosts. Maybe the feedback was just that -- or maybe it had only affected the basement.

The intercom was a surprise, for half a sentence; then a wave of static cut rain into snow and made the deception obvious. My, my, was Aguilar already having trouble? What had he said, at the end of night?

Spanish. He'd been speaking Spanish, with an accent most Los Angelenos heard every day. It was the first time she'd heard a foreign language in the Institute since the night Agatha had been brainwashed, though language had taken a back seat to fencing foils from both sides. She hadn't seen the girl lately; pity, since Ema could use more friends her own age.

Not that she'd be easy to pry from one Prosecutor Edgeworth, who was managing to look dignified in what amounted to pajamas the same color as his hair.

Harvey, on the other hand, was sporting more bandages than usual, and, from what she could see of his expression, irritated. Odd how he was easier to read without the bandages, once you got used to his face. "You look like you've seen better days, Dent. Everything all right?"

[corvus-veritas.livejournal.com]

For the third time in a row, the night ended without warning. At first, it seemed the only difference between this morning and other mornings was that Byrne had a mild headache upon waking up. Oh, back here again, was he? Same old story. Welp, time to see what's in store today. He sat up on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples in the hope that his headache would go away--

Woah wait. Wait a second. Waaaait a second. Why was he wearing the smiley face t-shirt again? Where was his army uniform? Wh--huh? Over the intercom--was that--was that Landel's voice? He was in charge again?! What the hell was going on?! Again! He was saying that every day now! Was every damn day in this place an attempt to make him go mad from all the unexpected changes? Oh sure Landel, Aguilar, whoever the hell you are, I'll make it easy for you, just let me apply my head to the wall several hundred thousand times until it splits open like a goddamn watermelon! I'm sure that's what you want, isn't it?! You sons of--

...Before he could finish his inner tirade, however, Byrne was taken from his room like usual. Unlike usual, his escort was a nurse. Well, he was dressed like a nurse, anyway. But from the way he spoke and acted, he seemed more like a soldier than an actual nurse. Soldiers pretending to be nurses? So were Landel and Aguilar cooperating now or something? Ugh, this was so confusing.

In any case, Byrne opted for the Sun Room when given the choice between that and the Chapel. He wasn't a religious man for one thing, and for another he was sure the Chapel didn't have nice couches. The Sun Room did, and lying on one was precisely what he did once he got in there. He needed it right now. This was all making his headache worse.

[Would Renamon happen to have any Tylenol for this poor bloke's headache?]

[diamondstorm]

[ If he has painkillers for her. ]

Different clothes. The same clothes. Surprisingly, this was what she focused on her, blearily looking down at the fabric she had pulled away from her chest. She felt wretched, body drained of all energy. Slowly the Digimon sat up, the announcement echoing like cotton through her head. Landel? No... That sounded more like a mash of words. A pressed together transmission. And of course; today was when 'visitors' came, was it not? And Renamon would not... Even think of that.

She had only swung her feet to the ground when her door opened. The man was severe, though nodded in understanding at her movements. The near compassion from one of these people almost made her sick, and she struggled to stand under her own power. That, in itself, was a task; the instant she straightened, the heavy bandages coating her shoulder blades crinkled, skin shifting. She winced, gritting her teeth. Behind that, and the heavy wrapping and bandages across her torso, the Digimon walked--or shuffled, depending on perception--with a slouch. The man offered her a wheelchair, and she shook her head vehemently. Only once had she been in one. He nodded at her, and moved to escort her out.

Moving upstairs was too much effort at this point, and to that, she had no wanting of seeing the chapel after her failed efforts the night before. A hand across her stomach, she moved into the room, caring little about the people within it. Despite this, she saw a face she knew, and for that, moved towards him, dropping into a soft chair set at an angle to the couch he was on. Her eyes snapped closed at the effort, pain passing over her face, and then she opened them, focusing on the man with effort. "Did you hear the radio last night?"

[oneman-onekill.livejournal.com]

[Assuming some details from a backthread]

This sucked. A lot.

He woke up on his stomach, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, sore all over and feeling like he'd just died three times over. Wanting death, huh? That was what that general guy had said right before the typical fade-to-black, right? Yeah, right now, Niikura could really do with some death in his life. Groaning, the teenager rolled onto his back, arm coming up to flop over his eyes as he tried to tune in to what the intercom was saying. Something about visitors and a theater--not important. Maybe he could stay in bed all day. That would be really nice for once...nope, no go. Soldier Boy was here again, except in a nurse's uniform.

"What gives?" The teen asked groggily as he eyed the other man. "What's up with the unif--"

"Get up," the soldier-turned-nurse said coldly, and the tone in his voice said that if he didn't, he'd be standing up all day. And as much as Niikura liked to toe the line, right now wasn't a good time. So he complied and dragged himself out of his warm, comfortable bed, barely noticing that the smiley face was back on his person as he ran a hand through his hair and yawned before stumbling out the door after the sold--nurse.

Five agonizing minutes later, Niikura was slumped over on a sofa in the Sun Room, not too far away from legitimately passing out. Really, what he needed was some food...

[Edgeworth, enjoy your grumpy teenager.]

[the-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

[orz definitely some assumptions being made here.]

The night before had been more than a little emotionally and physically taxing than Edgeworth had hoped for, but all things considered, he had to admit that an altercation with a human was by far an easier thing to cope with rather than some supernatural creature...but stranger yet was the realization that, as he turned over to look up at the sterile lighting of the room, he couldn't remember actually going to sleep. That same sense of airy confusion and displacement overcame him - same as his first day, though this time dampened by his slight knowledge of what was going on - and the prosecutor did the best he could to stifle it. It was another day - he had to be prepared for anything, and he didn't have time to obsess over the small details just yet.

The clothes were a separate shock altogether.

Once Edgeworth was coherent enough to make sense of his outfit, his brow furrowed in displeasure as he smoothed his hand over the material of his shirt. Well...this was both better and worse than the military uniform, and despite how much he hated the shirt he had been given the day prior, at least it didn't make him feel like...like a patient.

Shaking his head and moving his legs over the side of the bed, Edgeworth stretched as a nurse entered his room, and at first he said nothing as he scrutinized her, his mind wandering to the soldiers he had dealt with the day before.

Is she...? the thought trailed off as the nurse cleared her throat, tersely offering to take him to the chapel, and if not, the sun room for the duration for the morning before breakfast. Edgeworth had never been a terribly religious man, and his upbringing hadn't swayed him one way or the other when it came to which religion suited him...and after being put in a situation like this, Edgeworth didn't exactly feel up to praising any sort of deity. It didn't take long for him to answer, and it took even less time for the nurse to nod and lead him out of the room, the pair of them wordlessly moving to the Sun Room before she went about her business.

There were several patients milling about in the room already, but the prosecutor wasn't feeling especially talkative. His throat ached from all the lengthy discussions he'd had the day before (perhaps coupled with a few exclamations he had made during the latter part of the night) and he instead decided to make himself comfortable on a large, comfortable looking sofa in the corner of the room...only to find that, once he approached it, that it was occupied by a certain ghost from his previous nighttime adventures.

Him, Edgeworth thought with a small amount of trepidation. As much as Edgeworth hadn't reached a verdict on what he thought of Niikura, he didn't think there would be any harm in addressing him now - after all, he had several questions he wanted to ask, and he was mostly curious as to how Phoenix had even gotten himself tangled up with a kid like him.

"Would I be interrupting your rest if I addressed you?" he asked pointedly as he rounded the couch, passing by a round, long table before taking a seat on the sofa facing opposite of Niikura. Not looking regretful in the least - Edgeworth tended to approach situations with individuals like Niikura with a certain amount of sincere insincerity - he continued on, adding an brief addendum to his question. "If so, do forgive me."

[falseblack]

Speak of grievances and he would offer many. Offer dramatics and he would speak not a word. Nigredo was not his brothers. His coping methods were an entirely different species, less ingrained in flares and tempers. An emphasis made a point previously in his life, and though he was beginning to understand the reasons for sharing his thoughts and feelings with those trusted, trust was a dying commodity in the institute. He couldn't walk up to just anyone and start listing his complaints without reservation. Everyone had their sensibilities, and everyone had their biases. It wasn't worth the effort. It was better to bury corpses and call it good.

Sadly, his current state of affairs made privacy a bit difficult. The boy could not get out of bed alone. His injured leg ended any voluntary movements the moment it began, and eventually, his steely giant of a military-now-pseudo-medical escort had to lift him from his bed and onto a wheelchair. It was primitive. It was embarrassing. It called for attention the moment they exited his room, and nothing in Nigredo required a reminder. He couldn't pretend to set the memory aside if he knew exactly what had put him in that chair.

At least he endeared neither of his "teammates" in the process.

Apart from complaints, Nigredo held no opinion of the new developments. The announcement was obviously a recording from a week ago while the uniform was half-expected. They were technically still a mental institution to this world's eyes; it would be wise to pose as one when visitors came into play. Which happened to be another bad element of the day so ultimately, the boy dismissed them with a proverbial shrug.

His "orderly" wheeled Nigredo into the Sun Room and left him at the corner where the shadows fell overhead. He frowned at the patches of sunlight nearby but stayed in place. There were ways to move in this chair, but his arms refused to follow through. Less pain seemed more important at the moment than a bit of pleasure. At any rate, he could use this moment to press a hand to his eye and attempt to drain all rage from him.

[Albedo and Ritsuka.]

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

When he woke up again, Ritsuka felt the uncomfortable absence of his ears and tail like always, but also felt a strange familiarity in his costume. Sitting up, he found himself clothed in gray again - the smiley face staring dead-eyed at the world before him as if nothing had ever changed. It was the uniform he had first woken up in and, as the intercom chimed on and an equally familiar voice began to speak, for a few moments Ritsuka thought that perhaps the Head Doctor had regained control and they would be going back to their old routine.

Then there was a burst of static and Ritsuka realized it was all a recording. Another lie to support the veneer of institutionalization that seemed to be important to keep up for some reason. Ritsuka sighed and slid out of bed, wondering if the visitors would be that stupid to believe all that, or if it was simply that they didn't care enough to see. After all, who believed the crazy when they spoke of military take-overs and nightmares coming to life? It was the perfect cover.

He headed to the Sun Room with his new guard (now dressed as an orderly) and as soon as he entered, his eyes fell on one person almost instantly. Ritsuka hadn't spoken to him much, but seeing Nigredo in a wheelchair was enough to rouse his sympathies and, even if the other boy might find it bothersome, he was drawn toward him. What had caused such a severe injury that he'd be left in such a state? And worse...what if it was his roommate like Albedo had feared? Was Nigredo really letting his roommate hurt him this badly?

When he drew close, Ritsuka tried not to frown more than he usually did and stopped a few feet away. "Nigredo....? What happened?"

[martyrs]

It was odd - at first Elena's heart jumped at hearing the word 'visitors' during the morning announcement, because the idea of seeing Aunt Jenna and Jeremy, or maybe Bonnie and Caroline again sounded too good to be true. But of course, that usually meant it was too good to be true. This place had kept her trapped in some virtually unknown location for almost a week now, yet they were going to let loved ones in to see them? How was that even possible? And if they were letting a number of people in, how could they possibly keep track of who was getting out as well? There had to be a catch. A catch that made her think that maybe she was better off not getting any visitors, since they were... probably just going to be screwed up, scary, shadow-versions of the people she knew back home. Something like that. At least, that was what she was telling herself to keep from getting her hopes up.

Though it looked like she didn't have to wear that stupid baret all day. To think, she almost missed the baggy t-shirts she wore the first few days she was at the institute. They felt more natural than the uniforms they were forced to wear, anyway. The fact that she was excited to put her hair in a ponytail made her question her priorities for a second, but her nurse (nurses again? interesting) didn't give her much time to dwell on it, deciding that being pushy about getting Elena to the Sun Room was a better idea than giving her a few minutes to wake up and think about stuff.

The Sun Room seemed like the best place to start her day, if not just because she wanted to leave a message on the bulletin for Stefan. She still needed to give him the present she bought in Doyleton! She left it in her desk drawer for the time being, not wanting to risk having it get taken away for some ridiculous reason.

Once she stood in front of the board, it was easy to catch the note addressed to her, and the replies directly under it. Hm. Damon, definitely. Which, for some reason, quickly reminded her of her late-night encounter with Rose. Out of the three of them, Alaric was probably her best bet in getting a better insight on the woman, but... Maybe Damon found out some stuff after meeting her the day before. Though as far as she could tell from last night and the memories that came along with it, Rose could be considered a friend, maybe trusted too. Hopefully.

She decided to write back anyway, not sure if Damon or Alaric were even still in the room. With that in mind, she stepped out of the way of the board, turning to lean back against the wall so she could try and pick either of them out of the people that were slowly filing in.

[For Damon!]

[saviored]

It'd been, what, three days? Since the good doctor had done his rambling over the intercom, so it was only a given that Damon paid attention when the grating cheerfulness suddenly made a return. His eyes slanted in brief confusion before he caught the static and the word visitors.

Right. Of course.

At least this whole charade got him out of those damn uniforms, though these weren't exactly an improvement, either. Still, even before he was out the door, he found details slipping him by. Or maybe slipping wasn't the right word. He noticed. But most of him just didn't care when he was this fucking hungry. It overpowered any desire to think or sort through what the hell was going on. The more his instincts sharpened, the less he cared to analyze.

Was that Claire girl around here somewhere? She could come in handy right about now. Or Rick...which was an idea. He hadn't considered it because he hadn't needed to, but he'd never dismissed it as an option. It was a perfect option. It also implied an edge of desperation that he hadn't wanted to put on display if he could help it—but that was yesterday, and this was today.

He managed to swing by the chapel for a look under the guise of searching for his little brother before turning back for the Sun Room. His escort wasn't happy, but Damon got what he wanted which was the important part. The fountain was there. Obviously it wasn't spouting blood, but at least half of the story was accurate. For tonight, it didn't matter. He had no intention of going out of his way anymore if his proposal didn't go over with Rick. Not that he had any serious doubts that it wouldn't go over. It might not go over well, but if the teacher could stop a new corpse from showing up, he would do it.

When Damon stepped inside the Sun Room, his eyes swept over the couches, the tables, and landed on Elena almost immediately. He made his way over, ignoring everyone else within the vicinity. Her pulse was distracting, but she was the only person here he didn't want to hurt, which...helped.

He slid into view in front of her, where she was leaning against the wall—though for once, he kept a slight distance where he never would've before. "I have to say, I miss the other look. Military chic was cute on you."

[toxicspiderman]

They were on I-95, going the stupid way down the East Coast, in the back of a fifteen passenger GEE van, when the radio cut out, and the announcer started in. Forest fires on the median. Interstate closed for non-emergency personnel. The air was filled with smog, so thick the windshield wipers weren't keeping up with it.

They opened the Hefty bag and all stuck their head in. Then S.T. pulled enough scientific equipment out of the spare tire compartment to start a research lab, and a faded old National Park Service hat. It would have to be enough.

They pulled up to the toll gates for the George Washington bridge, making record time. All their plans went to shit. The guy pulled out a pump-action rifle and started shooting up the van. It only had windows in the front, but there were people up there, too. S.T. opened the sliding door. "What the fuck?" The guy had pissed his pants. He could smell it, sharp and acrid over the gunpowder. It didn't take a pro to lip-read zombie off the guy. Problem was, they didn't have any zombies. Right?

They piled back into the old fishing boat, the guy raised the drawbridge, and he hollered to Debbie to floor it. She didn't say anything. Fuck. Had she been hit after all? He poked his head up front. Debbie looked back. Or, rather, one eye looked back; half of her face had been torn off, and her skin was starting to decay. What was left of her mouth was covered in -- shit -- what had been her roommate, who'd hitched a ride down as far as Philly to see her girlfriend. There wasn't much of her left. Some hair, a pair of earrings.

The waves were getting higher, and the rest of the team had split off to go do the big splashy show, leaving him at the wheel of the Zode, Debbie puking over the side. It was out of gas, but he had some leftover vodka, so he poured it in, and then a little on Debbie to try to sterilize her.

The radio came on again. It was the same broadcast as before, about the suggestion box and the theater and the Sun Room.

Sun Room? S.T. opened his eyes, and tried to focus. Ceiling tiles. Not on fire. There were cookie crumbs in his ear, and the back of his mouth tasted like shit. He didn't remember them having enough booze for a real hang-over, but he'd eaten four times the U.S. RDA of salt at Twin Pine alone, and washed it down with coffee.

He stumbled out of the room, went back for his notebook, and down to the Sun Room. He went to tack up the maps, but unless there'd been more rearranging than that broadcast had implied, the entire east wing of the second floor was not composed solely of a can-ring smelling not-so-faintly of stale beer.

He found a chair and a table, and started finishing it.

[Utena!]

[revolutionise]

And just like that, as if nothing had happened since the previous dayshift, Utena was back in her bed. Same white ceiling. Same grey uniform. Same cocky bastard on the intercom. Or, at least, she thought it was. Utena could have sworn she had heard this announcement before.

Something seemed off about the nurses and orderlies today, too. They all seemed so... stiff. She was pretty sure she didn't recognize any of them, either. She hadn't exactly liked the nurses up until now, but she had gotten used to seeing the same faces around, at least. When she asked her new nurse what had changed, she got a look from the woman like she was crazy. Well, crazier. The answer when she asked about Himemiya was a very firm "I don't know", too. And she couldn't exactly ask about what the deal with the new uniform the night before had been. The whole morning was leaving her very frustrated and confused so far, to say the least.

It was about the time Utena got to the Sun Room that she finally realized what had been strange about the intercom announcement. Landel had mentioned family and friends visiting. How could that be? She had only just gotten a visit from that brainwashed version of Nanami a couple of days ago. Didn't visitors only come once a...?

Utena's eyes widened.

She had to find someone she knew. Right now. That was the only way she was going to get any straight answers about what was going on here. She strode into the Sun Room, eyes pealed for familiar faces. The first one she spotted was S.T.'s, over by one of the tables.

"Oi, S.T.," she started abruptly, not even bothering to greet him properly just yet. She put her hands down on the table and leaned over it. "What day is it? Last I checked, it was supposed to be Tuesday. Why the hell are we having visitors again?"

[witchoftruth]

Last night was a disaster. Tonight was going to have to go a lot smoother, or else Erika was going to have to find herself new companions. Today also was going to turn out to be a disaster, Erika thought to herself, when she woke up to familiar clothing, still no sign of her belongings, and Landel-san speaking through the intercom instead of the other fellow. The detective rose a brow, but it only took a few seconds of listening to understand the sudden change: Visitors today. Of course.

The Doyleton trip had already provided the extremely large hint that to the public, Landel's Institute was still a hospital and not a military-run deathcamp, so it didn't surprise her that their fake visitors would be treated the same way as the townspeople. But that really intrigued Erika; were the visitors really people from the outside world? Fake patients deserved fake visitors, but it made sense when she considered that there were actually insane people in this place mixed in with people like her.

Regardless, hiding in plain sight was probably better than trying to completely hide anything. Landel-san had the right idea, yet in the end, he was kicked out anyway... Gone, but not forgotten. For a minute, Erika even hoped that the Good Doctor managed to come back after one night's shenanigans, but she knew he wasn't that good. It was a shame.

Since she already had seen the chapel and had no interest in it, Erika settled for the Sun Room, hoping to see Sync among the room's occupants. It'd be troublesome if he ended up going elsewhere, but Sync didn't strike her as the kind of person who would go to a chapel. It was just her detective's intuition and the fact that no one so full of hatred and self-loathing like him would turn to God for anything. Chuckling to herself, the detective chose a chair near the entrance and started to watch it, ready to jump on either of the boys she traveled with last night.

[ /BREATHES HI SYNC..... ]

[godforsaken]

Erika would be glad to know that her deductions were correct once more, as the God-General never stepped into the chapel since his arrival within this damned institute. However, this fact was only second nature, shadowed by what was in store for them today. And what was in store for them completely contradicted the institute's actions only days ago.

At least, if he was just dreaming it all along. But if that were the case then his partner would wave these assumptions off as frivilous padding. That only made it more urgent to meet with her, especially over the progress they should've made in the basement last night. If this was all a ruse, then what they achieved was only half of the requirements to make it to the Coliseum, and if Landel truly did make that announcement in the radio then it was likely they'd face competition soon.

Yet there were also other things, things that made Sync grit his teeth when the word 'visitors' were mentioned, but there were more important things on his mind than having to endure another session like that. He didn't bother to say a word to his nurse as he made his way through the hallways, moving into the Sun Room and spotting Erika immediately. After all, if there was one thing she was good at, it was making herself noticeable even in a crowd.

Without waiting he was quick to approach her, quickly sitting down in the chair next to her before speaking.

"So what do you make of this?" If they were on the same level then he wouldn't need to elaborate.

[thecamellia.livejournal.com]

_{[LION. :|]}

How had she managed to sleep through another night again… ?

More than that, when Tsubaki found herself waking up, it was to the pre-military uniform, smiley face and all. But even before she could start processing why that was, she noticed the state of Sakura’s side of the room and felt her stomach drop. Empty. Her half was empty, like she had seen before when residents moved out and hadn’t yet been replaced by someone new. Was Sakura--

After a brief search, Tsubaki knew it was true. Sakura was gone. Moved to another room, maybe? She didn’t know. The unusual card Tsubaki had found in Sakura’s desk made her wonder--personal belongings didn’t usually stay in old rooms once someone had been given a new one, did they?

And Landel’s voice was on the intercom, to boot! On a morning like this one, she felt like her head was on a spinning top.

“Um, the girl that was here, is she still… here in the Institute?” she asked the nurse who eventually entered, though before the question was halfway out, she realized to her bewilderment that the ’nurse’ she was talking to could really be nothing else but one of the soldiers. It was something to think about along with the soldier’s grunted answer, which Tsubaki felt took forever to come despite it only being a few seconds’ pause.

No, Sakura wasn’t here. Yes, she would be getting a replacement roommate.

It was with a heavy heart that Tsubaki entered the Sun Room to approach the bulletin. Sakura’s absence sat at the forefront of her concerns, but she was the third roommate Tsubaki had lost already. Was it sheer randomness? Or did it have something to do with the Sakura Landel had shown her? That was a terrible thought, especially having heard Landel on the intercom. Yet it was the soldiers who were still in control by the looks of things…

Biting the inside of her lip, she got some paper to start writing notes. After the first couple of sentences, Tsubaki took a breath and rearranged her features so that her worry didn’t show. She had missed a whole night, and now there was Sakura to consider, alongside Kurogane and Fai, two people she needed particularly needed to get in touch with. Landel was back on the intercom, while the soldiers remained in disguise as staff. And it was a Sunday, which meant visitors. And yesterday’s purchase, which was going to the Arts and Crafts Club, and…

So many things.

It was her roommate, though, that Tsubaki thought about while she posted her notes and finally stepped back to take stock.

[hersalvation.livejournal.com]

... The head doctor?

Lion hadn't been present in the institute for long-- it was the third day counting-- but she had come to be familiar with this certain man's voice. But in that same day that she remembered all too well, his rule had been overthrown. ... Supposedly, anyway. Why was it back?

Not to mention, her own attire had suddenly changed-- again. Instead of that military uniform, Lion had now donned... something far more casual than a uniform. And something far more appropriate to be rolling out of bed with. Much to her surprise, as well, she found there wasn't any other uniform she would be changing into; no, this was it. She would be walking out in something as unflattering as this.

It was hardly presentable; if she had a choice in the matter, at least the previous uniform hadn't been so sloppy looking.

Nonetheless, there was no debating it. After her very first morning within this building, if there was one thing Lion had quickly learned, it was to not argue with the staff; they had the upper hand and listened little to complaints, and after that embarrassing display she was reluctant to get into any more unsightly matters.

There was no more trips to any sorts of towns for today-- apparently, that was only a once a week event-- so the morning went as, Lion assumed, the normal routine went. She was left to do as she pleased in the sun room, and already there seemed to be some activity happening around the large bulletin board. She had yet to utilize it much for herself, but had been told to keep a close eye on it. With nothing else in mind to do, perhaps it was a good idea as any to take one first glance at it.

With a few notes skimmed and nothing in particular directed at her or needing attention, Lion took a moment to look up over her shoulder; this is where she had caught eyes with another girl, someone who had to be close in age... Or so she thought the other had noticed her as well, as Lion soon noticed she seemed more caught up in thought that Lion herself.

Nevertheless, Lion hadn't wanted to be rude. "Good morning," she greeted, with politeness and pleasantries and all, turning to face the other girl better. "Hopefully the day is treating you well so far."

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

[For Phoenix )]

As the intercom blared its greeting, Meekins awoke with a start. Only minutes ago, it seemed, he had been in the pantry with none other than his very own former superior, ex-Police Chief Gant. Who neither was a ghost nor tried to murder him. And who led a mission to procure more edible food items than that gross pink substance that the soldiers served for dinner last night. Which Meekins was grateful for because, as he dimly recalled, he wouldn't get to eat breakfast (or "brunch," according to the loudspeaker) today due to his punishment for "insolence." Of course, if Meekins were to classify this enforced fasting from a meal of more of that pink goo as a punishment or a blessing, it would have to be the latter.

At any rate, he would have to track down Mr. Gant to receive his next assignment for today. He sat up in his bed, noting that Mr. Williams was still asleep, and turned to look at the sold-- nurse! Dressed in a nurse's uniform instead of the stiff soldier's outfit from yesterday. However, unlike the sweet young nurse at Meekins' doctor's office who always gave him a lollipop for taking his shots like a "brave man," the woman standing before him had a grim, distant look on her face.

"Mr. Bibbitt! Get up already! You are still under notice for your behavior. Remember, until dinner shift, you are to remain standing. Now get on with it!" Nope, no lollipop from this one, Meekins realized in letdown.

"Yes, Sir!" He carefully got out of bed and stood up straight, saluting the nurse. It was then that he noticed that he was no longer wearing the military uniform from yesterday, but a set of drab gray sweats brightened by a large yellow happy face on the front of the shirt. What a nice contrast it was to the gloominess of everything else here! It filled Meekins with such hope that he suddenly blurted out, "If I might ask, Sir... can you take me to see Mr. Gant, Sir? I need to check in with him after last ni--"

"Silence!" the nurse barked, interrupting him. How rude! Not even Nurse Miney stopped him while he was relating his stories to her. "Whoever you met last night was all a dream. It's all part of your illness. You will speak no more of it. Now come along or risk further punishment!"

Ack. Best to do what she said, or else she would give him a shot and be mean enough not to give him a lollipop afterwards. "Y-Yes, Sir!"

He followed the nurse down the hallway to the giant room he remembered from last night that had scary things happening there. 0r maybe he just dreamed it, like she said. Because today, it looked rather nice. Light was coming in from the high glass ceiling, and there were tables and comfy chairs and couches scattered around (although Meekins wasn't allowed to take advantage of them today). There was even a bulletin board, which already sported a number of strange notes. Maybe he could get a hold of the Police Chief this way! After all, the nurse said not to speak of it; she'd said nothing about writing about it!

After tacking up his note, he turned away from the board and started pacing the room to pass the time. He was concentrating so hard on remaining upright that he didn't notice the two faces familiar to him in this room.

[in-your-defense.livejournal.com]

[Sorry for the late, it took me forever to figure out how to reply. XD;]

Thoroughly engrossed in writing down notes in his journal, Phoenix stepped into the Sun Room and abandoned the nurse that was guiding him, glancing upwards only briefly to make sure he wasn't about to run into anyone. Catching sight of a strange bulletin board across the room, Phoenix's curiosity was piqued - it looked like something like a map was pinned to its front, and he couldn't help but to want to see it, if only so he could jot it down for his own reference.

Shutting his notebook and tucking it underneath his arm, Phoenix walked towards the right wall. While the new clothes he wore were much better than the uniforms that he had been provided the first night and afforded an improved amount of mobility, Phoenix had found the change of outfits more than a little startling, yet somehow at par with the rest of the weird events that had transpired around himself - though he had yet to get used to wearing a t-shirt and sweats.

Turning his head slightly, Phoenix swept his gaze from the bulletin board over to the rest of the room - and as Meekins turned and began to pace the opposite direction towards Phoenix, his gaze landed upon him, the realization of who he was looking at settling in. Eyes widening, Phoenix felt frozen in place for a brief moment - that is, until he remembered that if he wanted to save his eardrums he needed to hide and try to blend in with the wallpaper.

As Phoenix was only a few steps away from the bulletin board, he turned his head quickly, absorbing himself in the task of opening his journal and staring at a random page intensely in the hopes that Meekins might not realize who he was, even if he was standing right in front of him.

[scarefaux]

The Scarecrow could not get out of the room fast enough.

First, there was the pain, which struck him as soon as he awoke. He let out an involuntary hiss as he first bent his burned arm, reaching for the long cut on the other. Trying it the other way was no better, as the split in the skin on his left arm, hidden under a layer of bandages, sent a strong sting through him as he moved the limb. He frowned- this was certainly going to be a problem.

It was only then that he noticed another complication: as he sat up, listening to the intercom and wondering why Landel was back and repeating himself, he realized his outfit had been changed. No longer was he wearing the military outfit with the tight shoes and buttoned shirt and confusing hat; instead, it was back to the smiling shirts and grey pants. It wouldn't have been a cause for concern if he hadn't spent the previous day insisting he was fine to most everyone he knew. It'd be hard to convince anyone— especially Depth Charge— of his well-being when both arms were so heavily and obviously bandaged. There was nowhere to hide them with the short sleeves, and—

Depth Charge! Oh, if he woke up and saw the bandages, he'd spend the whole day worrying! The Scarecrow shot out of bed, his feet tangling in the sheets and nearly sending him to the floor. He caught himself just in time to stumble to the door, where he was greeted by his nurse and the soldier who had been keeping an eye on him the past day or so. The soldier, oddly enough, was dressed like one of the nurses, though it was clearly him. Landel on the intercom again, saying things which the Scarecrow recalled from the week before, and the return of the smiling outfits and the soldiers in disguise, same as in Doyleton— what did it all mean? Was the General trying to change things back to the way they were? That didn't seem to make sense, but—

The Scarecrow's thoughts were cut off a second time as his arms ached sharply. He froze, gritting his teeth as both arms reached for each other at once, only to make the sensation far worse.

The nurse couldn't help but give him a pitying look. Reminding him that she'd be changing the bandages on his burnt arm throughout the day, she handed him two cups: one with water, the other will tiny capsules— "For the pain." With no choice but to trust her (she had been rather good to him the entire time), he took both cups, swallowing the contents of both.

And moments later, he was following the soldier-turned-nurse into the Sun Room. He'd opted to go there instead of the Chapel— it reminded him too much of Abe, which led to thinking of his other missing friends. After a quick glance at the bulletin board (he wasn't sure how he was going to write well with his injured arms, if bending them was giving him all sorts of trouble), he found a seat near the wall where he could watch the rest of the room. He sighed as he slid down the wall and hit the ground with a thmp. How awful to start the day so melancholy!

[Free]

[mugenreppa.livejournal.com]

Mele had intended to look at the picture once morning came, but she'd forgotten that of course this cursed place wasn't that kind. By some miracle (or possibly force of will, though she wouldn't count on it), she managed to wake up before whoever came to get her, and she'd hopped to the closet, expecting to see her clothes—but of course they weren't there; everything was taken and put in those boxes during the day. That didn't make her search for her other things any less frantic.

The flashlight was where it usually was, but nothing else. No photograph to be found anywhere. She'd even opened Soma's closet door in the hopes it'd ended up on Soma's side of the room. But it hadn't.

Only just aware enough to realize she was back in the gray things but not paying enough attention to note its possible significance, Mele was brought to the Sun Room when she didn't answer the nurse.

Well this sucked. Oh hi, Scarecrow. "I hate this," she said as she dropped down next to him. "...Something happen to you?" Did he have this many bandages last time?

[kingside]

[From here.]

Seeing as how it was morning, Lelouch had fully intended to stride straight through the Sun Room and to the cafeteria when he arrived, but upon noticing the fact that no one else seemed to be of similar mind and the nurses and orderlies were clearly stationed around the room with the intent of keeping them inside...

He frowned, eyes resting on the doors. Had there been some change in schedule? He'd slept through most of the Head Doctor's announcement and so couldn't be sure, but-- no, other people had been exiting their rooms, too, and he sincerely doubted that many people could have slept through breakfast. Therefore... what? Could it really just be a change in schedule? The only other day that began with the patients free to visit the Sun Room was... but it couldn't be Sunday already. He'd missed a single night, not four entire days.

He gave the room one last sweeping glance, then headed for the bulletin board. He should have thought to pick up his journal before leaving his room, but-- well, whatever. He would make do with what was available to him.

[Free and very disoriented.]

ffff sorry >_>;;

[lookitmemama.livejournal.com]

Another patient was planted in front of the bulletin board too. She gave Lelouch a cursory glance and took a step away from him as she finished writing out a fake note (http://damned-bulletin.livejournal.com/827622.html) to that snake in the grass Kaworu. She noticed the History Club had posted as well, but nothing useful, just Okita and Hijikata having a text fight. How grown-up of them.

There was nothing else so interesting on the bulletin board as the man beside her, unfortunately and her blue eyes eventually slid to his solemn face. Patients were constantly coming and going, but the second child was certain he was a familiar fixture in the institute. Or had been, it was hard to tell. A name escaped her, though, and that wasn't good.

"You know, they finally scientifically proved that your face will stick that way if you keep it up..."

[vstheworld]

And so, Scott was waiting right here.

"Here" being in front of the bulletin board, as he lifted the pen from a note to some mystery person named Chise. This was the second time in two days he had agreed to meet some mystery person over the bulletin. With any luck, this one would give him less of a headache than Wichita. Not that Wichita wasn't cool or anything, but the fewer panics he had to suffer over someone shattering Luke Skywalker's fourth wall, the better.

He rocked back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets. His loose, grey pockets. That had been a shocker upon waking up, almost as much as the military uniform had been a couple of days ago. He could have said the same for hearing Landel's voice over the intercom, at least until the glitches and deja vu started setting in. So the military was trying to cover up the whole "military" thing again, just like the day before. What for?

It took him a while (no thanks to the "nurses" and "orderlies" keeping mum about everything and acting like everything was "normal"), but it finally came to him: visitors. That was the only reason Aguilar would possibly have to cover everything up again. But that still left a whole buttload of unanswered questions, in that case. Why should the military still have to hide from the visitors? Didn't Aguilar and friends, like, control the visitors? Was it some part of keeping their brainwashing intact? Why keep them brainwashed in the first place if they weren't trying to convince the patients they were insane, then? Why keep doing any of the normal Dayshift activities when clearly this was supposed to be boot camp? Aguilar's game plan made even less sense than Landel's.

So much for not getting a headache, Scott thought, rubbing his forehead as he waited. All this wasn't even counting the clusterf*** that was all of "Peter"'s bulletin messages today...

[For Chise]

*edits a bazillion times

[lastlovesong]

Even though she was relieved to see the familiar grey attire in the morning, Chise was still wary of the staff members who were dressed up as nurses and acted as if the military take-over hadn't occurred. The soldier who escorted her the past two days still dragged her around the hallways as a nurse. His clothes may be different, but his face was still the same. She'll definitely remember him.

Aside from the change in clothes, hearing the Head Doctor on the intercom announcing the today's spiel was another surprise. Didn't he rant about his loss of control over the institute last night? How did he manage to take back control? Was he trying to make himself appear as a savior to the patients? Some many questions with so many unknown answers. Chise couldn't understand the sudden change in the situation, and doubted that Aguilar handed over the institute's control so easily.

After her post on the bulletin board, she was glad that somebody had some knowledge about the basement. She knew that every medical center had to have one, but never had a chance to check it out. So here she was, standing in front of the bulletin board reading over the latest reply.

'...right here.'

"As in, front-of-the-board right here?" Glancing beside her, she spotted a teenage boy with brown hair standing in front of the board.

"E-Excuse me, but, are you Scott?"

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

The night ended with Aguilar and the morning began with Landel. Indy sat up less painfully than the day before to find he was wearing the old gray uniform and fresh wraps around his burned left hand. Any thoughts that things might be back to normal only lasted until the nurse came in, though: the military bearing would've been unmistakable even if he hadn't recognized the soldier's face. Now why keep up the fake nurse act now that they were back here, Indy wondered, and then he remembered--it was Sunday. Visiting day.

That ache sunk back into the pit of his stomach. Was Dad coming again this week?

Maybe the thought should've made him feel more like praying, but it didn't. When the guard offered to walk him to the chapel, Indy turned it down in favor of the Sun Room. As they walked, he noticed something else new: the guard was more cordial than ever. Calling him "friendly" might still be a stretch, but still, there was a marked difference between this and the way the same guy had treated him yesterday. The man even guided him to the bulletin board--and before breakfast, too. Maybe it'd been movie night in the barracks last night and the guard was a new fan.

He'd have to watch that. In the meantime, he studied the board, skimming for anything he ought to know about.

[for Guybrush]

[threepwood]

The day was getting off to a weird start. First, there was Landel's voice on the intercom- either he'd changed his mind about the whole partnering with the rebel plan, or Aguilar had a personal parrot ready to mimic the Head Doctor's usual announcements whenever he didn't feel like wasting his breath. Frankly, neither explanation made much sense. Then came the realization he was no longer in the military getup: the grey shirts and smiling faces were back, along with the useless sweatpants. Last, there the nurse at his door, who was clearly the same guard who had kept Guybrush from staying in the antique store too long: same scowl, same lovely disposition, same everything save for the nurse uniform.

Though it was like they'd taken a few surreal steps back in time, they were definitely moving forward: Guybrush found his nose wasn't bandaged for a change, and his ribs didn't feel quite as broken. Also, it was Sunday- visitor day, yuck. Maybe he would get lucky and not be forced into a chat with Stanley the court-appointed attorney about Brian Moriarty's criminal record of stalking and petty theft. Were they trying to lull some of the newer patients into a false sense of security? Or the military thing wasn't working out. Either way, Guybrush would take a hospital over a military operation any day.

Led into the Sun Room by his nurse/soldier, Guybrush skimmed the bulletin board, posting a note himself before taking a look at the rest of the room. There weren't many patients around- he thought a good number might have headed for the Chapel instead, figuring most would opt for the Sun Room. He'd only avoided it so he didn't have to be reminded of the previous week, and of the conversation he'd had with Elaine while there. Sigh, Elaine. So much for not remembering.

Not that the Sun Room wasn't home to a familiar face or two. As he turned to leave, Guybrush nearly ran straight into another icon of the LucasArts name. It was strange how over the course of a week, his perspective on whether or not a man believing himself to be a copyrighted character actually could be said copyrighted character had changed. With people showing up from entirely different times (Elaine from the not-so-distant past, Leela from the way-too-distant future, and all the areas between), patients being brainwashed, and everything from warping doors to evil shadows appearing at night all bets seemed to be off.

Guybrush cleared his throat. "Doctor Jones, I think I owe you an apology."

[hairraising]

Ah! Noooo, they had been so close!

Rapunzel bopped the mattress sharply as she came to in her bed. Everything had blacked out just as Ippo climbed over that stone wall, and now she was back in her bed. This was like if she had lowered herself out of her tower for the first time, only to suddenly find herself back in the familiar, painted surroundings of her bedroom. Maybe not on that level exactly, but it was still frustrating.

At least the morning offered up a few new oddities for Rapunzel to puzzle over. Like why she was suddenly in the grey uniform they had stuck her with on her first day in the Institute. Or why her soldier escort was dressing like the nurses had. Or, most confusingly, why that man Landel was talking out of the ceiling again. Hadn't he been given the boot?

Maybe Soma could help her out, thought Rapunzel as she made her way to the Sun Room. She needed to check up on the other girl after a whole day and night apart, anyway. Here was hoping the other girl hadn't run into anything nasty. She had confidence that Soma could handle herself, but that didn't mean she couldn't worry if she wanted to.

Thankfully, it looked like Ippo was all right. Rapunzel left him a note of reassurance before turning to the crowd of grey-clad patients, searching for that familiar head of white hair.

[For Soma, naturally]

[madeinthehrl]

Soma frowned as she sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. A quick check of her surroundings confirmed that everything was normal--ring smashed, possessions gone, ugly grey sweats in place--

...No. Wait. She looked down again.

The uniform was gone. Why was the uniform gone? And the radio message last night--and the surprise recording from Landel now--was it the visitors? It was Sunday, wasn't it? It was so difficult to keep track of the days here, for some strange reason. If it was, it offered an explanation as to why her escort had turned up in scrubs. Some false pretence. Some act, to keep the visitors in the dark.

And she wouldn't be able to say anything about it. Not even the lieutenant colonel would believe her now, brainwashed as he was. If he'd even visit her today--part of her wanted him to, very badly indeed. She hadn't wanted to admit to herself how much she needed a familiar face here, even if that familiar face no longer recognized her.

She tried to brush those thoughts away as she headed toward the Sun Room. It was impossible to miss Rapunzel from a distance, even if her hair had been shortened, and Soma hurried toward her new friend, waving slightly.

"Rapunzel! How was your night?" She didn't look injured, thankfully, but one never knew.

[lovecraftcomplex]

> ==> 

They walked along the corridors, no less sinister in the harsh fluorescent light of day.  "That, I take it, was Martin Landel.  He was in charge of this place until a recent coup, when an usurper stole his position."  Someone was lying, and she didn't think it was Aigis. Landel could have been lying, either last night or now, or the entire thing could be as substantive as a rainbow, beautiful and useless.

The halls led them to a grand set of doors, wide open.  They had been among those she'd passed up the first night.  The best gear took a thorough search; twisting and turning passages were an adventurer's bread and butter.  The room itself was, at best, homey, though the overhead windows had promise.  "We should investigate.  This is the first time I've been in here."

[unit67.livejournal.com]

A whole room for self-delusion? Did the people have to be deluded about the same thing? Did they stop being deluded when they left? Why could they only use it some of the time? Lily was silent while she contemplated the deep mysteries of spirituality. Delusion didn't sound fun, and she was glad they were going somewhere else.

"I don't understand," Lily said as the subject turned to Martin Landel. "What is this place?" The institutional air was familiar: white walls, nondescript floors. Maybe she'd been separated from the others because she was damaged, and they'd taken off her collar to fix it. But what about Rose? What about--

Lily's thoughts stopped short when the quality of light changed, taking on a warmer hue than any light she'd seen before. She followed Rose's suggestion, though she moved through the door with more caution. Changes often led to threats, but other people, sitting on couches and looking generally unbothered, meant that the room was probably safe.

Then she saw the animals. The word came to her: cat, though she'd never seen a cat, never thought to imagine a cat. She didn't like when Giovanni drew animals. They made her think of blood. How they were all filled with blood.

She leaped back when an orange tabby plodded its way toward her feet, on guard. What was she supposed to do? Kick it? It was just there. Nothing was ever just there. And why was it coming toward her? She had to do something. Other people were holding them or ignoring them, as if having animals sitting on their legs or winding around their feet was a perfectly normal occurrence. The small creature looked so warm and soft. She wanted to touch it. She didn't want to touch it.

"That's a cat." Lily stated, wide eyed. She continued to back away from the tabby's advance. Could it be a trap? Was the animal's existence some kind of test? If so, was she meant to rip it apart, or not to rip it apart? No one else was ripping them apart.

"Why?"

[nonheinous.livejournal.com]

The intercom announcement jolted Ted out of his sleep. His eyes flew open, staring for a moment; and then he recognized the ceiling of his room at Landel's, and his face fell. It hadn't been a dream...

His clothes were different, though. The military uniform was gone, replaced by more informal articles of clothing. Ted pulled on his shirt, staring at the huge smiley face that smiled up from its front.

"This is so not normal," he concluded.

Ted rubbed his eyes and tried to remember what the announcement had said. He seemed to recall something about friends and family coming to visit... his heart momentarily leaped at the thought of Bill. But, no. There would be no reason for Bill to be here, except to rescue him from this most unexcellent facility. And if that were the case, Bill totally wouldn't make his presence officially known-

The door opened, and Ted jerked in shock.

He blinked at the nurse standing there. "Hey. You were not here last night."

They were soon walking off to the Sun Room, Ted having reasoned that a place with sun had to be a place open to the outside, and if that were the case, escape would definitely be a possibility.

But there was a clear ceiling standing in the way between them and the sun, Ted realized, once deposited into the Sun Room. Perhaps if he climbed up to the balconies and took a ladder and a huge hammer...

"Do you know where I could get a hammer?" he asked, turning to look at the nurse, but she was gone.