Day 57: Cafeteria

[gald_digger]

Edgar's charming company had raised Anise's spirits enough that not even the Head Doctor's voice could bring them back down. Besides, she was feeling pretty sure that Landel wasn't actually around. To begin with, it wouldn't make sense, and secondly, his announcements sounded suspiciously like ones she'd already heard before. While Anise wasn't very familiar with Earth technology, she'd seen the little devices in the Music Room that could play recordings of people's voices. This had to be something like that.

It wasn't long before Anise was escorted to the Cafeteria, and then to the section where edible food was being served. As she filled her plate with waffles, fruit, and sausages, she looked to the other side of the counter with a look of sympathy. It was hard to enjoy her own meals while knowing what the other patients had to suffer through.

She wasn't about to refuse her meals just out of guilt, though. Anise needed her strength for tonight. There was still a bit of a nervous twist in her stomach whenever she thought about what could happen down in the basement... but she wasn't going to back down. Not after promising her friends they'd go together.

With her tray in hand, Anise seated herself at an empty table in the middle of the room. She preferred to have company while eating, but it looked like she was one of the first patients there, so there was no one to sit with. Maybe if she minded her manners and tried to look her cutest, she'd attract someone handsome! Holding her utensils delicately, she began to cut her waffles into smaller pieces.

[For Battler.]

Comments

[unpriest]

[From here]

The nurse escorted the former priest through various hallways and a lounge to eventually what appeared to be a cafeteria. The small tour that he had just been subjected to only served to puzzle the former priest even more; if anything, it appeared to be a rather strange hospital, only confirming the sense that something did not seem right.

Seishin was ushered into the food line whether he liked it or not. Food hadn't been among the things on his mind right now, and he couldn't quite say he was all that hungry. If he had possessed any appetite to begin with, however, then surely it would have vanished as soon as he saw the sort of food he'd be served. It took some degree of effort not to make a face.

After he had acquired his bowl of what appeared to be pink gruel, he was escorted towards an empty table before he was left to his own devices. He looked down at the bowl, but he didn't bother to start eating it.

He didn't know anything, not even where he was or whether Sunako was alive or not. What should he do?

[For Claire Stanfield~]

[train-tracer.livejournal.com]

The crackle of the intercom seemed especially loud in a place like the chapel, so Claire found himself actually paying attention this time around. Movies? How had he not heard of this before?! And food! Food was always good. While the uniforms had certainly been downgraded in quality, the food seemed to have upgraded in compensation. Excellent!

As soon as his "nurse" came by to pick him up, Claire waved goodbye to Kratos (he had been interesting to talk to; maybe they'd get to chat about religion again sometime soon!) and headed down to the cafeteria. On the way, he stopped by the bulletin board, checking to see what else had gone down while he had been figuring out theology. Oh, looks like movies had been true, after all! The choices were interesting... but hey, there was that movie there that had been released just last year, right? The helpful year that was written right next to it certainly said so. He'd never seen that one. Right then, "All Quiet on the Western Front" it was! Claire's nurse coughed, looking like he wanted badly to just hustle him out the door already, but was as speechless as he was yesterday as a soldier (Claire figured out a while back just where exactly he had seen his nurse before). He could wait a few minutes more.

Claire posted a few more notes (http://damned-bulletin.livejournal.com/825594.html#cutid1), considered the maps that had been posted and decided that he should be a gentleman and let some more people get a chance to see them first before taking them for himself, and headed for the cafeteria.

The food looked as delicious as they had been described! Except that, well, when Claire tried to go for the buffet, his nurse-soldier cut him off and pointed across the room where -- yes -- the pinkish stuff that they had been served ever since the military had taken over. Claire was understandably dejected. He received his pink gruel with sullen silence and headed for a mostly-empty table, sitting down and heaving a sigh. It was almost torturous that there were some people who were allowed to eat the food and everyone else was forced to just watch! That had to be illegal, right?! Then again, Claire didn't expect much from the authorities and the law in the first place. Really undependable, those guys!

He picked up his spoon and mulled over his pink-porridge fate, not paying attention to the man he had joined at the table and was now sitting across from.

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

[Tolten!]

All of the foods that the man over the loud speaker mentioned sounded so good. The ones that the young girl seated nearby had on her plate looked really good, too. If only Meekins were allowed to eat during this meal. But he had a punishment to fulfill. Besides, the one other person in here had a bowl of that pink goo. Even if the hospital allowed Meekins to eat during this shift, they'd probably serve him that anyway.

Being forced to watch people eat and sit down while barred from doing the same. There was a name for that, wasn't there? "Cruel and unusual punishment" or something? Not even the Academy was this cruel and unusual!

A dismal look on his face, Meekins just stood at an empty section of the table that had the chair removed from it. A nurse stood by to make sure that he wouldn't try to sit down or steal someone's food. Not that Meekins would have done any such thing; theft was a crime!

[age-of-kings.livejournal.com]

At least, despite the...er...interesting conversation that Tolten had found himself engaging in with Rose, he'd found a moment to speak to his ancestors and his gods. He couldn't say he felt any better about his current situation, but he at least felt slightly more grounded.

And now he at least knew how to uncover more information, which was key. Knowledge was power, and he needed to glean all that he could. Whether he were a prisoner or a king, he needed information.

At least food sounded amazing. Until he was informed in no uncertain terms that the tantalizingly smelling spread was not at all for him. He got more gruel. Why was he considered a less worthy prisoner than the others? He was a king, for goodness' sake! Even Sed's cooking had looked more appealing than the watered-down-blood colored porridge.

He was being treated like nothing and no-one. And he was beginning to realize that despite longing for that treatment as a teenager, he hated it. He knew he had no ability or right to cry rank here - in a world with no Uhra, what did it matter if he was her king? - but this was infuriating. And they wouldn't let him put clothing on! At most, his escort had mentioned perhaps allowing him an over-shirt from his room if he were too cold. He wanted a damn pair of pants!

Though...it looked as though he wasn't the only one being given the sort end of the stick. As his escort told him to find a seat and 'make some friends', he noted a man standing at a table rather than sitting. With an escort standing near. Curious - and feeling a pang of empathy - Tolten found a seat across from where the man was standing. Now Tolten could see that he didn't even have a bowl of gruel.

"Are you...alright?" he asked, cautiously. So far everyone had been friendly enough to him, but how long would his luck hold?

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Speaking with Depth Charge had definitely been a good way to start the day, if only because Peter was comfortable around him and saw him as one of the few constants here. Still, he realized that he needed to be careful, as nothing was really constant in this place. He'd lost Brooklyn and Roland and -- man, it was just occurring to him that he'd made a lot of friends who weren't really human. A gargoyle, a demon, and... whatever Depth Charge was. Peter didn't really know the right term for it.

It was still kind of eerie, the way that the Head Doctor's words were being recycled now. The man wasn't even here -- he was out in the forest somewhere, probably tormenting Marc. Hopefully not brainwashing him or anything, because that was really the last thing they needed.

The important thing was that it was time for brunch, and as an A Rank Peter got access to all of the options. It seemed like a real waste of food to put out so much when only a few patients could actually eat any of it. He didn't know how this sectioning out of who ate what fit into the cover-up that they had going, but it seemed pointless to ask.

Peter got himself a plain bagel with cream cheese and a small bowl of vegetable soup, which he carried over to an empty table on a tray. He hadn't caught sight of Claire yet, but he was fairly certain that the girl was fine -- or as close to it as she could be in this place.

He'd managed to get away from his "nurse" for long enough to put a note on the bulletin calling out to healers and medics, so he would have to see how that went. For now, Peter focused on his food, sipping his soup and idly watching the door for entering patients.

[For Mikado.]

[ofthemotions]

That... had been strange. Different worlds? Where did he come up with that--or rather, why had people told Hope that? Mikado blinked in thought, wondering. That was something unknown to focus on, something he couldn't know at this moment. Rather than focusing on the man leading him who knows where now, who refused to answer Mikado in more than grunts. The people in charge here were, uh. Charming. And exceedingly unhelpful.

For one thing, if this place was a hospital, where were all the doctors? The only people he had seen were dressed as Mikado was, or dressed like the man in front of him. He frowned at the man's back, expression creasing into troubled. What was going on here?

At least, the smaller issue was resolved quickly. Mikado was deposited in a cafeteria line. That clarified that, but. He still had no idea what was going on. The smells in the air made his stomach growl, pointing out that he was hungry. Well, at least the food smelled good. And it was probably free, so he might as well eat--

"Uh. What... is this?" Pink... slop of some kind, what food looked like this?

The server who had plopped it on his tray gave an apathetic glare. "Lunch."

And so actual food wasn't for him. All right. Might as well accept that.... Unsure at the 'food' he was given, Mikado looked for a place to sit, a bit downtrodden. No one would answer him, and the one who did barely knew more than Mikado had, mostly rumors and little else. And now he was eating stomach lining from the looks of it. He moved to a mostly empty table. "Do you, um, mind if I sit here?"

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Zack wasn't sure if his conversation this morning had accomplished anything, but he wasn't as worked up as he'd been upon first waking, so that was something. He couldn't maintain that level for anger for too long, mainly because it was draining. Zack was the sort of person who found it hard to hold a grudge, although people like Hojo and Landel and Aguilar tested that.

There were others back home who did so, too, but he didn't need to think about that right now. It was years in the past and it wasn't something he thought he could return to, so he wasn't sure it was worth it to waste his thoughts on it.

The promise of food might have been a good mood booster if they weren't still being served the same gruel. He'd thought that maybe that would change with today's continuing act, but apparently they weren't so lucky. With no sign of Cloud, Tifa, or Yuffie so far, Zack decided to just sit on his own for the moment. He was sure that he would be joined by someone eventually, but maybe he could handle the conversation a bit better than he had with Maya.

He took a bite of the food and let out a sigh at the unsatisfying taste. It was a good thing he understood the importance of staying well-fed, since he might not have bothered otherwise.

[For Rose.]

[ex_rosebuds752]

Rose eyed the unpalatable goop in her bowl with a wrinkle of her nose in distaste, thanking whatever gods might be listening that she didn't have to eat it. Hunger was something she was accustomed to, and hers was still at a manageable level at the moment, although she knew she would have to hunt either tonight or the following night. Which was problematic in itself. She would have to talk to one of the Salvatore brothers to find out a solution to this, or at least find out what they did for blood. She didn't exactly relish the thought of pouncing on one of their unsuspecting companions.

Glancing around, she saw no familiar faces at the moment, so she moved instead towards one of the emptier tables, spotting a young man sitting by himself and looking even less thrilled with the meal than she was.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked, her tone polite as she stopped behind one of the empty chairs across from him, hesitating in case he preferred to keep his privacy.

[doneinthree]

If Kirk thought a return of their old greys and Landel's cheerful litany of breakfast foods promised something actually filling for brunch, well... no luck there.  The cafeteria worker gave him the old line about "rank privileges" before sending him away with a bowl of tasteless pink gruel.  What rank was he now, anyway?  Last night marked exactly two weeks he'd spent imprisoned here, and if his hunch was right and the ranks had to do with longevity, he might have moved up by now.  There was no way to tell without his dog tags, although the soldier-nurse this morning had awarded him with five words of conversation instead of the usual three.  Pretty promising.

His hunch made the few patients being allowed to load their trays with pancakes far less the enviable sight it had been before.  If two weeks of being trapped here meant he still wasn't good enough to eat anything other than slop, he didn't want to know how long it took to "earn" the privilege of sausage and tater tots.  As unappetizing as it was (and as much as it went against the very core of his carbohydrate-loving being), Kirk found an empty table and ate his gruel without complaint.  If the military sought to sow resentment among the prisoners with their bullshit privileges and ranking system, he wasn't playing along.  Besides, he needed to keep up his strength if they were headed into the basement soon.

The basement...  Kirk rolled the idea around his head as he ate.  It was a bad idea.  He knew it; he'd admitted as much last night.  But whatever lurked down there was important — it would have to be, if they'd gone to the trouble of putting some kind of mental block into place to prevent others from speaking about it.  (How their captors had managed this, he didn't know, but Kirk had long gone past the point of needing to know how anything worked in Landel's Institute.  Science could worry about that.)  It wasn't a question of whether or not they'd go down there — his crew knew him well enough by now to not wonder at his recklessness — but when.

They were down one man, and their medic to boot.  To wait out Bones' stubbornness, or go on ahead without him?  There was a third option, he knew, to get to the bottom of whatever afflicted their CMO, no waiting involved.  If Kirk made it an order, Spock would agree to force a mind meld — but then what kind of captain would that make him?  Who would that make him?

He couldn't do it.  Not to Bones, and not to Spock either.  But... if it was only a matter of time before it got worse, if the hardest course of action was in fact the best course of action...  Kirk didn't know.

[bones]

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

McCoy woke feeling marginally better than before. He cracked an eye open, but didn't move. So far so good. Just a headache. No migraine. The next test would be trying to roll over, but why tempt fate just yet? McCoy was going to sit here and enjoy having just a headache this morning. After being stuck with the migraines, it seemed like a goddamn gift.

No Spock watching him sleep. Lord above, if McCoy hadn't been half asleep at the time, he might have had a heart attack. The doctor lay there for a moment, wondering if last night had really happened. Parts of it seemed like a dream. Spock just staring at him, waiting for him to wake up felt so surreal that it couldn't have happened. So did Jim going cold like that. He'd seen his own Captain go into command mode, shoot him down or tell him off. But ignore him like that? McCoy could still remember feeling distinctly thrown off by being dismissed. He was already off balance from being angry, betrayed at the Captain possibly lying and then having him apologize the same night. Unless he'd lied about the soldiers. It could be. He wasn't sure what to think now. Maybe last night had been a dream. Maybe the first one he actually remembered that didn't involve a lot of sand and heat.

He slowly rolled out of bed, wincing. It hurt, his equilibrium thrown off, but at least he didn't feel like his head was already split in two. McCoy held onto the side of the bed until the world stopped spinning. As tempted as he was, he couldn't lie here all day. Since the migraine had apparently downgraded itself to a headache, he could prove to Kirk that he was feeling better, get back to work.

The doctor finally made his way out to the cafeteria. He finally hesitated. Jim was already there, and McCoy felt both a strange relief and disappointment at finding him there. He looked fine, safe, but now it meant he had to face him. Suddenly he wasn't certain that last night had been fake. The look on Jim's face was sayin' otherwise. Maybe he should put this off.

He wasn't going to get back on duty if he avoided the Captain. It had to start somewhere. McCoy made his way over and carefully sat down, trying not to jar his head. The lights felt overly bright, feeding into the pressure behind his eyes.

"So you guys go?" he asked. Seemed a safe enough question.

[freewill]

Speaking with Sam had not gone as terribly as Castiel had suspected it would; it seemed that the younger Winchester had not been impressed upon as much as he had thought. That still didn't mean that there was anything like trust between them, but he had in fact revealed more to Sam than he had to Dean. That was mostly due to the fact that Sam had experienced more and could, in theory, better understand how it might have been possible for Castiel to have saved Dean.

It didn't seem likely that either of the brothers were going to believe that without proof, however, and Castiel had no way of providing it. Granted, it wasn't as if Ruby had a way of backing up all of the points that she was likely making, either.

The staff eventually separated him from Sam, though that only left Castiel to find the note that had been left for him by Gabriel. Despite the fact that his brother still insisted on making jokes even when writing in Enochian about matters of import, it seemed clear that whatever the archangel wanted to discuss was serious.

Despite that, Castiel saw no sign of the man as he was led into the cafeteria, and so he would have to resort to waiting. He was given a bowl of the pink paste, which was so much more difficult to go back to when he had just eaten a hamburger the day before. Still, there was little reason to complain about it, and so Castiel took a seat and started to spoon the gruel into his mouth methodically.

[For Gabriel.]

[affictitious]

Nothing like a morning of sleeping in when he had just been forced to ruin the lives of fifteen year old teenagers and their clones. Fifteen year olds. You have got to be kidding. Sure, prick jocks in college? Yeah. Fine. Deserved it, sometimes. Fifteen year olds.

Gabriel had not played the role of an avenging angel for a very, very long time, but he was willing to make an exception.

And, worst yet, the idea of making it alone was pretty. Well, it was pretty damn nixed by now. Community, bub. That was what it had all come to, and whether or not he was going to survive with two hot-headed mutants trying to get revenge for being baked in a modern confectionery delight. Maybe one. Half of one? Did clones count for that sort of thing? Whatever. The important thing was he had been forced to recognize that being a pagan and being an archangel wasn't going to help him here.

Nothing was, so far. Making friends, he was not. Not that he wanted to, anyway, but staying alive was on his agenda and it was likely to stay there.

The first opportunity he had, he sketched up a quick note in the native tongue to the one person - he had to admit it to himself with a note of defeated depression - who would not stab him in the back. Or the front, hopefully.

And lookit who it was. Castiel was where he said he'd be, so Gabriel didn't waste a second meandering his way to the fellow angel. Pink gruel was still on the menu, which was a damn disappointment considering the sheer amount of sugar he'd consumed in one night. He'd had the opportunity; no chance in hell he wasn't going to take it.

"Well, hello, brother. I can bet right off the bat your night wasn't spent harassing kids like a Friday the 13th movie with dessert." No reason he couldn't just segue his way into what needed to be said, right? "More adventures with human tag-a-longs, I'm guessin'?"

[nobleman]

While Guy's thoughts were likely to keep drifting to Tear for the rest of the day, he realized that the girl, young as she was, would be able to overcome what had been done to her. She had at least been able to get some of her anger and frustration out with him as a sounding board, which he had been more than happy to serve as.

At this point, though, he needed to leave Tear to make her apologies and do whatever else she felt was necessary after what she had unintentionally done. It was times like these that Guy was relieved that the institute had never seen him worthy of being abducted, whether to be experimented on or brainwashed.

Still, after Claude had been taken so recently, he knew that he couldn't assume he was in the clear yet.

He couldn't stay mired in those thoughts forever, though, and so eventually Guy moved back down the stairs with his escort, stopping by the bulletin to see a message from Claude himself. He gave a quick reply and then moved into the cafeteria, where he had a literal buffet of food waiting for him.

While he still felt some guilt over the fact that he got to eat so well while everyone else had to deal with that pink stuff, he knew that it would be a waste to not eat. For that reason, he got himself some fruit and toast (there didn't seem to be fish offered, sadly) and then took a seat. He ate a few bites of melon and tried to relax. It wasn't an easy task when you were being imprisoned by a military force on an entirely different world, but Guy had gotten good at pretending, at least.

[Free.]

[mateswithnobody.livejournal.com]

The potential that she wasn't crazy, or at least wasn't in the Doctor's view (not that that was saying much), gave Donna a little bit more confidence for the day. She was still curious enough to want to check things out herself though, so after leaving a nice little note on the bulletin board, and praying that should wouldn't have to berate too many idiots who got after her for what she'd asked, she was taken off to the Cafeteria for a much needed breakfast - which she'd still retained from her bet since the Doctor hadn't said either way whether he suspected the Chapel statue of being ~alien~.

She took her pick of the real food on the line, thanking God (yeah, it was all right outside of the Chapel) that she didn't have to take any of the pink gruel that some patients seemed to be getting, before turning and giving the room a once over.

Might as well pick someone new to sit with. She'd gotten to meet Luke Skywalker by chance, after all; maybe she'd get lucky and meet someone she'd actually want to this time. One could only guess just how closely the ones in charge followed Hollywood.

Though no one looked as familiar as her nightly rendezvous, she did pick out a fairly good-looking young man to try and make friends with this fine morning. "Mind if I sit here?" she asked to get his attention, being nice enough to wait for an answer before sliding her food onto the table.

[dualistic]

The reason that Harvey didn't have a problem speaking with Lana was because he usually came away from their talks with an extra bit of information. She hadn't aimed for the basement, but she was still making something of her time here; she was still uncovering pieces of information, bit by bit. It was a good thing he'd agreed to take her along with him that one night, since now she seemed to trust him enough to share her findings.

Depending on what came of the basement, maybe he could make his way up to the file room one night. He wasn't sure that he would be able to take anyone with him, seeing what his reasons for going were. Not that he had to explain; he could always say he was looking to find something out about a vanished friend.

The real question was if anyone would actually buy that.

It was something he could sort through later, though. Right now his main concern was the basement, though all their preparations were more or less in place. He had already decided he was going to bring both his gun and that axe along. He wasn't the strongest or the most capable when it came to fighting, but at least he would be well-armed.

Right now all he could do was make sure he was eating enough that he'd have energy for the night. That meant forcing the pink gruel down even though he came up with some pretty horrible mental images if he thought too hard on where the stuff might have come from.

At least it was soft enough that he could eat it without too much trouble.

[Free.]

[deadlyjuliet.livejournal.com]

Waffles.

If there was one good thing about being stuck with the tasteless pink slop they now served here, it was that Grell no longer had to deal with waffles. After that incident from before, the death god had been thoroughly soured on the breakfast dish and so, it was with some mild relief, that he found they were only accessible to certain members of the public. As long as they stayed out of that annoying brat's hands, Grell wouldn't have to get sedated by stabbing him in the throat with a chair.

The night had been rather useless, but all in all, the god wasn't that upset. A lazy night every so often wasn't so bad. ...even if most of his nights had turned into that. He needed stimulation! Drama! Someone to kill! And luckily enough, Peter's new-found split personality afforded just that.

That, however, wouldn't be until night time, which left Grell with a conundrum that was becoming more and more routine: finding daytime entertainment. Fortune was smiling upon him today though and the god found what would likely turn into a rousing good time in a still grimacing and familiar half-of-a-face. Taking his tray over, Grell stopped across from the no-longer stranger and smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Dent. Might I join you?"

[vitale.livejournal.com]

By the time Bella entered the Cafeteria, she had calmed herself down, and was focused on one thing; trying to force that horrible cat vomit looking thing they called food down her throat just so she would stop feeling so angry all the time. Being so hungry that she was in serious bitch mood was not fun anymore, and she knew that if she wanted to act like a human being, she would have to just suck it up and down the horrible monstrosity.

After grabbing her plate of said cat vomit (still ew), Bella seated herself down, peering around the cafeteria for a moment before frowning. Why was everyone wearing the old uniforms? And why was Landel actually on the intercom? It sounded like a recording, honestly. What the hell was going on?

Something not good, she grumbled internally to herself. Great.

It wouldn't do any good, however, to simply dwell on the potential maiming that could happen at any moment, so she had to focus on eating. Staring down at the plate she had forced herself to pick up, she poked at the pile of mush with a spoon for a moment ... before taking a spoonful and literally forcing herself to swallow it down. Hand covering her mouth, she clamped her eyes shut, breathing through her nose for a few moments before swallowing the lump down, letting out a groaning sound after. "This is beyond disgusting," she whined to no one in particular, dreading taking another spoonful.

[martyrs]

Elena was having the same 'I can't even look at this stuff, let alone convince myself to eat it, but I'll starve if I don't, so...' problem that Bella was, finding herself staring at the mush in that horrible 'how do you even exist' sort of way as she walked around the cafeteria, trying to find a seat. Not that this place seemed to care much about the well-being of its patients, but she couldn't help but wonder how this crud even had any sort of vitamins or whatever it was that made it okay to feed it to humans. And why were they being so awful as to feed the patients with higher ranks real food, while they still got this? Ergh. Whatever.

It was difficult, staring at the goo and simultaneously keeping her eyes out for an open place to sit, so eventually she broke the stare of horror, just in time to spot Bella. And the open seat across from her! Great!

Quickly (and carefully, as to not knock into anyone with her tray) she made her way over to her table, giving the girl an easy smile, despite the obvious expression of disgust Bella was making at her food.

"Hey. Mind if I sit with you?"

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

Great. More slop.

Whatever satisfaction Rita received from having an actual intelligent conversation that morning vanished once the pink goop was dished onto her plate. She at least had a cup of milk to fill some portion of her stomach, but for the most part, it looked like Rita was going to be going hungry for another day. Perhaps she could sneak something from the pantry that night, if she had the chance.

The mage brought her journal with her, and after sitting down at an empty table, she set her food aside in favor of flipping through it and reviewing her research. She wasn't even going to bother trying to eat. As she perused her notes, she occasionally took a sip of her milk. The patients and staff around her soon became white noise and were forgotten as she became immersed in her reading.

[ninelivesonce]

Even when pink paste was all that the menu offered, Taura didn't turn down food. She jogged into the cafeteria, which made several of the soldiers glare or jump as she sped up, but as she was going exactly where they had told her to, they couldn't say anything.

This was fun. She raced up to the counter, acquired as much of the stuff as they would give her, all the while moving with the sinuous grace that evidenced her training to anyone who knew how to look for it.

Once Taura had her tray, she looked around the room, and spotted a familiar face. "Howdy. Mind if I join you?"

[osoreirimasu.livejournal.com]

He had been hoping to avoid...well, everyone. After all the fighting last night, he should have woken up sore or repentant or something, but instead he just woke up with a sigh and the realization that he'd literally created a diplomatic nightmare. Not only had he announced to everyone in the field that he was the Empire of Japan, but he'd attacked them without provocation. Attacking countries was one thing, but people? Normal people?

Japan sighed as he was led into the cafeteria and again when they gave him the pink fake congee. He felt like he was on dietary restrictions again and that brought up memories of the last time he had done that to himself. That had been with Germany during-- Yet another reminder of the previous night.

Japan let out another heavy sigh and sat down where his victims wouldn't immediately pick him out. No one seemed very angry at him yet, but they could be like Russia (oh god, Russia) and be cursing him behind his back. Maybe he'd start eating this pink congee and fall over from sickness or economic crisis or worse, maybe he'd get a gray hair. He could just pull it out, but what if more came in? What if his hair went gray?? Japan clutched his stomach, suddenly feeling very ill at the thought and hunched over the table. Now he really hoped none of his victims were like Russia and trying to curse him...

[England!]

[teabastard.livejournal.com]

England woke with a jolt, the memory of steel and a black uniform seared into his mind. It was enough to make a shudder run through him, down his spine, old wounds suddenly flaring into life and leaving him a coiled mess of history huddled beneath the bedcovers. Oh god, what had happened? He was almost afraid to pull himself together, into something vaguely resembling humanity, but one of the staff arrived quickly, forcing his hand.

He didn't feel much better when he wandered into the cafeteria, still feeling less himself than he should have. It was an odd feeling.

And there Japan was, huddled at a table, his back hunched like the old man he often claimed to be. He was back in the normal uniform of this place, but what did that mean when he'd been swathed in Empire last night? He'd seen enough... enough of a reminder, and he could remember Hong Kong, Singapore and it left a bad taste in the back of his throat as he approached his friend.

"Japan," he said, voice calmer than he would have thought possible.

[threepwood]

Even with the intercom promising a plethora of delicious delicacies, Guybrush found himself led instead to the line where the staff was handing out more servings of the inedible sludge. He groaned. So much for the day looking up.

Well, it wasn't true that everything was going wrong. While he and Morgan's Escape from Landel's Aguilar's Institute™ had been a bust, he had made nice with a fellow figure from LucasArts. The day could be worse: he could have been forced to run more laps with his broken ribs, or be stuck in a torture chamber to be lowered to his doom in a vat of unimaginable horror, or be given another appointment with his court-appointed attorney. So far, the nurse(?) hadn't mentioned anything about his having a visitor, so all was looking well.

All but the food, that was. Given his tray of slime, he uttered a sarcastic thanks to the staff and headed for an empty seat. Maybe if he downed it quickly, he'd be allowed to sit in the Sun Room and pretend the entire meal had never happened.

[Tear]

[melodists.livejournal.com]

Venting her emotions to Guy had done wonders. Granted, Tear could not necessarily accept the events that had occurred the night before, but her priorities had the chance to adjust. She could now focus on making amends and working to consider the circumstances of her brainwashing, hopefully elevating her experience as useful for the overall populace.

At least far more useful than, say, the military's attempts to stay incognito. Their success was doubtful at best; only the recently abducted patients seemed confused by the setup. Here was hoping their visitors would catch on. Sadly, the chances of that was close to zero. If they viewed their friends and family as less than mentally sound, obviously they would find any claims otherwise to be suspect. The military was also too good about covering up major inconsistencies. To the outside world, they might as well be an institute.

She sighed at the thought, to sigh again when she noted the pink-colored gruel sitting on her plate. Appetizing food wasn't a necessity for her, but there were limits on what others could take. Most appeared completely disgusted with the food given; it was only a matter of time before someone passed out from malnutrition. Honestly...

Just as she went to find a seat, Tear caught the sight of a blond at the edge of her peripheral. That man. The sword fighter who happened to meet the wrong side of her Pow Hammer arte. Without hesitation, she walked to the seat across from him, standing behind it to offer a solemn expression. "Excuse me."

[lighthearted]

While his conversation with Kairi hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows, he'd caught her up on everything important and also planned to meet up with her that evening, both to give her the gifts he'd bought her and also to continue their club activities. It seemed like a lot of the people who he counted on for help were now healed up and prepared to keep at it, which he was grateful for. He wouldn't have blamed them for turning their backs on the club due to it putting them in dangerous situations.

Then again, if they'd just wandered around on their own, that could be equally dangerous, couldn't it?

Still, the point was that he had some loyal members and it was the sort of thing that made him determined to keep pushing forward. Sora had been here longer than anyone else at this point, he was pretty sure. He got the feeling that a lot of people wondered how he managed, but he worked off of hope and the support of others. That was always how it had been.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about Kairi for the rest of the day now. That gave Sora the chance to put up another note on the bulletin, this time about his missing roommate. With that taken care of, he entered the cafeteria and started to serve himself up a sizable brunch.

This food couldn't go to waste. The staff should have been serving it to all the patients, but Sora knew that trying to argue with them was a lost cause. Even if he was S Class, they weren't going to give his words that much weight. So, after loading his plate with a variety of food, Sora went to take a seat and kept an eye out for any friends who might be passing by.

[Free.]

[contentincloset.livejournal.com]

Kurogane honestly couldn't say what he expected with the place anymore. Maybe it was the questionable authority making things so unpredictable, but he really didn't care for the cause so much as having to handle the repercussions.

Not that he should have been used to any kind of routine in his life.

Once again in the gray uniform, he'd tuned out the noise of the Chapel and kept to his own thoughts before being led to the Cafeteria. Here it was harder to keep to himself, or that was at least his usual experience in the place. Some nurse would spot him off in a corner and lead a "new friend" over or else someone wanting to cheer him up would invade his personal space whether he wanted it or not.

Since having to sit with someone was something he was pretty sure wouldn't have changed, new management or not, Kurogane picked out a seat close enough to a kid (who at least looked to be waiting for someone else), but that was still enough of a distance away that the boy should understand that Kurogane was not sitting with him. Only near him. Hopefully that was enough to keep the nurses from being bothersome.

[notachick.livejournal.com]

Even if he hadn't done much last night, Okita felt oddly refreshed. Tonight, they would start anew. One group to the basement, one to the upper floors and hopefully one to find those ingredients Andrew Carter needed. That so few would respond was troublesome, but the few that did were promising and so things balanced themselves out. Andrew Carter... A military man with an interest in history. If the code was right, then he was from the past as well, although judging from his name perhaps not as far as some of the rest of them.

Hijikata, Taura, Andrew and Allelujah were the only ones to respond so far, leaving Okita to wonder what had happened to Yomi, Asuka, Aximili and his prince, Yuffie and Kenshin. It wasn't a pleasant idea to think that they may have been taken, too, and so as he retrieved his meal for the day (waffles with cream and fruit because dessert for breakfast was the best idea the West ever invented), he settled at a table that made watching the cafeteria easy. People who needed to speak with him would be able to see him, and he would be able to see those who were trying to avoid him.

Which he hoped wasn't the case. He did try to remain open to the members of the club as much as possible. As much as he wanted results from his group, he also knew he couldn't push them too hard or they would break off and leave. With a sigh, Okita shrugged to himself and started eating, keeping an eye on the door.

[Andrew Carter!]

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

A History Club, huh? It sounded mysterious. Carter pondered the possible ramifications of joining a secret military organization (that is, one he hadn't officially been assigned to) and tempered it with his childish glee at the thought of getting to make his beloved bombs again. But all that disappeared when he reached the cafeteria. It seemed God had answered the one prayer he hadn't thought to make. The food was back. Carter rushed the buffet line eagerly, piling on as much as the guards would allow and slipping additional pieces of fruit and biscuits into his pockets when they weren't looking. Who knew how long the good food would last, with the power struggle still ongoing.

Carter already had an apple slice in his mouth by the time they forced him to go take his seat. He scanned the room and wondered if the woman he'd talked to on the bulletin board was in here. The contact had said she had 'long dark hair and matching eyes', much like that woman sitting with her back to him at a nearby table. Carter carefully approached the woman and tapped her on the shoulder. If the eyes were wrong he'd just apologize to the nice lady and move on.

It had to be a lady, of course. What kind of military man had long hair?

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

Nigredo and Albedo... Ritsuka kept his gaze on the floor as he walked into the cafeteria, led by a guard in disguise. The announcements were still recorded (and poorly so), but Ritsuka didn't care much about that. What mattered was what had just happened in the Sun Room. Nigredo with his forced, calm exterior and Albedo with his pleading eyes and desperate need could not be more different than if they were complete strangers. And yet, they were brothers and treated each other like brothers.

Which made Ritsuka wonder if that was how brothers were supposed to act.

Seimei... What are you doing now?

The thoughts plagued him suddenly and so he took his tray without fuss, gave no protests at what was put on it, and barely touched it when he sat down at an open table. What was Seimei doing now? And Soubi? How much could he intrude into Albedo's family without becoming a nuisance? Or was he even being one? The way Albedo had reached out to him when he'd begun to withdraw made him wonder just what sort of friendship they were developing. And what of Nigredo? Could Ritsuka become...friends with him, too?

"...When did I start worrying about these things?" he wondered aloud, sighing as he started in on his food.

[free for all! ]

[full-score.livejournal.com]

As worried as Claude was about Ippo, there wasn't much he could do except hope he didn't have an upsetting visitor later today. In the meantime, he needed to get something to eat. Although it had been awhile since he'd had a good, large meal, one look at the gruel served to the lower-ranking patients gave him a twinge of guilt.

But it's not like I can just go without food, he thought to himself with a frown. His loss of appetite last week had done a number on him. If he kept getting light-headed at night, he wouldn't be any good to anyone. That went double if they were going to start exploring the basement again. Claude needed every ounce of strength he could get. Still, it made him wish the military officers weren't so harsh on people who hadn't been here as long.

After piling some pancakes and eggs on his plate, Claude glanced around for a place to sit. He caught sight of several familiar faces, including Ms Noble, who was having a chat with Guy. He eyed them for a moment, wondering if perhaps the two became acquainted before today. Maybe he'd ask later. For now, he didn't feel quite right intruding on their conversation, as much as he wanted to take a seat near them.

Instead, he noticed another patient he'd seen in passing before. He was young -- in fact, he had to have been around Leon's age. They'd never spoken before now, but that didn't mean they couldn't talk a little now, right? Claude thought he looked like he could use some company.

After approaching the table, the blond offered a smile. "Hi," he greeted. "Mind if I take a seat?"

[fourstonewalls]

The reminder of visitors arriving twisted in Lana's stomach. If she'd been hungry for tasteless mush to begin with, she wouldn't be now. She took her tray and portion without comment, and looked for an empty section.

Having found somewhere that she could be alone with her notes and her thoughts, she did something that could charitably be called brooding. Ema would call it sulking, and perhaps she had it right. Would she be spared an awkward conversation with a dead woman merely by virtue of another man being her target? With Phoenix here, wouldn't Mia have more to say to him?

Or would they dredge up another rewritten ghost, one a little less kind? Or a living one. Jake Marshall wouldn't have anything pleasant to say, even if he'd had the circumstances of his brother's death edited into lacework lies.

She pushed the spoon around in the bowl, cutting an even spiral into the top, but didn't take a bite of it.

[Edgeworth!]

[the-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

The cafeteria itself wasn't difficult to find - after all, all that had been required of Edgeworth was to follow the largely unimpressed crowd - but he had dawdled enough towards the end of the line that he received his meal much later than most of the rest of the patients. He'd taken a fair amount of time to acquaint himself with the cafeteria after departing from the Sun Room, and he really wasn't in any specific hurry to eat; in all likelihood, he doubted that they would all be rushed.

Once he had received his tray, Edgeworth milled around the tables for a short time, looking for a suitable place to eat that wouldn't be intruding on those already eating together. The prosecutor was more than aware that he could expect several familiar faces amongst the crowd, though he had no desire to seek any of them out - that is, until one appeared before him that he couldn't quite ignore.

Lana Skye. Edgeworth couldn't say that he had any intention of speaking with her voluntarily, but the impulsive decision to simply get it out of the way began to push him in another direction. It would be unavoidable, he assumed - they were two prisoners trapped within a relatively small place - and after a few moments he decided to greet her on his terms, ignoring the rising displeasure bubbling in his chest.

"I realize that you probably don't want to hear this," he said to make his presence known as he stood across the table from her, settling his tray down on the flat surface, "but given the meager sustenance that they've provided for us, you might make better use of that eating it rather than drawing shapes into it."

[hairraising]

Why had she even gotten her hopes up? She should have known by now that anyone who spoke from the ceiling about anything, it wasn't good, even if it sounded that way. No matter how much she pouted and pleaded and made adorable green puppy dog eyes, the staff weren't letting Rapunzel have anything from the spectacular-sounding buffet.

"No fair." A puff-like sigh pushed past Rapunzel's lips as she carried a tray of pink gruel back to a table with her. Somehow, the idea of eating it while wearing the drab, grey uniform made it all the worse.

At the very least, she thought, she could look forward to a sugary treat come dinnertime. It was small, but Rapunzel had no doubt that the Mars bar that Claire had helped her buy in Doyleton would make up for all the tasteless pink gruel in the world. ...Well, mostly no doubt, anyway.

For now, she sucked it up and started in on the gruel. Come on, the faster you eat it, the faster it'll be over with, she told herself while holding her nose and keeping an eye out for familiar faces.

[Scarecrow]

[scarefaux]

Though the chat with Mele hadn't gone in a very uplifting direction, the Scarecrow found himself in a better mood nonetheless. She never failed to make the day brighter, and if there was ever a day for it, this one was it. The aching in his arms had died down for now, but his body still felt sluggish, his limbs moving as though they were being dragged through the mud.

His mind wasn't much better: it must be those pills from the nurse, he reasoned as he rubbed his eyes. As much as he disliked pain, he wasn't very keen on being unable to think well, either. The brain was just so important, after all. He could only hope the effects were temporary, and that like his limbs, his brain would somehow work itself out.

Following his soldier to the next shift (and he was still fairly certain it was the same soldier as before in a nurse's outfit, unless there was someone who looked a great deal like him simply playing a part, like the Scarecrow in the movie), the Scarecrow was disappointed to find himself led to the line for the gruel. With the tantalizing smells of the original selections only a skip away, it was hard not to complain about what he was given. He supposed after several seconds of thought he ought to be grateful he was able to taste at all, and leave it at that.

Trying to keep that thought in mind, the Scarecrow headed for an empty spot near a familiar face. "How do you do, Rapunzel?" he greeted, easing into the seat across from her.

[revolutionise]

Almost a week. Almost a week...

Utena was still hung up on that as she headed into the cafeteria. She had never been knocked out for that long in her life. Even the times she and Himemiya had blown up in those freak curry accidents, she hadn't been out for longer than a day or so (god, was she starting to get nostalgic for those kinds of incidents even?). After talking with S.T., she had spent as much time at the bulletin as she could, but even trying to force-feed herself information wasn't doing much to help her get over how much time she had missed.

And now, it seemed as though the people in charge of the Institute were intent on making her force-feed herself something else. She had gone to the buffet table as usual, only to be rudely redirected to a pot full of... she didn't even know what, but it smelled gross. And what confused her the most was that a select number of patients seemed to be getting brunch as normal. Utena had protested, but the staff weren't up for explaining their reasoning or for dealing with a whining patient. She was just expected to sit down, shut up, and eat what she was given, unless she wanted to get herself sedated.

"This is so ridiculous!" Utena fumed to herself, gripping her tray tightly as she made her way over to a table. It wasn't as though the bad food was the worst thing she had to deal with right now, but it sure did make a crappy topping to an unbelievably crappy day back. She set her tray down hard, just short of slamming it, and started looking for Himemiya in the crowds as she pulled herself into a seat.

[Care for a frustrated prince, Edgar?]

[girlsandgadgets]

[It'll be his pleasure. ♥]

While the smells of the cafeteria were promising, Edgar was mildly disappointed to find there were two lines for food: as with the day before the trip, there was one for the higher ranks, and one for the rest. He sighed to himself as he was handed a bowl of gruel to accompany the glass of water on his tray. If there was anyone they were trying to fool with the soldiers being in nurse attire and the recording of Landel, it certainly wasn't the patients. Perhaps the visitors were the ones for whom they were putting on the show after all.

Tray in hand, Edgar resolved to find a seat and get as much of it down as he could manage. He needed his strength- Anise had been right on that- and it would be some time until he could get his hands on any other morsels. His arrival was later than usual, as most of the solitary seats had been taken. While looking for a familiar face in the crowd with whom to spend the shift, his eyes were drawn to a vibrant color amidst the sea of drab shirts and smiling emblems: a young woman with pink hair, sitting alone and looking rather irritated.

"Do you mind if I take this seat?" he asked calmly as he approached, hoping her frustration wouldn't bleed into introductions.

[vstheworld]

"Ew ew ew ew ewwwww..."

Scott was already missing the cookies and cereal from the night before. He was sure the pink goop on his plate was very nice and full of nutrients that would make his body love him forever, but when it was put up against stuff that didn't, you know, taste like wallpaper paste, it kind of put the gruel in a tough place. Thus, in all likelihood, it would never, ever be the recipient of Scott's love and affection, no matter how much it tried to please him with vitamins and minerals.

But they were stuck together in a loveless brunch relationship for now, and so Scott was forced to take it over to a table with him. "This suuuuucks," Scott whined to himself as he took an empty seat.

[Come smack your bitch up, Erika]

hi scott.... /breathes on

[witchoftruth]

It was a good thing that Erika remained suspicious of the Institute and abandoned all hope, because she was still quite upset at the fact that the nice dinners were now seemingly a thing of the past. That alone made her cheer Landel's apparent attempts to regain control as she received her pink gruel. Since she was in a bad mood, she planned to find someone she hated and bother them to make sure her misery was shared. And it looked like she chose the right time to be mad, because the target of her hatred was alone at the moment.

Erika was very quick to secure the seat in front of him, slamming her tray down and ignoring the bits of gruel that went flying as she gave the boy a very insincere, devious smile that could clearly state her intentions and feelings. Erika was expressive like that.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" She sneered, finally sitting down after making such a dramatic entrance. "I didn't want you to think that I forgot about you."

[diamondstorm]

By second shift the Digimon had mastered the hobble into something a bit more dignified, allowing for a slower limping walk. As long as she did not fully straighten, her stomach was numb under the heavy bandages. The sharp pain in her, came from her back with every step that was taken. She paused near the doorway of the cafeteria, gaining her breath. It had been a while since she had felt pain like this, and if not for the debilitation, it was almost familiar. She breathed outward in a sigh and moved into the room.

The man gestured toward a table and reached for a pre-filled tray as she moved towards it. Suspicious. If they were to be military, they should at least treat her like the rest. She'd noticed others having better treatment as well, but to the Digimon it just caused her more paranoia. She slipped carefully into a seat, wincing, and nodded at the tray in front of her. The man moved away and Renamon stared at the food in front of her, different from the pink gruel given elsewhere. As if she even cared, in the end. Her hand reached out, taking a forkful of salad to eat. Chewing, swallowing--the little of that was too much, and she decided she likely wouldn't touch the rest of it.

She'd eat at dinner. By any rate, Renamon had never gotten used to eating so often.

[ Sonia! ]

1/2

[stylebythemile]

[Sorry this is so late! D: And for the tl;dr.]

Sonia opened her eyes with a small groan. She felt like she'd needed the rest--which was kind of strange, considering she had probably been knocked out for hours before that--but that was beside the point. Of course, it wasn't until another second passed that her memories of the previous night came flooding back. She gasped loudly and bolted upright. The lights were back on, her goose bumps were gone, and--

She hopped out of bed and looked around wildly. "Huh?" She was back in her cell. "How did they catch me?" Sonia said softly to herself. She didn't even remember getting caught. Although nothing bad had come of it, not knowing how it happened or how she could stop it meant there might be a next time. It reminded her of when all those Freedom Fighters started disappearing thanks to Robotnik's sleepers; she could've woken up anywhere.

She took a single step, and the first thing she noticed was that she was wearing different clothes. "Uggh! It had to be gray, didn't it?" As if the other uniform hadn't been bad enough. And what was with the smiley face? (Needless to say, whoever thought it was okay to change people's clothes while they were asleep was gonna pay!). Glaring now, she turned her attention back to her surroundings. Mokona was fast asleep in the other bed. Thank goodness she hadn't been hurt.

A long burst of static came from the speaker, making Sonia whirl around in surprise. She thought she heard a voice under it, but it was impossible to hear what they were saying. Whatever issues they were having with the broadcast were resolved in time for her to hear... Today's menu? Sonia stared up at the speaker, her eyes wide with confusion. Well, she thought wryly, if she'd needed more proof that Robotnik wasn't behind this, this was it. Who was this guy? The warden? It sounded like the food mattered more to him than the sound equipment.

But then a word jumped out at her. "Patients?" She didn't get much time to think about it. Sonia quickly turned her head away from the speaker when someone opened the door. A nurse? All he had to say was: "Out."

After she sharply demanded where they were going and didn't get an answer, they didn't say a word to each other as he led her through the building to an unspecified location. She had no idea how they gave this place a new paint job overnight. Right now, the only thing she cared about was where they were taking her. (Not to see another unpleasantly familiar Emperor, she hoped.) She spared a suspicious glance at the "nurse". Did this guy know how to blink? She quickly lost interest and kept her eyes on the path in front of them, hoping to memorize an escape route of some kind.

When they got to the largest room she'd seen so far, an empty tray was placed in her hands and she was pointed to a long food line. There they left her to wait, and she blankly observed the area until it was her turn. Oh. A cafeteria had to be the last thing she'd expected. Why risk letting them out? Unless they were confident no one could escape. At a glance, security looked tight; nurses weren't exactly a common sight in Robotnik's prisons, but here they were forming a barrier around them. They were obviously guards in disguise!

[kindalikedit]

Dean rolled out of bed in time for brunch.

"Brunch". First of all, on the best of days "brunch" was the wussy stuff they probably served with those fruity little lace things (Sam probably knew the right names. Like he said, wussy).

And second, in Landels? Apparently "brunch" was just more of that pink sludge which...Dean was trying real hard not to think of that time he got sick as a kid and puked pink. The resemblance was kinda creepy and he stared at it, caught the sympathetic eye of that dude soldier who was toeing the line with wanting to be pals with him, and figured the guy was probably thinking the same thing. It didn't look much different than the last time in the cafeteria. Slight difference in jiggle? He wasn't too sure he wanted to know what the little solid looking things in it where. All he knew was he didn't see the point of dressing it up as something fancy like "brunch" if it was the exact same stuff as the other day.

Dean scanned the cafeteria as he turned with his tray. No sign of Ruby, which was probably just as well. He had no idea what she'd do if he happened to spill salt on her. Probably knee-jerk maiming if she really was one of those black-eyed sons of bitches. He'd have to go for something a little bit more subtle. Give him some time to break it to Sam. He hated to say it, but man. Sam had some crap luck with chicks.

No Ruby, Sam, Castiel or the Trickster. Whatever he was really called. Dean moved for a table and sat down. He decided while he was here, he might as well check out the pink sludge. Hunkering down slightly, Dean poked at it with his fork. It jiggled. Like, titty jiggled. If tits were made of freaky pink sludge and suddenly dropped down the awesome scale. He frowned at it.

Well, he could always just wash it down with water, he guessed. No way was he going a day without eating just 'cause it looked like this.

[For LOST!Claire]

[savagesolitude.livejournal.com]

For her insubordination yesterday, she would have nothing to eat today. Nor was she allowed to take a seat. This is what the soldier brought her aside to say as she made a beeline for the lunch trays, making his demands in a tone that allowed not an inch of leeway. Claire's first instinct was to be furious. They had shot her full of sedatives yesterday, which made her too sick to even touch her dinner. Wasn't that punishment enough?

She had learned her lesson, though. And all things considered, this was barely even a slap on the wrist. She had gone without eating for longer. Suffered worse discomforts than being made to stasnd all day. Try being hunted through thick jungle for days on end. Or worse, being imprisoned in a pit. Only an idiot would pick the Others over Landel's for a jailer. Strange as this place was, she had yet to be treated like a dog.

Not everyone could appreciate that though. Like the man she suddenly found herself behind, drawn over by aimless meandering. He was poking at the gruel suspiciously, as if it were a living thing in his bowl.

She leaned over his shoulder to dispense her advice. "I'd eat up if I were you. Never know when the next meal is going to come."

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Kratos left the chapel feeling slightly unsettled, although he wasn't sure if it was because of the chapel itself, or Vino. Even though their conversation had been mundane by any standard, he had sensed that the young man was one of the odder patients that he'd met in his month-long sojourn at the Institute. Actually, he couldn't put his finger on the feeling precisely, but something had definitely been...off.

Well, he could put that out of his mind for now. It was time for his one and only meal before dinner, and for once, there was no nurse (at least, no legitimate one) forcing him to pick certain things out of the spread. In this case, that meant no pizza, and Kratos willingly filled his plate with anything that did not conceivably contain tomatoes before going to find a seat.

He sat down at an empty table as per usual and allowed himself a moment to reflect on the fact that he was definitely eating more than usual before digging in - albeit, with restraint. His appetite was indeed slowly returning, but not to the point where he needed to eat like Lloyd.

[and here's your knight, Natalia]

[madeinthehrl]

It was good to know Rapunzel was all right. Soma didn't usually consider herself the worrying sort, but she'd lost so many friends in the last week, and she was certain she didn't want to lose this one.

But now that that was settled, she could turn her attention to what, exactly, was happening in the institute.

As far as she could tell, the return to the mental institute was all a farce. She'd recognized her soldier escort at once, and the bowl of pink gruel she received in the cafeteria only confirmed her suspicions. But to what end? Were they still receiving visitors today? Was it all to further delude people who had already been brainwashed by the institute?

Soma found an empty seat and set her tray down, trying to hide her growing unease. If she were perfectly honest with herself, she preferred the way Aguilar ran things. At least there had been less of a pretense there.

[Free!]

[tender-cruelty.livejournal.com]

Did they really believe that they were fooling anyone with this charade? It was laughable really, enough to make Allelujah smirk when the same soldier came to collect him from his room that morning. Trying to confuse them? Or because of the visitors who were now being doubly misled by these people. Not that he was expecting a visitor. Not after so long. He was rather relieved by that to be honest.

The food was still reasonable, even though he could see that most other people were still eating the pink slop that had replaced meals. It made him feel a little bad, having normal meals instead of gruel. He didn't like being priveledged in a place like this.

He was about to sit on his own when he spotted Soma over there at another table, and he approached her cautiously. Gruel for her too.

He slid into the seat next to her, never acknowledging the soldier who was obviously watching them. "Morning."

[prodigalson]

So he had a plan. They, really. He wasn't sure if the plan was set completely in stone, especially if he and Venom were to wait until the end of the day, but he would see. It was actually preferable to him that they wait. He could figure out his various precautions and bring the entirety of the plan to Bella. He couldn't leave her alone, but he wouldn't go if she did not want to. He would understand; Venom, probably, would not. He would have to deal with it.

Sometimes Edward believed he had far too much to worry about, even with a vampire mind. Solace wouldn't come for another week, if any came at all. That was if he considered visits to Doyleton as solace. Hardly, but that was what he counted on now.

Edward took the gruel without complaint, immediately pushing it away from himself when he sat down. He wasn't going to pretend to eat anymore. It just wasn't worth it to him, not now. Instead of doing his human charade for no one in particular, he examined how the morning had gone. Something seemed to have changed outside the obvious. He was escorted by a nurse, but the soldier-nurse was more amiable than they had been previous days. Had his time in Landel's progressed to some point that changed something? Gruel was still the entirety of his meal, though when he asked he was also allowed a second bowl if he completed the first.

What a reward for surviving this long. Really.

[For Stefan.]

[sainted]

Stefan searched for Elena and Damon the moment he entered the cafeteria, but without urgency, knowing from Alaric's bulletin post that they were both all right. The only one he hadn't heard from was Rose, and after a considering moment, he added the distinctive flip of the woman's hair to the list of things he was trying to pick out out of the crowd, after Elena's slender build and Damon's swagger. In the end, the only vampire he found was Edward Cullen, sitting alone. Stefan smiled to himself, and made his way over.

He hadn't seen his friend in a couple of days, although he'd been aware that Edward was around — even in Doyleton, it was no easy thing to avoid the rest of the patient population, nor was Edward an easy person to just glance past. Did all the vampires in his world look like him? Stefan had assumed, based on how ordinary Bella looked, but it occurred to him now how hard it would be for a family of vampires to hide if that was the case.

It was interesting, in any case, although probably not important. Edward wasn't the strangest sight to be found in Landel's (and by now, Stefan found him more familiar than strange, which was its own odd kind of comfort), and he seemed well-equipped to deal with hunters if he'd survived for over a century by this point. Stefan shook his head of these idle thoughts as he came closer, stopping in front of Edward's table.

"Good morning," he greeted, and then added a second later, upon realizing that he might be intruding: "Uh. Are you waiting for anyone?" Although he and Damon had failed last night in finding something to eat, Stefan wasn't quite feeling ravenous yet — at least not as bad as he'd been a few days ago, and definitely not as bad as Damon had to be feeling right now. It wasn't comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but it was bearable.

That said, he'd still rather not be around if Bella Swan happened to come by, and he doubted Edward (or Elena, who was apparently now her friend) would want that either.

[kingside]

While brunch would have been a very good time for Lelouch to mull over the things he had learned and plan for his next, likely very limited mood, most of his concerns regarding all of that (except the part regarding Nunnally) vanished the moment he received his... food.

... What the hell was it? Some sort of pink... what?

A brief conversation with his "nurse" left him feeling only slightly less revolted, but he fortunately had the sense not to press the matter with how many other people in the cafeteria were already poking at their bowls of slop. If a higher rank was what it took to eat like an ordinary human being, then...

He let out a quiet sigh and found a place to sit. After sleeping for four days straight, having some form of sustenance would probably be better than having none, but... really, what was it?

[Free.]

[lastlovesong]

Even though her conversation with Scott had gone well, Chise was not looking forward to today's brunch. The first time they brought in the pink gruel, she had to force herself not to vomit after eating 1/4 of it and spent the rest of the day in bed. At least she could look forward to dinner, assuming that the staff doesn't change the menu.

Without any complaints, she accepted the tray given to her and searched for a place to sit (she spotted Kurogane, but he was already talking to another boy), but to the left of her she spotted someone whom she hadn't spoken to in a long time.

"H-Hello Lelouch, it's been a while since I heard from you on the bulletin board. How are you? I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something."