Day 57: Arts & Crafts Room (Fourth Shift)

[gald_digger]

When she left the lobby, Anise still didn't know what to think about her visitor. All this time, she thought the one person the institute would never truly get to was the Colonel, and that if he was gone, then maybe he was hiding somewhere, plotting a way to rescue the rest of them. Now that she thought about it... maybe that was naïve of her. She only thought those things because she didn't want to believe that the institute had that much power...

Thinking about it too hard made her feel so anxious it made her stomach churn, though, so Anise decided it would be best to distract herself in the meantime, and then think about it when her head was clearer. She'd probably have to tell Guy and the others what happened, too.

While she really wanted to see the movie she helped select, she also really wanted to see if the Arts & Crafts Room had those new sewing supplies the Head Doctor talked about a while ago. When she arrived, she asked her "nurse" about it, who cheerfully replied that yes, they had them, and that Anise was among the ones fortunate enough to have the privilege of using them. Was that a good behavior thing, or a military rank thing...? Well, in either case, it meant Anise got to check out the new materials they brought in, so she wasn't going to complain.

There were some pretty floral patterns among the pieces of fabric, so Anise selected those. Anything that she made had to have a few cute elements, after all. She brought the pieces to her table along with some needles, thread, scissors, and a roll of a thick cord-like material.

Before she could begin, however, that "nurse" returned, dropping an envelope on the table in front of her. "This is for you," was all she said before walking away again. When Anise picked the item up, her eyes widened in shock. There, on the envelope, was the name Dolores... written in her Mama's handwriting. Much of the other information on the outside had been blacked out, but... was this from her parents!? Without a moment's delay, she tore open the envelope and began reading the letter within, her hands trembling as she did.

[For Claude!]

Comments

[lighthearted]

Being outside had been nice, but as the sun had started to lower into the sky the cold had become too much and Sora had decided to retreat inside. Just judging by the faces of the people leaving the Sun Room after the third shift, the movie didn't seem like it was a good one, and so Sora decided to skip out from that once again. Instead, he moved into the Arts and Crafts room, partly because he was curious to see if there were any special activities going on (nothing had been announced, but who knew?) and partly because he'd gotten attached to the room after running a club named after it.

However, there was no activity to be found. In fact, the room was practically empty except for one pig-tailed girl who he recognized, who was soon joined by an older blond man who was also familiar. Both of them had been in the institute for a while, and yet Sora had never gotten the chance to speak with them.

Shrugging to himself, Sora decided to find something to do with his time and ended up with a set of markers and a piece of paper. He wasn't the best artist, but he didn't think he needed to be if he was just looking to entertain himself. Before long he'd started to draw out a rather childish version of his island home.

Even if Roxas was gone, Sora's mood was kept afloat by the fact that the club was going well and Kairi was in good shape. His night was also shaping up to be busy already, seeing how he was going to have to hand over Minato's gun to his friend and then wait for Tsubaki to drop off whatever she had for him. Not to mention giving Kairi her gifts! Still, Sora was glad that he had so many things happening, since it meant he couldn't let himself drift into any unhappy thoughts.

[For Ruby.]

[thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com]

Ruby was about six centuries too old for arts and crafts. Kristen was only about fifteen years too old, of course, but that didn't excuse the faculty for insisting that she get some stress relief by heading in. After the suggestion was made, though, it wasn't too tough to convince her. Not because she was exactly eager to go messing with construction paper and deco-scissors, but the bonus was plenty of chatting going on. Chatting meant getting something she could use outta these people.

So, she headed into the room, making a face when the stench of Elmer's glue and fresh craft paper hit her. It was like 20th century second grade classroom that she'd never had the chance to be in. She didn't see the draw this crap had for Lilith, but when you were painting in the blood of other kids instead of watercolors, she guessed it could make a little more sense.

Scoping out the room kinda brought down her theory on first sweep. Instead of finding anybody useful, she got what could be expected out of arts and crafts -- kids, kids, and some people who wished they were kids.

Then again, Roxas was just a kid too. She did a double-take when she saw a shortish guy with spiky hair and the bluest freaking eyes, but was disappointed to find it wasn't him. Disappointed? Since when were demons -- a warm blossom of pain in her gut told her to stop questioning and brooding on it. Fine. She was freaking disappointed.

Still. The longer she looked at him, the harder it was to shake the feeling that something in him reminded her of Roxas and -- hey, she'd probably just seen 'em together before. So, she headed over to where he was coloring with markers, dropping into the seat across from him and stealing the blue marker for herself, reading the label and turning it over in her hands thoughtfully.

"All the artsy crap they stuff down our throats, you'd think Picasso finished up his Guernica in rehab." She set the marker back down, scrutinizing Sora's face for a minute. "I don't know you, do I?"

[lighthearted]

Someone had come to sit across from Sora before he even knew it, and more than that, the person in question took his blue marker. The boy glanced up to see a dark-haired lady who seemed a little too old to find any of the stuff in here that interesting. Then again, he wasn't the sort of person who believed you could outgrow anything, so he wasn't about to judge.

Still, she'd taken his blue marker. He'd needed that to work on the ocean part of his drawing, which was sort of an important part. The childish part of him wanted to demand it back, but he was old enough now that he could crush that down. She'd probably return it eventually, right? And if not, he'd just ask politely in a minute or two.

Either way, his drawing was forgotten for the moment to grant the lady his attention. He had little idea of what she was talking about at first, but was able to focus on the question directed at him. Did she recognize him? He frowned at her for a moment, but he was certain he'd never spoken to her before. Still, he was pretty used to getting recognized by now, for a variety of reasons.

"I don't think so. Maybe you've just seen me around?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "My name's Sora."

[thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com]

Recognition colored her expression suddenly and she sat back, giving up her hold on the blue marker to fold her arms over her chest. For a moment, she just inspected him, like she was sizing him up. No wonder they called themselves the Arts & Crafts club, it was made up of a bunch of kids who were in over their heads -- or, not so much over their heads, in Roxas' case. That sword … she'd never gotten the chance to ask him about it.

"Arts and crafts. Cute." There was something humorous to finding him actually playing with markers upon realizing that he was in the, apparently aptly named, club. She realized he probably had no idea what she was talking about, and after a beat, clarified. "The club on the bulletin board. That's you, right?"

It didn't fully excuse how she knew him. Maybe she'd seen him with Roxas, though -- if they were in their little club together, they had to hang around each other, right? It was the best explanation she could muster up, anyway. Ruby didn't like having to come up with her own rationalities, though. She liked having the facts.

"I'm Ruby. Roxas is one of yours, right? He helped me out some a few days back."

[lighthearted]

It looked like his name had filled some sort of blank in the lady's head, since she started looking at him like she was trying to figure it out. She also dropped the marker, so Sora took his chance to subtly slide it back over to his side of the table for later. He knew that the drawing wasn't all that important, but it was still something he could keep with him and look at when he was feeling particularly homesick.

As it turned out, she also knew him from the club. That still didn't explain how she had known him just by looking at him, but it was possible she'd seen him hanging around the bulletin board writing up notes to the club. That was the only thing that made sense to him, anyway. "Yeah, that's me," he responded with a nod.

Unfortunately, it didn't end there, since the next thing he knew she was bringing up Roxas. (At least he'd gotten a name: Ruby.) It was even more likely that she had noticed the resemblance, seeing how that had just happened to him yesterday with that woman named Claire. Unfortunately, he had bad news for both of them.

"He's... my friend, yeah." It was much more complicated than that, but he wasn't going to explain unless asked. It was kind of a headache trying to explain Heartless, Nobodies, and everything else in between to someone who'd never heard of it. "But... I'm sorry, he just disappeared yesterday." He glanced down at his drawing, mainly so he wouldn't have to see her expression in response to that.

[full-score.livejournal.com]

As much as Claude wanted to spend the next shift with Guy, things hadn't worked out that way. But it had been nice to sit with his friend at all, even if the movie had been a lot more depressing than Claude expected. Maybe he should have been more careful about his vote. Then again, considering they'd only had war movies to choose from, the outcome might have been the same regardless of what they'd seen.

Still, as he left the Sun Room, there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was probably better if he didn't think so hard on it right now. With nightshift right around the corner, Claude knew he needed to steel himself for a potentially difficult evening.

He didn't get left alone with his thoughts for long, though. As he wandered into the Arts and Crafts Room, one of the staff approached him and thrust an envelope into his hands. "Appleby, Thomas," he said, as if the name had come from a list. Claude glanced at the front, eyebrows furrowed. Was that...Leon's handwriting?!

Before he could stop himself, he hastily tore the envelope open and glanced over the letter (http://full-score.livejournal.com/7156.html) tucked inside. No matter how many times his eyes raked over its contents, though, the words didn't sink in. All he saw was Leon's distinct penmanship, the names Tom and Danny, and plain proof of the very thing he'd been afraid to admit over the past several days.

It was suddenly difficult to take a deep breath.

Dazed, he looked up and immediately saw Anise sitting alone, a similar letter clutched in her fingers. Oh no...her too? Although he briefly considered leaving her alone, Claude decided to approach her in case she needed someone to talk to.

"Hey," he gently greeted, though this time it was without his usual smile. Instead, Claude gazed at her with a mixture of concern and understanding.

[gald_digger]

In the end, Anise had to read the letter twice. The first time, her mind was buzzing with so many worries and questions that she couldn't even focus on the words. The second time, she carefully read every sentence.

It was her mother's writing, all right. In the letter, she wrote about how much she and Papa missed her, what they'd been doing over the weeks, how Papa was having car trouble and that's why they hadn't visited recently... She said again and again that they loved her and missed her and couldn't wait for her to come home... all while using that fake name Anise had been given. It was touching, but at the same time... it hurt.

When Anise reached the end of the letter, she felt a lump forming in her throat, but when she looked up, she saw Claude. There was a brief look of surprise, but she managed to return his greeting. "... Hey."

Slowly, she set the letter down on the table. "It's... from Mama and Papa," she explained in a quiet voice, as if answering an unspoken question. She soon noticed the paper in his own hands, though, and followed up with, "Did you get one too?"

[full-score.livejournal.com]

Claude could sympathize with how jarring it would be to receive that kind of letter from family -- by now he'd seen his mom and dad both as patients and visitors. No doubt it was just as unnerving for Anise to contemplate the idea that both of her parents were trapped somewhere in this world. The thought made his heart ache. No one needed that stress on top of the daily perils in Landel's.

Sighing, Claude pulled out a chair and settled down beside Anise. He idly pressed his thumb against the corner of the envelope. "Yeah," he softly answered. "It's from Leon." Anise had met him once, so he was sure she'd know who he was talking about.

He went by "Danny" now, apparently, but it was still the same boy from Expel. He just believed Claude was ill now, and that his true life was a delusion. If his other friends were really out there, they probably thought Claude was being stubborn by holding on this long. But what else could he do? If he gave in, then he'd lose every chance he had to set things right again.

"My parents have visited me here before, though," he added after a moment. That was the first time he'd admitted that out loud to anyone, including Guy. "Knowing they don't see you for your real self is pretty difficult to deal with, huh." There was no self pity behind his words, but rather a solid sense of what Anise was probably going through. "You must be worried about them."

[gald_digger]

Leon... That meant that Claude had lost some friends from home, too. Anise offered him a sympathetic look to show that she understood. When he went on to mention that his parents had visited him, she realized they both had to have a good understanding of what the other was feeling. When it came to their friends and families, they were in really similar situations.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. There really wasn't any hiding it. "Actually... my parents visited me too, a few weeks ago." Anise had never told her friends about that, not wanting to add to the pile of problems that Guy and the others already had to deal with. Right now, though, she had someone who was going through the same thing, so rather than adding to their burdens, it felt a little more like she could finally get one off her chest.

"... It really is tough," she admitted as she folded the letter up and placed it back in the opened envelope. "Mama and Papa are always doing things that make me worry, but never like this." Setting the envelope aside, she gave Claude a small, pained smile. "I guess I should be glad I got this, though. This means they're still okay, right?"

[full-score.livejournal.com]

So he hadn't been the only one to get an unexpected visit from family. Claude frowned, wondering how long Anise had kept that to herself. She didn't seem like the type to freely share her problems, no matter how heavy or burdensome they were for her. At the very least, he was glad Anise trusted him enough to confide in him about what had happened. No one deserved to wrestle with those kinds of anxieties alone. Since they were both in a similar boat, that was all the more reason to stick together, right?

It looked like she was trying to look on the bright side of things, though, despite how difficult their situation became. That was always important to do during tough times.

"That's right," he said with a nod. "They're still okay, and it sounds like they think of you often because they love you. I'll bet they're trying their best to stay in contact." That couldn't be a bad thing, even if it meant they thought Anise was ill. They'd likely keep in touch as long as she was at the Institute. Maybe that would even help her locate them someday.

Claude placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Anise's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll keep hearing from them until we're able to figure out where they are."

[mugenreppa.livejournal.com]

Eventually, anger and petulance got tiring, and at the new shift, she wandered out into the Sun Room after the intercom announcement (she'd finally realized something was strange with the thing—for one thing, wasn't it Aguilar now?).

Where a nurse called her name (not her name, ugh), and gave her something. A letter? Mele ducked into the nearest room to see. All the address things were blacked out, but Mele didn't care as much for that as she wondered who would be sending her a letter, of all things.

And that was where her train of thought crashed into a roadblock, as she opened the letter and stared at it for a long moment. Was she still dreaming? Was she about to wake up any second now? Was she still in that cabinet room with Soma? Had she fallen asleep somewhere of boredom after leaving Scarecrow this morning?

There were two things in the envelope: one, a simple card, about 3 inches to 5 inches, with the words "Be well." on it in a scrawl that was naturally neat, even if it wanted to look carefree and spontaneous—handwriting she recognized. She—Airi—had teased him about it a lot. The other thing was a photograph of a single flower in a thin vase that might have been crystal (it wasn't real crystal—he couldn't afford it). It was sitting on what Mele somehow recognized as Airi's desk.

Aware that she'd been standing just inside the doorway only when she really needed to sit down, Mele made her way to a table with her eyes still on her prizes as she sank into a chair. This was...kind of impossible. Combined with the photograph from her file, this was causing havoc with her feelings. Just a ruse. A trick, she told herself repeatedly, but she couldn't bring herself to really mean it.

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

Badd had given up on his solitaire game and wandered into another room. This one looked like a first grade classroom with all the art supplies scattered around, and Badd felt vaguely insulted. He was 60 years old. It was annoying to be treated like a child during the day and then nearly killed at night, nobody just respected him, as a human being. Then again in this deathtrap respect for human rights seemed to be a rare privilege rather than a default.

"Theo Savalas!"

That name again. Ugh. Badd turned and raised one hand resignedly, only to find himself presented with an envelope.

"Mail," the guard snapped. Badd plucked it from his hand and gave a nod of mocking thanks before finding himself somewhere to sit. Mail? Who would be sending him letters? It was probably just more of Aguilar's games. He forced back the small hope that it was Kay sending him a message that she was all right, hidden in code to sneak in under Aguilar's radar. No, they'd never let it get that far.

Badd tore it open and read "Theo's" letter (http://tasteoftruth.livejournal.com/1366.html) with a detached expression. It was long and overdramatic, written from a wife to a instituionalized husband begging him to sober up and bend to the institute's lies. The only thing that would make it worse would have been if they'd dripped water on the paper to look like the grieving woman's tears. If they thought he'd roll over for such a transparent appeal to emotion they really didn't understand how he worked.

The part about the earrings was slightly noteworthy, but it could have been a guess. His false self was obviously still supposed to be an officer of the law, and any detective might give his wife something justice-themed as a present. It also neatly explained away his bullet wounds, too, the only evidence of his previous life that they couldn't take away from him.

Badd folded the letter up and slipped it back into the envelope, and it was only then that he noticed something else had been included. A photograph from the feel of it. He tugged it free and turned it over.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered under his breath. It was him in the photo, at least a decade younger and wearing a tuxedo. He was smiling. And his arm was around a woman whose smile and cackle had been permanently burned into his memory. It hadn't been guesswork. They knew who he was and what he'd been doing, and they knew what strings to pull to make him cringe. The photo had to have been doctored but the only way they could have known to make it in the first place was to know everything about him and then twist it into a dark parody of who he really was.

The woman in the photo, the loving wife in his falsified life...it was Calisto Yew.

[mugenreppa.livejournal.com]

There was some weird survival instinct that was still active despite her emotional turmoil, and Mele looked up when she sensed movement.

All of a sudden she snapped back into herself. Disgruntled that she had, for what felt like one long, extended moment, been 'Airi' (what just happened), Mele twitched the photo to cover it from the new guy (not that he was looking), and observed him without looking for a minute while she got her thoughts in order.

How did she recognize the handwriting? How did she recognize the desk? How did she know that, because he couldn't visit, he'd gotten her a flower and then taken a picture of it to send her? It was all Airi, and it was like she was being split in two directions, which was stupid, because she'd never been Airi. Was that what her day as 'Airi' had been for? For this?! Even so, it was nice to see him.

—Augh, enough! Shifting in her seat so she could sit on her card and photograph (damned if she was going to let the nurses take it back), Mele leaned forward so she could put her elbow on the table so she could rest her chin on her hand. "Surprised? Nothing is above them, you know."

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

Badd shook his head, still staring at the damned picture. "It shouldn't be possible," he said, frustrated once again by Aguilar's machinations. "Why would they go to all this trouble to find out about my life and then mock up a picture to contradict it?"

He pulled the letter out and started reading over it again, now directly searching for little clues and hints related to his real life. The little girl, that had to be Kay, there were no other little girls in his life. The blacked out names were a pretense of censoring things that didn't exist, he'd figure out that part later. But who was this murderer that Theo Savalas had supposedly been so obsessed over? There were hordes of killers and criminals in his life.

No. They couldn't be talking about him.

[mugenreppa.livejournal.com]

"To make you feel bad," Mele answered woodenly. Obviously. Anyone who'd been here for more than a few minutes knew that. Maybe he was new. But no, he had some knowledge of the fake life, so... Just shock, probably. While she didn't normally empathize with anyone, right now she knew how he felt.

"Snap out of it, will you? You're embarrassing me." The nurses or guards or whoever was probably getting a kick out of watching this. But most of all, she was angry that she'd reacted with such strong emotions, too. The nurses or guards or whatever had been standing right there! Even if they'd seen her weakness—no, not weakness. Temporary Strong Feelings Point?—she didn't have to confirm it or anything!

"—Is the picture really contradictory?" Not that she wanted to know if those 'fake' things might really— No. Just no. It was a trick! And then they took you and made you believe your loved one was still with you and made you attack people who might possibly maybe kind of be a friend. Oh no, Mele was not falling for that.

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

After his talk with the Chief Prosecutor -- no, ex Chief Prosecutor, as Meekins had to keep reminding himself! -- Meekins had scoured the shelves in the Library to find something interesting enough to read. Lots of books that he'd been forced to read in school, but not even a single Encyclopedia Brown book. His face glum, he left the Library and wandered back out into the Not So Sunny Room, which was still playing that boring movie.

Then he saw the room leading to "Arts and Crafts." Maybe... this was where he would meet Mr. Sora and learn more about this fine club he was running? Excited about the prospect, Meekins hurried into there (almost forgetting that Ms. Skye had told him not to run).

What a nice room this was, with all the artsy materials on display, ready to be turned into all sorts of wonderful creations! Already, there were several people in here, but they were all preoccupied in some way, either talking to someone else or reading the letters they got from home... much to Meekins' dismay. While he was happy for them, it drove home the realization that he obviously wasn't going to get one from his parents, at least not today. He felt sad enough that no one came to visit him either. Then again, he had only arrived yesterday, and... just how embarrassed he would have been if he had to explain to his mother and father why he had to remain standing the whole day. It was already mortifying enough to have to explain it to Ms. Skye!

With that in mind, Meekins decided not to disturb the other people, as much as he wanted to ask them if they knew of (or even were) this Mr. Sora. Besides, he might as well take advantage of the time to create something nice to show off to Mr. Sora, to prove that he was worthy of his Arts and Crafts club! His enthusiasm and resolve returning, Meekins collected several sheets of construction paper, a pair of scissors (good thing they were blunt, for Meekins also had quite the talent for cutting himself on the sharper ones), pieces of macaroni, and... googley eyes! Yes, he would try to make a collage of himself and his colleagues at the Police Station.

Though it was hard to work on this while standing up, Meekins was determined to fulfill the remainder of his punishment and to create a piece of art that would impress everyone here!

[Free to good home but can be loud and could still use some obedience training XD]

[selfnighted.livejournal.com]

Maya needed to stop getting distracted and find someone who could give her the information she sought, but this was...bizarre. "Would it not be more comfortable to take a seat?" she said as she approached.

He seemed quite energetic at it. Perhaos it might not have been prudent to disturb him, but whoops!—too late for that now. "I'm Maya," she added. May as well add the pleasantries while she interrupted. "Pleasure to meet you."

The Arts Room wasn't too bad, Maya supposed. It at least wasn't as crushingly disappointing as the Music Room; however, she had forgotten that the asylum's taste in supplies was quite lacking. She should have mentioned the art supplies in that little survey on the bulletin board, but there was no worth in dwelling on what was past, was there?

Hahaha, sorry, but this was kind of a mistaken identity waiting to happen for him XD

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

So engrossed in his work, Meekins didn't even notice the woman approaching until she brought up the fact that he was standing at the table. He gave a little start, spilling glitter all over one of the pictures he had just finished. "Ooops!" Thankfully, the glue on it had already dried... and actually, the glitter that remained on it after he shook the bulk of it off did make it look kind of nice.

"Erm... sorry, Sir!" he turned to address the woman, his face glum. "I'm supposed to stay standing until dinner. I'm carrying out my punishment for talking too loud to one of the soldiers last night, Sir. But you're very welcome to take a seat, Sir! Please allow me," he brightened up, as he saluted the lovely lady and pulled out a chair for her.

"A pleasure to meet you, too, Sir! I'm Officer Mike Meekins, at your dut-- whaaaa?" he exclaimed in complete surprise as the woman's name sank in for him. In his amazement, he nearly tipped over the chair that he was still grabbing onto. "Maya? As in the Maya Fey?" Come to think of it, this lady did resemble Ms. Fey a lot, except that she was older and didn't wear a topknot or purple robes. Could she be... Maya Fey from the future? After all, there had been talk of people arriving from different points of time!

"I-- I beg your pardon, Sir, but you really do look like Ms. Fey if she were all grown up! Are you her, Sir?" His eyes were now wide with astonishment.

xDD

[selfnighted.livejournal.com]

How unfortunate; was talking too loudly truly now a punishable offense? It must be an excuse for some more sinister design, surely? Though it seemed the soldiers (and nurses, she supposed) were in quite the optimal position for abusing their power (imagined or otherwise) over the patients. The general certainly seemed inclined to take advantage of it. But, enough. —It seemed a case of mistaken identity awaited her.

"I've not gone by that surname, no," Maya answered as she took a seat in the offered chair. And that was the second time she had been mistaken for someone else. What an unpleasant feeling. However, the asylum insisted she wear a name that was not hers; this new development should hardly be of note—but a lesser evil is still an evil, yes?

"Would I not know you if I were your acquaintance?" she asked cheerfully. "One can hardly forget you, I'd think." If only for calling women 'sir,' if not for the enthusiasm he so readily exhibited.

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

At the revelation that this wasn't the mystic Maya Fey, Meekins' face fell for a moment. After his talk to Mr. Tolten about the women of Kurain village, he had hoped to get some firsthand information about spirit channeling from the one and only Maya Fey. "My apologies for the mistaken identity, Sir. It's not the first time that's ever happened to me." Far from it, to be sure. "But you may take it as a compliment, as Ms. Fey is highly esteemed in my town, and she's talented and smart and very pretty, just like you, Sir!" He gave a guileless smile at the woman.

"I'm unforgettable, Sir? I'll take that as a compliment, too, Sir! Thank you, Maya!" He saluted her, absolutely no trace of irony in his voice nor in his action. "I'm always the one people leave behind, at least at my police department. And today..." he placed his hands on the blue sheaf of construction paper on the table, "I didn't even get a visit or a letter from my parents... and they've always doted on me."

"B-but," he forced himself to cheer up in front of Ms. Maya who wasn't a Fey, "I've only been here for a day, so maybe that's why. How about you, Sir? Did you get a letter from home, Sir?" he asked in genuine interest and genuine hope that the lady did indeed receive one.

[the-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

The trip that Edgeworth had taken to the library was refreshing if nothing else, even if he hadn't found much in the way of clues. The most relieving thing, he supposed, was that a good deal of the novels were by authors he actually recognized. That at least told him that despite everything else, his reality didn't differ too greatly from the institute's - and even if it was a meager relief, it was still something nonetheless.

After saying his goodbyes to Sam, the prosecutor had decided to explore the rooms connected to the Sun Room more thoroughly, if only to acquaint himself with what he could come to expect in the coming days. It didn't take him long then to depart after the announcements were made, and he had once again passed on watching the movie. Directly across the way from him was the Art Room, and although he didn't expect to linger, he figured it would best to get his bearings before moving on.

The smell of the room and the sterile look of the blue shelves and drawers lining it reminded him heavily of his years in art class as an elementary student, and Edgeworth had barely stuck his head in the door for longer than a moment before deciding that he didn't need to inspect the room too heavily.

...this is, until he took a cursory scan of the patients in the room, and he happened to see a certain spiky haired (though less spiky than usual) defense attorney working at one of the far tables. He nearly left out of an impulsive desire to avoid him then, though he couldn't be certain why he felt that way, but a moment of talking himself down from the emotion lead him to enter the room and at least see how Phoenix was holding up. Their confrontation with the stranger in the dark the night before hadn't impacted the two attorneys that badly, but Edgeworth wasn't foolish enough to think that it wasn't possible for Phoenix to get himself into some sort of trouble during the morning.

Meandering to Phoenix's table in an almost comically avoidant manner - he had no interest in paint brushes or charcoal, but he found himself hovering around the supplies briefly in order to give off a certain appearance - Edgeworth announced his presence by speaking behind Phoenix before he even came into view, his tone casual as he moved to look over his shoulder at what he was doing. "I see that you've expanded your wardrobe along with the rest of us," he said, his gaze moving to the drawing Phoenix was tending to.

[in-your-defense.livejournal.com]

Only a few hours prior, Phoenix had made a decision - he had decided that no matter what anyone else said about him, no matter what anyone said about the person that had been here before he had arrived, he was himself - and he refused to let everything that had been told to him drag him down. Complicated as everything was, Phoenix couldn't help but to remain stubborn about the fact - and in an effort to manage his stress, he'd resorted to expressing it through the best way he knew how - by putting his memories of his life down on paper.

Pages and pages of pencil sketches littered the table in front of Phoenix, pictures of his parents, Maya, Larry, Pearls, and Edgeworth in various scenarios intermingled together with sketches of others - Iris, back to back with a shadow of her sister Dahlia, Mia, laboring over casework at her desk, Godot sitting upon a lobby seat drinking from a steaming cup of coffee - and from the pure amount of them, it was clear that Phoenix had been working on his project intensely for a large amount of time as Edgeworth had been wandering.

The picture that Phoenix was working on currently was of Edgeworth, standing in the middle of a doorway of sorts - he was wearing a trenchcoat, his expression a mix of exhaustion from jet lag and concern, his left hand upon the doorknob. Phoenix was in the middle of adding details to the tile floor under Edgeworth's shoes when the topic of his drawing decided to sneak up on him - and he jumped as a result, letting out a surprised "ah!" before scrambling to flip the picture over in embarrassment, his face flushing reflexively.

"I...ah...um...I-I guess," Phoenix stuttered in an effort to summon some sort of response, and he turned to look at Edgeworth over his shoulder, his gaze meeting the prosecutor's as he placed his pencil down on the drawing he had been working on. A slight smile quirked at Phoenix's lips as he regained his composure. "At least it's better than a uniform - I'd take sweats over that any day."

[the-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Phoenix's efforts to cover up his drawing were a bit late as the prosecutor had more than enough time to secure a good look at it before the defense attorney had realized that he'd had an onlooker, and slight amusement had crossed his features in the meantime both from the content of the drawing and from Phoenix's reactions, though he said nothing about either.

"I don't find that particularly surprising," Edgeworth gibed, his gaze flickering away from the defense attorney to the many drawings that lined the table. Reaching around Phoenix and plucking up a drawing of Maya and Pearl, Edgeworth scanned the detailing in Phoenix's artwork. "...you've been busy." Knowing Phoenix as he was, he didn't expect him to have much of an eye for detail - it was usually the most obscure of things that caught the defense attorney's attentions - and admittedly he found himself somewhat impressed with what he saw, from the lines of shading on Maya's clothes to the beads and shape of her magatama.

[in-your-defense.livejournal.com]

"H-hey!" Phoenix exclaimed, both in protest of the fact that Edgeworth had taken one of his pictures and for the thinly veiled insult. Said like I like looking like a bum! he thought to himself in dismay, though he didn't verbalize it, knowing that Edgeworth would dance all over the grave he'd dug himself if he did.

Sitting there expectantly for a moment as Edgeworth studied his drawing, he exhaled a soft sigh and turned back to the rest of the pictures, picking up his pencil and tucking it behind an ear as he began to carefully collect them together into a pile. "I thought it might be a good idea to keep some records of everything," he started, his tone casual, "and u-um...I had some time, so..."

There was a soft tap as Phoenix managed to pull all the pictures together and pulled them upright lightly, letting them fall together into an organized stack like a deck of cards. Concealing the picture he'd drawn of Edgeworth, he placed the pile down on the table and rested his hand upon it as he waited for Edgeworth's verdict.

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

Rita's talk with Kratos had raised a number of questions in her mind, but regardless, it was time to move on to a new shift. Since there was something she wanted to work on, she opted for the Arts & Crafts Room. As she entered, Rita quickly scanned the room for pointy-haired annoyances before settling into an empty chair.

She could see a few people holding what looked like envelopes with letters in them... but whatever they were, there wasn't one for Rita. She was curious, but there would be opportunities to investigate that later.

For now, she had a project to do. Rita selected some colored paper and a black pen, and carefully cut the paper into smaller, talisman-sized strips. Then, she opened her journal to her heraldry research, and began to sketch one of the intricate symbols onto one paper strip.