Day 58: Arts & Crafts (Fourth shift)

[immortale]

Firo was glad to see the end of lunch, if only for the fact that in a few more hours, the day would be over. Night was the only time he had any real freedom of movement, and it was the only time he could do something worth doing, instead of just sitting around.

The usual soldier came to fetch him shortly after the announcement, with only a curt, "Come along, Saviano." Firo frowned, but followed him out of the cafeteria into the Sun Room.

He would have been fine with stopping there, but the soldier apparently had other ideas. When Firo stopped, he went so far as to grab hold of his shoulder and roughly steer him into one of the adjoining rooms, ignoring his protests all the while. The new room was full of round tables with various items like colored paper and paint in the middle, and Firo had a sinking feeling about it. What had the activity mentioned in the announcement been? Arts and crafts?

"What am I supposed to do in here?" he spat at the guard.

"Draw a flower. Make a bracelet. I don't care," was the gruff response before the soldier disappeared out the door.

Firo had half a mind to follow him out, but no—he'd wait a few minutes first, just in case he got shoved back into the pointless room. In the meantime, he took a seat at one of the tables, turning his chair towards the door and leaning his head against one arm propped up on the table.

[For Battler]

Comments

[ultimagi]

It was easy to say that nobody had ever done such a thing for her, in memory or out of it, but it said little about what such a gesture meant. She flicked one of the wings with a fingertip, the paper giving only slightly before springing back into place. "... Thank you," she managed to say, though now she was watching him much more curiously than before. What thoughts she'd been trapped in at the start, what internal refuge she was trying to carve, was for the moment abandoned.

She didn't know why he was trying to reach out to her; they were strangers, for one, and she hadn't been doing anything this time to deserve this sort of attention. So why?

"Who are you?" she asked, a bend to her brow and clarity in her eyes; the curiosity he had found so lacking before seemed to now be finally bubbling to life. "What's your name?"

[ryuuzaki]

His expression brightened, but his smile was only hinted, not quite reaching his eyes. To some degree, the circumstances had hampered whatever ability he might have to convincingly feign happiness or friendliness. Past his curiosity, past his anger, he felt tired--not a physical or intellectual fatigue, but a psychological one. No single event had brought him to it; it was everything that had happened since the night of the sleep study.

It frustrated him to understand how much the Institute was wearing on him.

"Please call me Ryuuzaki." He hadn't really answered either of her questions; those were at the top of the list of subjects he would talk around, if he could. "I've been here for a few weeks now. Of the names you've been given, have you decided which one to use?"

[ultimagi]

Ryuuzaki. She made sure to repeat the name in her mind, lips moving slightly to echo it, as she looked at his face. She had no idea how well memory would stay with her this time around -- she could simply forget every couple days, or every few weeks. Regardless, she had to do what she could to form them as strongly as she could as she went.

At the question, she looked off to the side again, evasive, uncertain how to answer. This time her gaze settled not on Locke, but on Edgar, engaged in conversation with a man she did not recognize (this, of course, told nothing).

"I...," she tried, then started over. "The people I met last night called me 'Jane,' because of my... circumstances." She shook her head once more, turning back to Ryuuzaki. "The other... I'm not sure I deserve it. So... I suppose 'Tina' for now, until..."

She shrugged her shoulders, barely making an effort to the gesture.