damned_institute | Night 58: Kitchen (Second Floor)

The girl followed after, once more befuddled as to how he accomplished such a feat. She'd tried watching his hands as the sweet-smelling liquid ate at the rust, but she saw no place he could have poured it from, or hidden it away to. Of course, it had been darker then without the moonlight, and even darker now -- her flashlight was the only point of illumination. Her empty hand alighted on one of the counters, while her light tried to ferret out the corners and edges of the room, where the doors and drawers lay hidden.

"How... do you do that?" she finally asked, her tone curious, voice soft. Everything had been so quiet until now, she felt as though speaking too loudly might ruin the steady calm of the journey.

He looked over at her, his expression mildly curious. He raised his hand a little reflexively, flexing and curling the fingers.

"Although this place may weaken this Sesshoumaru, but I am still stronger than most," he said after a moment, arrogance clear in his voice. "I am not yet fallen quite so far."

Sesshoumaru. Was that his name, she wondered? Or perhaps the name of his people. Either way, the answer didn't satisfy her, though it would be hard to see it on her face for the darkness. Strength didn't have anything to do with whatever it was she smelled, did it?

No matter. The drawers and cupboards were thankfully unlocked, and opened easily. It took no time at all to pull them open and examine their interiors for something useful. The drawers were full of small instruments of similar-length handles with alternating ends. This was a sort of scoop with several slits in it; this a flat, rectangular blade that made a weak twang sound when she hit it against her arm; this a flat and shallow spoon; this a spoon so round and so wide it was practically a bowl attached to a stick. It was hard to imagine that some of these things could be useful.

Well, she thought. The door was locked for a reason, wasn't it? Like the book from the library, it seemed like a good idea to at least take something. There was no telling if she'd be able to come back here, so it made sense to grab what she could and hope for the best. Didn't it?

With a more discerning eye she began fishing items out of the drawers and cupboards, making a small pile on one of the counters. She could figure out what to take -- and how to take it -- once she had a better idea of what this place had in store.

She had to take care where she walked; the snow stuck to the bottom of her boots was making the floor slick from halfway melted slush.

The way she was holding the flashlight cast her own face quite neatly in shadow, even to his eyes - the beam of light cast enough light forward that anything behind it was in the darkness, shielded by the shadows themselves as well as the light pollution. The end result was that he did not see her expression, not well enough to classify it as anything. He stood silent for a moment all the same, watching as she turned away from him.

She began pulling open drawers and rummaging through the contents, and after a moment, Sesshoumaru decided that it was a good idea - he simply wasn't sure what he was going to do. The ambient light was not enough to see, not well, and attempting to see into the shadows of the drawers with only it....

Sesshoumaru growled lightly in frustration and once more brought his flashlight out. Placing it on the counter, unfortunately, did very little but cast yet more shadows into the drawer he pulled open. He briefly considered setting it in the drawer, but that would also limit the range of light, and cast shadows that might distort the contents, from this angle. It was a problem, and he stood and thought it over for several moments, then bit down another growl. Curse that mutt; he rarely minded the loss of his arm, but in this place it was proving more than inconvenient.

Still.

He took the flashlight in his teeth and began to examine the contents of the drawer in front of him - which were useless. Flat, dull pieces of metal which appeared to be intended as knives but which only fit the description loosely, an item which almost resembled a weapon in miniature, though the prongs were so short that it would be difficult to inflict real damage with one, odd shallow spoons. Useless. Sesshoumaru dropped the flashlight back into his hand, made a little face, and proceeded to the next drawer.

Which, at last, held items that might be of use.

His eyes flicked along the edges of the blades - true blades, this time - housed in the drawer, and ran his finger down the edge of one. Blood. He looked at it with dispassionate interest, once again removed his flashlight from his mouth, and licked the few drops from the shallow cut off of his finger.

"Girl. How well do you know blades?" His voice was calm, lightly questioning.

She was fussing with the spinning side-handle of some jaw-like contraption when her companion spoke; despite the calmness, she almost jumped in surprise. Instead, her reaction was betrayed when she turned, with a screech her boot heel against the slick floor. It took a moment longer to understand the question.

"I can fight with them," she said, her voice level but her expression slowly turning to surprise. Somehow, she knew this this to be true without even the memory of ever holding a dagger in hand. Her teeth pulled at her lower lip to keep from frowning. "But... I can't tell you anything about them. Why?"

"Hn." His voice was thoughtful, but his expression studying and gaze somehow penetrating. It unnerved most people, to be stared at so silently, especially by one whose expression was so unreadable. "There are knives here. They wouldn't be weighted properly for combat, but are sharp nonetheless.

"How well can you fight?"

The girl stared back, uncertain under that steady gaze, looking lost and suddenly vulnerable. "I..." Her voice wavered, the shake of her light betraying her unsteady hand. With a swallow and a shake of her head, the girl forced the words out of her mouth, quiet and hesitant.

"I can't tell you." Like each time before, shame crept into her voice, and the fog in her head seemed to grow ever heavier. "I can't remember anything before last night. I know I can fight. It's... instinctive, but... I can't remember fighting..."

Sesshoumaru looked at her, still steadily, curiously.

"Then it seems you can fight well," he said after a moment, voice simple and direct. It was not questioning, as the voice of most others probably would be. She was either telling the truth - which he suspected - or was lying - which would be profitless, but nonetheless impossible for him to prove. And if they could strip him of his strength, they might well be able to strip this girl of her memories.

He looked at her for a moment longer. "Is there anything else you do know about yourself?"

There was no lighting of curiosity or pity in his tone, and the girl could only feel grateful. Carefully she made her way across the slick floor and the dark island counters to where her companion had stopped, speaking as she moved.

"I don't know. There's people who say they know me, but I don't recognize them... I can't even remember my own name."

Arriving beside him, she moved the flashlight to her left hand and picked up the largest of the knives with her right, fingers wrapping easily around its handle. Overall it was lighter than she expected, despite the fact she should have no expectations at all. "But... in a way, I remember this."

"And so," he said, his voice still as casual as if they were discussing the weather, "you have no way of knowing if they are telling you the truth." He watched her pick up the knife, eyes narrowing just a little as he looked at the way she held it, at the way she stood.

"Hn."

And he struck.

Sesshoumaru moved fast, but not nearly as fast as he could have, his movements expertly executed but entirely blockable. He wasn't looking to fight the girl, even to spar, but merely to test her.

She moved as though she had training, she said this seemed familiar. Very well. It was time to see how well she had been trained.

Her eyes were fixed on the knife, thin and weak. She would have agreed with him -- perhaps expressed just how confused they made her, between Locke's stories about the "Terra" he knew, and the strange not-familiarity she sensed from Edgar -- had she the time. From the corner of her limited vision she saw his single arm move towards her with unmistakeable intent, and before the girl knew what she was doing, she was moving as well.

You need to protect yourself.

There was little room to dodge, and the floor was slick with melted snow. The girl had little choice. The right arm that came at her was parried with her left, her grip tight on the flashlight as she slammed the butt of it against his arm. Her face was twisted for surprise, but concentration as well. Her feet had already moved beneath her for a wider stance, a better balance, squeaking on the tile floor.

The curve of the blade was meant to be rolled upon a flat surface, to chop vegetables: it was not designed for the easy stab of a dagger, or the hard blow of a sword. It turned in her quick hand, pressing and slashing across her attacker's chest, force and speed ripping the blade through fabric and skin.

It was a shallow cut, and would not be enough to stop him from attacking her again if he so tried, but her teeth were clenched, light and blade held firm in each of her hands. The edge of the blade was dark with blood.

He moved quickly, but not quickly enough. His body was not responding as it should. Sesshoumaru's eyes widened a little in annoyance and surprise as he felt the razor sensation of a sharp blade slicing through flesh - she did little more than scratch him, but she shouldn't have been able to touch him. It was this place again.

At least he had learned what he wished. She fought instinctively, and well. Her balance had shifted, she had moved too quickly to have needed to think about it, the movements themselves as graceful as a dance. And she had landed a blow on him. Whether or not this place weakened him, it was an accomplishment of some note.

He had recoiled from her when she struck at him, leaping backwards and landing maybe five feet from where she was standing - it was a small room, which restricted the distance he could travel even more effectively than the limitations imposed by this place. He stood very still, a ghost in what little light was cast upon him so indirectly, considering that for the first time in a very long time he could feel thin lines of blood dripping down his chest.

"You have been trained," he said a few moments of not moving later, his stance casual, his voice calm - interested, if anything. But then, this was what he knew.

Even for how fast the "fight" had been, her heart was pumping for adrenaline; just because he'd put distance between them didn't necessarily mean it was over. The flashlight turned in her hand to follow him, the beam steady against his face.

If it blinded him, all the better. What the hell was he thinking? Maybe the girl had made the wrong choice in taking a companion at all, if trying to take her head off with nails as long and as sharp as the blade of the smaller knife still sitting on the counter.

"Trained? By who?" she asked, searching his well-lit expression for some clue. "Is that why... you attacked me?"

She was regretting now not asking anything about this man's past before requesting his company.

His eyes narrowed a little at the beam of light, but he didn't attempt to shield them or turn away. He seemed almost more like a statue than a man, only the smallest movements showing that he was still alive.

"I have no more idea who trained you than you have," he said. "Only that it has been done, and you have been taught well.

"You said you knew nothing of your past. It seemed prudent to discover at least this much."

Her left hand tilted, the beam of light sliding from his face; the girl wasn't sure what to make of that explanation -- wasn't sure what to make of him at all. She frowned, glancing once toward the knife. It wasn't near enough blood for heavy droplets to roll off blade, but a thin stain still marred its edge.

Even though he hadn't managed to hit her, and she was the one who caused injury to him, she was the one more unsettled by the affair. For a long moment, she had nothing to say.

"... There's two doors on the back wall. Should we split up to check them out?"

Well, she wasn't going to thank him, and certainly not apologize.

He expected neither and so was not disappointed. His eyes left her face for the first time since he had lept from her, as he looked over to the doors she mentioned, seemingly as casually uninterested in them as he had been in being cut.

"If you prefer," he said, voice still almost bored. Then he looked back over at her, raising an eyebrow. Which door would she prefer?

She shrugged her shoulder. What did it matter? They didn't know what was behind either. They could each simply take which door was closer.

Sesshoumaru nodded, a very small gesture, and then walked forwards again. His stance seemed as casual as ever, for all that he was focusing on her very intently now, with all his senses trained on her. He could hear her breath and heartbeat and the small sounds that her shoes made on the wet floor as she moved, he could smell her uncertainty, and as she stood uncertainly in the light of the flashlight he was holding, he'd be able to see if she moved too quickly. He had no intention of being cut again.

He picked up his flashlight when he came back to the drawer and slid it away, then carefully reached into the drawer again. When his hand came back out he was holding a paring knife by its short blade. His eyes flicked over to his companion as he held it out for her. After waiting for her to take it he reached in for the final knife. After a moment of thoughtful silence he slid this under his belt, as he might carry a sword. The handle and a belt loop caught it, keeping it as secure as was likely possible at the moment, and then moved for the closest door.

[ to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1169506.html) ]

She was not at all sure what to make of 'this Sesshoumaru,' but it seemed what little fight had bubbled between them had disintegrated into nothing. She was wary when he approached once more, but the girl did not step back for fear; nor did she lash out. She watched as he took the light, and then a second knife -- for her, she realized, shifting her inventory of hand to take the small thing by its handle. A third knife went with him, the blade longer than either of hers, but it was more uniform in width, and possessed a jagged lower edge. All the blades were single-edged; she knew that none were really all that suited for stabbing or combat.

They'd do.

The smaller knife went carefully into a slim pocket, for it was much too small, narrow, and unevenly balanced to tuck into her belt. She should have kept her beret, she thought now; she could have cut into it with the knife and slipped that firmly onto her belt, and use that to carry such small items as this. Lesson learned.

She waited for her companion to disappear through his own door before moving to hers, reaching for the handle with the knife still in her grip. The handle of the weapon was narrow, and braced on her thumb she could easily manage something as simple as a door.

The girl crossed the threshold.

[to here]

[from here]

The heavy brown sack she used to wedge the strange door open, keeping at least some illumination to follow her into the kitchen. There, she emptied the two bags of their deli carcass contents, leaving the meat to sit beside the cans on the counter. Retrieving the smaller of her two knives, the girl made two small slits on one side of each of the two bags, an inch below the opening, and each slit an inch or so away from its nearest side. Satisfied with this, the girl slipped the book off the back of her belt and set this too on the counter, the knife on top of it, and unfastened her belt.

The heavy leather was far too thick for her to cut, even with the larger of the two knives, but the thin material of the bags had been easy. She threaded the narrow end of the belt through the first of the bags -- into the bag on one end, and out of it on the other -- before starting to thread it through her belt loops. When she had circled round to her other side, she repeated the process with the second bag, before finally cinching the belt into its buckle.

It was strange, even in her own mind, to do something like this. She knew that she wanted to carry with her as much as she could get away with, and that hanging props alone on her belt severely limited her choices. Carrying a bag of some kind, or bags, seemed more practical, and better still if she could do so without sacrificing the use of one of her hands. Perhaps in her old life, something like this was normal to her... but how would she know?

The small knife went back into its careful pocket, the book slipped back onto the belt between the bags. She was ready to start stashing items into the bags, but...

The girl glanced over her shoulder at the door her companion had passed through. He hadn't come out yet...

Leaving the rest of her prizes where they lay, the girl took up the flashlight and larger knife once more, heading for the other door. Whatever lay beyond that more of a room than what her door uncovered. With care, she followed into darkness.

[to here]

[from here. It's like the kitchen is becoming that darn hallway!]

The light from the refrigerator was steady, but dim; while it managed to throw its yellow light far enough to hit each wall of the kitchen, it could not delve into the drawers or cupboards that lined the room. She set her small stack of hypothetical human food products on one of the counters, looking to see where her companion had gone.

Sesshoumaru was very dubiously examining the little pile of lunch meat that Terra had left on the counter, musingly nibbling at a cookie. This appeared to be meat, but it did not seem at all appetizing. People ate this? Perhaps he had been mistaken.

She took the bottom of the two boxes and slid it out from the pile on the counter, setting her flashlight and knife down next to everything. The box was sturdy, in a way, but eventually the girl found a weak part, and proceeded to easily tear the whole thing open, ripping a wide opening across the front of the box. Inside was a sealed bag, but this did not have the toothy-nubs that the bags of meat in the refrigerator possessed; she tore this open as well.

She had no idea what this was, either.

"... Is this really food?"

Sesshoumaru had abandoned the uncertain pile of meat (he was pretty sure it was meat) and was examining the light source. It was a little space, cold spilling out through it, though it did not seem be connected with the outside world, and he could not see anything that should be causing the cold. There was a collection of bottles and cartons which seemed to contain liquid, a white sack, and something else in the corner. He considered it bemusedly and drew it along with the sack out.

The white bag smelled of fish and egg and grains, and was perhaps slightly more appetizing than some of the things he had found in the pantry. The other thing was dark and smelled similarly to the whatever-it-was in the other room. He pulled them both out and onto the counter to join the small assortment that Terra had there, and retrieved a bottle.

It seemed to contain water, though what exactly he was supposed to do with it....

He looked over at his companion then.

"It smells of grain, and something sweet, and a nut. If it is not food, I do not know what its purpose might be."

Her skepticism did not dissipate at such words, but it seemed to bolster her curiosity. Her fingers dug through the hard clumps of whatever-it-was, almost like miniature pine cones, though far more brittle. She took hold of one such cluster, moving it into the bright pillar of her flashlight; it was a golden sort of brown, shades off of her hair, but she supposed her companion's description made sense. It could have been made of grain.

Well, if it was supposed to be food...

Popping it into her mouth, the cluster practically shattered under her teeth, all sharp edges and sweetness. It was an entirely different taste than the black-and-white disc, and was sweeter to the tongue. It felt heartier, too; the grain here was much denser, and it took longer to eat. Still very dry, though... perhaps she'd acclimated too readily to the runny soup of a meal served during the sunlight hours.

"It's... not bad," she decided, shrugging. "Better than the other thing." She wished she hadn't obliterated the bag; she could have turned it into another satchel to hang from her belt. Of course, it wouldn't close as readily as the other two had.

Her eyes moved from her increasingly disastrous pile to where the man had brought over new items. "What are those?"

Sesshoumaru looked somewhat skeptical at her words, but nonetheless reached out to pick up a similar cluster. He bit a piece off to taste it and pulled a little, very subtle sort of face. Not entirely pleasant, but no more was it unbearable.

"Hn."

It was an unusual flavor, certainly, and one which he was not entirely certain he approved of. But, all the same....

He finished the odd little cone, and glanced back at the newest additions to the counter. "I am uncertain. This appears to contain fish of some kind, and this.... It resembles the things from before."

He picked off a bit - it was very soft, once again, which was disappointing; there was nothing here with the proper texture, but this....

Hm.

He broke off another piece, offering it with a raised eyebrow to Terra.

For a brief moment, the girl was reminded of Ryuuzaki with his paper bird, and so hesitated. It can help to focus on a pleasant memory... but you don't have any. I thought--

Pinching her lips between her teeth, she took the proffered substance. It was soft, yielding to the touch; it felt moist and a little sticky on her fingers. Residue stuck to her fingers even after she popped the thing into her mouth, and she had to scrape her fingers clean against her lower teeth. This too was sweet -- was everything up here a sweet of some kind, she wondered -- similar to the black disc, but much more flavorful. A thicker sort of taste, she supposed; it practically dissolved in her mouth.

She made a surprised sort of sound there, with her mouth closed. It was, she thought, what the thing in the other room had been trying to be, but failing spectacularly. The only problem, she thought, was one shared by the others. True, this food wasn't dry, but it certainly wasn't helping her growing thirst.

Her gaze moved from unfocused surprise to a very poignant look towards the cluster of cartons and cans and bottles nearby -- the various liquids she retrieved from the refrigerator. Now, there were two problems: determining which thing to drink, and how to get said container open.

From her pocket, she withdrew the smaller knife as she shifted towards the drinks.

Sesshoumaru licked his fingertips absently - whatever this is, it seemed vaguely addictive. After a moment of thought he broke off another piece, and began examining the sealed clear (though not glass) bottle that appeared to be full of water. It was as much out of curiosity as anything that prompted him to try to open it, but he couldn't seem to find much in the way of what to do in order to open it - perhaps pull the cap off, but if that was the case there was a trick to it. After a few moments he decided to simply use his claws to cut it open - a simple enough solution here.

It was as his claws were sliding into the plastic that the voice crackled to life.

Sesshoumaru reacted very quickly, eyes narrowed to slits, leaping over to the intercom as behind him the waterbottle fell and quietly began to spill out.

But there was no one there.

Water spread quickly over the counter and off, splattering to the hard floor beneath. She too jolted in surprise at the sudden noise, though her startlement was less of the 'jump and attack the source' variety and more the 'cup hand over mouth and be glad it was not the hand holding the knife' routine. But the voice continued after those initial seconds, and the girl was more than a little confused. Could somebody really have snuck into the room and hid here all this time while they'd been distracted a door away? It was possible...

She tossed the knife from one hand to the other without thought, catching it easily by the handle, and with her free hand snatched up her flashlight and pointed it toward the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from above the counters, level with the cupboards, or perhaps higher than? But the dim light showed no person, and her light served no better. The only thing she could see were a series of dark spots on the wall. Holes?

It was not until noise ceased that her mind processed what she'd heard.

Traitor, it said. The rogue soldier. Who was that, she wondered. And Major Harrington, she'd heard that name before, hadn't she? Not in the misty fog of her true memories, but in the shallow pool of that which occurred in the past day and night. That's right; he introduced himself that morning, the man whose voice blared through every room when one segment of the day bled into another.

The Chapel... Edgar had mentioned it as well, being somewhere on this floor. She hadn't seen it yet, but... perhaps it was important to see?

She didn't know. She wasn't sure what to do at all. Her flashlight remained steady, but her eyes fell to the mess of food stuffs they'd spilled all over the counter. Was this really what they should be doing? She still hadn't found the file room... and none of these things were triggering her memory, either.

The girl frowned.

The voice was one of those in charge, and Sesshoumaru needed no further evidence nor excuse. But there was no one there.

Sesshoumaru glared in an interested, dangerous sort of way and, on chance that there would be something of value there, used his claws to rip into the intercom, pulling away the covering, exposing... nothing. Nothing except wires. Was it meant to be a spell form? It was ruined now if it was. He growled in frustration, then turned and looked behind him.

The water was dripping onto the floor.

His movements were silky as he turned and walked back to the counter, and washed the dust from his fingers in what water was still running over the edge of the counter, then righted the bottle and after a moment of consideration, finished its decapitation. And, after a moment he drank lightly from it, and looked back over to the girl.

The girl once more looked over their mess in the kitchen, split open containers and utensils strewn about. Most of it had been her doing, but the interruption of the task by the intercom made it seem wasteful.

"... Should we keep going?" she asked, hesitant and lost, as was often her case. "That other door..."

Sesshoumaru blinked as he watched her, expression slightly curious. "There is, then, nothing else here which you wish to examine?"

The scene was admittedly wasteful, but perhaps it mattered less to Sesshoumaru than Terra. Normally he was fastidious, but normally he was not being held captive, and this scene did not appear to be one that would affect him, merely his captors.

Uneasily she nodded. Much of it, she thought, she could take with her, or abandon later if it proved cumbersome. With quick and careful examination and sizing, she filled her two bags: the three painted capsules from the refrigerator, and three paper-labeled tins from the other room.

The boxes were both too cumbersome, and the girl figured the second had similar contents to the first; nothing interesting, that was. The strange bottle was nestled in with some effort with the thinner cans from the fridge; its rotund shape distorted the satchel more than any of the cans, but there was still give enough to fasten it closed. She checked the security of her book from the library against her lower back; it didn't seem to be going anywhere. The small knife was safe as could be in her pocket. The flashlight and the larger knife stayed in hand.

The girl moved as fast as she dared across the slick floor, to the counter where she'd earlier stacked many of the various utensils of the kitchen. With little-to-some idea for use, and more concern for portability, looped a few of the more lop-ended items through her belt itself, some smaller tools slipped into this or that satchel. The wooden stirring spoon went through a belt loop, its handle braced under one of the bags; paralleled on her other side with a metal soup ladle, which only needed to be slid beneath her belt. The less-full bag received both of the bulkier utensils with the strange handles and gears; the tighter-packed one got the slimmer tools, like the two forks, the butter knife, and a strange strip of metal with an open loop on one end and a sharp inclined hook of a triangle on the other.

Despite the variety and quantity of items the girl elected to carry, she packed them away with haste and a surprising lack of hesitance. While it was true she understood what little many of these items did, it was better to take whatever she could now and figure out need later. The whole affair took only a couple of minutes -- with a very minor detour to have another bite or two of that cake, of course.

Sesshoumaru considered, and after a moment of thought took another container of water out of the fridge and stowed it with the flashlight, deciding that if anything was likely to be useful here, that might be - and, of course, the knife, but that was securely at his hip already. After having finished this he waited for his companion, casually eating more of the cake and finishing the last of the water in the first container as he did so. When it appeared that she had finished, he moved away to the door, from one source of cold to another. It was curious, he considered, but there was a kind of symmetry in it.

[ to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1168288.html?thread=80133280#t80133280) ]

Night 58: Kitchen (Second Floor)

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