damned_institute | Day 63: Mountain Antiques (Noon)

Klavier had been trapped here for weeks now. Nearly a month. And every week, every day seemed to get worse and worse. The last few days were an absolute testament of that fact. But all of that was gone right then. The twisting of his stomach and the weight in his chest had both evaporated, leaving him feeling light and wondrous. At peace. Complete. For all intents and purposes, it was like he was somewhere else entirely. Maybe for a few moments, he really did feel like that. Like he was back home where he belonged.

Because, you see, he had a guitar in his hands.

His head was bowed slightly, a smile on his lips and eyes nearly closed as he fully immersed himself in the music. Each pluck of the strings resounded beautifully, perfectly. The sound echoed and flowed through him with a sensation that nearly made him shudder. Oh yes. It had been too long. Far too long. It wasn't just the breathtaking twang of an actual guitar that he so missed but the feeling of strings under his fingers. This was love made manifest right here.

He didn't play any songs that existed. Not yet. For now, he simply made up melodies as they came to mind and played them. A direct expression, a proclamation of love, hope, and affection from him to all around him. He already knew he couldn't just stay here all day, as tempting as that seemed. So he was going to fully enjoy himself right now for as long as the moment lasted. And sure enough, he was already plenty lost in the melody.

[Free - but no srs bsns conversation will be happening this shift. Just guitaring and casual conversation. Note for previous CR: there's a personality shift, so he'll probably be different from how you know him.]

Gamzee had just been wandering, as the troll was wont to do. He wasn't really sure where he'd end up and he didn't really care. Everything here was interesting and worth a look, and he still had those coupons he could turn in for good food. Seeing as he'd just eaten, he could at least hold off on that for later.

It was the familiar blonde head that grabbed his attention. The troll was oblivious to many things, but there were always those that stuck out to him and Rose was one such being. After stopping to stare, blinking dumbly at the sight, a wide grin suddenly spread across his face and he headed straight for her with his arms out, ready to envelope her in what was sure to be an awkward and unwanted hug.

"Sis! You got yourself all motherfuckin' revivified!"

Awkward, unwanted, and painful. She couldn't dodge quickly, not without taking more damage than a hug would do. Stab wounds didn't heal overnight. Except when they did, but this was not one of those times.

"I did." Could she blame him for killing her? She'd fought back, and if she'd ever been anything but hopelessly outclassed, she might have killed him.

Of course she could blame him. He'd KILLED HER. "Is this some important troll ritual, in which one ritually verifies the undeceased nature of one's victims? Or are you particularly deficient in understanding the concept of personal space?" The latter seemed more plausible, which, these being trolls, meant the former was likely the truth. She peeled an arm off her torso. It was pink, not grey, and more yielding than it had been the last time it had been in roughly the same position.

"I see you've regained your human body." He was likely as unthrilled about that as she was thrilled to be alive. Or perhaps not. It was hard to be certain, with Gamzee.

"Hahaha... Shit, that would be a ritual I'd be all motherfuckin' up for gettin' my participate on with." He didn't seem to mind being pried off, and he backed up to continue watching her with a goofy smile.

At the mention of his current form, his smile widened and he pat himself down as if to show that yes, he was indeed human all the way. "Sure am dressed up in that pink motherfuckin' flesh again, looks like. Don't all mind it so much, though. It's comfy as shit."

The fact that Rose was now alive again seemed to negate any need he had to worry about her death or his part in it. Given that he still couldn't recall all the details of it, he was very happy for this. That she'd apparently come back from the dead didn't bother him either. It wasn't as if he'd never seen that before.

Was he...flirting with her? Bluh. She hoped not. And he still seemed to think she should be happy to see him, irregardless of any more intimate intentions. "Are you going to apologize? Or is that beneath your delicate sensibilities?"

She picked up another miniature, this one of a wizard riding a unicorn. The wizard's beard was long, and made of pewter, as was the unicorn's horn; the rest was china and crystal. She turned it over, pretending merely to inspect it while checking the price -- far too expensive, even if she could afford such frivolities.

"Did anything else happen that night?" Had the battlefield changed, once a victor was crowned? No one had told her anything, and it was much more difficult to track people down in this town, without cell phones or PDAs or laptops.

Uh oh. More questions about that night. Not being able to remember things well could really be troublesome some times. At least until he got over being troubled, which rarely took long. The troll crossed his arms over his chest as though giving it honest thought, when in reality there wasn't much thought to be given.

"Uhhh... Can't say I been able to get my remember on at all for any of that, sis. I'm all kinds of motherfuckin' sorry for what all I done went and did to you, though." If he'd even done it, though he didn't know why anyone would be lying to him about it. Everyone he'd talked to about it was usually pretty friendly and honest.

At least she wasn't attacking him for supposedly attacking her. That wouldn't be any fun.

"Apology accepted." It wasn't like she could do anything else, since he'd defeated her quite handily. They were more evenly matched, outside the sands of the coliseum, but she wasn't itching for round two.

"Have you decided what to buy with your allotted largess?" The least he could do would be to buy her some yarn, if there was any for sale anywhere. There wasn't any here, although the carafe of plastic knitting needles was still sitting where it had last week, her purchase having made no visible effect on the inventory. "Do trolls decorate? Or is it all "heads of thine enemies" and "better living through squalor"?" She set down the little crystal trinket to make air quotes. Even if they meant nothing to him, proper punctuation was important.

Well that hadn't been hard. It was always nice to be forgiven. The others hadn't needed to worry so much about things after all.

"Allotted what?" He blinked at her, lost on a good bit of what she was going on about. At last he came to realize she was talking about money - specifically the small amount they were given to work with just for this day. He scratched at his head. The troll hadn't given it any thought at all, of course, but now that he was there only seemed one logical option.

"Uh. Thought I might all put it toward another motherfuckin' horn." He'd have one in each hand, then. If this kept on long enough he might eventually get enough for a decent sized horn pile. It would just take a while. A very long while.

Horns. There was probably a deep and inscrutable reason behind them, involving arcane summoning rituals and deep-dwelling beasts. Or possibly he just liked the noise. Either way, she'd gotten used to the metaphorical honking; it was safer than most of the things he could buy. It didn't seem very weaponizable, at least.

What else did he seem to like? He'd been wearing a costume that was reminiscent of one of John's father's decorative choices. "They sell makeup at some of the stores. If looking like a human gets to be too much for you." She wasn't sure how much of his stupid act was an act, although it was very convincing. She'd just also found the part where he stabbed her with her own weapon to be even more convincing.

"Whoa, what?" That got an honestly surprised look out of the troll, and he raised both hands to his unpainted cheeks. "You for real? Would they all be lettin' be get mirthfulled up with a proper clown smile?"

Because the last time he'd tried that, the nurses wouldn't have anything of it. It was one of the few things that actually annoyed him about this place. He'd been using whatever finger paint was available at the time when that had happened. Maybe with the proper materials they'd be more forgiving.

"Where all's that shit at?"

"I'll show you. They might be a little surprised to see a boy in the store."

Explaining human gender roles, with the concomitant possibility of discussing anatomy, was so far from the top of Rose's list as to not be on it at all. But it was true; if he went in there alone, they'd likely think he was...trolling. Her, they wouldn't bat an overly-mascara-coated eyelash at.

"Humans generally wear such things to accentuate, rather than transform, their features. Heavy makeup is reserved for circuses, which are ancient rites dedicated to terrifying children." Actually, that would explain a lot, if they were. Vestiges of a greater truth, perhaps. She'd have to try that line on John. Although then he might never sleep under his own roof again.

Gamzee laughed at that. "Of course they're for circuses. Where all else do you think a clown's gonna be at? Shit, I'd love to see me some human circus shows." He hadn't even really thought about them having any, though now that he did it made perfect sense. They knew what clowns were, and what was a society without tent-enclosed performances?

He stayed close to her, giving the girl an expectant look. After all, she'd said she'd lead him to the right place. He didn't think much of the gender issue. Relationships were one thing, but male trolls didn't tend to wear much make-up either, so it wasn't anything new to him. Those that followed the Mirthful Messiahs were always special cases. 'Special' being a relative term.

[Bath & Beauty wasn't posted this shift, so threading here and if you want to retroactively handwave a purchase I'm sure it'd be fine]

She led them out into the street, moving more slowly than she had on prior occasions. She refused to show weakness, but moving faster would have been more of a tell when she started coughing than a mere amble about town.

"I'd bet. I can tell you about them, if you want. What are troll circuses like?" Her curiosity was piqued, despite the circumstances. Even the part where he'd murdered her in cold, purple, blood.

Despite his searching, the book store in this town didn't seem to have a single volume on medical knowledge. It was almost as if it had been constructed that way, to make the task of finding a cure more difficult. Castiel wouldn't be surprised. It seemed that in this case, he'd be more likely to find what he was looking for within the institute itself.

Granted, a physical sickness was different from a mental one, but Landel's wasn't truly fit to handle either one, apparently. The nurses patched their wounds well enough, but this infection he'd been afflicted with now was clearly one that was meant to fester.

To think that his body was so weak that it could be ravaged by something as inconsequential as a few germs. Castiel's head was still pounding -- in fact, that ache had made it almost impossible to read a book even when he'd found one of interest -- and he was finally starting to realize just what humans had to deal with. He'd experienced pain much, much worse than this, pain that went past flesh and bone and down to his very soul. But it never persisted for this long.

Nonetheless, he refused to let the illness stop him from functioning as he would have without it, which was how Castiel made the short walk from the main street down to the parallel one. Almost immediately, a store caught his eye, mainly because it looked more like a house than a shop, complete with an artificial path leading up to a porch and the front door.

Deciding to see what it was, Castiel headed inside and was immediately greeted by a plethora of random items. He could sense the age in some of them, even if he didn't know the history behind them, and found that it was strangely comforting to be surrounded by things that had been around for so long. Relics of a time left behind.

Of course, this was also the exact sort of place where a cursed item might have unintentionally been stashed, so he understood the danger there. Had Sam and Dean ever seen this place? He had to wonder.

[For Lust!]

So far, nothing had really captured the homunculus' interest or attention. As she had observed when first stepping off the bus, it was just a little town. The staff was everywhere, and she had already been informed that escape was impossible from here. Not that she accepted what she was told blindly, but she could see it wouldn't be worth an attempt.

More than anything, Lust felt aimless. The thrill of making her own choices and decisions was wearing off, as she was used to working under some direction. Well, she'd figure something out.

Her wandering brought her to a curio shop. One of those places with old and eclectic wares, stuffed full like some aging collector's prize storehouse. Things. More things - these probably belonging to someone once.

The place was practically empty, but Lust found herself looking not at the things but at the people. There was a man ahead of her, and the homunculus stepped closer, eyes still roaming the shop.

"Do you think these things meant something to someone, once?"

Right as Castiel's gaze caught on some old weapons that looked to be of interest, he sensed someone moving closer. When the stranger spoke up, it became clear that she was interested in starting a conversation with him.

Granted, he had been foolish to think he could have avoided social interaction for much longer. Not that Castiel minded speaking with the other patients, but he wasn't very good at small talk. He would have liked the chance to simply explore the town on his own terms, but...

The question she asked was an interesting one, and Castiel let his eyes roam over the nearby items as he considered it. "Some, perhaps. Others were probably found and discarded. There's some sort of human saying about that, isn't there?" Maybe he shouldn't have been so obvious about what he was (or rather, what he wasn't), but he found that hiding it didn't seem to serve much point.

Besides, he got a strange feeling from this woman, and upon closer concentration he realized why: she wasn't human herself. He could feel her age, along with something less savory hiding under the surface of her human form. Interesting, but it wasn't something he was going to comment on immediately.

"I don't know," Lust answered honestly and with a shrug. She turned to meet the man's eyes, a small smile on lips. "I don't know them all, I'm afraid. But I do know humans form such strong attachments to things."

She didn't miss the way he phrased what he said. She swore she met more non-humans than humans in this place. It was oddly comforting. And they all looked perfectly human, just as she did. Though Frank had made some mention of how this place did that. But how different could they truly be?

Another curiosity that didn't really matter in the long run. She looked back to the jumble of antiques - a fancy word for the old and unwanted. Her smile faded some.

"It's almost sad, all these things in this old shop. I wonder how many dead dreams have been laid to rest here."

It didn't seem like either of them were hiding their inhumanity, and perhaps that was easier. They could get into the details later, if it became necessary, but for now this discussion seemed to be interesting enough. Castiel realized that wasting time on pointless musing was hardly the most efficient way to spend the day, but he realized that telling the woman that he didn't want to be bothered would be bad etiquette.

The question was why he cared, but this wasn't the sort of situation where he could simply leave when he wanted to. It meant that he had to remain on good terms with the other captives that he came across.

"Attachments to the material can also be seen as a weakness. There's something to be said for being able to let go." Castiel reached out and picked up a magnifying glass. It was ornate and well-made and old for what it was, but it also only served one small purpose. Why get attached?

"Sometimes, that sort of attachment leaves an imprint," he continued with a frown. "And that can be problematic." This item in particular didn't seem to be laced with any magic, but Castiel wouldn't be surprised if there was something darker lurking in this place.

"An imprint?" Lust raised an eyebrow. "Maybe in your world. Where are you from, anyway?" Not that it made much difference, she didn't know any of the places she was told. They all sounded so varied and strange, when stacked against each other and compared. Some sounded so close to what she knew, and yet....

She could see his point about attachments bringing weakness. It wasn't contained to simply items and objects, she'd learned that lesson well herself. But it was such a human thing. To focus on representations and ideals, and allow so much to be consumed by one simple thing.

Perhaps that was what the enigmatic man she'd met meant by imprints.

"I'm Lust, by the way."

"I'm... from Earth, though I'm beginning to suspect it's a different version than his one." Even that wasn't the entire truth. He was from Heaven, but if this woman was from somewhere else, then the distinction wouldn't mean much to her.

If they truly had been brought to a parallel Earth, then Castiel couldn't help but wonder what that meant for the Apocalypse. It was possible that the Earth he knew was paused in time while he was here, that all of his concerns had been for nothing. It would be for the best if he made it back there and nothing had changed, but could he really rely on such a thing?

When a name was offered, Castiel couldn't help raising an eyebrow. Lust wasn't the sort of thing that someone was normally named, and he knew of those demons that had embodied the Seven Deadly Sins. The Winchesters themselves had dealt with them, but if this woman was from somewhere else entirely, then...

"When you say you're Lust, do you mean that literally?" he asked after a pause.

"Symbolically, I think." Lust laughed a bit, amused by the question. She was used to raised eyebrows and long looks, but she'd never been asked that before. "I didn't pick my own name. But I'd guess it really depends on who you ask."

She noted he didn't offer his own name, only the vague 'Earth' answer she'd gotten from plenty of other prisoners here. And often it sounded as though it were close to what she knew.

Then again, sometimes it sounded like something off of a late night radio program.

Either way, the man seemed to have a sharp mind. He sparked her interest.

"Now which is it you're lacking?" she went on, smiling. "A name, or just the manners to offer it?"

That wasn't the direct answer he was looking for, but Lust didn't seem to be lying. Not that Castiel could always read into such things that well, but it didn't feel as if she was trying to deceive him. If anything, she seemed perplexed that he'd asked such a thing in the first place.

Regardless of what she said, though, the facts were still that she was named after a sin and she wasn't human. That was enough to catch his interest, and not necessarily in a good way.

But she was still expecting a name. "It's Castiel," he said, not bothering to acknowledge his so-called bad manners. There had been more important things to address before getting to that.

"You may also count it as rude, but it's still necessary for me to ask. What are you?" If not Lust itself -- and she wasn't a demon -- then what? Castiel didn't feel particularly threatened by her, but he didn't feel threatened by most things. It was more the threat she might present to the other patients that worried him.

"No beating around the bush, hmm?" Lust chuckled. Necessary? That got the homunculus' attention but she didn't directly address it. But the word made her curious. Why was it necessary he know precisely what she was? He could simply be curious - maybe he was searching for his kin. Or there could be something sinister in the simple little world.

How fascinating.

"You're hardly the first person here to ask me that." Trailing a finger along a countertop, Lust stepped closer to Castiel. "I'm a created human, nothing all that exciting. You can't even tell by looking."

Beating around the bush had never been the way he handled things. Some people found it strange, but Castiel had never seen much reason to change that about his behavior. It ensured that time wasn't wasted on pointless conversation.

Though even as he processed what Lust said, he wandered through the store, taking in both the old clothing and the rusted weapons. Most of the blades were kept behind glass, but he already had his own sword. There wasn't much reason to long for another.

Before he was quite aware of it, she'd moved closer. He stiffened slightly, but that was the only sign of his discomfort. "Someone was playing God," he said roughly as he looked her over again. "You're not the same. Not exactly. What do you live on?" He couldn't shake that sense that there was something more hidden under the surface, something that kept her breathing against all reason, and he didn't like the feel of it.

"Yes," Lust said, nodding. "Someone was trying to play god." That was just how they put it back home. Interesting. Perhaps, despite sharing a lack of humanity, she wasn't going to find any kinship here. She supposed that was one thing to be thankful for in this place. She was in little danger from other prisoners during the day, with the staff about.

And any enemies made would be easy enough to avoid come nightfall.

"And at the moment I live on food. Before...well, to put it quite bluntly, stones. Minerals, I suppose. I didn't make myself, so I'm afraid I can't tell you that much." While she couldn't close the door on this subject, there was no need to divulge all the truth. Not when it seemed perhaps it wouldn't be wise. "And of course I'm not the same, I never said I was. Just...close enough, I suppose." She lifted her head and pursed her lips.

"Does it bother you?"

It was hard to tell if she was being defensive or simply relating the facts to him. Castiel tried to judge from her body language or her tone, but her lack of humanity made it more difficult. She was reserved in a way similar to himself, and now he realized how hard he made it on Sam and Dean in their conversations.

However, it wasn't Lust's fault that someone had decided to create her. If anything, Castiel was surprised at how well she was functioning. In most cases, this sort of thing did not end well. If she was able to survive without having to feed on human flesh or drink blood or anything else along those lines, then...

"It doesn't bother me if your existence isn't putting anyone in danger," he said with a shake of his head. Castiel wondered where Sam and Dean would have fallen on this issue, if they would have seen her as something that needed to be hunted or not. But right now, that seemed to be a moot point.

"What brought you here?" he asked as he looked around again, grabbing for a small glass model. Once again, he sensed nothing strange from it. Maybe it really had been unnecessary to come here.

"My existence isn't a danger to anyone," Lust replied, dryly and with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not some monster out of a fairy story, I'm a woman." Despite her past actions, she had no intention of harming anyone here. At least not without reason. She wasn't out to make enemies and she was tired of bloodshed and senseless death. There was no need for it here. And she hardly felt like a monster or a demon these days. She mostly felt frustrated and confused.

She pointedly didn't turn the question back on him.

"And I came here because of the things." She looked away, folding her arms around her waist. "One of the drawbacks to being just-almost-human. Forever watching through the windows and trying to understand it all. Feeling so close, and yet..." She raised her hand and made a dismissive gesture with her fingers, opening them as though to let sand pass through.

"Anyway, I'm fascinated by human lives. Things define humans lives, at least in a large part and in my experience. So I supposed if I wanted to learn something of the people of this place, I'd look to the things. What about you?"

People talked about monsters like they were from fairy tales, and for most, that was the reality. But he would have thought that someone who had been created, imbued with something like a soul and forced to live, would know that there were true monsters out there. Especially if she had been in this place for any length of time.

But if she was telling the truth and had no intention of harming anyone, then Castiel could relent and stop with the questioning. He realized that it wasn't the best way to befriend anyone, but that had never been his goal here. And if it was possible that Sam and Dean were gone, then he would have to pick up the slack for them.

Oddly enough, as she described her experiences with trying to understand humans, he was struck by how closely it resonated. He stared at her for a moment, nodding as she finished and then turning to scan the store as well.

"I'm also interested in trying to understand the reasoning behind human attachments," he admitted. "Though another factor was that sometimes, as I said, items can be cursed. It's not something that's easily detectable, but I would know..." He focused for a moment, but as much as he concentrated, he didn't sense anything. "This place seems clean, however."

"Cursed items?" Ah, so that was what he had meant. Lust laughed, but not unkindly. "Are those common in your Earth, then?"

She supposed it was true: anything was possible, in this place. How did the mind keep from screaming it was all just a dream? There was so much to learn and know, not only about the institute but the prisoners held within.

"You'll have to forgive the questions, but...that sort of thing sounds like madness to me. Or it did."

Castiel found it odd that a being that had been created from scratch (and how had that been accomplished?) and existed against all reason was acting as if something as simple as a cursed object was "madness." Surely Lust understood how backward that was. At any rate, it wasn't worth commenting on.

"It's fine. I asked you my fair share of questions already," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "They aren't common. Most people aren't even aware that they exist, but they can be very dangerous if they fall into the wrong hands." Or out of the wrong hands, depending on the curse.

There was nothing to worry about, however, which meant that this place no longer had much purpose. He wasn't sure if Lust required more of him, however, so he would need to wait before dismissing himself.

Day 63: Mountain Antiques (Noon)

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