damned_institute | Day 63: Magus Park (Early Afternoon)

There was not much mind to one who had regressed to habits, who had backtracked in development in a way that lacked any positive attributes. Nigredo had not asked; Albedo's brother had not pressed but only comforted, and it was for that reason that Albedo left the shelter of trees and filth, and followed into a deeper and brighter light.

After dealing with that, washing up seemed to be the less painful of options.

It was only after they stopped, again with greenery around them, that he looked around blindly and shook his head. The hand in Nigredo's own pulled lightly until the pair reached a bench--Nigredo was pulled down next to Albedo, and Albedo pulled his knees to his chest, head pressed against Nigredo's shoulder. No, he had nothing he wanted to see. In this town, he had interacted with her a lot, and moving to buildings would set that in mind firmly. In the places of green, though.... Yes. There was only Nigredo.

An irony. Maybe. A call backwards to the first institute they resided in.

Some things were universally true of teenagers. One of them was delighting in doing exactly the opposite of what their caretakers desired, whether or not said caretakers had their best interests to heart or not. In this case, practicality aligned with sentimentality out of coincidence, and the staff wanted them all to stay indoors so that they would not have to follow them out through the howling winds.

Rose bundled up, and took her soda out with her into the wild blue yonder, since it was the only thing that didn't hurt to eat. There were plenty of nurses hovering in the streets, looking annoyed, so she wandered towards the least-guarded area: the park at the end of the street. There, she found things that she expected: trees, bushes, a respite from the wind. And things she did not; Nigredo, the boy she'd met on the bus, and what could only be a part of the reason family made him twitch; another boy, white to his black, but otherwise identical.

"Hi. Is this a private park, or can anyone come in?" She teetered a little on her feet; deep breaths were, as of yet, impossible, and she still wasn't sure she was quite back to her usual amount of blood.

He received silence and a pull toward a bench, where they had taken to sitting in a way they were familiar with. Nigredo, who found only necessity in the act, did not complain and sat beside his brother, legs stretched over the edge of the bench in a casual manner he would otherwise never accept. The wind had grown stronger in the past hour, causing his hair and his legs to sway in its currents, and the child looked out into the park with a closed expression.

There existed many things one could say to another, one aspect he should bring up without question, but as they were, Nigredo didn't believe that would be correct. You did not break one's grief with news of possibility. Not with them, at least--

A girl's voice jostled his train of thoughts, and the boy glanced up to meet another set of violet eyes. By himself, he might have gazed back in utter confusion, but with family beside him, he found himself blinking rapidly as his memory supplied what was necessary. This was Rose Lalonde, the exceptionally observant one. The person who was searching for a laptop.

He nearly groaned at a realization. She was also the one who wondered why he reacted at the mention of family. Time to be overtly cautious. "Anyone can come in, obviously," he supplied evenly before pausing altogether. Was it just him, or did the other child look paler than before? "...Hey, are you all right?"

Only Nigredo, and only a girl, and that was familiar enough that Albedo found himself defensive on instinct, easily felt along the link's ends. For all that, however, he moved not at all, but to put his face nearer into Nigredo's shoulder, as if hiding from the newcomer. Her voice, high and feminine to his ears, grated, and he wanted nothing of it.

Nigredo made queries, and Albedo played games in his mind, wondering if death, being possible here, was something to be attempted.

The sarcasm whistled past Nigredo as easily as the wind. The other boy -- perhaps not. She tilted her head and looked at him as he hid against Nigredo's shoulder. Nigredo clearly had a soft spot for everyone, as he was both asking about her and letting what had to be his twin brother use him as a pillow.

"Yes. Or, more precisely, I will be." One hand drifted to her chest, precisely over her heart. Over the embroidered heart, over the bandages, over the healing incision, over her heart. Which was ka-thumping along like nothing had ever interrupted it. "I'm not dead, any more. If this rate of improvement continues, I'd be an unstoppable juggernaut in a few days, so I expect I will be returning to normal in a similar time-frame."

Gamzee was already human, although she'd barely left a few scratches and scorch-marks on him. "We weren't the first to conquer that particular challenge, and the Institute is still standing, so, really, any significant reward for playing their game seems to be lacking." She had no idea that the two boys sitting opposite had taken part in their own reckoning; in fact, she was not yet aware that this was a necessary condition for this conversation at all. Rather, she was mostly talking for the enjoyment of hearing her own voice. And to prove that her lungs had healed enough to do so without coughing.

There lay offense at his side and its focus at his front, the latter observing the former with an attention Nigredo could not approve. He found one of Albedo's hands and squeezed in reassurance as a part of his mind churned in options. Honestly, he should dismiss Rose politely and spend the remainder of his time with Albedo and Albedo alone. In the end, Nigredo was not Rubedo. Furthermore--

Furthermore, it wasn't as though he had a bond with this girl.

Clarity, however, came in retrospect, and Nigredo suddenly the contents of Rose's claim. How she was no longer dead and was improving with time. How she mentioned a particular challenge. How she could tell them this without choking on her tongue.

It took a fool to miss the obvious. In the process of grasping, Nigredo closed his expression and wondered on how the subject always circled back to what should not be discussed. "You died in the coliseum," he stated, voice a notch above a whisper. "Am I correct?"

[ sorry for the lag... ]

It was a talent and a skill to ignore her entirely while focusing on her words, and Albedo's mind detached from them even so. He likely wouldn't have made the connection, likely wouldn't have reacted, or even taken note, if Nigredo hadn't resounded first. If he hadn't placed the pieces out to see, and shown the connecting threads for Albedo to--

You died in the coliseum.

There was a visible twitch in the white-haired boy, and he straightened slightly, pulling his head away from his brother's shoulder, though his hands were still wrapped around Nigredo's arm. He stared at where his head had lain, eyes wide. Disjointed and seemingly a non sequitur, he spoke for the first time that day. "...Yomi."

Yomi. That was the name her erstwhile couturier -- she never had gotten his name -- had called the screaming woman.

"She's alive. For certain definitions of the word. At least, unless there's two women with that name? Ebony hair, violet eyes, about this tall?" She'd had to stand up and raise one hand above her head to measure out Yomi's height. It was a little vague; she'd been lying down and thrashing for the duration of their very short acquaintance. Then vertigo and gravity caught up with her, and she plummeted back to her seat. "Was she always crazy, or was dying a particularly trying experience for her?"

It hadn't been pleasant for Rose. She wasn't sure how Dave did it, except that he didn't remember dying. All the dead Dave's did, but not for very long. Still, he had a lot more corpse-wrangling experience than Rose did. "She didn't seem thrilled to be waking up in a morgue."

The fact that this conversation meant that Rose had admitted her defeat in battle wasn't lost on her, but, if Ilia was staying in-character, anyone reading the bulletin probably knew she'd lost. It wasn't fair at all -- it had been more one-sided than John's little shortcut, and they hadn't skipped anything. Gamzee was just from further forward in his corresponding timeline, and there'd been nothing she could have done. No writhing horrorterrors slithering in to avenge her downtrodden flesh borne by the winds raised by the plaintive shrieklaments of fifty thousand imaginary worshippers. No visions granted by parting the veils. Only a gaping hole in her chest, slowly healing, and sloppy troll apologies.

Albedo had caught on, and for casting ripples on still waters, Nigredo felt like a brute. Nevertheless, the connection needed to be made, the chain link set. Once his sibling understood the truth of his own hypothesis, he could cast off his associations with murder, and what had shattered could repair once more.

Of course, Rose did not make this easy. In fact, caused more harm than good with her response, and it grated across his ears to listen to. Yomi was a complication in Nigredo's mind, but someone far more simple in Albedo's, and the assessment could not be accepted to the former. Nigredo hardened instantly, green light flitting across his irises in severity. It was a rare physical demonstration of an extreme emotion for him, but the boy found himself too put off to care.

"Rose," he snapped, as though speaking to a subordinate, "your last question was out of line." It had no place in their conversation, not in the way it had come across.

Edited 2012-04-26 21:15 (UTC)

There were aspects that existed in separation; what spoke as truth was divided from the person, and much like and unlike when Albedo spoke with Greta-- Yomi was alive, the girl said, and his body accepted it while his mind broke against it, and it was that, perhaps, that allowed a brief return of self--a reaction to the careless words thrown.

It was not the last question asked, that Nigredo took offense to, that Albedo had a problem with. Yomi was in all probability insane, as much as Albedo was, and more revealing, more grasping, were two points. She was alive. In certain definitions of the word. Too shaking was that; too long had Albedo thought of the ways an immortal could continue life after a ruined form or mind-- That, and. Waking up in a morgue.

It spoke of the earth too firmly for Albedo to mention, and again, the thought of earth and graves flitted clearly over the link.

A digression from the point, and here was what held: The girl spoke in ways unable to be forgiven, but whether Albedo would move to broken tears or a violent striking out; he was, instead, preempted. The options emptied from his mind as he stared at his brother, stared at the light sparking out from Nigredo's eyes. His brother had moved in defense, and in a way nearly unseen. There was no need for motion when another had reacted for both of them, and Albedo instead curled his fingers more against Nigredo's sleeve, licked his lips with nearly an effort before opening his mouth. "I blew a hole in her chest," he said, and it was almost a perfect mirror of his usual sarcastic sardonics. Too weak, if and only, that alone. "One would think," carefully, carefully, still staring at Nigredo despite the tone. "It might affect."

This was a lie, and likely Albedo was the only one who knew it. If she was, if Yomi was alive, he understood quite well.

One broke on contact when realizing they could not die to join loved ones. And here, she had to learn that twice.

Edited 2012-04-28 03:51 (UTC)

"And one might be fundamentally unchanged, except for the gaping wound." Rose brought a hand to her chest, holding it gently over her heart. "The institute does purport to house the clinically insane. It wouldn't be so unreasonable for someone to arrive without all of their wits." She would have crossed her arms, but it hurt too much. Instead, she brought her hand up from her chest to cup her chin, and affected thoughtfulness. "For the record, I, too, suffered from a fatal incident in the same location. And by same location I speak both in terms of environment and injury."

Many people had told Rose that she talked too much, and pried too deeply. Nigredo hadn't been the first, and so she took only the quickest of breaths and continued. "I would have done the same to him, if I could have." She'd promised Lily that no one would suffer at her hands. Was dying at another's a fulfillment, or a betrayal? Rose was just glad that the choice had been hers to make. Inasmuch as she'd chosen to fight. Winning would have been preferable.

She looked at he two brothers, light and dark. Light, the killer, and dark, the repentant. Or at least the over-defensive. No prizes for guessing who would have been in the stands in that match. Complicated family relationships, indeed. They rivaled what she'd heard from the trolls, though with more normal human biology involved. Still, the trolls seemed capable of their own strain of that disease called friendship, if not one contagious to members of a different species. Gamzee called her sister and embraced her, yet he had needed no encouragement to fight. He was still a puzzle, albeit not the sort she preferred to solve. The boys in front of her, and the Institute itself, were a little more in her line.

Dark secrets, and psychological oddities trumped juvenile shenanigans every time.

"I take it you suffered from the same dearth of choices? Kill, die, or watch someone you dislike less than your opponent be killed." It wasn't really a question; she'd addressed it to Albedo, but her eyes cut to his brother with a meaningful glance, deliberate and low enough that even John would have realized she was saying something without words. If he'd been here, which would be awkward. She still hadn't met him in person, after all. Hopefully there would be less dying involved when she did.

Then she sat back to watch their reaction to these revelations.

It was Albedo who called his attention, who drew the brunt of his brother's concentration to the pressure on his sleeve. There was caution in Albedo's movements, in ways that seemed in and beyond his nature, and the elder was found looking at Nigredo in a way that almost broke the younger's heart.

Memory would recall Nigredo having found Albedo in the trees, crouched down against the earth. In that fleeting recollection to the spark within their connection, he had seen the sight of graves. From that frank, unwanted reference to death, Albedo seemed to asking something beyond Nigredo's reach.

Rose continued in speech, a straightforward analysis of deaths caused and felt within the Coliseum before throwing them a look that spoke more. And for the first time since his existence, Nigredo fully understood why Albedo despised the ignorance of humans, why he found disgust in their assumptions. A loathing filled the cavities left within Nigredo's heart, and though instincts called for a more appropriate demonstration of rage, the boy etched his own path.

Without thinking, Nigredo chuckled. Good-natured and practically harmless, he politely brought a hand to his lips and smiled as though he had been told a pretty joke. And that was all that was, wasn't it? To have life, death, and sacrifice painted in such a neat and tidy light was rather funny when he gave it honest thought.

"Kill, die, or watch someone you dislike less than your opponent be killed," he repeated slowly, as if giving the phrase some consideration. "Hm. I thought such a choice was a simple fact of life. Calling that suffering seems melodramatic." But Nigredo supposed he had overestimated her capacity to understand the nuances of his outrage. All humor in his countenance vanished then, leaving only apathy.

"Ah, well." He sighed, shaking his head. "You've already made your speculations. Thank you for informing us of Yomi." Here, he tugged at Albedo's hand, as though making the motions to leave.

One who claimed death. One who replied as if they would willingly kill another when most humans knew nothing of it. The girl continued, speaking as Albedo did when detached from the situation, pressing at wounds, and an place now further away almost admired that in another.

Something ached in him, and threatened to fall apart, and when confronted with something like this, he was willing to let it. Let it fall away, so there was less to hurt. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at--

...Nothing wrong at all. Nigredo laughed and Albedo stared at him, for a moment, unable to explain the situation. His brother was laughing, and it was as if--

He remembered suddenly, the aspects of Nigredo that Albedo had once hated the most. The nonchalant ability to lack emotion on the things that mattered, but here, he saw it as something else-- A separation between the things that mattered and the ones that did not, for certainly, here-- Here, Nigredo was only agreeing with a mentality Albedo had kept.

All responses and retorts flew from Albedo's mind, and at the tug, Albedo stood with his brother, pressing against his side in a way reminiscent of lovers rather than one needing to be comforted. There was nothing to be said; he'd follow his brother's lead. Silence was the only response from the white-haired Variant, and instead he smiled politely, blinking innocuously before leaning his head on Nigredo's shoulder again.

Melodramatic? Melodramatic was flying off the handle, not cool, analytic, commentary on the nature of the universe. Rose wasn't melodramatic. Ever.

"One moment. Or, more importantly, one question. Do you know a blond man? One who would know who Yomi was?" She addressed it to Nigredo, since he, despite his dismissive tone, was actually capable of meaningful conversation.

"He gave me his sweatshirt. But he failed to give me his name. With the lack of clothing options around here, I thought he might be missing it."

He gave her a moment, especially as Nigredo recognized the beginnings of a query. It lacked the tones of the former topic, and thus, the boy saw no harm in offering a listening ear. He regarded Rose with a bland face as his mind worked to piece together the clues.

A blond man who would know who Yomi was. The answer came easily.

"Long hair in a braid, correct?" replied Nigredo in careful words. "His name is Klavier. I could pass along your message to him, if you'd like." Despite their disagreement, the boy could keep parts separate and give the polite offer to assist.

The day seemed to be flying by! Tolten had managed to meet up with a number of those he considered friends, and even managed to visit the salon. His hands felt like they were supposed to - er, ignoring the unsettling rash on the one. But he simply kept his right hand gloved and all was well.

And it had been rather soothing. And familiar. And if he was lucky he would be able to purchase some care product at the shop the girl had mentioned. Bath and Beauty or whatever it was called. Something to keep him smelling nice and his skin soft.

And now he found himself in the well kept park, sitting on a bench and enjoying the fact that the wind was keeping the streets rather clear. It sounded as though there were others, somewhere in the park, but they were nowhere close enough to even establish gender, let alone where they were or what they were doing. He had always preferred being out in poorer weather - open skies meant empty streets, after all. He didn't feel watched and scrutinized.

Funnily enough, he didn't feel that way here as much, either. Oh he felt watched, but it was simply by the staff. And as long as he didn't break rules he didn't care what they saw. Other prisoners...well...he was getting better. Perhaps two or so people knew who and what he was, and they didn't care.

And anyway...things were different here. Had Tolten met Locke back home, in Uhra...oh gods, what a terrible thought! Already he was feeling his insides tremble and his heart pick up the pace. In his time here, he had come to fancy the other man a great deal more than he'd realized. And why not? Locke was clever and kind and good and quite handsome. And obviously...well, there was some exchange of those feelings? Locke...Locke hadn't done what he did last night out of pity....

Had he?

[for Locke!]

His conversation with Tolten the night before coupled with the conversation he'd had with Utena this morning had put Locke in a fairly pleasant mood. The bonus of being able to walk with relative freedom helped to ease him.

He'd been window shopping at a bunch of the stores, mainly looking for a clothing store but it seemed this place was bond and determined to prevent him from replacing his beloved bandanna. However, Locke Cole was on a mission. The length of his hair, down, had never bothered him before but after nearly a week of suffering his hair falling into his eyes every other second of the day, it was about time he did something about it. He was going to find something before he left this town if it was the last thing he did.

His wanderings took him to the park, the sounds and smells of nature making him feel more peaceful than he had since he'd been trapped here. Plus, it provided a nice background while he considered his bandanna issue.

As his eyes scanned ahead of him, a familiar blond head caught his attention and, although he could feel a familiar warming of his cheeks, the sight caused a larger-than-normal smile to cross his face. Tolten was one of the few people who could make Locke happier just by being there...it was a nice feeling. One he hadn't felt in a long time, not even back home.

Sticking his hands into his pockets, he leaned against the back of the bench beside his friend. "Well, fancy meeting you here."

Speak of the devil!

Or, well, something with far more pleasant connotations. Tolten's own cheeks flushed slightly more pink, but he supposed he could pass it off as the wind. Or...oh, what did it even matter at this point? His mind had been on this very subject, after all.

And what a perplexing one it was, even when he felt he had it entirely figured out!

"I'd ask if you come here often," Tolten said, clearing his throat and smiling bashfully, "but we both know the answer to that."

Locke laughed and moved to actually sit next to Tolten, his arms going behind his head. "Yeah, that one doesn't really apply here." He was silent a moment, looking out at the park and the town, his smile turning more serene. "This place reminds me a bit of my hometown, just...with a lot better technology."

The size and and how tight-knit the community in this town reminded him of how it used to be in Kohlingen, before Rachel had lost her memory, anyway. Of course, he'd also always wanted to leave his town because of how small it was in comparison to the rest of the world, and this place was no different. It made him wonder what the rest of this world looked like; was this place similar to his world or was it something completely different that Locke couldn't even begin to imagine?

It made him a antsy and a little anxious. His natural instinct to explore just made him want to find a way to slip away and set out on his own like always.

But, of course, he'd never do that, not now. Edgar, Tolten, and Terra were still here and there was no way he'd just leave them behind like that. They were too important.

"What do you think of this town?"

"It's...well, it's a town." Tolten chuckled and looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. "It's not that different than the little towns back home. Just...unsettlingly different enough when I stop to think about it. The salon's quite nice, though. And I've been enjoying being out. I don't mind the cold so much...."

This was barely even cold, anyway. He leaned back against the bench, swallowing and wetting his lips as his heart picked the pace up once more. He felt ridiculous and thrilled at once, it was almost laughable! But he could only assume this was all perfectly normal.

"And it's pretty here," he went on, his voice wavering now and then with nervousness. "You can almost pretend there aren't nurses lurking just over there by the bushes."

"The salon?" Had Tolten gone to the salon? It made Locke take a second, closer, look at his friend and he realized, with amusement, the king did look more cleaned up. Nicer. "You did, you went to the salon." It reminded him so much of Setzer who had always been concerned with his looks and even Edgar to a degree, always futzing over how he looked before he held court. "You look good."

Locke glanced over to a group of bushes a little ways away and shook his head before returning his attention to Tolten. If these ridiculous nurses were going to spy on them, fine. Locke couldn't find it in him to care too much what they thought of their conversation or actions.

With a shrug he slung his arms across the back of the bench, not thinking of how it might look like he had an arm around Tolten's shoulders. "It's nice out here, I kinda wish we could just stay here until they force us back. I've always preferred the outdoors."

"Why can't we?" Tolten just shrugged, though his stomach sank rapidly at the brush of Locke's arm behind his shoulder. He wasn't serious, of course, but...really, why on earth couldn't they? It wasn't as though he had pressing business.

Product could wait.

"But yes, thank you, I had a voucher. It was nice. It felt...normal, for a short while. And...well, clearly it was worth it."

Oh by the great ancestor, why couldn't he keep his cheeks from reddening? He shifted subtly, his shoulder touching Locke's arm. There, this wasn't that hard! And he wasn't making a fool of himself. Not yet anyway. There was plenty of time.

The treasure hunter shrugged again and could feel the smile he usually had when talking about an adventure creeping onto his face. "Well, we could...but, you see, I'm on a mission!" Using the hand not behind Tolten, he ran his fingers through the bangs that hung in his face and back through his hair. "This is getting to be annoying. Back home I used to have a bandanna that'd hold all this hair back but I haven't had it since I woke up here. I'd been hoping to find some sort of replacement. Other than that, though, I certainly wouldn't mind just sitting here with one of my best friends." He winked, feeling a little playful.

Really, there was no reason for this feeling in the grand scheme of things, but that was just the effect Tolten had on him.

Locke wasn't about to complain.

"I'm sure there's something you could use," Tolten said, using the topic as an excuse to let his eyes linger on Locke. The treasure hunter did have lovely features, sharp and cut and artistic. And the young king had never seen hair that particular sheen before. It was remarkably striking.

Locke was remarkably striking.

"Well, we can stay here a little while longer, anyway." He cleared his throat and shifted again, just enough to feel a hint of Locke up against him. Just barely touching. He knew full well he couldn't simply sit there and smile and look pretty and hope! Despite some rumors to the contrary, he was neither a girl nor removed of himself. "They only let us do this once a week, after all."

Locke considered this a moment and nodded. Tolten had a point, there was no real rush. Besides, if he didn't actually find something to use, it wouldn't be the end of the world; sitting here with Tolten with their worries pushed aside for a few hours...that was more important. It was a luxury they needed to take advantage of.

"Alright, then. Let's just stay here. The stores aren't going anywhere and the weather's nice; no point in wasting it." Looking away from the trees nearby, he turned his full attention on his friend. "So, what other trouble have you gotten up to besides the salon?"

Either he wasn't very good at this, or Locke was as oblivious as he usually was.

"I like it when it starts to get cold. Or rain. I used to walk in the rain, at night, around the palace grounds and the city just outside of them." Tolten sighed contentedly and shifted once more, trembling softly as he did so. Why in the world did he feel so nervous? He had no idea, but as he carefully and hesitantly rested his head gently in the crook of Locke's shoulder, he felt as though his heart were going to explode.

"Oh, but I did meet your dear friend Edgar this morning!" Oh! Yes! A Conversation Topic! Seizing on that, the young king ignored the fact that he had just - barely - rested his head against his male best friend whom he thought he fancied.

Obviously talking about another man was the best course of action at the moment.

"It was very nice, finally speaking to him. I see why you thought I was him. He's quite nice! Very...very smooth, I suppose is the word I'm looking for."

The sensation of Tolten resting against him was surprising and, at first, Locke didn't know what to make of it. But, as unexpected as it was, he kind of liked it. And, really, was it so odd? After everything they'd talked about and as close as they seemed to be getting...it made sense; Locke had kissed him for crying out loud! Besides, there was an odd sort of comfort in it.

He didn't really know how or if he ought to respond (was he supposed to put his arm fully around Tolten's shoulders or just leave it as it was?) so he focused on his friend's words instead. "Smooth, huh? Yeah, I guess so. He certainly thinks so. He is nice, though....just don't tell him I said so." Really, he wasn't actually too upset at Edgar....but he was upset enough. Certainly enough that his pride didn't want Edgar knowing Locke was saying good things about him to others.

He was about to say something else when a thought occurred to him that made his face turn pinker than he would have liked. "He...he didn't mention the bulletin board, did he?"

Edited 2012-04-25 23:40 (UTC)

"The bulletin board?" Tolten raised an eyebrow in confusion and then shook his head. "No, why...oh! Ah, no, he didn't say anything to me. We talked about you, once we realized who the other was!" And now, Tolten knew, Locke would be flushing and sputtering and wondering what they had said about him.

It was almost endearing. And a pity that Tolten had already relayed all manner of kind words and descriptions to Edgar. But it was the polite thing to do.

And Locke didn't react to the change in seating, to the more...intimate arrangement. Tolten swallowed hard, nervousness creeping into his abdomen. Was he misreading now? It would be so terribly easy, so unfamiliar was he with such simple human interactions! Why couldn't things be simple? It should be perfectly socially acceptable to simply turn and say 'Locke, I quite fancy you and would like to explore this, you feel the same, yes?'.

But it wasn't, at least not for young kings from Uhra, and so Tolten was forced to nervously snuggle up closer to Locke and clear his throat.

"Er....is this alright?"

Sputter and blush is exactly what the treasure hunter was about to do, but then he got distracted by Tolten's question....and felt like an idiot. Really, why was he so cautious about this? Perhaps a part of him had been wondering if it was okay, but the moment Tolten asked it himself, Locke knew the answer. There was nothing to hesitate about. "Of course it's alright." He smiled and resisted the urge to add 'sorry' on the end. Instead, he moved his arm further around Tolten's shoulders, pulling them closer together; as an afterthought, Locke brought his other hand around and took one of Tolten's, lacing their fingers together.

His face was already pink, but the shade only grew darker when his mind reminded him that Tolten and Edgar had been talking about him. His expression turned suspicious and he tried to force his smile away...with limited success. "What, exactly, did you and Edgar say?"

"All good things," Tolten reassured the other man. He felt some of the tension leave his body as Locke insisted this was alright. And even...well, deepened the experience, so to speak.

The young king practically melted. Limbs unloosened, and the stiffness with which he'd been so carefully holding himself dissipated.

He knew they were having a conversation, but it was difficult to focus on it. All Tolten could think about was the fact he was resting here, his body half touching Locke's and the other mans arms around him. No one had held him this way since Gongora. And then...well...everything had been different, and it was best to leave it at that.

He could feel everything. How warm Locke was. Perhaps it was just the cold - and getting colder by the moment, it felt! - but it was like the treasure hunter was an iron brand at his side. Tolten was quivering. The bench was very pronounced beneath his cloth trousers. The air smelled...well, he didn't know, he was too busy discreetly turning his head to smell Locke's hair.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I've never...no one's ever...."

Locke could feel his face warming more but his smile grew and he just gave a small shrug. "It's alright. To be honest, it's been a while since I've done anything like this with someone." A very long while. It wasn't like he'd ever 'courted' Celes or even gotten all that much time to just sit with her like he and Tolten were now. They just hadn't had that luxury.

He hadn't done this sort of thing since his time with Rachel. He'd been with people, sure, but not like this. This was a different level of intimacy that required more emotion and caring. It was nice..and a little nerve-wreaking.

Tolten was like having the sun next to him, not burning, but gently warming and comforting at the same time. Yet, still, Locke gave a slight shiver. He liked thinking it was just the cold...

The treasure hunter's hand tightened around the king's. "It's getting colder." At least, it seemed that way. Either that or Tolten was feeling warmer.

A long time. Tolten couldn't help but wonder about those people in Locke's past. Not in any specific manner - he didn't even know their names, or what they'd meant to the other man - but he couldn't help but wonder all the same.

It was cold, though. And the nearest nurse was giving them a bit of an impatient eye.

"We should probably find somewhere inside," the young king agreed. "The weather seems to be getting worse. We'll see about finding you something for your hair."

Locke noticed the nurse as well and a small, childish, part of him was pleased to know she was getting uncomfortable; it almost made him want to stay outside just to annoy her. Tolten's comfort was more important, though so, reluctantly, Locke disentangled them and stood. He didn't let go of Tolten's hand though...that could stay.

The treasure hunter looked around for the nearest place they could duck inside for a little while. His eyes caught on the pet store and he grinned; that looked perfect, it would be warm and, possibly, have animals. He pointed it out, that grin stuck fast by the hope of seeing actual animals for the first time in almost a week. "How about there? The pet store. Looks as good a place as any, right? It should warm us up, at least."

Scar had not been doing much of anything with his trip into town. He didn't see much of a point. No matter what he did, he would still end up stuck in the same place tomorrow morning. It was a cycle without a point, and the Ishbalan was having a difficult time making one up.

So he wandered aimlessly into the park, not caring to talk to the people who were already there. He didn't know them, anyway. And there were things Scar would rather think about. Seeing what little he had of the town, he had come to the realization that this really was a whole new world from the place he had been.

It was a very strange feeling to walk around in the open without the need to dodge everyone who might recognize his face from a poster. And with that on his side... Did the Alchemist Killer really have a chance at a life? A real life? The thought overwhelmed him slightly. Part of him was still too stuck in his cycle of aimless vengeance that out of some stupid stubbornness, he refused (in a way) to make himself happy. But still: walking around this place at least made him wonder.

[free!!]

[hope this is okay!]

A walk in the park had always been Kratos's routine, and now, when the day was still somewhat new, was about as good a time as any to take one.

As he walked, he reviewed all of the things that he and Sora had discussed on the bus ride to Doyleton. He was happy to have gotten the report out of the way, but of course, something new had to come up, something that was far more serious than a simple character report. Thankfully, it looked like he could count on at least Soma and Sonia during this time, since neither of them had acknowledged having the symptoms the other night. Small blessings, but he would take what he could get.

He paused and neatly stepped aside just before another man crashed into him. "Sorry." A quick glance revealed that this man was likely a fellow patient; not many "normal" townspeople would go around parading (not purposefully, of course) a scar like that.

[Sure thing!]

Scar glanced up when he heard another man speak. It was a good thing he had noticed, because Scar certainly wouldn't have. He had been too busy thinking, and still wasn't quite used to walking around openly in such a normal setting.

"Are you from the Institute?" The slightly smaller man had the look about him. His hair was a bit wilder than the 'normal' townspeople. And that, for whatever reason, seemed to be a good indicator.

The Ishbalan's demeanor was not friendly, but certainly didn't seem to give off any sort of malice towards the newcomer. He just... wasn't a sociable person.

Kratos paused and pivoted crisply to face the other man. It was a sort of instinctual thing by now for him to wonder exactly what made him stand out enough for someone to identify him as a patient on the spot; although he could name many possibilities, most of them were either covered up or only revealed through conversation. Was it the way he carried himself? His haphazard outfit? Was it--his eyes fell to his left hand for a brief second, checking to see if the glove was still properly covering up his Exsphere.

"I am," Kratos said with a nod as he looked back up. "I don't think it would be much of a stretch for me to guess that you are as well." He extended a hand stiffly. "Kratos Aurion." It was the polite thing to do, introduce oneself, and it saved him from having to remember to do it later.

Another strange name. Not that Scar could really talk.

"You may call me Scar."

He tentatively reached out to shake Kratos' hand firmly. The less people who knew about the rash the better. Scar could just hope that he didn't notice. The man on the intercom had been slightly disturbing in his description of whatever this illness was that was going around, and Scar could only imagine that it wouldn't help him make allies.

Scar was bad enough at getting people to tolerate him.

"And yes, I am also from the Institute."

You may call me Scar. It was an odd way of introducing oneself. People who said things like that usually fell into two categories: either they had no name (or couldn't remember it, there was always that), or they were trying to hide it. He wondered which case it was, although it wasn't his business at all to ask.

Kratos looked down as they shook hands and frowned when he spotted a similar rash on the other's hand. "You've been infected as well," he said, as if commenting on the weather. That made two people that he was aware of, and more to be found if his quick glance at the board had meant anything. Just how many people was Landel willing to sacrifice? Was he that desperate to prove his power?

Scar glanced up at Kratos from his generic 'don't make eye contact' position. So he knew about the sickness? Maybe?

"Do you know anything about this?" His tone was a bit heavier than Kratos', but it was rare that Scar didn't sound deathly serious.

"An associate of mine has something similar, and we both concluded that it was related to the infection Landel mentioned last night over the intercom. That's the extent of my knowledge." "Associate" was not exactly the right way to describe his relationship with Sora, but Kratos hadn't been able to think of another, appropriate, and suitably neutral term quickly enough.

"As for why Landel decided upon this in the first place, I can only imagine. For purposes of discipline or out of sheer sadism...either one is in line with his character." He looked up (out of necessity: the other was taller). "Do you know anything more?"

It was unlikely that anyone knew anything beyond what they had all learned last night, but he decided he might as well try, since it wouldn't hurt.

Peaceful and warm, the realm of dreamless slumber had been blurred into an ethereal darkness that seemed to be without beginning or end. Yet out of that absence of awareness, Sechs was slowly stirred back into consciousness. For some reason he could not fathom, something was persistently poking his side. The annoying prodding was getting on his nerves and he wanted it to stop. Couldn't that jabbing thing see that he was sick and trying to sleep?!

The irritated android tried to move away from the unknown pest, but the harassment continued until he was forced to wake up with a groan, rolling his head to the side and angrily squinting his eyes open.

Curtains of sun beams were the first to meet Sechs' sight as they came down in the form of misty rays between the numerous trees around him. He found himself lying on a wooden bench which overlooked a familiar pond in the center of a park. Crouched near him were the culprits behind his rude awakening; two children with sticks had been poking away at him while he was sleeping! Sechs' eyes snapped wide open and he let out an angry snarl at the little tormentors. "HEY! Get outta my face you little shits!"

The children shrieked and scampered away, dropping their sticks behind them as they ran up the sloping hill. Growling, Sechs watched them retreat to their parents as his groggy mind sluggishly caught up with his confusing environment.

The hell am I doing here...? ...Oh! He was in Magus Park! As soon as he got off the bus, he had gone here to rest on one of the benches. With no existing appetite, Sechs' paper lunch bag had been abandoned in one of the trash cans where a few birds had gone to pecking at its contents.

Other than the sickening lump in his stomach and the cold breeze that forced him to curl up tighter inside his coat, Sechs couldn't shake the feeling that something was really wrong. Why did he feel so horrible...?

Oh... The recollections from the night before had slowly trickled back into Sechs' awareness. Kibitoshin was gone, he had nearly died in front of Zero, and there was something else...

Grunting, Sechs withdrew his hand from his coat and felt his heart sink down into the ground at the sight of the growing rash upon his skin. The last time he looked at the markings, they had gone up to his wrist, but now they had spread farther up his arm and towards his elbow. Gritting his teeth, Sechs tucked his arm away and closed his eyes tight. It felt like his whole body was slowly falling apart, like a rusted old shell collecting dust in the giant pile of garbage that made up the Scrapyard. His body was still weary and shaky, and his heart couldn't stop beating so hard from the constant state of anxiety he was experiencing. He was sick and doomed to become a monster. What could he do?

Unable to think anymore without getting his stomach tied up into another set of painful knots, Sechs buried himself deeper into his coat and returned to his troubled nap. If he could just stay away from everyone and hide his symptoms for as long as he could... Ugh... Don't think about it...

[For Ritsuka~]

Day 63: Magus Park (Early Afternoon)

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