damned_institute | DAY 65: Breakfast

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DAY 65: Breakfast

Scar came to slowly, vision blurred and head throbbing. His memory of the previous night was vague and somewhat scattered. What he was most aware of was his renewed and increased hatred for the man called Lingormr. The Ishbalan didn't give a damn if he had been a special counseling patient. That bastard had enjoyed every second of tearing Scar to shreds. What he may or may not have realized was how much it had affected Scar emotionally. He had felt a renewed sense of drive at the start of the night; the disruption on the intercom and the news of the 'cure' had rekindled a fire that fueled Scar to drive forward. To have a little hope.

Lingormr had promptly crushed that.

He was in pain. So much pain. The cut on his hand was only fading scab at this point, but stitches now pulled at the deep gashes in his legs and back. Not only had the nausea not settled, but his stomach was beginning to cramp. The rash on his arm was impossible to hide without the old bandages covering it. It had nearly reached his elbow.

Scar's hazy eyes could make out the nurse, now pushing a wheelchair up to his bedside. This was humiliating. And he was too exhausted and hurting to lash out or become angry. He was just broken. He still tried to take some sort of grudging control, insisting that he didn't need to be pushed around, that he could at least turn the wheels of the damned chair himself. But he didn't make it down the hallway before the pulling and sharp pain in his back became so obvious on his face that the nurse took over.

He entered breakfast with a frustrated, tired, but overall defeated look to him. Scar felt too sick to eat. He sat at the table and brooded, wishing more than anything to simply be left alone.

[For Goku!]

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That… wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. A snide remark, or a taunt about the crutch that he was now depending on, yes, but an apology? “That’s… good to know. That you don’t normally cut people up, I mean.” The Once-ler noticeably did not respond to the apology itself; he wasn’t about to forgive Lingormr right off the bat. Still, he relaxed slightly.

Picking up his fork and knife, he cut himself a piece of toast. The man didn’t eat it quite yet; he returned his focus to Soma first, and asked, “And waking up with stitches and bandages, is that normal too?”

While waiting for her reply, the Once-ler took a bite of french toast. It wasn’t the best food he’d ever tasted, but a year of the same old canned foods could make anything taste like a gourmet meal. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was enjoying the food more than would be expected.

"Good," she said. "Be angry. It'll help us take Landel down when you really get your powers back."

And all right, letting your emotions take control wasn't exactly the best way to win a fight, but it had always been a bad habit of hers. Soma didn't quite smile at Lingormr, but her expression lightened somewhat before she turned to the Once-ler.

Given what had happened last night, she'd been expecting an explosive reaction, and she instinctively prepared for some kind of fight. But Lingormr's apology seemed to have caught the Once-ler off guard, and his response was more civil than she would have expected, if still a little wary. Frankly, it was more generous than she could have asked of him.

"It's the staff, we think," she said. "They must dress the wounds before dawn. I guess they can't have gaping wounds everywhere in the Institute during the day. It'd throw all the visitors off."

There were plenty of things she wanted to ask Lingormr--speaking of visitors, she was more than a little curious about the one he'd received yesterday--but now, she knew, wasn't the time to ask them. Or she could, but she figured she knew Lingormr well enough to know she wouldn't get an answer. Not with someone else sitting there.

Instead, she started in on her own breakfast, blinking at the Once-ler's obvious enjoyment. Still, she couldn't really judge. It was prison food, but it was still better than space rations.

He laughed softly at Soma's statement. "Anger only dictates how explosive things will be, when it's my work."

Loki did not apologize often, or easily, even when it was something done for the sake of form. He didn't appreciate the way that effort wasn't even acknowledged; the mortal was incredibly rude. His lips compressed in a thin line, and he looked back down at his plate.

No, this really wasn't appetizing at all. He set his fork down and folded his hands in his lap.

He would have liked to talk to Soma, but there was no way he would speak of anything but the weather with the Once-ler around. Not that they'd been introduced either.

"Visitors? Why?" This was interesting. "Strangers aren't going to be interested in us, and if they let in people we know, that would kind of ruin the whole 'crazy alternate life' charade they've got going here."

The Once-ler threw another wary glance at Lingormr. The other man seemed uninterested in adding his own opinions to the conversation. Unsurprising, really. The Once-ler imagined it must be very awkward to sit with two people one had attacked just the night before. He himself was not completely at ease with Lingormr so close by.

But his desire for answers was more important. He wasn't going to ask Soma to move; she'd said Lingormr was a friend of hers, and trying to pull her aside just seemed wrong, regardless of his opinion of Lingormr. Besides, he wanted to avoid needless walking with his leg in such a bad way.

"They are people we know," Soma said, shaking her head. "Or they look exactly like the people we know. Nobody knows if they're illusions or if they've actually got them and are holding them brainwashed somewhere."

She glanced instinctively at Lingormr, knowing better than to vocalize her question. He seemed uncomfortable, which really wasn't a surprise. The last twenty-four hours had to be hard on him, and the Once-ler being there wasn't really helping. Still, she couldn't really ask him to leave, even if he was an acquaintance; he'd helped her out last night when he could have turned tail and run, and it had been her fault he'd gotten dragged into that mess.

"It's just a trick," she said, the response as much for Lingormr as it was for the Once-ler. "Just another thing they do to show us who's in control. Only it's a little more effective than trying to brainwash us."

Loki met Soma's gaze. He had little doubt what it was she might want to ask, but he had no intention of speaking of anything even approaching that subject with the Once-ler there. It was wonder enough that he felt close enough to Soma that he'd even consider telling her part of the truth of it.

He could admit to himself, now, that the person they'd had "visit" him wasn't Thor. He'd looked and acted like Thor, but all the details had been wrong. That didn't really make it any less galling, make him any less angry about it.

Loki carefully pushed his plate away, no longer interested in the food at all, even as something with which to play.

If it was a trick, he'd fallen for it wholly by allowing it to disturb him so, and that was galling as well. Though what the purpose of it could have been, he had no idea. It certainly hadn't tempted him to want to play more into Landel's game; if anything it had forced him to break character. But that seemed to be the opposite effect it had on many other people. Or perhaps it was just about putting them off balance.

He'd been curious about Soma's visitor as well, but since she was being courteous enough to let him have his privacy, he would show her that same courtesy.

It was tempting to do his level best to drive the annoying mortal away, but Loki knew Soma well enough to know that wouldn't work at all. He would simply have to put up with this. Though he was beginning to question if this was really worth it, as he swallowed down the urge to say something nasty for the sheer joy of it.

Edited 2012-07-20 23:13 (UTC)

“Illusions or brainwashing, huh?” The Once-ler gave a small, bitter laugh. “Brainwashing’s just about the only thing that would get my folks to ever come see me.” His tone was mostly sardonic, but there was no hiding the hint of sadness completely. No matter how many times he reminded himself of his family’s poor treatment, watching them drive away in the RV was one of the most painful memories in his life.

Well, that gave the conversation a negative spin. The Once-ler glanced down at his plate; suddenly he wasn’t feeling so hungry any more.

It was odd, really. Over the past year he’d thought about that last day many times, but it felt so fresh again. Sighing softly, he made himself take another bite. No point in letting food go to waste, although he lacked the enthusiasm he had had only moments before.

That hadn't been what Soma was expecting. She looked down for a moment, biting her lower lip.

"Sometimes it's friends," she said after a moment. "Or enemies. I'm not sure which is worse."

She'd thought the lieutenant colonel arriving was a fluke. Thought there'd been some clever trick to it, had almost convinced herself it wasn't really him. And then--and then Senna had arrived, with her sad smile and her wish for Maria Medvedeva to get better...

Soma forced a small smile. "Either way, I hope it doesn't happen for you."

She was growing increasingly aware of Lingormr's silence. It was understandable, but she didn't want to exclude him, either. Had she introduced them? She hadn't thought it was necessary, thought maybe it would have been too awkward, but she'd never been good at this kind of thing. At this rate, it probably couldn't hurt.

"I should have introduced the two of you to begin with," she said, setting down her fork. "I'm sorry. Lingormr, this is the Once-ler. He just got here last night. Once-ler, you already know Lingormr's name, but he's right--he's not normally like he was last night."

It might be too late for the two to be friends--she knew she'd have trouble forgiving someone who'd stabbed her on the first night, even if he had been brainwashed--but at least she could try to get them on better terms.

Loki paused for a moment as he considered how he wanted to handle this. He wasn't personally interested in being nice to the mortal, but it was still of much more benefit to him to be seen as pleasant and at least somewhat innocuous. That, and he didn't particularly want to upset Soma when he'd already been forced to put a strain on what friendship they had.

So he bowed his head politely enough, though not very far. He doubted that really mattered, since no one around seemed all that familiar with that sort of protocol. Which was a shame, since insults veiled in courtesy had always been one of his favorite little games. "Is that a title of a name?" he asked.

To reinforce Soma's explanation, he added, "I haven't any power normally. It's been warded away. And I don't make a practice of attacking people, and definitely not at the behest of another."

The Once-ler gave Soma a half smile of his own. “It probably wouldn’t be very pleasant, anyway.” There wasn’t anyone he considered an enemy, and as for friends… safe to say he wouldn’t have to worry about that kind of visitor.

He was surprised when Lingormr addressed him directly. With Soma providing the introductions for them, he had expected Lingormr to remain silent. Either way, it was a huge step up from their encounter last night.

The Once-ler shook his head. “No, not a title of any kind. I’m the Once-ler; that’s really all there is to it. Don’t mind if you drop the ‘the’.” It was pretty much the same thing he had told Soma when she had asked about his name as well.

The Once-ler looked closely at Lingormr, trying to figure the man out. “You know,” he said after a moment, “it’s really hard to believe you’re the same guy from last night.” In a way, it was a compliment, although quite frankly it would be difficult to leave a worse impression than Lingormr had.

After another pause, the Once-ler reached his hand out across the table. Handshakes were a proper way to finish introductions; you didn’t get far in the corporate world without learning that. Still, it was a funny situation. Here he was, offering a hand to the man who had crippled him the night before.

This institution was a very strange place.

Well, it seemed as if they were off to a...start. Lingormr's response would probably determine whether the start was actually good. Still, it was better than nothing.

She hoped it'd work out. She had enough trouble trying to hold on to her friends in a place like this, especially when the institute kept dragging them away. She didn't need potential friends disliking each other on top of that.

Soma tried not to look like she was staring, and had another bite of her rapidly cooling french toast and fruit instead.

Loki clasped the Once-ler's hand firmly enough, his grip quite strong now that he was no longer compelled to pretend he was nothing but a scholar. "Once-ler, then," he said.

Loki shrugged. "When there is a task that must be done, I execute it to its fullest no matter how I may dislike it. Unfortunately, the task impressed upon me last night against my will was one ill-favored."

He allowed himself a faint smile. "And I am a bit more imposing when properly dressed, I've heard, with the full weight of my will in the air about me."

The Once-ler flexed his hand a little after the handshake was broken. “Quite a grip you’ve got there,” he commented. Firm handshakes had been something of a mainstay in meetings, although never quite as strong as Lingormr’s. Subtle ways of intimating power, but psychological, really. Actually using physical force was a surefire way to be landed a lawsuit.

Of course, that was in the boardroom. The rules were different here.

He mirrored Lingormr’s shrug. “I’ve always been more of a set-you-own-goals kind of man, but there’s always going to be something unpleasant you have to do. Might as well give it your best, especially if you really don’t have any choice in the matter.” Determination; seeing things through to the end; both of these were extremely familiar to the Once-ler.

“Actually, I was more referring to your attitude. But you’ve got a point. Dress properly and carry yourself the right way, and people will know you mean business.”

It was a little disturbing just how easily he was able to discuss (or even think about) matters of interactions in the business world, when he had used those tools to build himself the tower from which he had ultimately fallen. But that wasn’t business’s fault, no more than it was the Thneed’s. Everything he’d done was on his own head.

Admittedly, it was nice to be able to just talk to someone.

"I almost didn't recognize you at first," admitted Soma. It hadn't just been because of the helmet, either. There had been something there last night that simply hadn't been present in the quiet scholar she'd known, and she didn't think it was just the magic. "Is that how everyone dresses back in your time?"

And at least the Once-ler was a lot more talkative than he had been a few minutes ago. That was encouraging. Soma leaned forward a little, always curious about where people came from.

"What did you do before you were dragged here?" she asked, open curiosity in her voice. It was hard to figure out, if she were perfectly honest with herself; not a fighter, that much was clear, but the lanky man in front of her could have been practically anything else.

Loki shrugged. "That much ought to be expected, shouldn't it?" They had seen him throwing daggers last night, after all. Some of that could no doubt be dismissed as magic, but not all of it.

Loki laughed quietly. "Oh, I've ever been one to desire my own direction in life. But everywhere I turn, there is someone who seeks to manipulate or control me. I am fair sick with it."

He shrugged, considering the point both Soma and the Once-ler made. He could feign innocence of course, but he doubted that would actually buy him anything. After a moment he said, "Confidence and intimidation are weapons as surely as daggers. Though I suppose it's easier to be confident when one hasn't had the marrow sucked completely from him." He nodded to Soma's question. "For battle, yes. My armor is of finer quality than most, but you know I... was... part of a noble house."

Edited 2012-07-22 20:12 (UTC)

The Once-ler looked curiously from Soma to Lingormr. “What does she mean, ‘back in your time’?” It was a phrase he would expect from someone much older, complaining about how kids these days didn’t know how good they had it. Lingormr looked to be around the same age as the Once-ler himself, give or take a few years.

He nodded. “Always having someone trying to control your life… I’d hate that, too.” His own mother had never been outright controlling. Discouraging, yes, but she made no attempt to stop him when he had left home all those years ago. And while she had brought up cutting down trees to increase Thneed production, it had only been a suggestion. The Once-ler had done the rest himself.

“Well, I’ve never even owned daggers or armor or such, but I’m not from any sort of noble house either.” He blinked. “I didn’t know nobility was still something that was taken seriously. I thought we’d left all that knights in shining armor business back in the Middle Ages.”

Something suddenly occurred to the Once-ler. “Hold on, are you from the Middle Ages?” That would explain how something could be back in Lingormr’s time. “I mean, that’s kind of crazy, but if you are, you’ve definitely gotten used to all this,” he moved his hand in a half circle to indicate the room around them, “really quickly.”

The conversation had been going quite well, actually. Up until Soma asked about what he had done before arriving.

“Businessman. Former. I… I don’t really want to talk about it.” He stared at his plate, suddenly incredibly interested in a meal he had lost all appetite for.

Regardless of how civil Lingormr was being compared to the previous night, the Once-ler was not prepared to open up in front of him. Brainwashing or no, the man had stabbed him, and something about revealing his greatest failure to such a person did not sit right with him at all.

"Time travel," said Soma, and there was a weary note to her voice that suggested she knew perfectly well how stupid she sounded. "And different worlds. Did I mention that last night? There are people from all kinds of different universes here. I'm from 2309, for what it's worth."

She took another determined bite of her breakfast. "I think that's something we can all agree on. I thought I'd left people trying to control my life behind. Then I arrived here."

Still, she wouldn't exchange those short few months with the lieutenant colonel for anything in the world. And once she was out of here, she could go back to it. She just had to keep focusing on that.

The Once-ler's response to her question, if nothing else, piqued Soma's curiosity, but she didn't need the voice in the back of her head to tell her when that curiosity would be unwelcome. "I understand," she said instead, frowning a little in sympathy. "If it helps, I doubt who you were before makes much difference here."

Soma's explanation was good enough though Loki did add for effect, "The phrase 'middle ages' has little meaning to me. I'm from Svealand, during the reign of Emund the Old, which I expect similarly lacks meaning for you." He shrugged at the remark about adjusting quickly. "I find it all rather fascinating, really, from the standpoint as a scholar, and I've been doing as much reading as I can to catch up. And much is not so shocking as you might think. I am a magician."

He also had begun to get the impression that more modern mortals didn't realize quite how close they were to their ancestors of a few millenia past. From Loki's viewpoint, they really hadn't changed all that much.

He made note of the Once-ler's discomfort about his own past. Interesting, and something to keep in mind for later. For now, he would follow Soma's lead and remain silent on the subject.

She'd said words similar to him as well. Perhaps she was right, though that still remained to be seen. For his own part, he had no intention of letting on the full story of who he was until he had played this game out fully.

“You did mention that, but didn’t go into much detail. Honestly, at the time I didn’t believe you, but now? I’m not so sure. Some of the things I saw last night just can’t happen where I’m from.” He raised his eyebrows at Soma. “2309? Really? This all must be stone-age technology to you, then.”

The Once-ler steepled his fingers. “Let me get this straight. So we’ve all been pulled out of our worlds into a different world entirely. I mean,” he waved his hand at Lingormr, “you say you’re a magician, but you can, or at least could last night, do things magicians can only dream of pulling off. Because let me tell you, where I’m from magicians are people who make a living off of pulling bunnies out of hats and tricking kids into thinking that if they shake their brother hard enough money will come flying out of his ears.”

It would definitely take time for him to wrap his head around all this, if it was true.

The Once-ler was immensely grateful that neither Soma nor Lingormr pressed him about his past. While he was curious about their stories as well, it wouldn’t be fair to ask them immediately after refusing to share his own tale. He gave Soma a look of quiet gratitude, and then, after a moment, did the same for Lingormr, although it didn’t last nearly as long.

He cleared his throat out of habit, preparing to change the subject. There was still a lot he didn’t know, and now was as good a time as any to ask. “You gave me the basic summary last night, Soma, but are there other things I should know? Important hints, tips, things like that?”

"A lot of things are more similar than I'd expected," admitted Soma. "I mean, the televisions I saw in town are a little clunkier, but I could still recognize them. It's more that everything runs on solar power in my time, and the lack of renewable energy is a little jarring."

She nodded at the Once-ler's recap of events, but didn't add to it. She figured it would be a better idea to find out what, exactly, Rapunzel's information meant before she started spreading it around.

"I didn't mention the clubs last night," she said, thinking back. "Some of the patients form teams, so we can explore the Institute in a safer and more organized fashion. You met Sora last night--he's in charge of Arts and Crafts, the biggest club. Most of the people you met last night were in Arts and Crafts, myself included. There are a few other clubs, and you can always travel with a group of your own if you'd prefer not to work with them. I just wouldn't recommend going out alone at night.

"You passed through the Sun Room this morning. There's a bulletin board where we can communicate with each other during the day. The nurses censor just about everything and take down anything that talks about Nightshift, so you have to be careful how you phrase things. That's why Arts and Crafts is called what it is."

She took another bite of her breakfast. The Once-ler and Lingormr didn't look like their appetites were up to it (no wonder they were both so skinny), but she knew she had to keep her energy up. "Lingormr, did I miss anything?"

Loki laughed quietly. "Well, you see. The difference between the rabbit out of the hat sorts and myself is that I'm not a charlatan or an entertainer. I suppose you could call me a sorcerer if that would sit better with you. Or..." He grinned, "a combat mathematician if you like the sound of that. But at its most basic, I impress my will upon reality, which is best called magic. Thus, I am a magician." Idly he traced a rune on the table with the tip of one finger. "The power I had last night was exceedingly limited to simple manipulations of light and sound for the most part. That is not my normal state."

He was rather surprised that Soma asked him if he had any insights on the subject. He had been here but a few days, which was barely the blink of an eye in the context of his life. She'd been the one who had dispensed all of the advice to him. "You would know better than I, dearest," he said. "Though I'd recommend against getting in to any sort of altercation during the day. They stick you with needles and it's not all that pleasant."

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DAY 65: Breakfast

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