Day 65: Sun Room

[fallenbeanpole]

His nurse had whisked him away from breakfast as soon as the intercom’s voice faded.  Surprisingly, she didn’t take him to the shower rooms, instead bringing him to the Sun Room (as she called it), explaining that since this was his first day he would be allowed to skip the showers.  Besides, it would be good to let his injuries heal a little more.

 

He’d passed through this room on the way to breakfast, but hadn’t really paid much attention to it the first time.  Now that he was standing here, the Once-ler understood why it was called the Sun Room.

 

Despite the fact that it was cloudy outside, there was still far more natural light coming in through the ceiling windows than he had seen in a long time.  The Once-ler stood still for a few moments, simply staring up.  It seemed almost like a dream, really.  The valley never got brighter than twilight, even at noon.  There was too much smog in the air to let any more light through.

 

After a few minutes, he shook his head.  Anybody who saw him just standing in the middle of the room would probably have questions about it, and he did not relish the thought of explaining himself to a stranger.  He glanced around the room itself, spotting the bulletin board Soma had talked about during breakfast.  The Once-ler decided that was a good place to start, and hobbled on over to get a closer look.

 

[For Nina, I believe?]

Comments

[dividedby]

[From here.]

Now that he was done being bathed like a child, Zero could be free to spend his barely conscious morning in the Sun Room. ...Which meant the bulletin board. His nurse wanted him to lie down on a couch until lunch, but even in this state he refused to become useless. He'd harmed people yesterday, possibly people he knew; he had to talk to them. He had to apologize.

Just before he'd been taken to the showers, Zero had managed to post a lengthy note about the incident that included questions to his friends. Sure enough, there were replies to it now. The drug was affecting his writing and reading abilities, but he wouldn't let that get in the way of his usual board stalking activities. Zero made some messy replies to them, checked a few other notes, replied to another, then wandered to a nearby couch and practically collapsed on it. Even now, the nurse was quick to scold him when he acted without her consent, but who cared...falling on a couch didn't hurt him.

Guess this morning was going to be another 'lie down for a bit, get up, check the board, go lie back down, rinse and repeat' kind of morning...and right now was the 'lie down for a bit' part. Just fine with him...

[Free]

[impudentsongbird]

[From here.]

The sun-room, as far as Gabe was concerned, was a very large step up from the room in which he'd initially found himself. The moment the nurse had let him be, the Archangel had found an appropriately sunny place, toed off his slippers, and sank down onto the rug with a sigh, turning his face up to the sunlight with a blissful smile.

The carpet was soft, and even though the beauty of the room caught his attention for a little while, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, just how he'd found himself where he was, and why he was here, and just how he felt different, and why the Lord hadn't seen fit to warn him beforehand.

The last was easily divined, really; He had been on a free-will kick, and Gabriel had to admit that it wasn't beyond Him to allow Gabe to have to deal with whatever was happening here on his own. All Gabe had to do was not disappoint Him.

How he'd gotten there and, more specifically, why, were questions he chose to leave aside in favour of closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, turning his focus inward. Even that action wasn't like it had been; he didn't usually need to breathe at all, and while he still had, the sensation seemed that much fuller and more grounded than it ever had before. A quick search of his senses, his limbs, his powers, proved what was apparent: he was human.

The thought sent a thrill of combined uncertainty and wonder through him. Surely only the Creator could have done such a thing to him. Why, Gabriel didn't know, but he so rarely did.

A sudden thud from nearby startled Gabriel out of his meditation, and his eyes flew open, training on the man who'd just collapsed on the nearest couch. He looked exhausted--or possibly ill. Gabe couldn't divine his identity, and when he tried to touch his mind gently there was no response at all, but the sheer weariness in his demeanour reminded Gabe of--

Well, it reminded Gabe of Joby. The guilt, the shame, the exhaustion.

"Are you all right?" he asked, genuine concern written all over his face and evident in his voice.

[envy_the_sinners]

[From here]

Scar wheeled into the Sun Room, his hair damp and his mood practically radiating anger. He eased into one of the chairs, paying no attention to any of the other patients already lounging. His grip on the arm rest was tense, the built up energy and frustration painfully obvious. Nothing had even happened in the shower, really.

Lingormr had been there. That was enough.

[For The Scarecrow!]

Crapola, I could have sworn I actually posted this comment. Sorry for the wait! D:

[scarefaux]

[From here.]

Scarecrow took a moment to look over the bulletin board, still thinking he might find some sign of his missing friends there. Unfortunately, he didn't- what he did find was that he couldn't focus too much on all the notes there, his head pounding away, making concentrating on the details more and more difficult with every passing second. He might not have been turning into a monster— or at least he certainly hoped that wasn't the case— but his body fighting off the infection as Sangamon said it would wasn't a pleasant experience at all. Still, that had been a high point of their conversation, one that kept him smiling despite all that was happening around him. His body would right itself if he gave it time. He had to keep positive. Someone had to.

Shaking his head, he gave up on the board for the moment and took a look around the room, spotting Scar. He had to admit that the man didn't look well at all, but there were a good number who didn't. How could he know which ones might become monsters, if at all? And better yet, what could be done to help them, especially if any of the ones changing were his friends?

"How do you do, Scar?"

[maverickhunterx]

[From Here!]

The warm and happy feelings from the shower persisted, even when he had conducted the replies on the bulletin board. A godsend, one could be certain.

Even as the events of last night came back into his head like a crash and explosion, even when the pain in his leg began to come back in full force as he leaned against the wall, even when he could still feel the blow that had caused this pain in the first place, the unusual comfort he felt tempered it. He was still a little damp, and when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the steam rising from his bare skin, even under his clothes.

All he had to do now was wait.

X stared down at his hand -- the hand that he had unjured last night, against the glass -- and clenched it, once, wincing. Then again. And again. And again.

He was going to see Zero. Or at least, he hoped he was. In his notes, something seemed off, seemed wrong; no, not just something. A lot of things. It wasn't the lack of proper grammar, nor was it the handwriting, just...

...Something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he wasn't sure whether or not it was good or bad. Either way, he was going to get some sort of explanation of what was going on...and wasn't that the important thing right now?

With a sigh, X clenched his hand again.

[Free!]

[vstheworld]

Scott had never been more thankful to feel the sheets beneath his skin when he woke up that morning, emphasis on "feel". No more walking around like he was in a skin-tight sensory deprivation chamber — as the philosophers Bill & Ted once said: excellent.

At least now they knew what was in store for them the next time they went down to Skeletor's House of Happy Fun Time. He wasn't looking forward to jumping off a freaking cliff again, especially knowing he would be feeling that freezing water next time, but it was better than fearing that they were jumping into a pit of space worm stomach acid. They could just go in, jump off, and then get on with whatever was supposed to come after that part. So far death didn't seem to be involved so long as they kept following the paths set out for them. At least, not permadeath, anyway.

Brainwashing, that's another story, Scott thought with frustration as he stepped out of the shower, shaking excess water out of his hair. Still had to do something about that. As far as he could tell, going through the caverns was the only thing they could do, and Scott wished there was a more direct option on the table. Like punching Landel in the balls until he flipped the "Everyone Is Unbrainwashed" switch.

On his way to the bulletin board, a flash of red scarring on someone else's hand caught his eye. The young man looked a little familiar, but Scott couldn't immediately place him. For now, the injury was what interested him the most, because it was in almost the exact same place that Scott's new bandage was. (By the way, regaining feeling in his body? Had its downsides. Ow.) Never one to back down from pointless segues into conversation, Scott stopped by the guy and raised his hand up. "Solidarity, brother. Gimpy-handed patients unite," he said, pumping his bandaged fist.

[corvus_veritas]

[From here.]

But there was still no sign of Badd anywhere. It was starting to become worrisome, going this long trying and failing to find someone who should be really noticeable. Perhaps he was still in the showers, or he and Byrne had somehow missed each other walking through the halls or something? If that was the case, though, why hadn't he been at breakfast?

Thankfully, there was one other means of trying to find him and it was right here in the Sun Room. Byrne promptly left a disguised note for Badd on the board and internally crossed his fingers. Hopefully he'd see that and answer back. Quickly.

In the meantime, the prosecutor checked the board for other notes to see what was going on with the rest of the patient body. Most of it was about the X-Ray room and some clue that had been left there. (Also chaos. Good thing Byrne hadn't been there, then.) The clue was some sort of drawing - an insect? Something in the body, the stomach specifically? And this was supposed to be related to the infection? Far from comforting.

To think the Institute-wide bug was really just that - a bug. Kind of gave Byrne the creeps thinking about it.

He finished checking the board, then wandered off and took a seat on an empty couch, thinking heavily as his eyes kept darting from patient to patient in the room. No Badd anywhere, of course. Not much else to do but think and watch. If only he had his notebook with him...

[Free!]

[fourstonewalls]

[from ]

Lana approached the bulletin just as a familiar face was walking away, and she stared at the proliferation of notes for a few moments. Then she put her fingers to her eyes, and succeeded in merely looking disgusted, rather than swaying on her feet. Though the rash on her hand was rather a tell-tale, wasn't it?

She didn't need to fake it. She could just go ask an expert, at least as far as the current contents of the board went. So she turned around, tracked down Prosecutor Faraday, and made her way over. "Anything of use over there?" she asked, flicking a quick hand to the bulletin. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to go hunting down answers myself last night."

It might be safer if all of the affected patients stayed in; the threat of turning into a monster was too believable, and at least in her own room she had a chance of doing something about it herself before it was too late for anyone else. But she couldn't just leave it at that, either -- which Landel was surely counting on. Yet he didn't make entirely empty promises; just poisoned ones.

[knightspirit]

When the nurse came to bring him to the next shift, Kyousuke didn't bother hiding his look of disdain. It was unbelievable that with everything going on, they'd actually herd them into a room to do art projects like good little children. ... How stupid. The nurse offered to let him go to the Sun Room instead, which didn't sound much better. The thought of sitting around couldn't appeal to him. But he agreed anyway, because while not keen on it, it was actually ideal; breakfast had alleviated his headache, but his energy was still low, and while he'd felt energetic enough to function in the morning, the second wind was quickly fading. He really needed to rest if he wanted to get anything useful done tonight.

Once there, he was immediately drawn to the bulletin. It wasn't the most convenient method—he would have preferred something digital—but the ability to leave people notes could be handy. He ignored the people around it in favor of skimming it to see if he could find any useful information. The first thing he came across were posts relating to the conversation he'd had with Sora, and he felt himself go tense just thinking about it. There had to be a better way than what were suggesting.... But he didn't feel qualified to make guesses about it. He was no doctor. ... He'd just have to try to keep an eye on him. What else could he do?

His mood far from improved when he came across talks patients being forced to attack each other. Brainwashing, or it least that's what it sounded like. He grit his teeth as a hot ball of disgust built up in the pit of stomach. ... Suddenly he was glad the abuse of his skills hadn't worked quite as planned. Fighting for your life was one thing, but he didn't know what he'd do if he actually ended up hurting someone innocent.

Trapped, forced to fight, people turning into monsters, people manipulated into turning against he each other... Not even Fifth Sector was this repulsive. He scribbled down a response to his former assailant, and tried to force his anger back down. .... It wasn't working. He took an empty couch off to the side, crossing his arms and tilting back into the cushion with closed eyes, but he didn't feel relaxed at all. His hands tightened, one gripping at his other arm in a way that was almost painful.

[The Doctor!]

I... apologize for the nurse. orz

[timedork]

After showering, the Doctor had intended to spend a little time looking over the bulletin, and then check up on Donna or find someone to chat with if she was still showering (she was probably still showering)—but he'd taken no more than a few strides across the room when he was stopped.

"Mr Smith!" a woman called out. He looked towards the nurse hurrying towards him; it wasn't the usual one. He suddenly couldn't help but think of the nurse that had... mutated on the bus the other night; she hadn't been the usual one, either. "Mr Smith, if I could trouble you..."

"Yes?" he said, flashing her one of his best smiles after a moment's hesitation.

"As I recall, you got along splendidly with Michael Blake during his time here," she said, casually taking his arm to lead him as she spoke. "One of our new patients is a few years younger than Michael, but since there are only a few other children his age here, I was hoping that maybe you could be a friend to him."

Before the Doctor could answer her, she stopped by a couch where a boy was leaning back with closed eyes. The Doctor wondered if maybe he was trying to sleep—but the nurse didn't seem to think he was.

"Mr Taylor, this is Mr Smith," she said immediately, gesturing towards the Doctor. "I hope you boys can get along!"

She gave a little wave to the two of them before bustling away. The Doctor watched her go for a moment before looking at the boy on the couch again. "Er—hello."

[unpriest]

[From here]

His hair was still damp when Seishin left the showers, but the former priest couldn't help but to experience a sense of relief as he headed into the sun room. Still, he guessed public showers were always better than no showers at all.

The only familiar face in the Sun room was that of his roommate, but the man appeared to be in a rather foul mood. It would be best not to needlessly bother him, he supposed, as the man didn't appear to be the talkative sort. Instead, Seishin ended up taking a look at the bulletin board.

[Ilia.]

[avengingfists]

[from here]

Ilia took a moment to stop by the bulletin and reply to S.T. about the bar, then gazed around for a conversation partner. Surprising, a friend from previous nightly escapades was standing nearby, also examining the board.

Moving out of the way for other patients, Ilia took a spot beside the bespectacled man. "Seishin. It's been a while. You've been well, I hope?"

[nobleman]

[From here.]

Maybe he had been a little too fast. There was no sign of Claude, which probably meant he was still in the shower room. Still, Guy noticed a few other patients with damp hair, so he wasn't the only one who hadn't had it in him to linger there for too long.

Of the other patients, there was only one who he vaguely knew, and that was Zero. With no obligation to sit with or talk to anyone, Guy was able to move to an empty spot near the shower room and keep an eye out for his friend.

Honestly, it would have been better if they could speak somewhere more private. Guy doubted that Claude wanted his problems aired out to the rest of the patients. Come to think of it, didn't they have privileges that allowed them to move wherever they wanted? Guy hardly ever took advantage because there usually wasn't a need to, but this might be one time where it made sense.

[For Claude.]

[earthling]

((From here.))

As Claude stepped out into the Sun Room, he wondered if he'd done a thorough enough job of drying his hair off. He could feel a couple of water droplets falling onto his shoulder as he scanned the room looking for any familiar faces.

Then, he caught sight of Guy standing near the bathroom. Better yet, he was all alone, which meant Claude could approach him without interrupting anything. Without a second thought, he turned toward him and hurried over to his friend.

"Um, hey," he greeted, trying his best to mask the anxiety in his voice. Still, he imagined Guy had hung around him enough to tell just by the uncertain way that he was carrying himself that things weren't exactly okay.

His eyebrows suddenly raised, as if something had just occurred to him. "Were you waiting for me?" he asked.

[dualistic]

[From here.]

Upon entering the Sun Room, Harvey's first move was to look over the bulletin board. Now that he'd eaten a small amount and cleaned himself, he was more awake and more tolerant of reading some of the idiotic things that were posted on the board.

After some careful reading and sorting through a mess of notes in different handwriting -- some which bordered on illegible -- Harvey started to get an idea of what had been waiting for patients in the medical wing last night. Other than a brainwashed patient, there'd been a cryptic clue based on the concept of having butterflies in your stomach, but this was apparently much more literal.

His body had been broken apart enough already. Maybe that was why he'd been spared -- or maybe they figured that the illness would run through him too easily, and that would be boring. Something had spared him, and he wasn't going to question that lucky break too much.

After he was done with his reading, Harvey wrote a quick note to Sangamon and Scott and then turned away from the board, scanning the room for a place to sit.

[For Harpuia.]

[lovesthepain]

Harpuia was beginning to get a feel for this place. The establishment was obviously adamant on pretending he was a human, that much was becoming clear. Food would have wreaked absolute havoc on the delicate machinery inside him, yet his nurse seemed to be worried by his refusal to touch breakfast. She insisted on calling him Hayato, and appeared to believe he was a civillian. She had informed him that it was time for the youth patients to head off to Arts and Crafts. A statement that, frankly, he found outright offensive. He'd always resented implications that the frame he'd been built with somehow reflected on his intellectual capacity -- the idea that he, a capable soldier, ought to be spending his time on juvenile little crafts with a bunch of children.

He'd suggested that he had no desire to participate in a makework activity like that. His nurse had frowned, but had agreed -- he was obviously having a hard time settling in, and between those injuries and his lack of appetite, it looked like he wasn't feeling up to much activity. She'd suggested some quiet time in the Sun Room instead, and he'd agreed to that alternative without much fuss. The Sun Room, it turned out, was the room with the bulletin board he'd passed earlier. This gave him a chance to take a look. Most of the messages seemed to refer to things outside of his understanding, but he had been surprised to see a rambling, not-quite-coherent apology from Zero.

It had given him even more to think about, as he'd eased his aching body down into one of the many couches in the room. In a way, he was glad for the indirectness of a written conversation, even if Zero wasn't exactly at his most eloquent (as much as that word could be applied to somebody like him, at least). It gave him time to sort himself out, to try to fit a few more pieces into place.

Still, solitary observation and inference could only give him so much. If the other notes present on the bulletin board were any indication, the other people present here had a much better picture of what was going on. His gaze drifted back over to the board, and quickly settled on a patient standing nearby. Not that a guy with green arrows on his face was in any position to judge, but it was pretty hard to miss noticing someone who had banadges covering up half of his. After a moment, he decided that this individual didn't look like he had anything in particular he needed to do -- hoping to catch his eye, Harpuia indicated the empty spot on the couch he was occupying. With any luck, this guy'd be able to clear things up for Harpuia.

[purgatio]

There were mixed emotions in the white-haired Variant.

The first, held to prominence, was to check on his sibling. Nigredo, uncharacteristically or simply holding to an older characteristic instead, was still sleeping, and it took some mental prodding from Albedo to get a response. Enough of one for the boy to determine his brother's health and state, and Albedo let Nigredo fall back to sleep after promising to meet up later on.

And that, as they say, was that. The other things were a mixed and myriad bag--the presence of Yomi, Nigredo's constant jaunts to the basement, Landel's sweet little deal.... A bit too much to be thought about now, at least, and Albedo, with no brother to say otherwise, fell to the apathy he had held the night before. The sun room was as far as he would go, and he settled into a couch by himself. Everything was put on hold until he could see Nigredo, and even if he understood that was a weakness of self, there was very little he would do about it. Again, too much had happened. He would hold to the one constant in his life before moving forward.

[ Klavier! ]

[rocksthecourt]

[from here]

As predicted, he did indeed feel better by the time he entered the Sun Room. Amazing how a short shower could have such an effect. It was like cleaned everything away and was starting the day again with a blank slate. That was probably a good thing since it was about time he checked the bulletin and tried to determine what exactly he'd missed last night. Hopefully he wouldn't find another shattering list of familiar names who had gone missing (though he had to steel himself for that possibility).

The most interesting thing he found, and one he saw mentioned several times, actually turned out to be something about a drawing found as a result of a "scavenger hunt". He was going to guess that had something to do with those radio announcements that came up every now and then. The origins and contents of which were dubious in their trustworthiness, might he add. People were being vague about it, but Klavier couldn't say he liked the direction the interpretation of this picture looked to be going. Especially with a sudden call for surgeons.

He wasn't going to respond to all this immediately. He needed to process it first and consider the details on his own before making any objections or stating any theories. Unlike these people (and certain defense attorneys), he'd prefer to at least think a little before jumping to conclusions. Klavier pulled away from the bulletin board, opening his notebook up and trying to duplicate the picture as best as he could before he forgot the details. Not that it was terribly complicated, but one could never be sure if something small would become relevant later. That was usually the case, it felt like.

As he moved away from the board and deeper into the room, an unfortunately familiar face could be seen lingering on the closest couch. He wasn't speaking to anyone; simply sitting there with an indeterminable expression. ...There was something morbidly nostalgic in this. It reminded Klavier of the first time he came across this child in this very room... it may even have been the same couch. That was one among many reasons why approaching to get closer than he already was seemed like a bad idea.

His feelings regarding Albedo were a bit more complicated than he really wanted to admit. Especially after that fiasco in the coliseum recently. Not that there was any question in the fact that he truly liked nothing about this child, and it could even be said that he hated him. But there were broader details to be considered outside his own personal feelings.

Right now, he wasn't sure what to make of Albedo's expression. As usual, it was difficult for Klavier to accurately read him in any capacity. However, considering the foul mood most people were in today and what had been happening recently, seeing Albedo sitting alone with an empty face probably didn't bode very well. If he ignored the twisting in the pit of his stomach and all personal history, it could be said he actually wanted to talk to Albedo about some things to a certain extent. But again, approaching and feigning a greeting with this one didn't seem like a good idea as it might with others.

So, Klavier simply shifted his path a little, paused in his steps when he was a yard or so away from the couch... and just looked at him. It's not like he was in a position where he could avoid Albedo seeing him anyway, even if he'd wanted to turn and run off the opposite way. So there was no point in doing so. He said nothing for now. The blank, serious, evaluative stare he gave the child was "greeting" enough.

[awokentospring]

Having left breakfast still thoroughly convinced he was either dreaming or incarcerated by mistake, Lee thought it best to seek out someone who could return him to the war. And if that didn't work, he would just wait to wake up. His nurse, Todd, refused help, claiming in that nice and enthusiastic way of his that he would first need to be okay'd by a doctor before that would be allowed. Any subsequent requests to meet with a doctor were then denied. Apparently it was up to The Head Doctor whether "Bruce" would be permitted to have a doctor's visit, and visits didn't begin until the next day.

A little irritated by his dream's lack of cooperation, Lee pouted for a bit before just deciding to allow the illusion to run it's course. He would soon be waking up on his cot and sent out to join the front lines again! But until then he supposed he would indulge.

When Todd asked if Lee wanted to visit the arts and crafts room, the shinobi almost agreed, but then his eye caught that bulletin board he had passed earlier that morning and he asked to stop. What he read troubled him. It seemed the other patients here were suffering from sickness and odd cases of butterflies in their stomachs. If that was the case, then that surely meant they were sick! Truly, honestly sick! Even if they were just part of his dream.

Writing up an encouraging note on remembering to eat healthy and work out, Lee found himself even less inclined to just go to arts and crafts. Instead, he took himself to a corner of the Sun Room and started on a set of two hundred push-ups. Just because he was sleeping didn't mean he could fall behind in his training either! And his nurse did not object, so Lee was left to his own devices. At least, for the time being.

[For Dr. Facilier~]

[doctor_voodoo]

[From here.]

Having left the showers with no interruptions, Facilier swiftly strode his way to the Sun Room towards the bulletin board. By now he already had a series of messages planned out in his head for him to write, and he was anxious to do so as soon as possible.

Much to Facilier's relief, the usual annoying traffic clogging up the message board had begun to clear up. The tall spindly Bokor made his way to his destination and grasped for a few papers and a pen to write with. Before writing anything, he took a moment to read the already existing notes to get an idea of what was going on with the patient population.

Standing with his arms folded behind his back, Facilier's eyes darted through the notes until a new stranger came up to join him in front of the board. Frowning slightly, Facilier glanced down to find a dark head of hair which he immediately recognized as a basic bowl-cut style. The owner of the bowl-cut was a young man with big eyes and even bigger eyebrows, all of which expressed great concern as he began to write a rather earnest-looking note.

Once the odd boy moved away from the board, Facilier couldn't help his curiosity and took a look at the note he left. A hollow chuckle shook his shoulders but failed to leave past his lips. The youth had left the most cheery yet most ignorant letter about that virus some people had caught! "Silly boy..." Facilier thought to himself, "He's either that stupid or he be new here..." As he pondered this, Facilier's eyes followed the dark-haired fellow and smirked to himself as his target began a series of enthusiastic push-ups. "Yep, definitely new..."

Deciding to put his notes away in his pocket for now, Facilier quietly approached the boy. Everything about the fellow set off all of Facilier's "sucker" alarms, perhaps there was something about the lad which he could make great use of?

Smiling to himself, Facilier silently approached the exercising fellow from behind, allowing his thin shadow to slowly grow over his bobbing head and down the floor before him. "Good afternoon!" Facilier greeted, "Y'all training for the Olympics or something?"

[mirrorimage]

Nina had been reading the bulletin board herself when someone hobbled up beside her. Glancing over to see the person who had just approached the board, her heart immediately went out to him when she noticed the extent of his injuries. Another person who's been hurt here. It made her sick and angry to think about, and even more determined to get to the bottom of the mystery behind this place.

The postings on the bulletin board might very well help with that, if anyone had anything useful to share. For now, though, Nina could put her attention on the person actually next to her.

She gave the Once-ler a tiny smile when her eye caught his. "Hey," she offered, voice gentle.

[fallenbeanpole]

The Once-ler hadn't noticed the woman at first, and it wasn't until she spoke up that he realized he wasn't the only one reading the board. He didn't recognize her, although that was hardly surprising since he had only just arrived the night before.

"Hey," he responded. There was a moment's pause as the man considered how to continue.

"Seeing what people have to say as well?" he finally asked, gesturing at the board. It was as good a topic as any, seeing as they were both standing before it. "Sounds like there's a bug going around."

He knew Soma was sick, but from the notes on the board it seemed it was more widespread.

[skeletonenigma]

It wasn't often that Skulduggery was actually grateful for keeping a basic friendship open with someone he didn't feel any inclination toward. Politics wasn't his game. As the Santuary's Prime Detective, one of the perks he enjoyed was getting to insult people who deserved it, punch people who were evil, and otherwise ignore anyone he didn't find interesting.

But he'd made an effort to leave a good impression on his nurse - his captor - just in case, and this morning, it was the only thing that saved him from having to suffer through a public shower. The last time a shower would have done Skulduggery any benefit, showers hadn't been invented yet. He hadn't had to remove an article of clothing so far, and to be perfectly honest with himself, he hoped he would never have to. It had been weird enough discovering he had skin and a face; he was perfectly happy to take the rest on faith.

So Skulduggery asked to be in the Sun Room instead, and after a short argument, the nurse relented. But only the Sun Room, she clarified firmly, as if she expected Skulduggery to sneak out to a staircase the first chance he got. Of course, he would have, if the nurses and orderlies standing around didn't always seem to have their eye on everything. How was anyone supposed to sneak into restricted areas with this much needless security?

So Skulduggery settled for some people-watching instead. Most of them trickled in slowly after taking their showers, a myriad of moods on their faces and in their body language. A few seemed injured - a wheelchair here, a crutch there, slings and bandages not uncommon. Several looked pale and sickly, rashes on their hands similar to the one Sora had. Skulduggery was still wary of that fact; like he'd told Sora, it was very likely this illness plaguing the Institute wouldn't lead to anything good.

[For L!]

[ryuuzaki]

Convincing the nurse to let him skip the shower hadn't been easy.

First, he'd tried to feign napping on one of the sofas in the Sun Room after breakfast. It might have worked, but as the intercom announcement faded, one nurse became especially aggressive about waking him up. When he gave in, and she moved to escort him in the direction of the showers, he pointed out to her that the wound in his shoulder was quite deep. It would be unbearably painful to have to support the weight of his arm without the sling, he'd told her, let alone to risk soap getting into the wound, or to have to re-bandage it. If he were to lose consciousness in the shower due to the pain, he might hit his head, which would result in an even more serious injury.

This tactic relied on what he thought was a strong likelihood that the nurse he was speaking to was not the person who had bandaged the wound, which wasn't quite as bad as he was suggesting. The truth was that the sling and the sweatshirt, used together, hid most of the rash, and L was reluctant to take them off to go shower in a room full of men, some of whom might be looking for that kind of evidence. The nurse didn't seem to be thinking on those lines, however: she relented. He gave her his smallest, bravest smile, as a show--and only a show--of gratitude.

The bulletin board was more interesting. He noted with a sense of relief that people were already discussing the clue from the previous night. He would still have to confirm it independently, as much as possible, but the fact that no one had yet publicly disagreed with the description that had been posted meant that it was likely to be accurate. While he had exaggerated his condition to the nurse, it still didn't sound like he would have been capable of fighting Lingormr and coming out in good shape, even with Edgar and Nina there. It was useful that other people had made it through and were indeed willing to discuss it.

What the clue seemed to indicate, though... that was unsettling.

Frowning, he turned back to the rest of the Sun Room. A thin man now sat near the sofa where L had been resting a few minutes earlier--the sofa that L now returned to, pushing off his slippers as he sat down.

The man didn't look familiar. He had the half-vacant, half-alert air of someone who wasn't looking at anything in particular, but who might narrow their focus when they found something interesting to observe. It was a common expression in the big, skylit room.

"Are you new here, Mr...?" L's tone was gentle, curious, and reasonably amiable, but nobody could have accused it of being lively.

[idolism]

Accepting Landel’s little gifts and exclusive luxuries as some kind of privilege worth aspiring to was a foolhardy way of thinking, that Aidou knew. But he had to admit, the chance to use his hallway rights and escape the general population, even for a second, did wonders for his focus.

There was no way he as participating in the usual shower shift if he could avoid it (without getting sedated). So when night gave way to day in its usual hasty manner, the noble went straight to the showers to beat the rush.

He needed time to think, anyway. Catching a glimpse of what else lay underneath the Institute had sparked his wariness as well as his imagination. “Down is the way you want to go if you want to uncover the secrets of this place,” Landel had said once. More than simply down, Aidou was beginning to think there was a whole other world underneath their feet that Landel intended to have them explore. Another elaborate hoop to jump through. The fact that he and Sasuke had been the only ones able to step foot in the new territory was at the forefront of his thoughts, as well. What set Aigis apart from them? Was it really because he and Sasuke had “progressed” farther than her?

Why did he think it had something to do with the archaic blood match Landel staged in the depths of the basement? Probably because you know better, he thought to himself.

Besides the caverns, there also remained the problem of the infection--which, given the news circulating around the bulletin board, was really turning out to be more of a freakish hack-and-slash science experiment. When Aidou entered the Sun Room for second shift to check in on the bulletin, he had the so-called “clue” on his mind. Thanks to the Rapunzel girl’s note, he had a general idea of what the X-Ray Room business had been all about, but there were still a lot of unanswered questions afoot. If people actually started gutting each other to get at the truth, well… that was certainly one way of answering them, he supposed.

He stood for a moment, reading the latest notes with a hand to his chin, before sitting down out of the way of the sun roof, journal in his lap.

[his_legacy]

Link followed his nurse quietly into the Sun Room. Seishin had not known about the lost items, either. Did anyone?

Yes, he assured himself. With this many patients running about that halls at night, somebody must have found some sort of clue.

Approaching the bulletin board he had just learned about, Link thumbed through some of the notes posted. They almost seemed cryptic, in a way. It was clear that only the people posting them and the intended recipients were supposed to understand what was written. He glances sideways at the nurse. As far as Link was concerned, she was the enemy, as well. And she, as well as the other nurses he saw escorting patients, could read this board whenever she pleased.

The Hylian tapped his chin, trying to think of a proper way to word his intended public message without alerting the staff of his plan. He needed to get any information he could on where they might be keeping his equipment. He was not leaving without it.

[Free!]

[girlsandgadgets]

[From here.]

No Locke in the Sun Room, either. That wasn't a good sign- a patient seemingly missing never was. Edgar ran a hand through his hair in quiet frustration. Normally, he would have been just fine to let Locke handle himself— because if there was anyone who could, it would be him— but given the infection, the warnings both from Landel and the contacts on the radio, the worsening condition of some of the patients...

He sighed, heading for the bulletin board, idly braiding his long hair over his shoulder. No use over-thinking it just yet. It'd be just his luck to rile himself up, only to find Locke was fine. He was not about to be the subject of the teasing he'd deserve from that.

[For Tolten. Sorry this is late!]

[age_of_kings]

Usually, the public showers were an ordeal of humility and frayed nerves for Tolten, and after he was shaken and brooding. Not today. His mood hadn't changed in the least since the night before, though now his anger partially encompassed his beloved companion. He hardly knew nor cared if it were justified, it simply was.

Which was why he found himself seeking out Edgar. They barely knew one another, but this man was Locke's closest friend. If there was anyone in this place Tolten could speak to on the subject...

He approached, his expression uncharacteristically hard. There was a sad tiredness in his eyes, though, beneath the fire and steel. He could only be fueled by his righteous anger for so long. His own illness was wearing at him as well as his worry.

"I'd like to speak with you," he said, simply. His voice was ragged.