damned_institute | Day 65: Intercom, Evening

Entry tags:

Day 65: Intercom, Evening

As some of the clouds from earlier began to clear, the intercom jingle sounded over the intercom once again.

"Hello, patients!" came the Head Doctor's cheery voice. "I hope you're all feeling fresh and clean this evening! To top it all off, we've prepared a scrumptious herb chicken dinner for you to eat before bed. Of course, we have vegetarian options available, so please don't hesitate to ask the nurse if you're interested in that.

Also, since we have the pleasure of welcoming a few new patients into our family, some of you will be receiving new roommates. Let's do our best to give them a nice, big Landel's Institute welcome, shall we?"

The Head Doctor gave a friendly chuckle. "Well, anyway, enjoy your dinner!"

With that, the intercom shut off.

[Note: All dinner threads are posted in response to this entry. Be sure to check the Roommate Assignments if you're not sure what room/roommate your character has! Thanks.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The evening announcement went largely unheard as Gren trudged his way through the cafeteria line (protesting that he wasn't hungry never worked on his nurse) and then back to his room, which was thankfully empty.

He abandoned the tray on his desk immediately and retreated to the bed, propping himself up in the corner. Clearly, forgoing his medication that morning had been a terrible idea--his head hurt, and there was a fine shaking that took hold of him if he didn't concentrate on stopping it. And there was really no way of knowing if it would get better if he just held out.

He'd gone cold turkey once, but then he'd had the luxury of hiding someplace fairly private. He couldn't do that, here. All he could do was try to tolerate it and hope someone wouldn't mistake this for whatever it was that was spreading through the patient population.

There was little learned, in the end--at least, not what Albedo wished to, and not for the price he'd like to pay. Nigredo had accepted things, as much as he was want to, and Albedo didn't know if he was supposed to feel strange that it seemed the youngest was becoming outwardly more accepting of murders. Of the evils that men do. Certainly, it was the youngest with the most blood on his hands--literally, at least--but it was always Albedo whose priorities lay not with moral impulses, but familial ties.

Such as things were. He was going out hunting tonight, with the sole goal of killing at least one patient. To that end, he passed on dinner, and once again, as he had not in a while, took to his closet, to take inventory of his weapons. The two shotguns were removed, and he sat down on the floor and began to take them apart to look things over. His two hunting knives were near him, and like before, he took no note of his roommate.

At the end of the day, Sasuke had been the one to learn more than he'd bargained for: Lee's news at lunch had been shocking enough that he'd lashed out at his nurse with every ounce of contained vitriol he had, scaring away her further attempts to find him 'friends' so effectively that he was almost pleased. He might have been were it not for the enduring fog of fury that still lingered.

He was not merely missing a war: he was missing his own answers, truths he'd sacrificed a team and a village and a clan history's worth of loyalty for that he wasn't even there to learn. When his nurse left him with the occasional clack and rustle of his roommate Sasuke whirled into action, dinner ignored, pulling his sword from its usual hiding place and testing the blade for sharpness with the side of a finger.

It drew blood: but it was dull.

There were aspects to be noted--testing a weapon was one of them. There were two options. One, that, like Albedo, his roommate had something to accomplish tonight. The other, also like Albedo, was that having weapons available in this place was something to keep attention on. The boy's eyes slanted to the other as he tested it, acknowledging the same point the other had-- Useful, but duller. Like Albedo's own blade, buried in the back of the closet. When given the choice of guns or swords, Albedo would rather strangle the life from another, but guns he had greater experience in at least.

Perhaps it was because of that notice, that Albedo started seeing similarities where he hadn't thought to look before. He blinked, then narrowed his eyes in thought. A male of medium height, with dark hair and eyes, but whitish pupils. Something that could be vague, but in a place like this, it wasn't as common.

This annoyed him somehow.

The boy stood, then leaned down to root through the pack near his feet, finally coming up with the stone sharpener he had procured earlier on. Sighing lightly, he crossed the room, and stopped a few feet off, holding out the item. "It might be more useful with this," he gave dryly, though for all intents and purposes, the offer was genuine.

Sasuke discounted the movement on the other side of the room up until the footsteps headed toward him with deliberate intention -- only then did he straighten away from the weapon he was inspecting by touch alone, grip on the hilt tightening just in case his roommate decided to break their long silence with belligerence. Young as the boy sounded, Sasuke had no illusions about the kinds of people Landel gathered.

It came as a surprise, then, when instead there was clearly something being offered to him. Sasuke narrowed his gaze at the other patient (or less at than in general) and reached out with as much confidence as he could summon when he only had the rustle of shirt material to guide him.

Whether by sheer luck or not, his hand landed on a slender box, closing and lifting it away without any lessening in his frown. With care, Sasuke stabbed his sword into his mattress so that the hilt remained upright and in easy access, then smoothed fingers over the item until he found the edge to lift the lid away. Underneath it was --

Rough stone. A sharpener.

"... yes," he answered, delayed and carefully pronounced. What was the purpose in opening conversation now? "A sharper weapon strikes with more accuracy."

It was at least amusing enough to see this one taken back, if not truly surprised. Albedo shrugged exaggeratedly, and half spun to the side, idly looking at the wall. "Use it, then. I don't have a need for it tonight." As if he wasn't concerned at all, with his roommate, or a better weapon in his hands.

And why should he be? Albedo had driven his sword into his own stomach--why would he need to fear another's? Besides. It remained. There was something more of import here. Something a bit more interesting to consider. "You're someone who's comfortable fighting," he started again, a question and a statement. The weapon hadn't missed the notice of the other's wariness as Albedo had approached. "You wouldn't have happened to have replied to a notice on the bulletin board a few days prior, would you?"

Motivations aside, Sasuke had spent too many weeks in the Institute to look a gift horse too deeply in the mouth: unless this were some kind of special whetstone designed to destroy a blade rather than sharpening it, it was probably fine. At most, Albedo probably just wanted something in return.

That something became marginally clearer with the boy's next statement, Sasuke slotting a nod of agreement in between angling his sword and beginning to draw the rough stone along the blade. It was an action and angle he knew better than the back of his own hand, the smooth shhhnk of refining metal familiar and calming.

"A notice," he repeated when the question was posed, wracking his memory for -- ah. "Regarding fighting? Yes."

...Of course. Of course, one of the people who replied, and the only one Albedo could now find, was his dear and quiet roommate, the ever-friendly person who had been in this place longer than Albedo. Of course fate would have it this way.

He leaned his weight backward, sighing once. "Regarding a request for someone to teach hand-to-hand combat. And if you're the one I believe replied, you wished for information." He watched the other sharpen the blade, caring nothing for what his roommate would use it on. "I put up the notice. I need my younger brother to learn what he can."

Sometimes Sasuke had to wonder if perhaps the Institute had a hand in even the more mundane twists of their existence. Running into Naruto in the worst way on the bus. Pairing him with a mute man for a discussion about feelings. Linking his offer -- and the hope for fruitful alliance with it -- to the roommate he'd barely spoken to since the thinly-veiled hostilities of the first night Albedo had been moved in.

Discovering that the search was for a younger brother. Albedo had said he could pay anything: and there were no memories that were stirred there, Sasuke decided, and turned his sword over to begin work on the other side, movements sure, habitual.

"What experience does he currently have?" Any existing knowledge of styles, or at least how to avoid blows and take falls, could be useful.

There was no fighting the fact. That was well-enough-- Albedo had no wanting to bicker over the details, and would rather a straight-forward transaction. The remaining tension slipped out of him; he shrugged languidly.

"Only very basic hand-to-hand. Our unit--" Because that was simpler than anything else. "--Specialized in firearms and alternate weaponry, so there was no need to excel further in that. But here is a different story."

Very basic -- and if Albedo was concerned enough about that very basic to be applying to strangers in the Institute to improve it, Sasuke could probably safely assume the emphasis was more on very than basic. Fortunately, although Sasuke had no illusions about his own qualifications as a particularly tender teacher, he had a precise enough memory to know how he himself had been taught.

Raised to work in teams divided by efficacy, Sasuke didn't think to question what precisely his roommate meant by unit: of more interest was the term firearms, still new and somewhat unclear to him, and the idea of weaponry that was alternate to those. That was perhaps a line of inquiry worth pursuing in time.

"I assume that what training that he has had has been defensive in nature?" That hopefully meant that this as-yet unknown brother knew how to take a fall. Any talent or skill beyond that were things Sasuke would need to learn through his own observation.

It occurred to Skulduggery, as his nurse led him back to the room blocks, that despite the relatively medium-sized number of people milling around the Sun Room all day, there were a couple of familiar faces he hadn't seen. After a moment of contemplation, he turned to the nurse.

"You've been stalking me," he began, "as per your job description, correct?"

She frowned. "I wouldn't use the word 'stalking,' Erik-"

"So you know everyone I've spoken to. Have any of them been discharged?"

His nurse paused for a second, and then gave him a patronizing and entirely unappreciated gentle smile. "Mr. Theo Savalas was released this morning," she answered. "Do you remember him?"

Skulduggery shook his head. He doubted anyone here paid much attention to their supposed 'real' names. "When did I meet him?"

"During brunch yesterday. I'm so sorry. It looked like you two were getting along well."

Ah. Detective Tyrell Badd. The news quieted Skulduggery for the rest of the walk. He hadn't met many people here, and although he'd only talked with Badd for less than an hour, the familiar pain of losing a comrade underscored his thoughts once again. The fact that he'd met another detective today, however, at least boded well for the future.

The Scarecrow wasn't there this time when Skulduggery was left alone with his chicken dinner. After eyeing it warily for a few moments, Skulduggery left it in the center of his roommate's desk and sat down cross-legged on his own bed. Despite the hunger that was now painfully twisting his insides, the memory of what had happened at lunch was still a little too fresh in his mind.

Unfortunately, food had stopped being appealing to the Scarecrow some time around lunch, as well. His nurse frowned as they reached his room and she handed him his tray.

"You don't look like you're doing much better, Mr. Howard," she observed, her voice sweet as could be. Her tone wasn't the least bit patronizing- not that the Scarecrow would have been likely to pick up on such nuances even if he had been in perfect health.

"I don't feel much better, honestly," he admitted in return. Despite the pills Sangamon had given him, his insides felt worse than ever, hands still shaking on occasion, sweat dotting his forehead. He wiped at it for the umpteenth time that day, trying to figure out exactly what it was. With his unfamiliarity with his new form, it was always hard to tell what was a symptom of the infection and what was simply a normal process of the human body.

She smiled sadly at him. "I know it was hard to lose Mr. Price, but he's doing so much better now. You keep your chin up, and I'm positive you'll get there, too."

He returned the smile, wishing he could believe her words. He might have at one point, in his earlier days at Landel's. It was unfortunate he knew better now. Still, he gave her a nod and headed into his room.

He eyed the tray of food already on his desk a second before setting the one in his hands to join it. After that, he offered Skulduggery the same smile, trying to be optimistic. His body would right itself in time, or so he was told- until then, he was stuck feeling like he was full of rocks and bugs, his stomach seemingly trying to turn itself inside out. "Did you not want this, Skulduggery?" he asked as he slumped into his seat, his limbs feeling heavier than ever. "I'm not sure I can eat mine. Or that I ought to."

Edited 2012-08-12 06:14 (UTC)

He'd been expecting it this time, the familiar voice interrupting his haphazard attempt at meditation, opening his eyes to see a fictional character offering him a smile. It didn't make the reality any less of a jolt. Skulduggery suspected he would never get used to the concept, and a part of him was grateful for that. This sort of thing shouldn't happen, and anything that reminded Skulduggery of that was welcome.

That wasn't to say the Scarecrow was any less of a decent fellow, though. "No," he replied after a moment, his blank gaze settling on the abandoned dinner. "I'm worried it might rot my tongue next." Or worse, turn into rotting flesh in his mouth, and Skulduggery was still nursing vague hopes of eating something over the week. "You do look like you should try eating some," he remarked. "That illness of Landel's is getting worse, I see."

Gumshoe opened his eyes and closed them again after seeing that ceiling for what seemed like the hundredth time. He sat up and sighed angrily as he listened to whatever Dr. Landel had to say this time. In the meantime, he turned so his legs were hanging off the side of the bed.

'Fresh and clean'... Oh. He had missed showering day, hadn't he?

Considering how it'd been several days, maybe a week, since they'd gotten word of there being any new 'patients' (in the time he'd been awake, at least), he was guessing they had to take this as a bad sign. Had Dr. Landel done a head count and noticed he was running short on prisoners? Was he preparing to replace people who were infected?

Then Gumshoe suddenly remembered all the crazy stuff that had happened last night! Th-That 'Lust' lady... or whatever her name was. People had already started turning into monsters! ...H-Hey, wait! What about those symptoms? As far as he could tell, she hadn't had any of them! Maybe he hadn't been paying enough attention.

At this rate, he wouldn't be surprised if he made himself sick! With worry!

Sobering a little, he ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. Some detective I've turned out to be. What a joke.

He just hoped a day was all he'd missed.

Edited 2012-08-21 08:54 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 2

Day 65: Intercom, Evening

M16

M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

Re: M58 (alfredo sauce)

M42

Re: M42

Re: M42

M30