damned_institute | Day 66: Breakfast

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Day 66: Breakfast

What Guy had seen on that scan resulted in some mixed feelings. While he had expected to find something in Claude, seeing how he was sick, it hadn't been quite the same as what they'd seen when they had scanned that other ill patient two nights ago. What did that mean? It was possible that the shape of it just looked different because of where it was in Claude's stomach, but Guy couldn't help but feel that there was a deeper meaning to it.

Yet another thing that he didn't understand, then. With a sigh, he got himself up out of bed and went searching immediately for the single leaf that he'd taken from the X-ray room last night. It was stored carefully in his possessions box, which meant that he didn't have to worry too much about that.

While he wanted to quickly sketch the leaf's general shape to post on the bulletin, Guy wasn't given that chance, as his nurse showed up before he could even grab for his journal. He had to relent and let her lead him to the cafeteria for breakfast. While Guy considered stopping by the bulletin to leave a note, that could wait until after he ate. He suspected that Anise or Luke would try to find him as soon as possible to tell him about their findings, so leaving a note for them would be redundant.

He did need to ask about the clue from last night and see if anyone else had further insight on it, but that might be something Claude wanted to do, seeing how he had a better idea of who that baptist was and what it all might signify.

After collecting a small amount of food onto a plate, Guy took a seat near the cafeteria's entrance, keeping an eye out for any of his friends so he could flag them down as they walked in.

[For Anise and Claude.]

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When Castiel woke up, pain was the only thing that he was truly aware of. The actual surgery had been bad enough, and his hope was that the aftermath wouldn't be as grueling, but he couldn't say that was the case.

Feverish and covered in sweat despite the fact that he'd been sleeping, for a while after waking all Castiel could do was stare at the ceiling. But even though the slightest movement sent another shock of pain through his middle, he had to focus on the fact that he was still here, breathing. Not that he'd thought himself capable of dying from blood loss or any other physical complication (weak as he was, that still seemed impossible), but there was still a small amount of shock at realizing that it was morning and he was still here.

The only true movement he could make was to lift up his arm, the one with the rash, and it was clear just from a glance that the redness was starting to fade. He let his arm fall back to his side and let out a pained, but relieved breath. It had worked. Reckless though it had been, he hadn't wasted the time of those three people whose help he'd enlisted.

Remaining in the room to recover would have been the logical thing to do, but Castiel didn't like the idea of bedrest, and apparently neither did his nurse, seeing how she showed up soon after with a wheelchair. And he thought his dignity couldn't be dragged down any further. Still, he knew it was necessary, as the thought of standing on his own sounded like suicide at the moment.

Speaking of suicide, that was exactly what his nurse cited as the reason for his wound. Or rather, an attempt at suicide. In a way, that's exactly what it was, as he'd asked for Kratos to cut him open -- but dying had never been part of the plan.

With the help of orderlies, he was pulled up out of bed and moved into the wheelchair, and even that small amount of movement made the pain worse. The nurse noticed from the way he was tensing and the sweat that continued to dot at his forehead, and offered him a cup of water and some pain pills.

In this instance, there was no way he could refuse, and so Castiel swallowed them down as ordered.

But as the wheelchair was pushed down the halls toward the cafeteria, he realized that he was feeling worse as time went on. Now he could tell that he was nauseous, a sensation that was relatively new to him and yet familiar. It felt worse than it had in past days, and when he told the nurse, she offered him a basin in case he had to vomit.

While it was encouraged for him to eat at least a small amount of food, the idea seemed impossible to him, and so eventually the nurse gave up and situated his wheelchair at an empty table. Castiel was exhausted just from that small trip, and the idea of speaking with anyone was an effort all its own.

He needed to let the rest of the institute know that it was possible to undo the sickness through surgical means under the right conditions, but right now he could barely see straight, so it was clearly going to have to wait. Maybe he could get someone to put the note up for him, but even that would require a conversation.

But as horrible as he felt, he knew that eventually he would heal, and the pain and symptoms would pass. And then he could be properly cured, and he would maintain his sense of self. That was what mattered most, and that was what he tried to focus on, sick as he felt.

[Free!]

For most people, finding themselves in a strange bed would be weird enough, but most people were actually used to sleeping in beds. However, Karkat was a troll. As such, the sensation of being covered in blankets when he woke up wasn't a pleasant one for him. He felt trapped, wrapped up. Of course, his flailing around the moment he woke up didn't help with that either, as he just got himself tangled up further. By the time the nurse came in to bring him to breakfast, he was a solid mass of boy and blanket rolling around on the floor as he attempted to literally chew his way free.

The sight of the adult human was surprising enough that he froze in placed and stared, allowing her to start prying him loose as she made quiet 'tsk'ing noises with her tongue. He was used to seeing strange things in the dream bubbles, but this was new. The location was one he didn't recognize either, but he was used to that. It was probably just someone else's memory.

It wasn't until he was standing and she was adjusting his clothes that he started to realize what else was off. The clothes weren't his, and that was odd enough, but the oddity of that paled in comparison to the fact that the hands he held in front of himself weren't his either. They were human hands. Since when had dream bubbles caused someone to change species? (He might have guessed he was currently "being" someone else, but that was just a load of pretend hoofbeast shit some of the others had fun with.)

The first thing to do while he was this baffled was, obviously, to pin all blame on the only other person in the room. "What the fuck did you do??"

He was instantly hushed, the nurse sticking a finger over his lips in a way that was far too pale for his liking, but he was still too confused to yell anything further. "Language," she warned him, which seemed utterly ridiculous. "I know Landel's will take some adjusting to, but let's not get off on the wrong foot with the others right away. You'll feel better after you've eaten breakfast."

And still, the woman continued to make no sense. Baffling Karkat into silence wasn't easily done, but she'd accomplished it on their first meeting. He didn't have much choice but to follow her out of the room. Any moment now he expected to have a familiar face pop up and explain things to him, but while they passed many other people in the halls along the way, none of them were familiar and all of them were human.

She said he would be eating with other patients like himself. That, then, would be the time to drill them for answers. However, once his plate was full with who knew what and he was ready to take a seat, she sat him right down in front of what was possibly the most despondent man in the entire room. He tried to stand back up again, but was almost immediately shoved back down as the nurse gave him a far too friendly smile.

Karkat could be obnoxious most of the time, but even he had his limits on who he'd start immediately yelling at. Getting angry at the man in front of him would be like kicking a young wounded barkbeast. But of course it was also impossible for the troll to stay silent for any length of time.

"So, uh. Are you like some dream guide or what?"

It wasn't until the nurse and her charge were practically in front of him that Castiel even noticed that he'd been joined by another patient. Between the pain and the exhaustion, falling asleep while sitting up was strangely possible. But while the nurse gave him a look of pity before she wandered off, she apparently hadn't realized that he might not be fit for conversation at the moment.

Maybe the fever was getting to him, though, because he was fairly certain the boy who'd been placed with him had just asked him if he was a dream guide.

Under normal circumstances, that might not have been so strange. Angels could enter the dreams of humans to deliver messages or for any other reason, but he hadn't been capable of something like that in weeks.

Still, if he'd heard correctly, that meant the stranger thought that he was dreaming, and Castiel could at least correct that. So, after a long pause as he tried to force the world to make sense, he finally found the energy to respond. "No. You're not dreaming."

Wow, he kind of felt bad even making him talk. Not that he'd admit this out loud any time soon. Unfortunately, he needed more of a response than that to make sense of this place, even if it did help some.

"But we're still in the dream bubbles, right? I mean... fuck. Maybe you don't even know. That was a stupid question." One didn't have to be asleep and dreaming to be in a dream bubble - not if they were passing through them in a physical sense like they had been. (Even if that whole matter could be rather confusing.) "Don't answer that. Let me phrase it better."

Here he paused, trying to figure out how to say things so that the injured man could answer him in the fewest words possible. He inhaled, then exhaled slowly. He could do this. Calmly.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Wait, no. That didn't make it any better.

Dream bubbles? That wasn't a term Castiel was familiar with, and so he couldn't say much on the matter. Not that he had to, since the boy ended up switching around his question, probably because he'd realized that there were things from his world that would make no sense to anyone else.

If he'd even figured out that much. Considering what he asked next, it was hard to be sure on that point.

And how was he supposed to answer? Normally, Castiel would have been able to give a decent explanation, but with his mind clouded by the pain he was in, stringing even a few words together seemed difficult.

In the end, he was going to have to get the most important information out in the fewest amount of words, and hopefully that would be enough. "You've been kidnapped," he said after a pause, and that word seemed to fit for someone so young. "You're a prisoner here."

Karkat was very tempted to respond to that with an exasperated DUH, but again he was stopped by the condition of the other man. Damn injured adult making this difficult on him...

He could at least make a simple correction, so he pointed at Castiel and said quite plainly: "TROLL-napped. And quite frankly violated. This isn't my body and I'd kind of like the other one back. This is stupid." Stupid was an understatement, but he was at a loss for what else to say for once. How was he even supposed to handle this mess?

Getting a more detailed explanation from this human looked like an impossibility at the time, however.

Troll-napped? It was only after the patient continued to explain that Castiel realized what that meant. Yet another being forced into a human body by this place, then. In Castiel's case, he'd chosen Jimmy's form long before ending up here, but he wasn't used to being trapped in it.

Now he was more trapped than ever, incapable even of the simple task of walking, caught in a world of pain. Frustrating wasn't even a strong enough word for it, but he focused his mind on the stranger.

"You're not the only one," he said after a pause. "It's something they do frequently here, I'm afraid." Everyone wanted their own forms back. Of course, the boy couldn't have known that, and the newcomers were allowed a day or two to express their outrage, until they worked out that everyone was in the same position as them. Misery loves company, or so the saying went.

"How does that even work??" Karkat did a bit of flailing with his arms that helped nothing but at least emphasized his frustration. Did they change their bodies completely, or did they really stick them in a new one while keeping the other one in cold storage somewhere? He didn't like this at all. What if someone else was in his body right now? What if his body had been burnt to cinders and he'd never be able to return to it?

Maybe he was thinking about this too hard.

The only plus side to this was that at least all humans had the same color blood and he wouldn't be considered a mutant. Then again, he hadn't had a chance to get a good look at himself in a mirror yet, and red eyes weren't all that normal either.

"Has anyone ever got theirs back?"

The first question Castiel couldn't answer, as he didn't know. The way an angel inhabited a vessel was different from whatever the institute was doing to the patients here, and so he had no knowledge to pull from there. It was one of those things that was supposed to remain a mystery, to put them on edge.

The second question, on the other hand, he could guess at more. "Not that I've heard of." There was a chance that in a place like that Coliseum, or while under the brainwashing, a true form might be granted back to someone. But Castiel hadn't witnessed it himself, so that would be pure conjecture.

And he didn't have the strength to explain all of that, anyway, as the mention of Special Counseling would require more than a few words -- so he kept silent about it. He would have to hope that someone else would speak with this boy and give him a better idea of what he was dealing with.

"This place demands quick adaptation," he added after a pause, his form of a warning. The fact that he was in such a bad physical state should have given the boy an idea of that already. At least he'd woken up this morning and had the whole day to get his bearings-- and at least he wouldn't be affected by the sickness running through the institute.

Dammit, he wasn't any good at quick adaptation. ...Though he supposed it depended on what he was adapting to. He'd adapted to the medium fairly well, hadn't he? But this wasn't anything like that. At least there he'd had some hand in getting involved with the whole thing, as badly as that had gone. Here he hadn't even known what was going down until after it had happened. There was that whole unfair aspect again.

He grumbled something under his breath. Actually, it was just grumbling for the sake of grumbling and there were no real words involved for anyone trying to listen in. He wasn't coherent enough for that at the moment.

And he still couldn't get mad at this guy, which meant he only had himself to fall back on as a means of directing his anger. A better leader wouldn't have lost his entire group like this. But then, he hadn't really been the leader for a while now, had he? So how come they still felt like his responsibility.

"...Forget it. This isn't getting anywhere." He almost flopped forward with his face in his arms, but then he realized his plate was still sitting in front of him. He'd completely forgotten about that. For a moment or two, he actually considered eating what was on it, despite not knowing what most of it was. But then he shoved it to the side and performed the aforementioned action like e'd wanted to.

So much for gratitude. Not that Castiel could expect much, nor did he really want it, but most would have at least showed some appreciation for a person who could barely talk from the pain offering help despite that.

He grew quiet for a moment and wondered if he should just leave it at that. The way that stranger had put his head down indicated that he was done with the conversation, but Castiel decided that if he couldn't be much help himself, he could at least push the newcomer in the right direction.

"There's a bulletin board in the Sun Room. People place notes on it. If you need more information, I would suggest looking there." The boy would even be able to find more people who'd been displaced from their original forms there, if he so wished. It would be a start, if nothing else.

For Karkat, this was particularly polite. He wasn't a very apologetic person on the best of days, and the fact that he hadn't called Castiel a single name yet was testament to the fact that he felt bad for the guy's current condition. It was a shame that the rest of his actions didn't allow any of his concern to shine through.

The troll lifted his head enough that his eyes peeked over the edge of his arm. "Notes? Fine." He hadn't seen any husktops since he'd arrived, but maybe if he asked the nurse for one she wouldn't be as incredibly unhelpful as she'd been up to this point. They had to have them for proper communication here somewhere. Pencil and paper notes didn't even come to mind.

"Try not to fall down any stairs or anything for a while. You look like shit."

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Day 66: Breakfast

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