Day 66: Breakfast

[nobleman]

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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[longlivetheking]

Despite any unpleasant implications of his 'supposed absence', Scar realized that there were several things he was certain he wouldn't have missed, the head doctor's voice rambling over the intercom being the chronologically first on the list. After all, it seemed very few things had changed.

Second were the infuriating females who referred to themselves as 'nurses'. One of them had, as always, barged into the room the very moment Scar awakened, completely oblivious to her irritating ignorance. She refused to provide him with any concrete explanations regarding his apparent absence, and by the time Scar reached the cafeteria the only thing he had learned was that the weather outside was simply delightful.

And third: human food.

Though Scar did not find the abomination lying on his plate among the absolute worst of what he had already been subjected to, he still couldn't help but make a face once the aforementioned female excuse of human species had left him to his devices.

He supposed recent developments hardly made the food any more appetizing: if Link had indeed been telling the truth that the origin of the illness was to be found in one's stomach, thinking that the food may have had something to do with it was not much of a stretch. A glance around the cafeteria made the range of affected patients quite visible even for one as inexperienced with human conditions as Scar was, so there were plenty of reasons to think that the boy had not lied.

Nonetheless, the only other remaining option was starving himself.

[The Scarecrow]

[scarefaux]

The Scarecrow had the best intentions in the night: determined thoughts of leaving his room, wandering the hallways until he either found or thought of a cure for the infection, ridding himself of it, then making as much progress as he could toward one of his many goals. They needed to find a way out; they all had friends they had lost, ones who needed help because they were bewitched by Wizard Landel. He wasn't sure how to help them with his brain as muddled as it was from what he could only assume were effects of the sickness, but he was sure if he put his human mind to it, he could accomplish anything. He was getting nowhere by not trying, right?

He was also getting nowhere when he ended up staying in his room all night, weariness having set into him in the day, robbing him of even the strength to walk. The same exhaustion pushed through until the morning- though the day was early, he could already feel his limbs fighting against him, his stomach grumbling for reasons unknown. He had a hard enough time distinguishing the various sensations of the human body from one another, which wasn't entirely surprising given his unfamiliarity with them. His bare feet on the floor had once felt so pleasing in a way he couldn't describe- that sensation no longer seemed to be there as he was instead riddled with one that left him sweating almost constantly, his breath unsteady as if he'd been running from one of the witches of Landel's, body trembling nearly all the time.

The nurse gave him the same sad look she'd given him when she'd left him at his door the night before, offering him a few pills to take with his breakfast- he took them with a brave smile, scratching idly at his arm as he wondered what that strange gurgling sensation in his middle was. She wore a lighter mood that day, a small and hopeful smile on her lips as she'd found something— correction, someone— who might cheer him up, despite his fatigue. She collected a few items for him onto his breakfast tray, insisting he stay away from the food, chattering as she came back to him.

"Now you take a seat with your friend Mr. Irons," she offered, setting his tray on the table. "You remember him, don't you?"

Even before she asked, the Scarecrow was sliding into his seat, a smile wearing its way into him. The nurse hummed as she wandered away, pleased to see her sickly ward so lively for a change.

"Scar!" he said hoarsely, voice raspy. He would have hugged the former lion had there not been a table in the way. "And here I thought I might never see you again!"

[longlivetheking]

Scar looked up from his speculation on how to eat the abomination on his plate at the sound of his name. In a rather raspy voice, for that matter. He quickly realized the voice belonged to the Scarecrow, who was, clearly, as naive and gullible as always.

Who just so happened to be obviously affected by that illness he had heard so much about. It took him a reminder that the chances of anyone changing into something horrid during the day were low, as his initial urge was to act on repulsion. An urge that he was, thankfully, able to keep in check for the sake of appearances.

Perhaps it was a good thing that there was a table in between them; for all Scar knew, the illness was contagious. That, and the invasion of his personal space would have been considered terribly awkward by the former lion, mostly because he was not quite used to such human gestures.

As foolish as the man was, however, the Scarecrow had proved to be reliable enough which was worth something in such a dreadful place. "I would have liked to enlighten you about my whereabouts, but I don't even know how long I was apparently gone," he admitted simply, hoping the other had at least some sense of time.

"You seem to be doing...not quite well, I see," he added after another pause. Pretending otherwise would be completely ridiculous.

[scarefaux]

"Oh, I'm not at all well, unfortunately," the Scarecrow agreed as he gave Scar a hopeful smile- he was so truly relieved to see him, especially after all the disappearances. How many there had been since he'd last seen Scar! Abe, Mele, Carter, Remy, and Depth Charge. He couldn't be sure even Kibitoshin was still around, or Peter Watson. So many had vanished from the rooms he wandered through during the daylight hours, and he'd never thought too much on it until their numbers began to grow.

For some reason or another, he was still there, despite the circumstances against him: he hadn't a working brain, had no real skills other than this penchant for thinking. He wasn't a fighter or a detective or even made of straw anymore. He had his body, but no way into it; he had seen Dorothy, but as with his missing friends from Landel's, he had no way to rescue her. So why was it that he hadn't fallen to Landel's tricks when so many others had? What was it he had that they didn't?

"But don't you worry," he insisted. "I'll be just fine, I'm sure of it. I've been okay for the... why, it must be nearly fourteen days since I last saw you. I've been okay since then. I even have a flashlight for you, since we lost yours. You remember that, don't you?"

[longlivetheking]

Nearly fourteen days. Fourteen days, and Scar didn't recall any of it. It began to dawn on him that it had been one of the Head Doctor's whims of dragging people back and forth into this dreadful place. He had known about it before, but he had never realized what that might have meant for him because he had never taken his own disappearance into consideration. He didn't want to think about what might have happened to him during those fourteen days; the mere idea was able to sufficiently unnerve as well as frustrate him.

A part of him refused to believe it - he didn't even want to believe it. Scar suddenly realized he had lost his appetite, or what little of it there was to begin with. He inhaled, trying to push the topic to the back of his mind. It was best not to think about it.

"A reminder of that ordeal was just the thing I needed," he remarked bitterly, trying to maintain his calm by focusing on the conversation. The subject matter did not help, however, as it only reminded him of his torture session. "But yes, I remember. How could I possibly forget such a thing, after all?"

Still, he was a little surprised that the Scarecrow had held on to the object for so long. How awfully naive, if not almost endearing. "However, the head doctor seems to have replaced it...for some reason."

The other man's hopefulness did not quite escape Scar's notice, however, and the king regarded him skeptically. "Someone has already kindly informed of the illness last night. I'd hate to burst your bubble, but you seem awfully confident considering its consequences. Is there something crucial my informant might have missed, I wonder?"

[scarefaux]

Though he'd had quite a trip to get that flashlight for Scar, the Scarecrow wasn't at all upset by the fact the former lion had been given a replacement, so glad to see him well that everything else seemed insignificant. His nurse had been right in that seeing his friend would brighten his mood- even the infection didn't seem as bothersome at that moment. Scar had been gone fourteen days and returned! Why, if he could do it, who was to say the others couldn't? Abe and Depth Charge and Mele and even Kaiji? It was a small glimmer of hope, and with the way it had been dwindling in the past few days, the Scarecrow was ready to take any good news that came his way.

"I'm not sure," the Scarecrow answered honestly, reaching for his glass of juice, "but one of my friends who has had a lot more experience at being a human than me assured me that there was nothing to worry about, and that my body would right itself out if I just gave it time." He smiled and nodded, having a swallow, the liquid feeling like fire in his throat. While he usually liked to think things through for himself, he was willing to put his trust in what Sangamon said, optimistic he was right in his assessment.

[longlivetheking]

The poor fool couldn't be serious, could he?

But actually, he was, painfully so. Scar resisted the urge to bury his face into his paw. Hand.

Illness would be cured with time? Oh, that would be quite convenient, wouldn't it? Ever single decease simply taken care off with some amount of rest. Hnn, if that was truly the case, he couldn't quite see why both his father and his brother had bothered to keep that senile old monkey around; animals could hardly be that different from humans, could they?

If they were, they wouldn't have been so frantic about chasing down that dubious cure rather than taking measures to make sure he wouldn't be shred to pieces, in any case.

"If you only gave it time, hmm? I wonder who this helpful idiot is who told you that, if he is truly so experienced as you say..." he said, sounding the slighted bit condescending. A vain attempt at reassurance, perhaps? How helpful for someone so naive as the Scarecrow. "Did you know that animals do not always recover from every illness? I hardly think humans are that different. If they were, they would not be so desperate to find a cure -- or at least, so I heard."

He paused for a moment, absentmindedly prodding his mostly untouched food with an eating utensil as he allowed his words to sink in, before he continued: "Pray tell, how much time do you think you have left? I heard people have already gone and turned into monsters last night as a result from this illness."

The former lion nonchalantly dropped the eating utensil at that, which clattered upon his plate. "I'd suggest you heed my warning and take it more seriously, I'm not often this generous."

It would be such a hassle to start over with finding any reliable idiots again, especially in a place like this.

[scarefaux]

The Scarecrow's brow furrowed as he took in Scar's words, trying to process what he was being told through the hazy fog that had settled between his ears. Until that point, he'd been so sure Sangamon was right, that he'd be fine if he simply gave his body time to right itself. After all, it had done so when the Burning Man got a hold of his arm, and again when the birds outside had cut him. The human body was a marvelous thing, something simultaneously fragile and sturdy: though he couldn't handle being torn apart like his straw body had, it could repair itself when damaged. He'd seen that with his own two eyes, and therefore had no reason not to believe what Sangamon had told him.

Still, he had to admit that what Scar was saying had been a concern on his mind, that what Wizard Landel had said on the intercom was true and that people really were becoming monsters and turning on their friends. He shook his head, a streak of defiance rising in him, pushing through the sickness that held the rest of him prisoner.

"I think he knows what he's talking about, Scar," he insisted, not knowing the truth. "And besides that, this body has recovered from worse than this. I'm going to be fine. You'll see."

[longlivetheking]

Oh, and Scar didn't know? Nonetheless, his warnings were easily waved off with feeble excuses. This insolent fool, how dare he not listen when the former lion had gone out of his way to offer a genuine warning?!

"Well, if you insist on being an idiot, who am I to stop you?" he said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. A shrug. "Yes, you just wait for the situation to fix itself. I'm sure your future victims wouldn't mind being shred to pieces because of your ignorance."

As long as that was not going to be him, Scar could not care any less. All the more reason to find a meat shield and leave the patient blocks as early as possible tonight, it would seem. For all he knew, the Scarecrow wasn't the only deadly combination of 'infected' and 'dimwitted'.

The king's annoyance made place for an air of indifference. "Just don't say I didn't warn you..."