Nakatsukasa Tsubaki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecamellia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2012-10-03 12:30 pm
thecamellia) wrote in damned_institute2012-10-03 12:30 pm
Night 66: F11-F20 Hallway
With Rapunzel occupied, Tsubaki had no one to share her amazing discoveries with, not that she really knew what to make of them.
The thick, yellowy liquid she’d ingested seemed to be exactly what the Head Doctor’s note implied it to be--a healing draft of some kind. Instead of making her ill as she’d feared, she’d taken a peek under her bandages and noticed straight away that the cuts on her chest were rapidly healing. Not enough to make them made completely, but enough to be noticeable to the naked eye. And she’d only taken a small sip!
As far as she could tell, there were no side effects, either. The only strange thing to happen all dinner shift was the moment she opened her storage box and found throwing knives tucked inside. A whole set, sleek and black. Professional grade, too.
Tsubaki had spent a long while looking them over, perplexed. It wouldn’t be the first time a surprise had turned up in her things; the vial itself was one of them, the container of poison another. But ninja weapons? What was the motive behind giving her those? The Institute had conditioned her to be wary of blessings, given how double-sided they often were.
Blades would be useful, though. There was no doubt of that.
As the start of nightshift neared, Tsubaki had slipped them into her clothes, a strange taste of home in the act. It felt weird to be armed with more than just scalpels again. Granted, a few knives weren’t going to solve her and her friends’ problems, or prove the Head Doctor’s words wrong, but they were something tangible to hold onto. Something she might have to use before the night was out.
When the lock on the door finally clicked, it was like the starting gate at a race being flung wide. Time to go!
[to here]
The thick, yellowy liquid she’d ingested seemed to be exactly what the Head Doctor’s note implied it to be--a healing draft of some kind. Instead of making her ill as she’d feared, she’d taken a peek under her bandages and noticed straight away that the cuts on her chest were rapidly healing. Not enough to make them made completely, but enough to be noticeable to the naked eye. And she’d only taken a small sip!
As far as she could tell, there were no side effects, either. The only strange thing to happen all dinner shift was the moment she opened her storage box and found throwing knives tucked inside. A whole set, sleek and black. Professional grade, too.
Tsubaki had spent a long while looking them over, perplexed. It wouldn’t be the first time a surprise had turned up in her things; the vial itself was one of them, the container of poison another. But ninja weapons? What was the motive behind giving her those? The Institute had conditioned her to be wary of blessings, given how double-sided they often were.
Blades would be useful, though. There was no doubt of that.
As the start of nightshift neared, Tsubaki had slipped them into her clothes, a strange taste of home in the act. It felt weird to be armed with more than just scalpels again. Granted, a few knives weren’t going to solve her and her friends’ problems, or prove the Head Doctor’s words wrong, but they were something tangible to hold onto. Something she might have to use before the night was out.
When the lock on the door finally clicked, it was like the starting gate at a race being flung wide. Time to go!
[to here]
no subject
Stupid, she thought as she rushed through her nightly routine, hardly giving her stretches more than a few reps each. Stupid to worry. Stupid to have gotten involved in the first place. And it was stupid that she felt so guilty when it had nothing to do with her in any way.
"I'm off," she muttered as she headed out the door. She hardly spared Lana a second glance before she left. It would just be another thing to feel guilty about staying out of.
[to here]