damned_institute | Day 67: Breakfast

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Day 67: Breakfast

For the first time since Kyousuke arrived, waking up didn't feel the slightest bit strange or out of place. It was still like night had suddenly stopped, with nothing in-between then and now, but instead of being disorienting, or like there was something missing, it was like waking up from a nightmare. His breaths came heavy and anxious, everything flooding back to him, but unlike last night, he had more mental clarity, and he actually understood what it meant.

Sora... was dead.

After a moment, his breathing seemed to ease up, and he sat up slowly, and simply stared down at his blanket. The motion hurt quite a bit, a lot worse than it had yesterday morning, but he seemed to be in decent shape, all considered. Sore, battered, a little faint, but compared to worst of it...

He wondered if he should feel upset right now, or want to yell, or cry, but the truth was, he didn't. If anything, he was just numb. Tired and listless. He wasn't sure what to think or feel about anything, but somehow it seemed distant and disconnected, like something that hadn't actually happened. Yet, if he lingered on it too long, the lifelessness grew into something nauseating, heavy and constricting in his chest, and he didn't even notice until he realized he was gripping his bedding unnecessarily hard. So he forced himself to relax, and not focus on it too much. ... He preferred the cold sort of nothingness.

When the nurse arrived, she wasn't empty-handed, unfolding a wheelchair by his bedside and looking at him expectantly, as if she wanted him to settle himself into it. Looking at it was strange and uncomfortable, and he found himself refusing automatically.

"... I can walk fine. I don't need—"

"What you don't need," the nurse said sternly, "is to be overexerting yourself. You got to walk around yesterday, and what do you do? You go and reopen your injuries! Honestly, Mr. Taylor, you might be young, but you need to take better care of yourself! Today, you're resting, and if you're good about it, we'll see about maybe taking the chair away tomorrow."

That was bad enough, but then she wouldn't even let him wheel himself, and pushed him along from behind. This was totally unnecessary... But though it made him feel helpless, Kyousuke didn't have the energy to argue, so he let her do what she wanted. She asked if he wanted to make a quick trip the bulletin, first, but... Would the news be there? There were people who deserved to know, but there would be reactions to it, questions he didn't want to answer, and feeling his stomach give a lurch, he decided he didn't want to deal with it. Any of it.

Once in the cafeteria, the nurse asked him about breakfast, but Kyousuke insisted he wasn't hungry. ... He wasn't. Sensing he wanted to be left alone, she wheeled him off to an easily overlooked portion of the cafeteria, but quickly returned, setting food and some juice in front of him, "just in case." She set a small paper cup with a couple of painkillers on the tray, and after that, she left, leaving the boy to stare down the meal he didn't really want.

[ Kratos! ]

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"I said no!" he snapped, albeit weakly as he glared at her, also weakly, "It's not something you can just heal."

And then he stopped. He was mad but not at her, and taking it out on her wouldn't help. He'd said enough though, more than enough that she should at least understand that he wasn't just being stubborn. He looked away from her again, snorting, yet saying nothing more.

... That couldn't be a "normal" injury, then.

Tsubaki angled her head in silence. Kurogane had a right to be upset, regardless of who (or what) was the target. She didn't think he was frustrated so much at her suggestion as...

"The hospital did something that won't mend?" Her voice was small, but not out of hesitancy. That was the guess that made the most sense, given the circumstances.

The greenhouse, huh? That was way closer than the forest, and much less dangerous to get to. Not that they'd been attacked last night, but Guy knew it had happened before, and he wasn't going to assume that any other trips out to the woods would be quite that easy. Especially if the weather stayed bad. It seemed to have cleared up this morning, but there was no guarantee that would last.

He took note of the name, figuring that he could always swing by the bulletin if he needed to imprint it further into his memory. Guy didn't plan to forget it, though.

"Yeah. I mean, if there's more in the greenhouse, then that shouldn't be too hard. Those who are well enough to go can collect as much as we can find and then we could distribute them. I think everyone's willing to work together in this case." It was in everyone's best interest at this point, right?

"But thanks for the information. I'm still in shock that we figured something out." It still seemed too good to be true. Guy wouldn't feel completely at ease until he'd heard back from Anise, but this was a start.

She was free to take her guesses from then on; he refused to confirm anything now, even if part of it was from his own tenacity this time. Mad as he was at Landel, he was just as much so with himself for being unable to do anything about it. He'd let it happen. Even on that table he'd done nothing towards freeing himself. He had know how futile trying would have been.

He'd given in.

His hand reached out slowly then, as if to take his tray back, but instead of grabbing the edge and pulling, he pushed. Hard. The tray went sailing off the edge of the table, crashing to the tile as he swore loudly.

No matter how hard she tried to fully accept otherwise, this was just one of those things she still didn't fully understand about him -- about them. Orihime knew, from the moment Kurosaki-kun had told them to stay back during their first fight in Soul Society, that there were certain instances, certain rules of engagement that governed the way that people chose how to fight. And now, even as Ishida-kun threw her a wry, resigned sort of smile, she could see it still in his eyes, in the stiff way he extended his hand -- I can do it alone, his mannerisms had said, I'll do it alone.

For the most part, she was ambivalent to it. Orihime knew what that kind of determination felt like, after all; how it could pick up bruised bones and battered flesh and make superheroes out of the broken pieces (like the day she protected Tatsuki-chan; the day she was given a double-edged choice with only one real answer -- to save her friends). At the same time, she couldn't comprehend it, why Kurosaki-kun and Ishida-kun would hold a sword, would hold a bow until their hands cracked and bled from the pressure -- she didn't understand why they'd turn to them on the sidelines, eyes shining as they still said, stay back, like doing it alone was far more important than coming out alive.

She knew this, and didn't know it. Pride was something she felt in tiny bursts like hiccups -- they came, she held her breath and they went away. It was nothing at all like the pride that made the very core of people like Ishida-kun.

And though she might've known it, how important it was for him to go about it alone, she was... still happy at the sight of his lifted hand. Orihime reached back, fingers grazing along the callouses of his palm before wrapping around his wrist. "Yes," she returned, eyes brightening with a small smile, "but I'm glad, because this way's a lot easier." She put her weight into her leg then, propelling herself up into a slight crouch before tending to him -- she lifted his arm by his wrist, ducked her head beneath it and moved, her head and neck by his shoulder.

"Then, I'd like to ask," she continued, as she began to slowly rise, bracing his upper back with her free arm, "... I'd like to ask that Ishida-kun at least give me a clue where he was going, next time. Either way, I would've gone to look for him, so... it would've made things... simpler, maybe."

Edited 2012-11-16 03:43 (UTC)

"Zero?" Lloyd echoed the name with a hint of uncertainty. It was a pretty strange name to him. His name was really a number? Something that meant nothing? It was enough to distract him from Zero's lack of grace. Anything else... Well, Lloyd had already been injured himself. Maybe the same was true for Zero, just not as visibly as the bandage on Lloyd's arm was.

Either way...

"It's good to meet you." That wasn't a lie. Even if Lloyd might not have ever met Zero if not for this place, even with what he'd gone through and what this place did, he wouldn't let that make him regret meeting the people here.

His hand free again, and his curiosity momentarily satisfied, he forked another bite of waffle into his mouth. "'hanks," he said. "F'r answering my ques'ions."

Zero noticed Lloyd's slight uncertainty after the former android said his name, but he declined to comment, using his mouth to chew the last bite of waffle from his plate instead. There wasn't much he could say about something he didn't understand. Was 'Zero' such an unusual name? Perhaps to a human, if that's what Lloyd had always been, but Zero didn't have enough interest to ask about that. It wasn't any of his business when Lloyd was practically a stranger and there was no informative reason for such a question in the first place.

If it were still Zero's first week, he wouldn't have hesitated to ask. But now, when he understood that most people here came from different worlds and were often different creatures before being changed into humans, there was less of a point besides learning about what other worlds were out there... And that wasn't something Zero was eager to do this morning, when there was so much else to worry about.

So he quietly nodded his head when the other thanked him and then turned his attention to the rest of his food. The one last important thing he was going to ask - whether Lloyd was still confused or had any further questions - was just answered. Anything else to say...no need to. Silence was okay with him right now...

[Really sorry for my lateness! orz]

Aww... Poor Mr. Grease Head, a man who is just too high and mighty to bother shaking another man's hand for professional purposes, was no better than the average prisoner with barely a sense of direction or purpose! A shame really. They both had a deal involving five targets to eliminate. Landel couldn't have chosen the wrong man for the job, could he...?

"I am!" Facilier replied, his smile broadening with no hint of sympathy for Lingormr, "You see, last night I've finally been able to play out my duty as a good doctor and relieved an unfortunate patient from his suffering..."

Facilier practically purred out that last word, his smile twisting slightly as he gave the other man a knowing wink. "I take it that you haven't been able to do the same with anyone else so far? We've both agreed to help those in need and we can't afford to waste any more time."

Blanketing his criticism with an air of nonchalance, Facilier leaned back on his chair and took a sip out of his glass of juice as though it were champagne. He gave Lingormr a challenging look in his eyes. "This job can't be too hard for a smart fellow such as yourself... Or am I mistaken here?"

Loki smiled. "How excellent for you," he said. "I've passed along some information here and there that may have contributed to the... benefit others, but I shouldn't like to brag."

Oh, but he was going to have a lovely time inserting some knives into this mortal some day soon.

He examined his fingernails idly. "But indeed, I shall need your good example to follow, I think. How did you go about this?"

To say that pride motivated Uryuu, that it had any importance in his life, would be to considerably understate the matter. The moral code of the Quincy, after all, was inextricably linked with pride, such that took its name from it. Though it did not influence his every move (in fact, had been absent or of lesser significance in a few fights, in some of the heaviest times, when he urged her back [contrary to her understanding of it, that had so little to do with pride], when he watched her w--), it did influence him such that he often was not conscious of it.

This was not, exactly, such a moment. As his moist palm stuck on the cold, waxed floor, as he looked at her hand then shut his eyes against it, Uryuu felt it burn in him. No hiccup or minute, brief flare, but an uncoiling, spreading thick and slow and swallowing everything in its path, magma that flowed, trickling fingers down his back, his arms, his legs. He could do it on his own, he knew or had to know. But, he understood, also -- how she might feel, pushed away while told to rely on him. It was unfair, uneven, and weren't they --

Weren't they friends?

So he reached, and felt, before his eyes opened to watch, her fingers ghost along his palm, curling strong but soft on his wrist. That shocked his eyelids up, unexpected, and he goggled at her hand and her smile as she further surprised him. With the unnecessary, positioning herself under his arm, helping him to stand in that way.

(She began to stand and her hair tickled his chin, and she stood close, close enough that her hip bumped his thigh, that her side hugged his, her chest-- and how, how his body with all else that afflicted it, managed still to shoot dashes of blood and heat to his cheeks, how, disgusting and above all inexplicable--)

"I-Inoue-san," he began to protest, almost dropping the stray in his surprise. Her hold was such that, though he tried once, he could not easily shrug his arm off, could not step away from the arm at his back while only half-standing. It hurt to try, a little, and everything wobbled. That, and that she spoke her request, prevented him from continuing. You don't have to--

Her favor dried any further dissent, and bowed his head, preoccupied him such that he even leaned on her. Only a little. His eyes fell toward the floor, catching on the tray angled at his side.

"...No," he said, regret weighing the word, a stone's fall in a pond. "Sorry, but," and deja vu interrupted him for a beat, the still resolving recollection of a hospital room and yet another failure, another piece of inadequacy, of I didn't know, I don't know.

"I coudn't have. I didn't know, and I still don't know where they took me. That's why..."

Why he told Vantas-kun to lie? Part of it, perhaps, if only part.

"If there's a next time, and I know, then... maybe."

Only part and only maybe. Now upright, he tried again to tug his wrist free, to wriggle away.

Sonia took the seat across from her, giving a small nod and lowering her gaze again, but not for long. Looking back up, she tilted her head at Soma. "Kratos told me you underwent the same operation. Did it really cure you?"

Before she asked her anything else, she needed to check two things: whether surgery had actually worked for Soma, and whether she wanted to talk about it. Sonia was guessing her friend was in a wheelchair because she was recovering from the operation; it had been incredibly brave of her to undergo something like that, especially when they'd had no idea if it would work or not.

The silence was ripe with tension, but she couldn't make Kurogane break it until he wanted to. Still, she wasn't quite expecting his feelings to pour out quite like that.

The sudden noise made her jump more than anything. And then there was food spilling everywhere, and the sound of the tray clattering ineffectually against the hard floor. In an instant, she was on her feet, rushing around to the other side of the table to start cleaning up the mess. She didn't have to look to know the staff would be watching, would be getting ready to swoop in and intervene. Kurogane didn't need that right at that moment.

"I-I'll clean it up, it's okay..."

For the moment, Lloyd was content to concentrate on his food. He was hungry and he'd always had a healthy appetite, and being in this place didn't change that. It only took him a few minutes to clear off the rest of his plate, leaving him just a glass of juice to finish off, and he considered getting up to get more food. His eyes drifted back to the two journals, though. Then he looked at Zero contemplatively.

"So, if you've been here longer than me, can you see anything on this map that I missed that you know about?" He had no idea how complete Ishida's map was, except that it didn't include the second floor. The halls were all labeled, and some of the doctors' offices and group therapy rooms. One box was labeled "Greenhouse?" The question mark was scribbled out on Lloyd's copy, though. It had only taken him a minute to realize he'd been to that room and could confirm that that was what it was.

Soma inclined her head slightly. Intellectually, she knew it was pointless to feel survivor's guilt about something like this, but she couldn't help but feel like there was something she could have done about it. Some advice she could have given Sora before he'd gone and done the same, even if she and Lingormr had mostly been blindly fumbling about.

"It worked for me," she said quietly. "Lingormr found a device in my stomach like we expected, and once he took it out, my symptoms started receding almost immediately."

She shouldn't have felt like she needed to justify that statement with anything, either, but she did. "I hadn't transformed at all, though. Sora had. I don't know if it was because the disease had progressed, or..."

Something like this doesn't normally happen. Quite like this, anyway. Sometimes Ishida-kun would help her up after a fall, or his hand would hover over the center of her back for support, but -- rarely does she get the chance to do the same for him. Returning the favor was never a viable option. He simply wasn't the falling type.

So, because something like this doesn't normally happen, Orihime would never have expected how difficult it'd be to keep him propped upright. Ishida-kun was tall, taller than her (obviously, yes, but it was never really such a problem like it suddenly was now), and although she never gave it much thought before, it was an oddly startling, peculiar observation that she didn't quite know what to do with. He protested, she insisted -- Ishida-kun, we'll fall if you don't coordinate this with me.

She didn't have to. He slumped a little, and she stopped pondering on how best to move forward when his weight pressed onto her, not heavy per se, but simply there. He sagged against her, and Orihime very nearly toppled from the suddenness of it, from the view of his face filtering in through her peripheral.

Did he always look so tired?

"... Ishida-kun," she breathed. Half of it came out as a sigh while the other half was hitched, restrained, as if she were doing them both a kindness, sparing themselves from the harshness of the reality by pretending she wasn't as affected as she really was.

He started squirming again, and her eyes closed, her shoulders dropped; her fingers, however, remained closed tightly around his wrist.

"If maybe is the best you can do, then... Alright," she replied, willing herself to loosen the hard grip she had on his wrist, finger by finger. "I won't ask for more than that." She already knew anyway, that it was probably too much to ask for, to pry into; and she thought of Kurosaki-kun, wondered if things would've turned out differently had she forced the answer out of him the day she'd gone to his house.

Then again, it turned out alright in the end, didn't it? "... Just let me know when you're ready, okay?" She turned her head and smiled at him, dropping her hand from his wrist and straightening her posture. Her other arm moved from his upper back, lowered to brace the small of it with her hand. "I want Ishida-kun to tell me on his own, then."

Zero had taken their moment of silence to mean that the conversation was over, but then Lloyd broke the silence to ask him another question after not too long. It didn't really bother the former android, though; it was relevant to what they had been discussing beforehand, and it was something important about the Institute. Besides, his plate was pretty much clear at this point, too - although unlike Lloyd, he was quite satisfied with what he had eaten and wasn't about to consider seconds.

But he would consider the question that was asked, of course. Zero leaned forward in his seat a bit so he could take a closer look at Lloyd's maps. They seemed accurate enough...although: "You're missing the second floor," he commented. Stating the obvious, of course, but that was really the only glaring detail he could see that was missing at the moment.

"I can't tell you everything you might be missing without my own maps to compare," he continued, sitting himself back down, "so you should check the bulletin board later. Someone usually puts up maps every day of both floors and they have most of the important labels on them."

"Yeah, I knew I was missing the second floor." He probably should have thought to mention that before asking Zero that question. Oh well, too late now, and even though the other man had only been able to repeat what Lloyd already knew, he'd still given him a piece of information that was incredibly valuable. "Someone puts up maps?" He hadn't noticed that yet. "I'll have to take a look after breakfast."

Which seemed to be about to and end, in fact, the nurses already starting forward to mix into the crowd of patients. Guess I won't be getting seconds after all. The silent lament was brief, but with only a little regret. He knew he'd spent a lot of time copying from the journal instead of eating. It had been worth it, as far as he was concerned. Those maps would be useful later on.

Spotting his own nurse approaching, he quickly finished off his juice. "Hey, thanks again."

Normally a description like that would've grossed her out a little, but instead it got her thinking all over again; how did the device make people turn into monsters? Was it a chemical? Some type of magic that was similar to the pendant? She'd never come across anything like it, but that wasn't surprising; Landel had proven himself to be more advanced than Robotnik in ways she couldn't get her head around.

Although... hmm. The closest to it she could think of was Dingo, but he hadn't been implanted with a device. ...Had he?

This train of thought was getting her nowhere. Next question. "Can you remember what the device looked like?" Was it shaped like a butterfly, like on the diagram that had been on the noticeboard yesterday?

Edited 2012-11-24 14:24 (UTC)

Soma half-closed her eyes sand leaned her head back, thinking. Most of last night was a blur, and that was probably for the better, but she remembered Lingormr dropping the thing into her hand. The feel of it, warm and slick in her hand.

"It's small," she said. "A few millimeters across at most." How Lingormr had managed to find it, she'd never know. "The diagram is accurate, as far as I know."

It was almost absurdly large for something that could cause disease. She'd expected nanomachines--something more difficult to extract from the body, at least. But she wasn't about to complain.

Taura grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in genuine pleasure. "Let's go make it worth it, yeah?"

She still hadn't heard from Rita, or Goku, so she didn't want to make any promises, but she wasn't going to do anything else. "I'm going to head there tonight, as soon as they let us move." Alone, she could move more quickly, and if it was dangerous, so was delaying. "I hope I won't be the only one."

"I'm sure I'll be heading that way too, so if I see you, great. If not, good luck." Guy wasn't going to assume that there wouldn't be some trials waiting for them when it came to this. If they were able to just snatch some of the flowers and run off, that would just be way too easy.

With information exchanged and plans made, the intercom actually went off at a reasonable point in the conversation. Guy half-listened to the announcement as he stood from his seat, smiling back at Taura. "Either way, it was nice meeting you."

Waking up the first time was disorienting, for more reasons than one. Skulduggery had since adapted to it; he knew what the intercom crackling in the darkness meant, and he knew to brace himself for the loss of consciousness and the lost gap of time before waking in the morning back in bed as if nothing had happened. He didn't like it, but he'd quickly grown used to it.

This time was different. This time was very different. He never heard the intercom, for one thing, although whether that was because there actually hadn't been an announcement or because he was much too distracted, Skulduggery didn't know.

It was also different because he couldn't remember anything specific after certain points during the torture session. His memories, usually sharp enough before passing out, were now vague and unfocused. Oh, he remembered enough. He remembered everything important; that lock of hair, his own struggle, losing that struggle. The feeling of Necromantic shadows dancing on his fingertips - which, by that point, were no longer fingertips, but he'd never come up with another word for it in a skeleton.

The feeling of killing using those Necromantic shadows.

The feeling of it not being enough.

There was no point denying it. Last night, for however long a time that had been - probably no more than an hour - Lord Vile resurfaced. Power, mindset, and all. Barely held in check by Skulduggery's lingering influence, and even then, there was little doubt in his mind that running into any other patients would have spelled certain death for them.

But he did, Skulduggery remembered with a numbing jolt. There was another patient. Gabe. Gabe as a lion. A lion-shape. And when Gabe reached out to grab Skulduggery's arm, to stop him from chasing someone, there was... an influence of some kind. Nothing strong, but it was enough to help along Skulduggery's fracturing control, and - judging by the way Gabe reacted - it worked in both directions.

He'd have to make sure to thank Gabe for that, at some point. Assuming the man would want to talk to Skulduggery ever again.

He needed to find out where the brainwashed visitors came from. The doctor from last night implied a whole group of hostages somewhere in the Institute, Skulduggery's wife and daughter included. Now that he could think straight, without just blindly believing whatever the doctor told him, Skulduggery needed to find out if that was true. He mulled over that while his nurse cheerfully handed him his breakfast and led him to a free spot, if only so he wouldn't have to think about anything else.

Waking up irritable was such an unknown sensation to Gabriel that for several moments he didn't even know that that's what it was he was feeling. He stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, blinking. What had happened?

He remembered ... Riley. Yes. They'd run into each other, and the man had been so ill at ease that Gabe had taken him along. Except they hadn't quite made it to the Arts and Crafts room.

Because of the skeleton. The skeleton which shrieked dark magic.

Gabriel hadn't even recognised him as Skulduggery until he'd spoken. He should have known right away. Should have been able to do something more than what he had, except that he was mortal now. What had he done, with the limited talents available to him?

Riley. The Archangel closed his eyes for a moment as relief suffused him, taking the edge off the lingering irritation. He'd saved Riley, at least, and hadn't been hurt himself. At least, not more than that backlash of utter rage. He'd never imagined such a deep abyss of wrath was possible.

Even the memory made him shudder in his bed, made his mouth dry. Funny, how he could be frightened of an emotion.

Rachel bustled in before he could dwell on it, to his very great relief and his annoyance both. The Archangel threw his concentration silently into her chatter, smiling, wobbly and vague, whenever she needed a response. It was better than having to stop and think, or feel, what he'd been feeling last night and had apparently left something of an impression.

It wasn't until they entered cafeteria and Gabriel spotted a familiar face that he broke free of the whirlwind of Rachel's motherliness. For a moment Gabriel stopped and stared, his tray in his hands, shaken by the dual sensations of something crushing his chest and something else bubbling in his gut.

Somehow, the deep urge to turn around and walk away to the other side of the room was the most unnerving at all. Since when had Gabriel ever walked away from someone in need? And Skulduggery was in need. From his conversations with the other man Gabe had never even imagined he might be evil. Yet, last night, to see what he could do with such vile magic ...

Taking that first step felt like he had weights around his feet, but the rest came more easily. Resolutely. He had never turned away someone who deserved help. He would not start now because he was afraid.

When he reached the table, as carefully as he could manage, Gabriel set the tray down and sat opposite Skulduggery. He picked up his fork to satisfy Rachel's watchful eyes, but his gaze was already on Skulduggery's face. His human, very blank face. How long had he not had one?

"How are you feeling?" Gabriel asked quietly.

Physically? Skulduggery nearly asked. Even that answer was a little more complicated than it should have been. He was groggy. Light-headed. Slightly dizzy. The same headache from a couple of days ago was pounding lightly at his temples.

He saw the darkness everywhere he looked. Without any access to magic, the desire to use it at least wasn't there, but that was difficult to remember when everything with even a hint of black in it made him doubletake. Made his heart beat fast, his breathing quicken, partly out of fear and partly out of a thoroughly misplaced longing.

He'd forgotten how addictive raw power could get.

"Stable." It was true, for the most part, even if it might not be true tonight. And with the way Gabe had frozen when he caught sight of Skulduggery, that was probably as much of the truth as the man wanted. "You're a shapeshifter."

The lion-shape might have been the only reason Gabe survived. It surprised Skulduggery - Vile - long enough to make whatever transferred through Gabe's touch possible. Skulduggery was grateful for that, but it didn't stop him from wanting to know more about Gabe. The man sprouted mysteries everywhere he went. Shapeshifting, empathy, a dogged determination not to mention anything specific about himself. As if, despite being from different universes, Skulduggery would recognise those specifics. It was intriguing.

"Yes," Gabe agreed. If Skulduggery could remember that much then there was really no point in denying it, and Gabe didn't think he could muster the attention to even try. His skin kept prickling. Skulduggery was acting controlled, but every time he scanned the room his gaze would catch on something dark. Twice already, he had glanced at Gabe's hair and needed to look away.

"It's a--a family gift," he added, stumbling a little just because the way Skulduggery couldn't quite keep his attention as well as he had before. "You're a necromancer."

He tried. He did. He wasn't quite able to keep his voice even. Gabe remembered the first necromancers. He remembered the last ones too. He remembered the agony both they and their victims suffered. It was the former he had to keep in mind; Skulduggery was suffering, had to be suffering. The true question was whether he knew he was suffering, or whether, like so many others who had used that sort of magic, he simply believed he had power.

Looking into Skulduggery's face now, Gabe felt--with a little bloom of hope--that the skeleton might just be aware of what he was. "How did you become a skeleton? Was that Landel, or how you are at home?"

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Page 5 of 6

Day 67: Breakfast

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/sorry for this...

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haha, typical Kuro...

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