damned_institute | Dayshift 70: Bus 1

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Dayshift 70: Bus 1

Soushi startled awake, and in a panic felt around the blankets and sheets. Ririchiyo's photograph. Where was it? He remembered to breathe a moment later when he found the photo, stuck between the sheets along with the bag he'd found in his box of supposed belongings. Now that it was daytime, it was easier to see the picture; Ririchiyo's cute round cheeks, her long hair, the soft pout of her lips, there was no mistaking it for a fraud. But why then, didn't he recognize when the photo had been taken or the outfit she was wearing? There were none like it in his collection, and he was sure he knew most of what was in her closet...

He tucked the scrap into his shirt when the radio came to life. Doyleton? They were taking a trip? Soushi was sorely tempted to look through the bag, now that he could see it, but if the staff here saw it, wouldn't they confiscate it? Rather than take the chance, he stuffed the bag back under his mattress, keeping the single photograph with him as the nurse opened the door to greet him.

While the clothing was much more acceptable than the pajamas they were usually assigned, the jeans were a little too big, but luckily included a belt. The plaid shirt was like nothing in his previous wardrobe, but at least it had a pocket on the chest, which he slipped the photograph into as he turned his back on the nurse to dress. He was accustomed to wearing what he was told, and managed to make even the jeans and patterned shirt look somewhat natural. Last, he was given a jacket, tan in color(though there were a few stubborn stains here and there), with buttons running down the front.

Once he was dressed and ready to go, he was led outside to the buses. It was strange being outside the institution like this. It certainly gave the illusion of freedom. How did they manage to control so many patients on a trip such as this? Surely, he wanted to believe, they wouldn't notice one missing. Not until the end of the day, at least. Did they take attendance?

Though if it were that simple, other patients would have made their escape by now. And of all those he'd spoken with, not one could cite a patient that had successfully escaped. The goal, he reminded himself, was not to escape at all, but to find his master and make certain she was safe. If escape was a key factor in determining that, so be it, but he'd yet to find proof of where to even begin his search for the girl. The notebook might have something more to it, but now it was out of reach. He resigned himself to the bus, accepting the bagged breakfast with a smile.

[Loki]

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That wasn't much of a reaction, which only cemented to Castiel that this man was more than just a regular human. He glanced over when a name was offered. That was high on the list of strange titles, and it was possible it was a pseudonym -- but nonetheless, Castiel reached his hand out to shake in a human action he'd more or less mastered by now. Handshakes, at least, were easy.

But when their skin brushed, Castiel was suddenly struck with the undeniable sense of death, the smell of rot in his nose, and it took sheer strength of will to not jerk away. He did pull back slowly, though, and shift in his seat so that there was slightly more distance between them.

Not a reaper, it hadn't felt quite like that, but Castiel knew for a fact now that there was something off here.

"You've been forced into that form," he said, nodding toward Skulduggery, an indication of his human body. "What are you really?" It was sudden, and blunt, but that was how he operated.

It was certainly sudden and blunt. Skulduggery's head tilted towards the man in surprise, even though nothing of the feeling showed on his face. He didn't answer right away - not because he didn't want to, but because the way the man phrased it struck him as odd. That form. Implying that even Skulduggery's mysterious resurrection here into someone living was only an illusion.

Forced was certainly how it felt, though. He'd been thinking of the resurrection as something of a scientific procedure, and that was why. "A living skeleton," he replied evenly, because anyone who could tell something was wrong without seeing it would likely handle the knowledge well. They probably also weren't human themselves. "What about you?"

It was something more than just the startling question. The way this man reacted to the handshake spoke of either unfamiliarity, or a discomfort with whatever he read off of Skulduggery.

A living skeleton? How could such a thing exist? Castiel had encountered many strange, seemingly impossible (and yet not) things here, but this was a first nonetheless. It explained that cloying feeling of death that had seeped through him at just a touch, and Castiel made a note to avoid physical contact with Skulduggery from here on out.

"An angel," he replied, because it was only right to admit to it now that he'd received the information he'd wanted. Here was a person, a thing (both at once, perhaps) beyond saving, a soul stuck in a decayed body...

And yet here, given life and flesh again. Castiel wondered if Skulduggery liked or disliked it, if it was a relief or a strain. It would be difficult to know without understanding the circumstances behind his situation in the first place. "How did it happen?" he asked next, as his attention had been firmly captured at this point.

An angel.

Well, wasn't that ironic? Here Skulduggery had been searching fruitlessly for the answers to his state of existence for centuries, and now he was the one explaining his death to an angel.

"I was murdered," he said simply. "Which angel?" He didn't exactly have reason not to believe the man's claim, especially if they came from different dimensions, or if this supposed angel was fictional. But if Landel was capable of trapping an angel in a human body, would Skulduggery recognise the name anyway? He'd recognised the Scarecrow, after all.

At least it explained the earlier discomfort, which the handshake almost certainly was now instead of unfamiliarity. Skulduggery never held any delusions that he was redeemable. It didn't surprise him that an angel was uncomfortable anywhere near him. The existence of an angel at all, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

Castiel hadn't been asking how Skulduggery had died, but how he'd still lived, and the answer he received was largely uninformative, to say the least. Both of them would rather learn more about the other than explain themselves, and Castiel eventually caved, realizing that he might not get Skulduggery to explain further unless he revealed something more about himself.

It was no surprise that someone who'd died wasn't that shocked by the existence of divine beings, but Castiel doubted that Skulduggery would recognize his name. "I'm Castiel," he said. "My name doesn't appear in the Book, so there's no reason that you would know of me." Not to mention that that Book was rather inaccurate, colored by the perceptions of humans who understood so little.

They were getting closer and closer to the town, which meant that Castiel had only so much more time to find out what he was curious to know. For that reason, he didn't hold back with his questions. "So you were murdered and then... cursed? To an eternal life in death?" It was only a guess, but it seemed the most likely, which meant that someone powerful had held a large grudge against Skulduggery for some reason.

He was right. Skulduggery didn't recognise it. Castiel was an appropriately-sounding angelic name, however. Didn't prove a thing, but at least Skulduggery now had a name to go with a face that was largely inexpressive.

His own face was like that, he remembered. Inexpressive. He thought about trying a smile, but decided the effect on top of discussing his death might be a little too eerie. "I wasn't cursed, no. Not that I'm aware of. I was murdered, something stopped me from moving on, forced me to watch the consequences of my death, and when I couldn't stand it any longer, I... came back. Of course, by then, they'd burned my body to nothing but bones, put them in a bag, and dumped the bag in the river. I'm a skeleton held together by nothing more than a consciousness. Or, I was. How are you adjusting to being human?"

In fact, what was an angel's true form? Skulduggery hadn't given that any thought before - not that there had ever been a reason to. Wings and a halo? Little cherub loincloth and a harp? It probably depended on what dimension Castiel came from, but still. The mental image was amusing.

That was a situation Castiel hadn't heard of. When someone died but was unable to pass on, they generally became vengeful spirits, driven mad by their own sorrow. And if Skulduggery's body had been burned, then he definitely shouldn't have been able to come back. That was the tried and true way to make certain that soul didn't remain in the living world, but it clearly didn't work that way where he was from.

"So it was your own strength of will that allowed you to return. It must have been quite the adjustment." Though Castiel had to admit that his own adjustment had been equally difficult, if not more so. He didn't usually complain about it to others as there wasn't much reason to, but seeing how he was being asked...

"I'd taken human form prior to do this, but there were plenty of things still divine about me even while in a vessel. I didn't tire or hunger, and I recovered from most wounds with little to no difficulty. Now..." He paused and sighed, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. "That isn't the case. I've learned that humans are surprisingly resilient, in their own way." And also extremely fragile. He didn't know how most humans got by, but they clearly had found a way.

Skulduggery chuckled. "'Adjustment' is putting it mildly. I spent the first few months convinced that my jaw was about to fall off."

He really shouldn't have been surprised to meet a potential angel who knew nothing about his death. If Castiel even was an angel, by Skulduggery's definition, then it wasn't an angel from Skulduggery's world. Different dimensions, different rules, different forms of magic. No; if Skulduggery was ever going to learn the truth about his resurrection, it wouldn't be here, in this inter-dimensional prison.

The knowledge didn't quite plug a small trickle of disappointment.

He wanted to object to the use of the word 'vessel,' implying that humans were nothing more than tools. It was what the Faceless Ones did, taking over human bodies and eradicating the souls within. But this wasn't the time for a pointless argument, even if the fact that an angel was saying it slightly unnerved Skulduggery. "You've been hurt, then?"

It was strange, to say the least, when Skulduggery chuckled. It wasn't the sort of thing one would expect from someone who had died and been resurrected. In fact, Skulduggery was far more lively than Castiel would have ever guessed. It might not be obvious simply from his face, as he didn't express much that way, but there were other ways to tell.

Still, he'd been forced to adjust to existing as a skeleton (and Castiel wondered how that worked, that a body made of bone could move without muscle) and then transition back to having a fully human form. It might not be quite the same as an angel being caught in its vessel's body, but it was something that Castiel could relate to nonetheless.

At the question, he glanced away at first. His pride didn't want to agree to that, but the truth was the truth. "Yes, I've been injured a number of times during my capture here. I also went through surgery when that illness was making its way through." Pestilence, he'd been convinced that he was up to it, but it seemed like this whole situation was beyond even the Apocalypse. Not perhaps in the level of danger, but all of his assumptions about the two things being connected had been wrong so far. He was dealing with a different kind of power.

"Surgery?" Skulduggery's interest, he had to admit, was piqued. He didn't think Landel would snatch doctors, partly because of how useful that would be for the entire patient body, and partly because they'd be able to call out the fake doctors of the Institute. But he supposed it made sense. Landel didn't want any prisoners dead, it seemed, except where those deaths added to the torment of others. And the charade the Institute kept up during the day was absolute.

But Skulduggery knew about the stomach surgery some of the patients were willing to try, and he knew that in a few cases, it was successful - even despite not having any medical equipment to speak of. The butterfly device Gabe mentioned several days ago was a common result. "How did it go?" Another success, obviously, but that didn't tell him anything. "What did you find?"

It had been some time since Castiel had been questioned about the surgery, but he didn't mind discussing it. As gruesome as it had been, the pain had faded by now and he found that the memory of it was more vague than he was used to, rather than having a piercing clarity. It bothered him, but it did have a benefit as well.

"It went as well as could be expected considering the one who helped me had no experience," he said with a small shrug. Castiel was still getting used to the fact that he could make movements like that without pain, and it was a welcome change from the past few days. "He found a device inside my abdominal cavity and removed it." His hand drifted down to his stomach. There were still bandages wrapped there, but the wounds had mainly closed now and the bleeding had slowed significantly.

Skulduggery nodded. The butterfly device. He didn't need to ask to confirm that was what they found. "What did you do with it?"

Come to think of it, he wasn't sure what anyone did with them. Gabe never mentioned still having the one he found in his brother, and there was little to no mention of them on the bulletin board - at least, as far as Skulduggery saw, which didn't mean much given that he'd apparently missed the last few days. Perhaps they simply disappeared come morning. It didn't sound like anyone recognised the devices from their home reality, which also didn't mean much. They weren't necessarily from this one; if Landel could snatch people, why not technology as well?

Actually, Skulduggery supposed he might as well ask about that. "Has anyone figured out what those devices are?"

"As far as I know, it's with the person who cut it out of me." Castiel hadn't yet gotten around to asking Kratos about it. It seemed that whenever he did end up having a conversation with the man, it didn't switch to that subject, and at this point he was going to need to make a mental note to check with him.

On the other hand, he got the feeling that if there was any information to be gleaned from the device, he would have heard of it already. "He's a thorough person, so I imagine he's already examined it. If he had found anything, he would have told me. I... plan to check with him either way." For so long his mind had been muddled by the pain and the effort that went into recovery, but he was working toward fixing that now. He wanted to start with tracking down whoever knew about the third floor.

Skulduggery didn't seem to know much, or if he did he wasn't sharing it. Seeing how Castiel had been upfront with everything, though, he didn't see why he couldn't ask, just to be certain. "Do you know anything about the third floor?"

Fair enough. If things were that easy, Skulduggery reasoned, this place wouldn't have been in operation for so long. He doubted the devices would glean much.

It wasn't until Castiel asked that Skulduggery realised he'd never seen a staircase to the third floor. That, in itself, wasn't so strange, because he hadn't been here long; but he'd seen plenty of stairwells to the second floor. He'd used them several times now. None of the ones he'd seen went any higher, even though it was obvious from the outside that there was a third level to the place.

On the other hand, he had seen a hidden staircase. That might be something. And Castiel had answered most of his questions; it was only fair Skulduggery return the favour. "Not the third floor specifically, but there's a secret passage in the library. There's a staircase in it. I never got a chance to see where it leads, but it's too well-guarded not to lead somewhere useful. Why the sudden interest?"

A secret passage in the library. That was enough to grab his attention, and Castiel leaned closer toward Skulduggery even though he'd already told himself that he shouldn't make physical contact with him. He kept a safe distance away from him even so, but his face was set and it was clear from his focused expression that this was the most intriguing thing he'd heard since they'd started talking (and that was including the revelation that this man was both living and dead).

"How do you access it?" he asked, his need to find out that important piece of information outweighing what Skulduggery wanted to know, at least at first. Both of them were hungry for information, willing to hand it out but just as eager to learn more themselves.

"The Head Doctor mentioned last night that a group of patients were making their way to the third floor, or attempting to find it at the least. He didn't say where or who, but it seemed clear that they were getting close." Skulduggery didn't seem certain of where this passage led, but if there were other patients out there who had been through it, then that might be who Landel had been referring to.

"It's simple, really." If Skulduggery even noticed that he had Castiel's undivided attention, he certainly didn't give any indication. "Just fight your way through mounds of hair in the sun room so you don't have to deal with a dead woman who's not only falling apart, but can induce nasty hallucinations for days to come. Avoid touching the red one-eyed snakes in the library so you don't lose yourself in equally nasty and immediate hallucinations, and likely end up killing yourself. After that, pull out the Oxford Book of English Verse, and the wall right next to it slides open."

Then, he added silently, try not to kill your roommate. You'll miss the next three days.

He hadn't spoken to Rita yet, and didn't really know when he would. Skulduggery didn't need to see her for anything, and Rita was undoubtedly far too impressed with him to try and seek him out. Their relationship was a nicely balanced one.

"If you do manage it," he added a little less silently, "I'd appreciate it if you let me know what you find."

At first the detailed descriptions threw Castiel off, though it didn't take long for him to realize what Skulduggery was describing. So he had also run into that ghost. It seemed like the number of people who had been haunted was rather large, though Skulduggery had encountered her in the Sun Room, not the hallway outside it. But it still seemed clear that her haunting grounds were on the first level...

He hadn't heard of any red, one-eyed snakes, but he kept the warning in mind, nodding along as Skulduggery finally got to the point. The Oxford Book of English Verse. He would remember that, of course. "Which aisle is it on?" he asked. That was still the most important fact that he needed, all dangers aside.

Castiel felt strong enough at this point that he was relatively certain he could handle himself in a fight. If he could only find a seasoned fighter to go with him, there would be no reason to pass up this chance. Perhaps he could track down Kratos and ask him...

"I'll share whatever information I find with you," he agreed. "Thank you for doing the same." Castiel had become almost practiced at coordinating and allying with people here. It was strange, considering that there had been a time when his human interaction had mainly been limited to Dean and Sam.

Now this was more like it. Cooperation for mutual benefit. Mind you, if Castiel actually was an angel, that should be in his nature, shouldn't it? Judging by certain Biblical interpretations, anyway. Most people here seemed to keep things close to their chests.

Skulduggery nodded in response to the gratitude, and sat back in anticipation of the bus arriving in Doyleton. "The largest one in the middle," he answered. "Where all of the ten nonfiction books are."

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there was a laughably small amount of anything factual in the library, and Skulduggery was perhaps still a little miffed by that. On the other hand, if he hadn't noticed that fact, he might never have tried to pull out the Oxford Book of English Verse. It was a double-edged sword.

Edited 2013-04-18 15:51 (UTC)

That should be simple enough to find, then. Castiel made the necessary mental note, though he didn't miss the jabbing comment about the lack of non-fiction books. He'd noticed that a large number of patients were upset about that, but it didn't surprise him. Why would Landel give them information so easily? A secret passage seemed just as unlikely, but he had reached a point where he was willing to follow any lead.

The bus reached the town and parked itself at the usual spot, near the park. Castiel rose from his seat as soon as the bus came to a stop. While it was all new to Skulduggery, Castiel had adjusted to this routine by now.

"If I learn anything, I'll make certain to contact you." He was sure that Skulduggery would do the same. While they'd only just met, they clearly had similar goals and a shared willingness to work with others in order to accomplish them. With that, he headed down the aisle of the bus toward the exit.

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Dayshift 70: Bus 1

hope this is okay! let me know if not and i'll change it.

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