Nightshift 25: M41-50 Hallway

[norainu]

Stretching had ensured Renji was no longer stiff and not terribly sore from. He had his equipment together: pens, radio, flashlight just in case, and no shoes. As the door open, he picked up his bundle of metal, went quickly past Hisoka, and hurried out into the hall.

Things to do, he told himself, things to do. Important things to focus on. He settled the bundle comfortably across his back and started for the exit of his block. He hurried along, but didn't run as he had on previous nights.

Comments

[norainu]

[to here]

[faithful-frost.livejournal.com]

((from here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/146584.html?thread=9974936#t9974936)))
Stepping out into the hallway, Haku closed his eyes briefly and listened. Not too many people out and about yet. Opening his eyes and smiling, he headed down the hallway.

[faithful-frost.livejournal.com]

((Going to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/148364.html).))

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

A few minutes of silent meditation, and Qui-Gon decided he was about as centered as he was going to get, all things considered. He felt...at ease, steady, as he always did after meditation, even though he knew that there were still so many questions, so many impossible odds set before him.

His grasp on the Force felt improved tonight, enough that he could now sense several beings - probably the other patients - moving about the halls outside, with flickers of purpose and emotions filtering through. Occasionally he felt a non-being, what essentially amounted to a hole, sliding around in the Force, and he accepted them for what they were, acknowledging their existence (or non-existence, technically) even with the danger they represented. Standing up from his kneeling position at the base of the bed, Qui-Gon stretched his limbs to shake out the creaks, and made sure his mane of hair was tied back.

Stepping outside of his room, Qui-Gon glanced around, keeping his Earthian flashlight shielded with the palm of his hand. It was dark, as usual, but he thought he knew where Obi-Wan's room was. Even though they found themselves once again under fire, so to speak, Qui-Gon was glad his former apprentice was here. He had grown up to become a very dependable, capable man in his own right, and Qui-Gon was proud of him. While he hadn't been knighted yet by the Council, in Qui-Gon's mind he was already a Jedi Knight.

[byname-bynature.livejournal.com]

(From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/146584.html?thread=9983384#t9983384).)

Artemis held his flashlight at his side--not daring to turn it on. There were a few people in the hallway, but he didn't take note of who they were. He was concentrating on getting to the specified room--and fast.

The boy took off down the hallway, nearly falling out of his slippers to turn the corner.

[byname-bynature.livejournal.com]

(To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/148364.html?thread=9984140#t9984140).)

[a_sin_for_him]

(from here)

M50. M50. Lust had never been so deep into the men's wing before. It wasn't much different than the women's block, really. Larger, but there was little difference.

Greed. She didn't particularly want to deal with him, but he needed be dealt with. And she needed to know what Mustang had told him. If it was anything involving her... well, the man had no right.

Crossing her arms and looking bored, Lust leaned against the wall outside of what was supposedly Greed's room. She wasn't going to go into his bedchamber.

[grabby-hands.livejournal.com]

And the door swung open with all the abruptness and impropriety of an irritated homunculus, nervous enough in his own weird way to act disdainful and overconfident.

His violet eyes slid over to the side and then narrowed.

"So you did show up." He growled, kicking the door shut with his foot as he made his way over to the other homunculus... or at least what had used to be another homunculus.

He really needed to get this shit straightened out.

[a_sin_for_him]

"I told you that I would," Lust said, shrugging. "I'm not a woman to go back on my word. There are things we need to discuss, you and I." And there were. She pushed off from the wall, arms folded beneath her breasts.

"What did Mustang tell you?"

[grabby-hands.livejournal.com]

On another day, under different circumstances, Greed might have spent his time alone with Lust saying lewder things than he was now, but he was smart enough to know when keeping his mouth shut would be to his benefit. It was with that grim attitude that he sighed and smirked, raising his hands disarmingly.

"Not much, and not enough for you to get all pissy." The smirk fell somewhat as he looked to her. Of course, Mustang hadn't been in very great company at the time, but Greed doubted that revelation would make the conversation go any faster, and he didn't want the colonel's asshole friend dragging him off before business could proceed as planned.

[a_sin_for_him]

"I suppose he told you about this, then."

Withour further comment, Lust hooked her fingers in the neck of her shirt and pulled the collar down, exposing her bare chest. Between the swell of her breasts was nothing but pale skin, no hint of the mark that named her a homunculus.

"If you're worried for your own state," she went on, looking at the wall, not Greed, "don't be. Others have come and gone and others are here and none have been changed as I have."

[grabby-hands.livejournal.com]

Again, Greed's masculine mind would have certainly found more pleasant things to think over had the situation been different, and even under the current conditions, it took him a good five seconds to realize what the hell could be wrong with the woman's cleavage.

His eyes slowly wandered from Lust's chest to her eyes, and though he was pretty sure those still met the homunculus definition of 'normal,' he couldn't fully tell in this light.

His jaw tightened as Lust continued to speak, and his voice was a low growl when he spoke.

"Yeah, you tell me to 'not worry' after making it a point to worry me." His hands tensed and slowly covered themselves in carbon as if to reassure himself of his own identity. He paused, then continued: "How the hell did that happen?"

[never-learns.livejournal.com]

The therapy session hadn't helped much, just made things more confused, led credence to the stories this place told. Why have doctors if it wasn't a real facility? And he did hallucinate, have flashbacks. What if they could cure him of those, make him better?

Wouldn't it be nice to forget?

Ah, but that was dangerous thinking. That's what had happened last time with Tsuji and he couldn't let it happen again, even if the idea was appealing.

With a sigh, Yohji picked up the knives. He felt more like he was going for his execution than to meet his friend.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/148364.html)]

[charredashes.livejournal.com]

Nightshift, already? The day had proved to be more of a headache than anything else, so he hadn't managed to get anything that would prove useful as he had hoped. Perhaps even worse than that, though, was he was going into nightshift blind. Sure, he knew he was to meet up with Luke and someone else. Other than that... nothing.

Asch hated not knowing what he was going to do.

But that couldn't be changed, and moping about it certainly wouldn't do anything. So, after gathering a few spare pens (they weren't much, but they were better than nothing) the God-General exited his room and stepped into the hall.

Wonderful... Apparently, he was going to have to wait a while longer. Asch gave an aggravated sigh as he crossed his arms an leaned back against the door to his room. Come on, hurry up!

[burningdigisoul.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/147738.html)]

Masaru was doing significantly better at navigating than he had the previous night - this time, he actually knew where the hell he was going. He was in the right hallway, at least. Now he just needed to find that room so everyone could meet up.

Problem was, the boy never planned anything he did, ever, and was consequently without flashlight. He could see okay and all, but reading the room numbers was sort of hard in the darkness. But there was a familiar face a little ways up, at least, so maybe he wouldn't have to bother with that.

"Hey! Lu-..."

Wait a minute. Luke's hair wasn't that long. What the hell was he thinking?

"Uh, sorry," Masaru said as he got a little closer. "You look a lot another guy I know. Are you guys related or something?"

[charredashes.livejournal.com]

Oh, great. One would think Asch was used to being mistaken for Luke; especially with everything that had happened on Auldrant. But the truth of the matter was, he had hoped he was through with all that... Granted, the boy hadn't finished the name, but what were the chances that someone would call him another name that began with 'Lu'?

Needless to say, it was more than a little annoying. But he chose to not comment about it. This time.

"...possibly," Asch replied after a few seconds deliberation. "I don't see how it matters either way.. Who are you?"

[burningdigisoul.livejournal.com]

"Huh? Of course it matters!" Masaru responded automatically. "Family is important, you know!" But the guy didn't really see to want to talk about it, so whatever. Masaru could be dense, but he wasn't about to go prying at a complete stranger.

...Oh, right. He needed to introduce himself.

"Daimon Masaru, Japan's #1 street-fighter," he said with a grin. "You?"

[radiant-howl.livejournal.com]

In his haste, Luke realized a little too late that he forgot to bring his flashlight. Again. But Luke's eyes had already adjusted to the darkness (somewhat; he could sort of see where he was going!) by the time he remembered, so the boy just plowed on ahead. Asch or Masaru probably had a flashlight anyway, and wouldn't all that light attract the monsters anyway?

Yeah, he forgot his flashlight. On purpose!

Luke was lucky; he didn't even have to put forth the effort of squinting in the darkness to find Asch's room number, as Asch and Masaru were already standing outside.

"Asch! Masaru!" Luke called out to them once he was close enough. "Wow, you guys are quick..."

[charredashes.livejournal.com]

Family?! Like hell he was Luke's family! It was all he could do not to say as much, too. The other boy seemed to drop the subject relatively quick, and Asch wasn't about to say anything that could bring it back again.

Anyway, this was that Masaru guy Luke had talked about? It seemed rather strange that he would show up before Luke. Although he didn't have much time to think about that before he was asked for an introduction. And if this Masaru guy could add a title such as 'Japan's #1 street-fighter' (although Asch had no idea what this 'japan' was), what was stopping Asch from adding his own title?

"Asch the Bloody, God-General of the Oracle Knights," he replied, with a mildly amused grin. Although, tecnically that probably should've been former God-General of the Oracle Knights. But who needed to know that?

It was also about that time that Luke finally appeared, and Asch turned away from Masaru long enough to look to the other redhead. "It's about time you got here."

M43

[braidless.livejournal.com]

Even after Schuldig had left for the night, Obi-Wan still had a lot to think about. The conversation had certainly been an...interesting one, to say the least. And while he didn't feel quite as miserable as he had earlier, he couldn't say he was entirely at peace with everything that had happened so far tonight either.

Frowning to himself, Obi-Wan gently placed the severed braid onto the desk and settled into a kneeling position onto the floor. Maybe he needed to spend the night meditating and centering himself. He'd done it a couple of nights ago and had been all the better off for it, and he knew he certainly needed it more now than he had then.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep, calming breath and began to focus on the steady rhythm of his heart and the life force it sent throughout his body...

Re: M43

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

The trip down the hall to Obi-Wan's cell was short and uneventful. Qui-Gon raised his hand to knock on his friend's door when he suddenly paused - there was a flicker of something in the Force, perhaps distress. Qui-Gon focused on it, partially surprised that he could pick up anything at all, and began to sift through what he could detect; there were faint curls of confusion, with stronger sensations of uncertainty. Also, as well, was a feeling of something lost, something important.

Qui-Gon pulled himself back to the present and knocked on the door. He was sure that what he'd detected in the Force was coming from Obi-Wan, and he couldn't deny that he was growing concerned. What had Obi-Wan lost? What happened?

It hadn't been that long since the dinner shift and the change between Landel's false front and its reality. What could have possibly happened to make Obi-Wan feel this way?

Re: M43

[braidless.livejournal.com]

Obi-Wan wasn't sure how long he'd been meditating before he sensed Qui-Gon's familiar presence and heard a soft knock at the door. He didn't lose focus -- he had better training and discipline than that -- but, rather, he allowed himself to drift out of his state. For a split moment he wondered whether he should just tell Qui-Gon to let himself in, but then he drew himself up to a stand and made his way over to the door.

Taking a small breath and making sure he was fully composed, Obi-Wan opened the door and greeted the Jedi Master with a small, tight smile. He wasn't entirely sure what to say. Somehow, "the nurses cut off my braid, but how are you?" didn't seem all that appropriate, but something like "good evening, Qui-Gon!" didn't exactly work either.

Instead, he gave a polite nod in greeting, and stepped aside, gesturing for the man to come inside.

Re: M43

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

Qui-Gon noted with relief that Obi-Wan looked to be in one piece. For a moment, he had feared that he was injured somehow, but that didn't look to be the case.

It took a long second, however, to realize that something indeed was off, and another second still to understand just what that something was. Qui-Gon's eyes flicked down to the young man's shoulder, then back up to his face.

The rank braid was gone.

When did this happen? And how? Judging from Obi-Wan's signature in the Force, it hadn't been willingly, and it was a bit jarring to look at Obi-Wan and not automatically see the rank braid that had been a part of him for over a decade. Qui-Gon stepped into the room, the question unspoken on his face, and glanced around, his brow creasing slightly as he laid eyes on the cut braid lying on the desk.

Re: M43

[braidless.livejournal.com]

Obi-Wan could read the unspoken question on Qui-Gon's face, and he noticed the way his gaze fell upon the severed braid. At least he didn't have to point out the fact the braid was gone on his own, though that still left the explanation he was sure the Jedi Master was wondering about.

"I was eating dinner, and a nurse entered my room," Obi-Wan quietly said after a brief moment, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. He gestured for Qui-Gon to do the same, looking up at him. "She insisted she was under the doctor's orders to cut off my braid, because it was making me ill and unstable, or some other nonsense like that."

A little trim, she had said. That word still rankled him more than he cared to admit.

"I'm sorry, but there wasn't much I could do to stop it," the Jedi added, and shook his head a little. "It was either turn my head and let her do it, or resist, get sedated, and let her cut it off anyway." He felt like he'd made the right decision, considering the circumstances, but it was still unsettling to think about.

Re: M43

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

Qui-Gon sat down as he listened to Obi-Wan's story. "There was nothing you could do."

He agreed it was the right decision, but he also knew that that didn't make the informal loss of the braid hurt any less, especially to a young man on the cusp of that leap from Padawan to full Knight. To have it cut off like it was nothing, a mere nuisance, would be painful to almost any Padawan. Qui-Gon sighed; it went against thousands of years of tradition. Even Qui-Gon had his cut just like all the Jedi before him. It looked like Obi-Wan - aside from being the first Jedi to slay a Sith in who knew how long - was setting even more precedents, although that probably wasn't any comfort to him at the moment.

Qui-Gon leaned over, and quietly picked up the braid, turning it over in his hands. It was the same auburn color as Obi-Wan's hair, thin, and perfectly tied with one of the faded green ties he'd been given years before. Qui-Gon remembered giving the then-teenage boy the Padawan cut then. It seemed so long ago. And now it was cut.

There was no Council to perform the knighting ceremony. And the braid was already cut, to make things even more unorthodox then they already were. But Qui-Gon knew that becoming a Knight was no small task, dictated merely by the loss of the rank braid; it was special, a turning point for a young Jedi, especially for one such as Obi-Wan. It was still possible to carry out the ceremony by himself, although it was highly unusual for the Council to be not be involved.

Looking up from the cut rank braid in his hand, Qui-Gon turned toward Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan, I think it is time."