damned_institute | DAY 26: Men's Showers (Second Shift)

"A place not from here," Daemon answered. "The realm I came from was called Kaeleer. It was very different. In some ways. Not so much, in others. I am curious as to how they bind us as well. I've been cut off from abilities in ways that should not be possible. They've stolen things from me, as well."

His jewels, for one. Which was odd, because it was almost as if he could still feel them. They hadn't been shattered, they weren't gone, but there was no response when he tried to call them in. And he'd tried. Repeatedly. The speed at which his magic had drained his strength last night was disturbing in itself as well. He'd have to be especially careful.

Renji had never heard of Kaelee; it was probably another of those not-Earth places that he now knew existed. "What kind of place is Kaeleer?" he asked. It was something to talk about that didn't just make him angrier. That seemed like a good idea.

"It feels just a binding spell," Renji said. "But one only on the spirit." He was familiar with how those felt. Rukia used to do bindings on him all the time until he got good at breaking out of them, because she thought it was hilarious that he was pathetic at kidou. And, he grudgingly admitted, it really was. "But there's got to be more to it or one of us would've broke free long ago."

Everyone had lost something important to them, just being brought here. But he was still curious. Allen had his Innocence, the Shinigami had their zanpakuto. "What'd the take from you?" It could be anything from the mundane to the powerful, and one more thing to look for.

"It's... very different than here," Daemon admitted, unsure how to explain a world that was all you'd ever known to a person who'd never heard of it. He'd already tried explaining the Darkness to Ren and failed miserably. Sometimes there just weren't words to explain something that just was. "It's not perfect, but it's home."

"There must be more to it than that. I don't know anything about binding a soul, but I don't think it's my soul they've bound," Daemon answered skeptically. Although he supposed there was always a chance it was all somehow connected, but that was more than Daemon could guess at. "And they took something that should be impossible to separate from me. They're jewels. A Red and a Black. I haven't been severed from them, and they haven't been shattered, but I cannot reach them, either."

"Soul. Spirit. It's all the same," Renji said. He made a low, disgusted sound. "They took my zanpakuto from me. My... soul cutter. He's part of me like my fucking arm is. I can't hear him, can't feel him, can't even see his thread." And he hated it. Another thing that he would have vengeance for. Jewels, black and red... he made a mental note to keep an eye out, just in case some night he actually found where they were keeping everyone's stuff. Unlikely as that was.

He realized he was clenching his hands. He made himself relax them, one finger at a time.

"Perhaps. I admit I don't know very much about that subject. I've never given it much thought," Daemon admitted with a slight inclination of his head.

Pausing a moment to tilt his head under the spray once more, he reached for the soap to begin lathering his body, washing away any remaining remnants of the previous night's battles.

"I am sorry for what they have taken from you. It cannot be easy. Have they... 'cut' everyone off? Like us?"

Renji shrugged. "Not like I have either. It's more Ru--." He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not really my thing." Back to the subject at hand. "Anyone that had something. There's lots of regular kids here... normal mortals," he said. "But everyone that had something to lose is missing their weapons, unable to use their spirit fully. We can use a little, but... well, I bet you already know what happens."

And because it felt better to talk and share - as long as it wasn't what was really bothering, he said. "I've been here almost a week. We've learned some, at least..." He continued on to tell Daemon concisely everything that they did know, all the locations, the monsters, every useful tidbit that he and any in his group had gleaned.

Except, of course, what he knew personally of the Head Doctor's spirit thread. That needed to be played close.

The amount of information revealed was staggering, and Daemon listened with rapt interest as Renji revealed piece after piece of information. He stored all of it away, knowing the information would come in useful at some point, he was certain.

One thing bothered him, though, as Renji seemed to be winding down in his exposition. "Has anyone successfully gotten away?" Daemon asked. "There are so many here, and you mentioned some vanish. Where do they go? Do they get out? Does anyone know?"

"None that we know of," Renji said. "The ones I knew who disappeared... wouldn't have left us behind." Not Nowe. And not Kurosaki... though Kurosaki was back. And if Hughes was to be believed, Kurosaki wouldn't remember anything.

...not that Renji was about to ask. Not when he'd just broken the kid's nose for no reason.

"I don't know where they go. I know that they're far enough gone that I can't find their thread any more. Which normally means... dead or not in this world. They just... vanish. And if they return, they remember nothing that happened here."

"There's been ones that return?" Daemon echoed, looking startled at this piece of information.

"According to one of my people," Renji said. "And... I've seen it myself. One of the ones that disappeared a couple nights ago, Kurosaki, was back today." He frowned, briefly. "I haven't spoken to him yet. But I trust what my people tell me."

Daemon frowned at this, disturbed. It seemed as if getting away was no guarantee that you'd stay away, and it wasn't even a matter of avoiding capture - he'd eluded Dorothea for over a hundred years; if Daemon didn't want to be found, he was very good at getting what he wanted - since Daemon had no recollection of being captured in the first place. One moment he was falling asleep at the Keep, and the next he'd woken up here.

So that destroyed just leaving as an option. If Daemon left, there would have to be no place left here to snatch him away again. He had things to do, people waiting for him. Jaenelle.

He didn't even know if she was safe, if she was really healing, as everyone hoped. Even now, an ache filled him at the thought of her, and though it pained him, he forced it away, reaching out to steady himself against the cool, wet tiles, even as he felt his unstable control falter for a moment.

He had no desire to become the Sadist again. Not after last time. Not so soon. The thoughts of what he'd done still sickened him. Lucivar still couldn't look at him, avoided him, and when they were in each other's presence, there was an icy distance that separated them now, one Daemon thought might never thaw. He'd pushed his brother too far, to accomplish what needed to be done, and he understood, but it also made him felt more alone than ever before. And Jaenelle hadn't been waiting for him...

"This place," he spoke again, his voice strained with barely-controlled and turbulent emotions. "How can I aid in it's destruction?" He didn't want to become the Sadist again, didn't know if he would lose himself in the process. But he would do what needed to be done. This place could not be left standing.

Sacrifice everything.

Renji smiled. It was the first smile he'd managed all day that approached real, if something that fierce could even truly be called a smile. He sympathized with what he heard in Daemon's voice; he felt it, himself. "We are gathering information and supplies. Many of the people here are capable warriors that only lack weapons. There is a person that can find the Head Doctor, but we only have a chance if we are prepared." He'd seen that the day in the chapel. Even Adel hadn't been able to get close to the man. "If you will help with any of these tasks, and help protect the children here..."

He paused for a moment, resting his hand against the wall as he thought. "If you are good at... whatever you call kidou, so... spirit techniques? Magic? But if you're good at that..." He glanced at Daemon. "There is some sort of protection on the Head Doctor that will have to be weakened or destroyed if we're going to have a chance at him in our current state. I wonder if you would be able to work with our people."

He frowned, though this was thoughtful rather than angry. It was something he needed to bring up with Hitsugaya, and sooner rather than later. It might be worth bringing all those that were good at spirit techniques together, to see what they might be able to understand about the place, about the binding that was on all of them. The more they understood, the better they could plan. Daemon perhaps, and Momo, Rukia, maybe a few others. And they would have to be protected during and after such an undertaking. But they could gain a great deal of insight if it worked. But Hitsugaya understood kidou far better than Renji did, so would be a better final opinion.

And while he was thinking about it, there was something he needed to do, which he'd done for all people that worked with them. (And a few that didn't, but were close allies.) "Hold on, I gotta look at something." He closed his eyes, his expression smoothing out for a moment as he simply concentrated. He sucked at kidou, but he was starting to get very good at this. He found the spirit threads, found which one was Daemon, and memorized its feel. He was wavering a little on his feet when he opened his eyes, and wiped a trickle of blood away from his nose with the back of his hand.

Seeing the blood startled Daemon, and he reached out to steady Renji instinctively. He didn't know what the redhead had done, although he'd felt a faint sort of probing. Renji hadn't tried to force himself inside, but he had... looked. Or something. It had felt strange. Different than anything Daemon had experienced before.

Normally Daemon might have been furious at even a tentative probe to his Self, without the other asking for permission first. He'd burned people out who'd tried to force their way in before. But this was different, people were different here, and such things might not be considered rude and dangerous wherever Renji was from. Plus, Daemon was well aware of the drain on magic here, and was also well aware of the results of stretching yourself past the limits of your body's own strength.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, his golden gaze searching Renji's face.

Renji's eyes went wide and he reacted on instinct at seeing the hand reach toward him. He slapped it away and managed an unsteady step back, to put his back firmly against the wall. "Don't touch me." There wasn't anything personal in this anger and fear, as there hadn't been before.

He wiped at his nose again. "Sorry," he muttered. "Jus' needed to know what your thread looks like. So I can find you again." He didn't really know what to do; he was angry, and - as much as he hated to admit it - frightened, and he kept doing strange things that he didn't want to explain to anyone, let alone someone he'd just met. Because...

He gave his head a little shake, as if to forcibly remove himself from that track of thought. Normally he was a lot better at just not thinking about things.

"Don't apologize," Daemon answered, his voice calm and quiet as his hand dropped back to his side. He knew better than anyone the intensity of an aversion to be touched. "I was just worried you would fall. I overstretched my magic last night, but managed to cut it off before I expended myself too far, but I know what it's like to go beyond your physical barriers. I've done it before. You should be careful, you may need that strength." The words weren't condescending, or even chiding, but spoken in a low, husky voice that was Daemon's gentler side, concern still faintly lit in golden eyes.

Curious about what Renji had just done, however, he asked, "You can't recognize and find people normally? Sensing their threads?"

"Heh." Renji shrugged. "I do what is necessary. It shouldn't be enough to knock me over unless I heal someone again." He snorted. And it wasn't like he could ever get other spells to work right anyway. And spirit threads were more important; last night had proved that; he could recognize more people than Hitsugaya, and he thought he was probably better at making certain he knew how to find every person.

Another shrug. "There are a lot of souls here. A lot of threads. It normally wouldn't be something I needed to make effort on, but they've got us closed in so tight that I can't get a sense of it unless I actually take the time to look. It's fucking annoying."

"I hadn't really tried," Daemon admitted, looking thoughtful.

His attention turned inwards and he probed along the psychic webs for anything familiar nearby. He could feel the effort it took immediately start to chip away at his strength, but before he withdrew, he brushed lightly against Ren's mind, feeling him across the room, though he gave the other man no notice that he'd felt him, not wanting to interrupt the conversation he seemed to be having. There was no one else nearby that he recognized, though there were a few threads in the web that resonated with psychic awareness, but they were very few among most of those around him who were unaware of its existence.

Perhaps he'd have to seek those few out...

His attention refocusing on Renji, he gave a slight nod. "I see what you mean. It doesn't help that most are unaware of the threads that connect them, and they have little individuality to tell them apart, though there are a few I could feel who were aware of them. I don't know who any of them are, though. It could be confusing unless you know how to find a specific person already."

Renji found what Daemon had to say a little confusing; why would people be aware of their spiritual threads? But maybe it was a little different where the man was from. He shrugged. "Most mortals don't have the strength to even see the threads," he said. "And if they can, they don't know what to do with them. It's not very surprising. And I would think many of the people here have very strong souls, but they don't seem to know the technique. Perhaps it's different."

"Perhaps it is," Daemon answered, looking momentarily confused, but shaking his head with a solemn look.

"We don't refer to this as soul back where I come from," he explained, hoping he could explain this in a way that made sense. "It's called Self. And everyone is interconnected through psychic webs. We can recognize each other by the... well, feel of another's thread. Landens, who possess no magic, aren't aware of these threads because they lack magic, but those of the Blood know them for what they are. Probing the threads in this room, most are unaware of them, but there were a few I brushed over who felt as if they had an awareness of this link."

"Interesting," Renji said. It was a welcome distraction. A very welcome one. "It's probably different then," he said. "Maybe. I... don't know much about how spirit techniques or any of those things work." He gave Daemon a rueful smile. "I fight. That's all I'm really good at. But it's enough." He shrugged. "And maybe... well, you're alive. Maybe it's different for you." He wasn't really bothering to hide what he was any more; Daemon seemed like the sort that wouldn't seem too weirded out by it. Or so he hoped. It was nice to talk about vaguely normal things, even if it still was just comparing battle information. "I died too young to ever find out what it was like from that side."

Daemon blinked for a moment at this twist in the conversation. Renji was dead? There must be places with something similar to demon dead, then, since Daemon didn't get that sense from him at all. At least, having a father that had died over 50,000 years ago and several long-deceased relatives wandering about made this revelation not so weird and frightening as it might have to some.

"I'm sorry," he replied inanely. "I didn't realize. You didn't feel any differently, but my senses are more muted here than they are normally."

"You remind me of my brother," Daemon added with a slight chuckle. "He always prefers the fighting himself. He's an Eyrien warlord price with an Ebon-gray Jewel. That's a fairly high rank where I come from. He tends to attack first and apologize after, if necessary."

Renji shrugged. "They've bound me in to a false body and suppressed my reiatsu so much that I can barely look at the spirit threads. I'd be really surprised if you could tell anything was different." He chuckled. "We can pass for human if we have a reason to."

He had an all-out grin when Daemon mentioned his brother. "Sounds like a guy I could really get along with," he said. He also caught on to the reference to the color. He wasn't sure quite how it all worked, but he was willing to admit, with Daemon talking about something black, that it probably meant he was significant in strength too. Which made sense, considering how many extremely strong people had been brought here. "I recently achieved my bankai... the final release of my sword. It puts me level with a Captain. It doesn't really get higher than that, where I'm from." His smile took on a wry edge. "I guess the assholes here were shopping for everything high-powered they could get." He gave Daemon a curious look, wondering if the man would confirm his unspoken guess as to how powerful he was.

"Well, they've certainly gathered quite the collection, then," Daemon remarked dryly. "Where I come from, you're often born to a certain rank. For males, there are those of just simple Blood status, then Warlord, then Prince, then Warlord Prince, which is the highest and most dangerous. Our jewels also play a part in our power itself. We're given a jewel when we are young that signifies our level of power - My Birthright Jewel is Red - and when we reach adolescence, we make our Offering to the Darkness, and often get a darker Jewel, which is when I descended to Black. That's the power level most stay at the rest of their lives, though there is always knowledge and physical strength one can add for additional power."

So, he had been right. Daemon was powerful. Probably as powerful as it got unless his world had a color darker than black. Which was a concept that Renji couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around. As for the rest, he didn't find what Daemon said all that confusing. Power just got given different names, supposed, and it wasn't a big leap to go from something like that to terms like initial release and bankai. And he also kind of liked the idea of calling people Warlords, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

He nodded. "I understand." It sounded like the way they did things where Daemon was from was just a lot more regimented than the way the Shinigami did things. Though the Shinigami still sort of ordered things by rank, at least at the top. And strength was something that did have a set limit, though you spent most of your life chasing where that limit was. "So you have ranks. Which are you?" And he had to ask, because that was always in the back of his mind, "What about women?" He'd run across enough to know that the way he viewed women, and the way Adel did, was hardly universal.

"I'm a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince," Daemon admitted, ducking his head under the water again. "Females have ranks similar to males, although they are Witches and Priestesses as opposed to Warlords and Princes, and they have a few additional ranks, such as Healer and Black Widow - they work with dreams and Seeing, among other things - and the highest rank of all, which is Queen. All powerful males seek a strong Queen to serve under and to protect."

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