damned_institute | Day 27: Breakfast

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Day 27: Breakfast

Day came too soon.

Sora hadn't been able to find Rena, had instead been forced to crumple onto the grass of the recreational field and bleed all over himself, and hadn't even accomplished what he'd been sent out to do. What he'd been entrusted to do. He didn't know how he was going to be able to face Renji and the others, but he also knew he wasn't going to hide from them, either. That would just be low, after all, and he was ready to face up to the consequences.

He didn't try to make excuses for himself. Even though there had been a Special Counseling patient, they had managed to take her down by sheer numbers. The fact that he hadn't seen any sign of Rena was what had him the most worried. He hoped he could find her today.

The boy laid in his bed for a good while that morning before his nurse finally came in to collect him. She clucked over the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and leg, and asked him if he was okay to walk.

Once Sora assured her he was fine (he didn't really want to use crutches, as that would just attract attention to himself, and he didn't need others worrying over him), they made their way to the cafeteria. Sora yawned and winced against the bright light of morning - it seemed even earlier than usual, and he realized why when they entered the cafeteria and found it empty.

The boy shuffled over to grab a chocolate chip pancake, a bowl of cereal, and a glass of milk (good for the bones, or so his mom had always told him) before settling at a table. He kept an eye on the door, hoping he would see Rena walking in soon.

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"Rested," Daemon answered briefly, making room for Ren if he wanted it. "Hungry. Although I wish there'd been some form of meet. It tends to restore my strength faster. You?"

"I know how you feel. I could go for a hamburger right now... Although, huh, maybe you don't have those where you're from."

Glad to hear he was better rested, although no doubt he'd lie about the full extent of any exhaustion. Not for any sense of maliciousness, but more out of thoughtfulness for others around him, maybe. Ren understood that - but it was all theory, of course. He'd only been acquainted with the other man for little more than a day.

It was his hobby to wonder, really.

"I'm great. Need some sugar to put up with the early mornings, but otherwise good."

"I miss coffee," Daemon sighed wistfully, staring at his glass of juice. It wasn't the same at all, and he knew what Ren meant about the sugar.

It seemed like a silly thing to miss, considering, but he missed it all the same.

Ren didn't actually need or want caffeine or sugar, but as soon as Daemon said 'coffee'. "Hey, coffee, that's a common point between us. Can't live without coffee. But I guess that's against the rules, since it'd give the patients a pretty bad buzz for newcomers. That stuff inspires riots, I'm telling you."

He wondered what to ask, now that he had effectively settled himself at Daemon's table.

"Do you have to fight off a bunch of siblings for morning dibs and all that?"

Daemon chuckled at the question, thinking of happier mornings at the Hall. "Not if my brother made it. Then no one wanted it. Most mornings, though, he was banned from the kitchen and it was safely drinkable. Breakfasts were rather large, rowdy affairs there, especially when the Coven was in residence."

"Are we talking blood family, or something else?" Ren cut a pancake into neat sections, which of course had a little bit of everything on it. When he ate, he at least liked to try what he could. "Because you don't hear the word 'coven' a lot where I'm from... probably next to never."

"Blood family means different things where I am from," Daemon chuckled, shooting Ren a sideways glance. "The Coven are not all relatives, no. In truth they are as far from it as possible, but their bonds tie them far closer than blood. Some are, of course. There are many siblings and cousins and lovers among them, but they often amassed at the Hall at any given time when interesting things were afoot."

That sounded like quite the little gathering. In truth, Ren only knew 'coven' from a movie... or maybe it had been a book... Either way, it wasn't a common thing at all, but a guy who could use magic like Daemon did wasn't common either. New world, new rules.

It was all pretty interesting. It seemed like he always just sat down, and then he was peppering the other man for more information. He was just too curious for his own good, probably. Sounded like something Wanyuudou would say.

"What kind of a place do you live in? Gotta be pretty big to hold a group like that." He thought about it for a minute. "You... well, you're definitely an adult - don't tell me your parents still look fine, and are billions of years old or something."

"I've only recently found it," Daemon answered, cutting up the cakes on his plate. "I spent most of my life wandering from one court to the next. I never stayed in one place very long until I finally broke free and made my way to Kaeleer, the free realm where my family and the Coven lives. My father's the High Lord of Dhelman, one of the regions there. And he's not a billion, but he's..."

Daemon trailed off, nearly having said been demon dead for over 50,000 years before he realized that revealing that might be a bit of a shock to those who weren't familiar with demon dead. Or dead people at all. Daemon certainly hadn't, before he'd met his father and Cassandra. He'd thought they were myth.

"...Very old," he finally answered, lips quirking wryly as he gave the best answer he could, even if it was slightly evasive.

Someone who said they were well over a millennium in age saying 'pretty old' didn't bode well for small numbers in Ren's mind. 'High Lord', however, only continued to add to the image - that, of course, the only thing he knew of that was so old was the Lord of Hell itself.

"I guess you must have a pretty high standing then, right?" returned the servant. It wasn't the first time he'd considered it when it came to the man before him. You didn't get to do the job he did without learning to spot certain traits. "What do you do?"

Daemon's expression turned wry and cynical as he shook his head, leaning over his pancakes. "Not exactly," he chuckled. "I don't think you want to know."

In response, the doll took that reaction a little hesitantly. Either he'd been off the mark about one comment, or both. Or maybe the questioning itself, although he only continued asking when people were open to it.

Maybe he really didn't want to know, but it was backwards logic when it sort of made a person became even more curious over the subject. He just gave Daemon a quizzical look, although perfectly content to drop the question if it were something not welcome for conversation.

Seeing the look, Daemon's lips quirked faintly and he leaned back to regard the young man. "Actually, I spent most of my life believing I was a bastard child of questionable parentage," he answered wryly, arching an eyebrow. "And I was a pleasure slave. Hayll's Whore. Very high standing, of course."

Most of this was said purely for the shock value, but that made it no less true.

"Oh."

He wasn't sure if he should feel bad for having brought it up, or what, but he gave an apologetic look anyway, just to be safe. Inwardly, however, he had to take a moment to let his mental processes catch up with that. Wasn't something a guy heard every day. The term 'pleasure slave' didn't equate well at all to 'geisha', but that's what he thought of all the same.

"Well, we don't really have any of those either..."

"You come from a much more pleasant world then parts of mine, then," Daemon answered, reaching for his juice. "It was common practice in one of the realms, and in parts of the second. A perversion of Protocol, but one that still bound us all the same. Not that we didn't fight it in any way we could. Our options were just rather limited unless we were willing to sacrifice everything."

Ren looked away at that. "I think there's a similar system no matter where you come from," he said, clearing his throat a little. He knew pieces of the story of Hone Onna's previous life - because some things would always remain private for all of them - but Daemon's last few words reminded Ren very much of her.

She had sacrificed what she had, and lost her human life for it. Not that she was always willing to talk about it, but certainly more willing then, say, Ren was.

The past was the past after all, and he was somewhat sure Daemon could relate to that mentality.

"If there are, then the rest of these poor sods have my sympathy," Daemon commented, glancing about the room. At least Kaeleer had offered him an escape, freedom. Freedom to serve who and how he wished. He didn't fight that, it was as ingrained in him as breathing, but serving a worthy Queen, in a worthy Court...

That had been his most hoarded dream since childhood. And not his alone.

He felt that familiar ache, the pain of loss, of uncertainty. He felt so distant from her here. Even more so since he had sine the day she's spiraled to her core and vanished. There, there had been memories, places the thought of her still haunted. Here, he didn't even have that. He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse...

About the only thing he understood intrinsically - and that hadn't seem to hit an emotional button in either of them - was the mention of multiple realms. Multiple realms was a safe topic, only because of the bizarre situation, but it seemed with his lack of prior knowledge, he was making a light mess of the conversation. Or at least not keeping it smooth and comfortable.

He ate a little more, not reopening a discussion in case it was not to Daemon's interests.

After a moment, Daemon shook himself from his thoughts, casting an apologetic glance at the man at his side. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm afraid I'm not always the best of company. A friend of mine accuses me of brooding too much, and unfortunately for me, she's usually right."

Searching his mind for a topic to change the conversation to, he returned the questions Ren had asked him. "What about you?" he inquired. "Do you come from a larger family yourself? You mentioned sharing close quarters last night."

"Ah, it's nothing to apologize over; brooding isn't a bad thing." Ren wasn't sure he was considered the most normal of conversation partners either, but he was pretty much a pro at being one anyway, since you couldn't weasel information out of a client or target if you didn't fit the part. Wanyuudou was the inoffensive old guy, Hone Onna the friendly woman, and he was... the overall noncommittal young guy, despite being really good-looking.

No human family, and no human friends. He watched over one human girl from time to time, simply because not long ago her mother had asked him to just after she'd committed suicide. Not the best of track records, he had to admit. But that was Ichimoku Ren. What was Ichimoto Ren's story this time around?

Although it was unnecessary, he didn't want to rig a bunch of lies for Daemon, because it seemed like they were getting along just fine without them. "Oh no, my family is... small. We're... all adopted, actually. Though sharing space isn't too bad."

"No, I didn't think it would," Daemon answered. "There were five of you, you said?" He couldn't quite remember the comment Ren had made the night before, but he thought that's what he'd said. It felt like such a short time ago, and yet long, as well. The shifting between night and day really screwed with his senses.

He would have responded with an affirmative, or even corrected himself (because Ojou's 'grandmother' and Kikuri really didn't count as any reliable family), if he hadn't been keeping an eye on the cafeteria door for familiar faces.

By familiar faces, he hadn't expected Ojou to walk through them. And that uniform again...

If he had a flesh and blood body, the doll's face was most certainly growing grey. He had a bad feeling - only compounded by the fact that he hadn't sensed her beforehand. Whether she had sensed him first remained to be seen. "... Um, sorry, could you hold that thought?"

_{[excusing himself to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/210032.html?thread=14130288#t14130288)]}

Daemon blinked as the other young man abruptly slipped away in the direction of a young girl. Someone he knew? Someone from home? Daemon didn't know, but he turned back to his pan-cakes and kept a surreptitious watch on them from the corner of his eye.

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Day 27: Breakfast

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