damned_institute | 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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"It's a complicated matter," she continued. "So many fish, and they're all so bright. So bright, you can't help but notice the normal one. Normal and plain. Too much so." And there was still...

River made another face, this one expressing her confusion regarding all sorts of matters between these men. There was always something, something more that was hidden because of the fog, at night even, making it more difficult that it should've been. It always came so clear.

"Something else about him. Too normal. Too not normal." River frowned. "Like you. There's fog. Can't see everything because it's dark and foggy, and there are so many trees."

Brock took a moment to try to sort through all this. The problem was she couldn't just do her crazy mind-meld thing in normal English, and it was coming off more like some kind of weird poetry than anything else. Only problem? He never really liked poetry and hadn't paid much attention to the stuff to care how to go around interpreting it. From what he could figure out, River was still talking about Parker, and, not only that, she'd already figured out that he had a little secret of his own.

After a long pause, Brock spoke up again:

"What do you mean, like me? Fog?" Brock tried another bite of pancakes, giving River a sidelong glance. "So, uh, whatever you're doing, you can't just turn it off?"

Despite the aggravating nature of fog, there was a certain intrigue it always held. When you couldn't see things, it made you want to see them more, to strain your eyes against the cold, white and gray mists until it yielded even the form of an object. And River rather liked mysteries sometimes, even if not being able to see the entirety of what seemed to be a normal person was somewhat bothersome.

"See lots of things, without looking you can tell. Most can. It's the way of it because it all leaks out sooner or later, you know. But I can't see all of you. Your mind is misty, maybe it's even raining a little." River spoke, deliberately not being plain with her words as she spun them into the pattern of her colors and the web of her own mystery. She offered a somewhat sad smile. "Can't flip the switch. Was made forever a long time ago. I'm missing brain parts." Though that was probably the plainest she'd been in a long time. Both sides of the coin at once. How was it possible?

His mind was misty? For a second Brock had to wonder why, and then it eventually dawned on him. While he felt far too alone - more than he had any right to - he technically wasn't one hundred percent human again, so it kind of made sense that his mind would be weird to someone peeking in on it. Still, it didn't help if he didn't know how to actively block mind-readers or whatever the hell they called themselves from finding out more than they should. At least he had some partial immunity.

He took a moment to sift through all that mysterious poetry crap to try to figure out just what River meant. Made forever? Missing brain parts? So either she was born like that or someone had made her into what she was now.

"So you weren't born like this?" Brock asked. It was kind of blunt, but he couldn't deny the fact he was kind of curious about this.

River didn't mind the subject being turned on her. A moment's dance in the summer breeze again before fall set in had come to make the reality of her existence a proper, gaping hole, a hole that somehow completed her. What she was was the imperfect perfect being that she had attained, and perfection could only be found in flaw. It was the illogical logic of the universe that spun and created threads and realities that shouldn't have been. It had probably played a hand in the creation of this hell, these grounds for true appreciation of one's failings and state of peaceful repose.

Doves captured in cages. Truly learning what it was like to be free. But then they were plucked of their wings at the same time. A lesson and torture all at once. Wasn't unlike the Alliance's way of things.

"Was always on the brighter side of the bridge. Saw things and learned processes to intuitive functioning that weren't quite right. She was never quite right, but they saw it." River looked down. Always hard to speak of in the frankness of dawn and the morning when everything was clear like a stream. Clear but not. Too much filth. "Saw it and they took. Took a girl and made her into a sword. Didn't think it possible, but it was. Cut out the parts that weren't worth anything."

"You know about worth," she continued, after a moment's pause. "Know just a thing or two about how a function that can't function properly is replaced with a more current model. I'm the model and you were the function. Different times, same effect. Would you hate the newer product, the replacement for your fault and inconsistency?"

Okay, now Brock was confused. He was managing to pick up that River was apparently born with these abilities (sort've), so she probably really was a mutant. And he got that she'd been experimented on, although he wasn't clear if this was from Landels or something before then. However, when she suddenly talking about models and functions, then he had to say he was officially lost. Was that a general "you" or was she actually addressing him? And what was that last part supposed to mean?

You couldn't expect to get answers without admitting that you weren't picking up on everything.

"What do you mean, model and function?" Brock asked. "I don't understand."

That was a bit of an understatement, but the point still stood.

River leaned closer, just shy of crossing the boundaries of personal space. Her expression was set in stone, her eyes like cold, brown rock as she met his gaze for a full minute or so before the intercom chimed in and the nurses began to file in to escort the part to their preferred locations. Timing was perfect, really. She had to wonder if a girl lost in Wonderland ought be disturbed by how suited the shifts seemed to come and go.

"Threw the doll away because he wasn't enough, no matter how hard he tried. Children weren't please with the model, so they tossed it off the shelf and into the fire, where all ideas, good in theory, end up." River looked up asher nurse approached, all smiles and pleasantries. "But it's been cute short, seems so anyway." She smiled, broadly at Eddie Brock.

"We'll have to be sure that we don't wait so long before catching up again." And with words left lingering and unsaid, River was led away. The circle would never be complete. She reigned the master of incomplete circles and cycles, only to become whole in the strangest sense of the word.

It was dark. It was always dark. The strange girl waved goodbye to her companion, cheerfully, as she was led away.

Day 27: Breakfast

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