Day 28: Bus 1

[accursed-rock.livejournal.com]

Zelgadis was not happy, at all. Not that this was any change, but the events of the past few hours had given him more to angst about than usual. Nightshift had been dreadful: first he was attacked by a small green man and then covered in leeches, neither of which lead to warm fuzzy feelings.

And now this.

When the nurse had come into his room with new clothes he had a small glimmer of hope-- some thief had taken his normal Landel's wear in the night, so perhaps this was a change in luck. However, it was not the godsend he had hoped for. Minus the threat of sedation, there was nothing in the universe that could make Zelgadis wear a bright lemon-yellow shirt. There was a jacket of a slightly more tasteful variety, so Zelgadis made good us of it-- he put all his coupons in a pocket and pulled up the hood. It was almost as good as his cloak. Well, no it wasn't, but it would have to do.

With mild protesting, Zelgadis was lead to a large yellow vehicle. He climbed the stairs, took a seat towards the back, and readied himself for another frustrating day of being attacked and threatened with spoons.

Comments

[to-a-boy.livejournal.com]

L.A. looked at the girl who'd been seated next to him with the proverbial upturned nose. Would he have to indulge this human in small talk? He hoped not. They never had anything interesting to say, and he didn't want to tire out his ears with their foolish chatter. He turned away from the girl to look out the window.

[roses-bleues.livejournal.com]

Diva absolutely hated, hated, hated sedatives and medications and things that were pumped into her body with needles... but it was just so hard to focus. She just hated that feeling.

Turning to the young thing beside her, Diva reached out to touch his hair. Whatever bag of human food they'd put on her lap, it'd long ago fallen to the floor.

"You're an odd one, what a weird taste. Not human, not really," she murmured. "Did Amshel make you?"

[to-a-boy.livejournal.com]

She was touching his hair. He turned sharply and glared at her, and he was about to tell her off when she started to speak.

Not human, not really. Did Amshel make you?

He froze, forgetting about her hand on his hair. His eyes were wide staring at her, and his scowl turned to slack-jawed shock. Who was she and how did she know he wasn't - unless Rosenberg had minions among the "mental patients?!"

"Let me guess," he said in a low voice. "Amshel's either another Project Leviathan guy or a member of the witches' council."

[roses-bleues.livejournal.com]

But this boy didn't have any of her blood, none at all. Even so, she touched his pretty hair fondly, because he gave a fitting reaction.

Diva tilted her head, touching her chin thoughtfully. Project Leviathan... Le-vi-a-than... Hm, had she heard something like that? She wasn't sure. Amshel's projects never really interested her, but it seemed like all sorts of cut-and-paste things were wandering around, and they were usually Amshel's doing...

"No," she finally said. "Amshel's my Chevalier. He owns everything, and everybody else is underneath him."

[to-a-boy.livejournal.com]

The buses had started to move now. And the girl was still touching his hair. L.A. gave her a withering look, which took an impatient tone while she dilly-dallied with her response. Was she stalling to think up a good lie? The cutesy way she cocked her head and put her finger to her chin, the way she touched his hair with cloying fake affection during the silence between his remark and her response... it reminded him of the way Rosenberg treated him. The lies, the manipulation. He was about to forcibly remove her hands from his head when she finally answered.

No, Amshel's my Chevalier.

"What the hell is a Chevalier?" he asked, not kindly.

[roses-bleues.livejournal.com]

"Chevaliers are Chevaliers," came the vague answer. Diva dropped her hand, momentarily bored with the child, and curled into the seat, rubbing her eyes.
Tired, very tired, a displeasing echo of the fatigue that crept up on her every time her hibernation approached.

But she just wouldn't sleep. She did what she wanted now, and she just wouldn't sleep. Looking past him to the window, an oddly stern yet vacant expression on her face, she watched the outdoors whizz past and knew this wasn't Paris countryside.

"You're not human, but you're definitely not one of mine. Not with that blood. You can't be one at all, I don't think. And then what are you? You must know that."

[to-a-boy.livejournal.com]

She'd stopped touching him. Good. But what was with her answer? Chevaliers are Chevaliers. He thought about the other thing she'd said. He owns everything, and everybody else is underneath him.

Rosenberg was powerful, but he was still subject to the government. They had frozen Project Leviathan, after all. Was this Amshel a government operative? Somehow, it didn't seem likely. He might just be some guy, perhaps from the witches' council, to which Rosenberg had given the illusion of power.

The girl looked like she was, mercifully, going to fall asleep, but then she spoke again.

You're not human, but you're definitely not one of mine. Not with that blood. You can't be one at all, I don't think. And then what are you? You must know that.

Um, what? Why was she pretending to know some things but not others?

"Listen," he said, again in a low voice, this time almost in a growl, "stop playing dumb. I know what's going on here. You're not really a patient. You know who I am." And just because she had insulted him, "So you're a witch, huh? Well, just because I was artificially created doesn't mean I'm not one."

[roses-bleues.livejournal.com]

Ah, what a rude boy.

Diva made a sleepy sound, and brushed strands of hair out of her face. Ugh, the vehicle and the bumps it hit on the road... Where were they going? Sliding down, she put her head down, the crown of her head just barely brushing L.A.'s thigh. Her legs were tucked up next, and she made a quick, kicking gesture to remove the shoes so she could curl her legs up properly.

"Maybe I'm a witch too," said the Queen. Not that she knew what 'witch' meant in the conventional sense, only that it was an insult. 'Artificially created' was something she knew, but it really meant nothing to her. She'd never had a reason to meet any of Amshel's creations. "But I'm really a Chiropteran."

[to-a-boy.livejournal.com]

"Just tell me now that you're working for Rosenberg, or prove to me that you aren't," he said, looking down at the now-recumbent girl. Maybe if he handled this right he could get her on his side. Heaven knew she seemed to be trying her hardest to win his affection. "What's a Chiropteran, anyway?"

[roses-bleues.livejournal.com]

Diva was one-of-a-kind, a pureblooded creature, and one that certainly didn't have to prove itself. She curled her hands next to her cheek, treating L.A.'s silly questions like a horse treated flies. "I am bowed to and my Chevaliers the humans work."

How stupid.

And Chiropterans. Well, that was easy. "What humans are afraid of."

[to-a-boy.livejournal.com]

L.A. sighed and decided to let the matter go. Obviously she wasn't going to give him any decent information without more drastic interrogation tactics, and there were just too many witnesses. Without his bracelet, even he couldn't kill a busload of people in a short enough amount of time. He remained wary, however - he wasn't going to let anyone catch him off-guard.

Where was Ellis? Looking around him, he couldn't find her on this bus. Was she perhaps on another bus? There had been two other buses that he had seen. He hoped he would find her later today.

"Whatever you are," he said to the girl next to him, "you're certainly no goddess."

[roses-bleues.livejournal.com]

It was more of the vehicle coming to an abrupt halt than the word goddess that made Diva roll partially off her side and on to her back, brushing silky strands of hair away with the back of her hand. Nonetheless, her lazy blue eyes regarded L.A.'s upside down face.

"Amshel says there aren't any gods," said the girl. "That's why I'm the most important person. I'm Diva."

People began to file off the bus, and their passing rustled at the hem of her dress, tickling her legs. If they were going outside to find her Chevaliers, then she'd have to cover her bare feet before they got all dirty. She pulled on her shoes again - not that Diva had been paying attention, but the only thing that would fit her small feet had been a pair of sneakers - which fit her feet nicely, and had a blue rubber inlay around the sole.

When she was finished, she stood and made to get off when all others had passed. Her attention was not lost on L.A., however - without looking, she reached back and snatched his wrist.

_{[off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of... okay, Magnus Park (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/244463.html?view=17500143#t17500143)]}