damned_institute | Day 28: Bus 2

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Day 28: Bus 2

Momo tugged on the collar of the light blue sweater she was wearing as she followed her nurse to wherever these buses were, winding her hair up into its customary bun as she went. It was an odd feeling, knowing she was about to go outside of the institute's borders. Maybe the Head Doctor was about to make an error and the shinigami, as well as everyone else, would no longer be limited and they could finish what they started several nights back.

That was probably too much to hope for. She was feeling better this morning, even with the blood moon, and was mildly looking forward to the bus ride. Captain Jack said he was going to be here this morning and even if it wasn't customary breakfast in the cafeteria, she's be satisfied with him sitting next to her on the bus.

The nurse handed her a muffin, some napkins, and a small box with a straw. She stared at this box for a moment before shaking it. From the sound it contained liquid. How odd... Momo wasn't sure why they would but liquid inside a small paper box - it didn't make any sense to her and she wasn't sure how one was supposed to get it out of the box.

Clambering onto an empty bus, Momo chose to sit in the very back near the emergency exit. Maybe she could force her way out of it as they were moving and escape the limiter enough to come back and level the institute, freeing everyone. Or maybe she just wanted to be able to see everyone that was on the same bus as her. Wishful thinking versus reality.

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"Cheerful. That's exactly what it is," Daemon agreed in a mild tone, all amusement completely hidden as he watched his father get comfortable, a lazy light in his golden eyes. He looked completely at ease, but anyone that knew him would be well aware that the slight glances about the bus and at the patients and staff were more than just idle curiosity.

"Not since last night, after the fight, which was interrupted by dawn," he replied, shaking his head. "At least there's one less feline about the place. But yes, she was upset. She... Do you remember how Tersa would get frustrated when she'd force herself too hard to be understood, or like others? River gets that way too, sometimes. She calls herself a broken teacup, a sword, a weapon. When one of the other aspects of herself comes out - especially in front of others - I think she frightens herself, or fears others reactions to her."

The High Lord was alert on another level, and not as a criticism to his son, who was always suspicious. He finished the muffin after deciding that the emotional tone, at least on this bus, was mostly the expected anticipation. The staff was mildy irritated, which amused him.

"I can see that, but she shouldn't be worried of frightening us. Perhaps it was a problem in her past." And of course, who'd want to give themselves--her whole self it looked to be--over to being a fighter of such intensity. But then again, he'd been used to trying to comfort and understand Jaenelle when she'd shift abruptly back and forth between Witch and child when she was younger. At least Jaenelle had been mostly sane and cognizant of the shifts. "This was done to her?" he asked. "She was broken to make her a weapon," he added to clarify what he was asking.

"I don't know the full story," Daemon admitted, glancing up and catching sight of their source of conversation enter the carraige and shoot him a smile (she was up to something. Again. Little imp.) which he returned with a quirk of his lips before turning his focus back on his father. "But that's what she said, yes. That someone in her world did this to her, and now she's not a real girl. Of course, with River, that could have other meanings than the obvious."

His attention also caught as Ren drifted past them, moving back to find another seat further past, he recalled the other events of the night before. "Is Ren alright? The cat didn't injure him too badly? We'd meant to join you as soon as I got her calmed down. I wasn't expecting the night to end so quickly. We didn't get much accomplished, I'm afraid."

"Of course she's a real girl no matter what has been done to her mind," Saetan said without further thought. The question of River and his son's involvement with her loomed very large in his mind, but he told himself he'd have to trust Daemon's loyalties and good sense. That last question took thinking to answer properly. "Ren seemed much improved and allowed himself to be bandaged. I don't know if there is any risk of infection from those cat creatures. Do you know the girl he was with?"

The night had ended before he had further chance to look more closely at her. Time was tricky here. At least the sunlight didn't make him ill now that he was no longer a Guardian.

"He mentioned yesterday that someone from his home realm had appeared here," Daemon answered thoughtfully. "But I have not yet had the chance to meet her. Why? What was she like? Ren doesn't speak very much of his home."

Something in Saetan's tone aroused his curiosity and golden eyes flicked a glance sideways at his father.

Saetan was examining his juice box, studiously not looking around the bus or up enough that Daemon could easily see his expression. "It wasn't tainted because she's not Blood. And she's not demon dead, but there was something wrong with her. Maybe it can be helped. It's not like River."

His golden gaze flickered, hardened, everything about his psychic scent becoming a little sharper, a little colder, as he mulled over the meaning of those words.

"She felt Tainted. How?" he finally asked, carefully controlled neutrality in his voice as he turned to regard his father.

"Just not right somehow. Take this as a concern, not an accusation." His nostrils flared sensing the change in Daemon's scent. "When we meet her next you can see."

He knew how to keep calm in his voice, which he did. "I plan on walking around today and seeing the sights. Do you have any plans?"

"I intended to explore the town," Daemon answered with a shake of his head, leashing his own suspicions. "Perhaps ask some questions. Find out what I can. Certainly there should be someone knowing something useful in this village we are traveling to."

"I'm sure we'll get a chance to trade stories later if we don't stick together." He didn't mean to set Daemon off at the girl.

"I suspect they wouldn't be letting us visit if the town wasn't prepared in advance." He knew how to talk to landens though, if they weren't too frightened of him to talk.

Daemon's quick smile was anything but warm and friendly. "Then perhaps I can persuade a few," he replied, his voice a silky croon. Anyone in league with Landels was hardly an innocent, after all.

"Be careful, Daemon. Have you experienced the drugs the nurses dispense?" He tried to make the question sound casual. "These people may be conditioned or coerced, not in league." But he had his doubts about that. He simply knew what a loose cannon Daemon could be when he wanted to be.

"Don't worry, father," Daemon replied carefully, his golden eyes cooled of fire. His words and manner gave nothing away. "I am always careful. And I've no intention of misstepping here and now. Too many things lie in the balance. I merely want to return home. This is an irritating interruption of much more important things."

Saetan's lips thinned as he contemplated the barriers, as he saw them, keeping himself and Daemon from getting back home. "As you said before, Daemon, time is odd here. I don't think haste would serve us or our loved ones."

Still his heart could ache at the longing he could sense coming from Daemon. "We'll get there somehow." He tried to sound reassuring, even though he could know this with no more confidene than Daemon could. "What we need now are allies and information."

"Allies we have," Daemon replied, relenting. It was true that time seemed to work differently here. Perhaps when this was all over he'd wake up at home and find nothing had changed.

Wistful thinking, perhaps, but it was a comforting thought.

"I will have to introduce you to Renji," he added a moment later, glancing around the bus but not spotting the redhead anywhere. "We've had some interesting conversations, and he is part of a larger group here from his own world. They seem to have a military set up. He can see threads different to the ones on the webs. We discussed the differences and similarities of our ways of looking at things. He says that all souls are connected and he has the sight to see and follow the threads that bind everyone together. Or something along those lines. He tried to show me, but it was very strange."

"With someone who can do that, by all means, introduce us. I'd like to speak to him."

He felt proud, though he had no reason to view his son's actions as reflecting on him in any way, that Daemon had taken up this burden of action and leadership here. Yes, their foes were forminable with powers that they didn't understand, but he knew that they'd be able to find out their secrets and best them.

Today though, something in the air invited him to strike out and meet new people, perhaps discover something unique in the tame little community of Doyleton.

"But that is not what you intended for today is it?"

"I'm sure we could find him easily enough," Daemon chuckled. "He's rather like Lucivar in that sense. Doesn't blend in well. Ever. However, I have a suspicion that when he's not looking for his own answers, he'll be courting a female friend. It might be easier to distract him when we're back in the institute tomorrow."

"And you don't think you stand out in a crowd yourself?" Saetan asked, amusement in his golden eyes.

Forward of them, the doors of the bus were shut and the bus finally lurched into motion. From the corner of his eye, Saetan could watch the autumn foliage and their approach to the town.

"That's fine. I want to meet new people today. Should we meet up sometime to trade notes?"

"I'm sure I could manage something, should being invisible be required," Daemon replied with a quirk of his lips, acknowledging the teasing. "Kaelas isn't the only one with the knowledge of sight shields, after all."

He tensed as the large motorized carriage lurched into motions, fingers tightening on the back of the seat in front of him until he was sure the thing wasn't about to careen out of control, or worse.

"I'd like to meet a few myself. If you find something interesting, give me a tug on the Black and we can find each other that way. That should still be possible even without our jewels here, yes? I've not had another Blood here to try that theory out on."

"I hope that we have that left to us. I wonder why we're even being allowed this much freedom? There has to be a reason for it."

Too many years of ruling had left Saetan with a strong urge to get to the bottom of things. He could be patient, but he hated little they knew here.

"There's a reason for everything, but that doesn't mean I'll not take advantage of the opportunities given," Daemon answered, watching the landscape pass outside the window, marveling at how the large carraige lurched along the road. Craft carriages were much smoother, he decided.

"There's got to be a reason for much that they do, although we know little of it. Why do they let us roam at night, free? Why do they attempt the daytime facade at all? Nothing they do here makes much sense."

"I mean to find out their reasons eventually."

Saetan wasn't interested in the scenery very much, or even the uneven motion. Something was nagging him from the back of his mind.

"Perhaps I can talk to one of the longer term residents and see if there is any discernable pattern to our privledges. Why limit us without locking away our Craft entirely? I assume it's the same with others who have unique talents--that they are muted instead of being entirely absent. What does Dr. Landel and his staff possess that's strong enough to do such a thing in the first place?"

Oh, he was filled with questions, few of which he thought he'd know the answers to anytime soon.

"Renji is one of the few I know of that's been here the longest, although I gathered River has been here quite a while herself. Renji might make a bit more sense when explaining, however. There are others, as well - River spoke of a family that adopted her when many of them first arrived. Perhaps some of them are among the oldest, or would at least know who to direct you to."

Daemon's fingers absently brushed against his lips in thought, his eyes on the scenery, his attention turned inwards, thoughts spiraling down multiple paths and possibilities.

"Others seem to be at the same level as we. Shadows of their former selves, you might say. Or at least their abilities. The only time that changes - so I've heard - are the nights when patients are taken and brainwashed and then set loose on the patient population as fighters for Landel. A fully powered patient against masses of us at a fraction of our strength. I do not know if they intend it as a hindrance or merely as entertainment, to pit us against our comrades like that."

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Day 28: Bus 2

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