Day 29: Chapel

[deathbymidget.livejournal.com]

Hiei didn't give a damn about religious services, meditation, or pretending to be social. The always sudden waking after night put him in a bad mood, this one particularly so. Even with Kurikara licking him like some perverted moron, the warmth the dragon provided was welcome in Hiei's bed, and missing when he woke, giving the surrounding air a greater sense of chill.

But the perfect thing to relieve his anger might just be making an appearance that morning, and that at least gave Hiei hope for a decent day.

Hopefully Kurikara and Kurama both would be clever enough to figure it out for themselves. Without hesitation, Hiei demanded to be led to the temple, taking a seat in one of the rear pews. Humans had a way of overdoing things, and this place wasn't really much exception to that. Granted Hiei's limited knowledge prevented him from realizing there were much more outrageous churches, but to the demon, the colored pieces of glass and polished wood seemed to be much.

It didn't matter, however. Either could be turned into weapons, perfect objects to slice into that damned head doctor's throat or bash in his skull. That was a thought worth grinning about.



[Feel free to pester. Just, uh, be aware that he's not exactly nice.]

Comments

[blacksustenance.livejournal.com]

It was a pretty sad day when you started getting used to the jarring gaps in your memory.

Brock couldn't remember anything after leaving the bus. Just that and then a big fat nothing, followed by suddenly waking up in "his" bed - he still refused to seriously consider the fact that it might be his for a while. Acting like he possessed it just made it seem all the more permanent and hell if he was going to be stuck here if he could help it. But stubbornness or not, that didn't stop him from slowly getting used to how he would simply jolt awake every morning, his last memory of the night before so damn clear and yet he had the impression of hours lost even then.

But at least they were recovering.

It'd been a few days after their failed attempt to kill Kasady and Brock was on the optimistic side now. For starters, he wasn't starving or in too much pain. And while he still hadn't heard his symbiote's "voice" (there wasn't really a better word to describe how it communicated to him with impressions), he could definitely feel it puttering about the house today, doing its thing. Tidying up. It was pretty downright invasive considering he could actually feel his Other putting the finishing touches on their healing body, but he drew comfort from it, like welcoming back an old friend. If there was a constant he needed more than anything, it was knowing he wasn't alone, knowing that he was still a Host. Basically another day as a walking meat suit, but he figured he could live with that.

The chapel was pretty much empty as the blond was ushered inside. He never was sure what he should pray for. Brock knew "sinner" was probably an understatement. Taking a seat at one of the pews, he clasped his hands together in his lap, taking a deep breath. Sinner or not, he just somehow felt he should pray, although he didn't know what he should say: God, I tried to kill someone but I fucked it up - forgive me? Or hey, sorry about maiming that cripple, but the bastard had it coming? Then there was the whole laundry list of past murders, cannibalism, stalking, and he was pretty sure he'd skipped the bill on his last pre-Landels meal. Praying was probably moot at this point.

[right-handed.livejournal.com]

Scar was far more used to the strange ways of Landel's Institute than most of the patients within its walls, but even he was still unprepared for the mornings he woke up with the realization that he had spent entire days in unconsciousness. On this particular day, he jolted awake and sat at the side of his bed, contemplating both the haziness at the corners of his most recent memories and the fact that he might have allowed his close companions to brave the terrors of nightshift alone and without his help.

The last time he'd seen Dias and Lust, they hadn't been in very good shape at all. And River, who was sometimes completely competent in battle, was still someone who Scar didn't want to be forced into the role of a fighter.

Perhaps, Scar thought as he listened vaguely to the familiar voice on the intercom, now was a time to pay mind to spiritual guidance even if he was sure Ishbala had abandoned him long, long ago.

So, as his regular entourage of a nurse and orderlies asked him where he wanted to go, he immediately replied with "the chapel," and he was on his way.

--

There was no sign of his allies in the chapel, and though Scar did catch a glimpse of Edward Elric on one of the benches, he chose to avoid him. He had to speak to Lust or Dias about how long he'd been missing before he began talking to people outside his immediate social group, which... well, it was kind of remarkable he even had a social group at all, he realized, but he guessed he'd changed a bit while in this place. Whether or not that change was for the better was still something he was unsure of.

Scar finally found a seat on the emptiest bench he could find, one that was occupied by a lone man who looked vaguely familiar but who he the Ishbalan didn't pay much mind to. He had more important, more urgent things on his mind at the moment, and as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, he thought about his current state of affairs and tried to focus on how he wouldn't try to lunge for the Head Doctor's throat if the man came through the doors like he'd hinted. While Scar still preferred settling disputes with violence, he'd learned that sometimes biding one's time could be a more productive pursuit.

Even if 'biding his time' hadn't really worked thus far.

[loyal-soldier.livejournal.com]

If there was one thing TK wanted, it would be to slot the man in charge of this place and find some way off-planet. Barring that, he'd love to get a good look at Landel instead, get a better sense of what would need to be done to kill him.

He'd never seen the point in praying or religion, although some of the non-clones in the army always seemed to start muttering things to whatever deity they thought would save them. TK didn't worship anything, not even the Empire anymore... But he did place a good deal of respect in the usefulness of all his training and experience. That never required prayer to work wonders.

He sat down in an empty row, looking around at the tinted glass windows. They were pretty, but completely useless. Just like everything to do with religion.

[tartaros-avatar.livejournal.com]

This will be a wonderful opportunity. Recluse already had an excellent background in how minds like Landel's worked, but a little first-hand observation would be useful. Or possibly a chance to correct Landel on his form- Recluse thought the man was terrible at playing the evil mastermind.

He took a seat in one of the pews. He was vaguely offended by the fact that he'd have to spend the morning sitting around in a place of god. It was irritating to remember that people still subscribed to such useless doctrines.

Our Father, who art in heaven... I never believed in you, nor prayed in your name. My empire has no place for you. My own will be done, on earth as in heaven and throughout the multiverse. I do what I wish each day, I need no guiding, oppressing force to hand me my victories. I need not beg for forgiveness for my actions, and I shall give no forgiveness to those who stand against me. I will not be tempted by such weakness as religion, I am utterly satisfied with evil.

Amen.

Recluse smirked and mockingly bowed his head.

[faithful-frost.livejournal.com]

((hope you don't mind. Let me know if you do and I'll delete. ^^))

Haku was awake in time to hear the mentioning of 'visitors' and his heart stopped for a moment as the old, almost buried, fear came rushing back. The nurse must have suspected something since she didn't ask him where he wanted to go, only led him to the Chapl, ssaying something about how the peace would do him good. He thanked her softly and then walked down the length of benches, sliding in and sitting beside Lord Recluse.

He bowed his head, making it look like he might have been praying, but he spoke to his Former? Current? employer. "I am glad to see you are well, Recluse-sama."

[broken-exorcist.livejournal.com]

Morning found him tired and sore, but he managed to roll out of bed a good twenty minutes before the nurses arrived. Or maybe they were just slow today. Regardless, he'd been getting lax in his exercise routine and some extra time to work his muscles would do him good in the long run. His ribs weren't so sore anymore, but the place he'd been stabbed last night still felt tender and he had to stop every so often if he got dizzy. His body felt like it was running on empty. But he did listen to the intercom with some small satisfaction to hear there would be a chapel service today. Thank God for small miracles.

He found some fresh clothing and did what he could to look presentable as his nurse escorted him upstairs. She was nice and let him lean on her when he got wobbly, though she chided him for spending too much time out in the cold yesterday. Perhaps he'd caught something, she fretted.

The chapel was almost as he'd remembered it a few nights past, but now it was much brighter and much more inviting. He found a pew a few rows from the front and sat, head bowed in concentration and silent prayer.

[misterprince.livejournal.com]

"Ugh." Sanji rubbed at his eyes right after he woke, feeling a slight headache come on and then fade almost as quickly. The pain in his gut also didn't linger, which thankfully meant that nothing had been broken. The events of the previous night came to him in a blur, clearer towards the end, when...

He sat up abruptly, immediately worried for his companions. There wasn't any face to put with who had knocked him out, and he could only hope that the others hadn't suffered anything more brutal. Maybe the night had ended before that could happen. He should be so lucky.

Last night had been embarrassing, and he made a mental note to never get sedated again. He'd been completely useless. Gritting his teeth, he glared at the nurse when he came in, causing the poor man to take a step back. He let himself be taken from his room, however, and when he didn't complain about the location he was led to the chapel.

A somewhat familiar face caught his eye - somewhat surprised that he even remembered it given that he'd been the most loopy at that point. The boy seemed to actually be into this religious business. That, or he was simply very tired. The chef sat down without a word, not wishing to disturb him in either case.

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

Religion? What is that ever good for? ...Oh, right! The little rituals force the meatbags to congregate into groups that make a frag grenade more useful, the silly robes mean they can't run away as fast, the large windows, open spaces and complicated architecture make for perfect sniping... And when they're under the delusion that some higher power protects them, they just stand there and let me get on with carrying out my assassination protocols.

HK was more of a mind to put the fear of him into the hearts of all meatbags than anything else! Except maybe the fear of his Master. But she was so incredibly good at that, even without the help of a droid. This all made HK particularly cheerful as he sat down in an empty row of seats.

Even so, he almost wanted to squirm impatiently. He could get a visual on his primary target today! He doubted he'd be able to actually get to alter the meatbag's appearance, but he still had a scalpel hidden within his grey uniform. He almost missed that odd shirt with the cross with the 'R' in it from yesterday, now that the maddening yellow face was back.

[sugarsweetblood.livejournal.com]

Rhode was not happy once morning came. The sore feeling that she had been forced to get used to was back again, and this time, it was far worse than any time before. She would have preferred the pain to this annoyance, but at least she was no longer dealing with that goody-goody and his stupidity. He may have helped her (if she would ever admit to having been "helped"), but his assistance had been less than welcome, and she had no intention of thanking him for it. Next time she had to deal with him, she'd make good on her idea to beat him with his own arm or to lick his brain.

That'd put him in his place.

She'd had to cling to the annoying nurse to keep from tumbling over while being lead down the hallway. Everything was still so blurry and her head was spinning. It was no wonder the nurse made her own choice in taking Rhode to the chapel - Rhode would have never gone into one willingly. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to answer when the nurse had asked, so the dumb woman had just taken her to the closest location and thrown her in some random bench.

"Stupid... humans..." she muttered to no one, verging on passing out where she sat. This was not going to be a good day, she could feel it.

[norainu]

Everything still hurt. That was Renji's firs thought when he woke up. He did his normal morning routine on autopilot, hiding his sword and putting most of the pens back in the desk. He found his uniform, folded neatly and already hidden.

...kind of creepy.

Without the need to be ready for defense at any moment, it was a lot harder to ignore the pain, to not think. He walked carefully, like an old man, when the nurses came to get him. It was obvious enough that the girl that lead him to the chapel even looked a little concerned, asked if he needed any of their damn pills. He growled at her and she left him alone after that.

Renji seated himself in the middle of the chapel, away from the few people that were already there, and leaned carefully back.

The truth was, he wanted to keep feeling this much pain. Because as long as he was thinking about this particular, petty, physical pain that Daemon had caused, he could entirely avoid the less tangible but much worse things.

[Reserved for Homura.]

[screwthegods]

The night had been long to say the least. Plans had been disrupted, but in the end there was some measure of success, and Homura was thankful for that. Perhaps that was the only thing that kept him calm when he woke in his bed, again dressed in the horrid uniform he so easily despised.

But there was a pleasant surprise. His outfit, soaked with the muck from the bathrooms only a brief time before, was hidden and clean when he discovered after a short search. A nice turn of events indeed.

Homura 'cleaned' his parts of the room, finishing in time to hear the morning announcements. Loved ones? The thought was far from pleasant, especially given his recent losses. And all the worse to think about the odd schedule that had been in place on his first day. Did that mean there had been seven nights since his arrival?

It seemed much longer than that.

The possibility of seeing their captor mixed with the thought of attending a religious service created an irresistible draw for Homura, and to his benefit. A familiar head of red hair practically screamed out from the middle of the room, and Homura took a seat beside the man without hesitation. At least something would come from this shift, should everything else fail.

"Are you a religious man, Abarai?" Homura smiled faintly, studying the symbols. None were things he recognized himself, but mortals were creative about so many things. "I'm afraid the gods will offer nothing in return for your prayers."

[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

It was possible, Sam mused, if only to himself, that going to pray in the chapel of such a place as this was at best futile. If ever there was a place that could block its human inhabitants from the eye of Heaven, this would be it. It certainly seemed like Hell's waiting room - he wondered, vaguely, if there were magazines that had become irrelevant around his seventh birthday lying about to make the illusion complete. Regardless of whether or not radio transmissions were go, he couldn't quite fool himself into thinking that this wasn't really any different than going to pray in one of the places in which they'd had a hunt.


Which was, perhaps, a good thing. At least if looked at in a certain light.

Sam settled into an empty row, head bowed. Ordering his thoughts was a harder thing than he'd anticipated, however. The previous night's aborted disaster of a bus ride, the continual frustration brought about by the scarcity of solid information, the peculiar and disturbing situation with his brother - all of it just kept building. And that didn't even touch the reality of what was waiting once he finally did manage to get out of this place.

If ever there was a time at which he could use some divine guidance, he supposed that this would definitely be it.

[bigshotbarret.livejournal.com]

Unknown to either, Barret felt much the same as in regards to the chapel within what seemed to be hell on Gaia. Or whatever the hell this Planet was called.

Wallace slipped into the pew just behind the man and heaved a quiet sigh. Last night was pure insanity, and much of it he couldn't even recall. All he knew was pandemonium broke out once they approached the gates to their prison. Fires, screams, fights, monsters...it all seemed like a blur. Perhaps it was better that way. As much fire as he had within to get out of that place, a logical, rational side of him began to overrule that drive, letting him know this was going to take more time than one would hope. It was time to be strategic rather than simply muscle ones way through the maze. Take a wrong turn and you're sure to get zapped by a dead end.

The mention of visitors made Barret's lip curl. If he had to sit through another session with a fake Dyne and Marlene, he didn't know what he was going to do. For now, he summoned upon something he didn't normally find himself doing -- Prayer. Prayer for the ability to lasso his anger and bubbling emotions, Prayer for calm to think clearly and sort through the hell, Prayer for those around him who are seeking similar refuge, and Prayer for one chance to tear the Head Doctors' limbs off one by one.

[traitors-smile.livejournal.com]

Gin was not surprised to find himself in his bed the following morning. It had become routine now, the sudden stop to the night's games, and waking again in what always felt like a jarring and unnatural manner. This time, however, he couldn't be certain just when the night had ended. Had he passed out? Or had things simply come to an abrupt halt? He was also surprised to find his uniform was still in his room, already put away. He didn't have much strength to do more than hide his knives and wait for the nurse. Whatever poison had been used on him last night was still in effect. Just his luck.

He was sweating more than usual and a little shaky, but at least his breathing seemed normal. His stomach kept cramping in a very unpleasant way and he had to stop once in the hallway, leaving behind a mess for the other nurses to clean up.

Gin didn't care much for religion. In the line of work he'd done, it put things in a slightly different perspective. But he did wish for the opportunity to see this mysterious disembodied voice in the flesh, if that was truly what it was. And even the chance that he might arrive was better than wasting time in the Sun Room with no chance at all.

He sat near the back, in an empty pew, shaky hands folded in his lap.

[theycutitout.livejournal.com]

With her work for the morning said and done, River skip-paced over a bit to where another stood, one who'd literally cut right through her when she'd come to pay him a visit. Still, it wouldn't be known from the bright smile she sported as she leaned over, hands clasped behind her back.

"Rough night. Can she sit? Or is he entertaining company soon?"

[deathneverlies.livejournal.com]

Duo was never the religious type. Funny for a kid growing up in a catholic church, but seeing war and death everywhere you looked for most of your life made it hard to believe in some kind of higher power watching over you. If there was one, what use was it if it didn't do anything but watch?

No, Duo wasn't heading to the Chapel for any kind of religious reason, but he was going to hopefully take a look at this 'higher power'. The one everyone was calling Landel.

True to the established pattern, he'd woken up in his own bed, bandages wrapped firmly around his back. Yohji's work? The last he remembered, Yohji was still patching Omi up... Had he fallen asleep, then? He couldn't remember, and there wasn't much use worrying about it now. He wasn't dead, so all was good.

Walking was still a pain, though, as he found out when he got out of bed. It wasn't so much like jabbing needles anymore, but more like a dull uncomfortable ache. And as the nurse pointed out, the chapel was on the second floor. Oh, this day got better and better.

Eventually, he made it to the chapel without too much griping and plopped down into one of the middle pews, careful not to lean back against the seating. The pain was just this side of tolerable, and he didn't want to press his luck. Not many people seemed to be joining them yet, so Duo make himself comfortable by resting his arms on the pew in front of him and putting his head down.

[gentiana-clusii.livejournal.com]

Ken had grown up Catholic. (Laugh now, it would be far from the last time someone did.) He might've given up religion long ago, but there was just something about the ritual of it that was comforting, especially when he was hurting or just felt tired.

Today fit the bill. He'd woken up to find Homura already gone, and himself stitched up, judging from the pull across his torso, and bandaged.

He felt dull and heavily medicated, moving in that odd haze when you know the pain is there, you just can't feel it and/or don't care. He didn't even pay attention to the nurse's rationalization of his injury, or her babbling except to respond that he'd rather like to go to the chapel please and thank you (only far less verbose. Rather more of an affirmative noise when asked if he'd like to go upstairs.)

There were few familiar faces in the room today, but one (well, not so much the face as the back of his head) was one of the people Ken had wanted to find today. He made his slow way toward the pew that Duo had claimed and sat down next to him.

He crossed himself, slowly falling back into the once-familiar ritual. He was surprised by how much of it he remembered, he could even still repeat the prayer Sister Amamiya had taught him years ago. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

He was also vaguely surprised he didn't immediately burst into flames. He'd killed Sister Amamiya, after all.

[thesadist]

Daemon had no recollection of how he'd come to wake up in his bed when the last thing he remembered was bidding goodnight to ZEX in the Sunroom. But that was the only part of the memories from the night before that were missing.

He could only wish his memories of what had happened the rest of the night would be merciful enough to be vague, but he was not so lucky. Instead, every one of them stood out in sharp, painful clarity.

Renji. River. Father. Ren. The strangers that had followed...

Guilt twisted within him, making him sick, making him furious, but it was a helpless sort of rage. He had been used, controlled - far more than even the Ring of Obedience had ever granted the Queens that had tried to break him. And he had succumbed. And in the process, he'd heard those he called friends.

Regret and self-loathing made him want to stay in bed, hide away for a while, cope with the reality of what he had done, but the nurses were persistent. When given the choice between the two rooms, he immediately shied away from returning to the Sunroom. Not yet. He couldn't go back there, not with the memory of what had occurred still so fresh and vivid in his mind.

So instead he chose the chapel, wondering if it would be like the Dark Altars from home, wondering if perhaps he could find a moment of solace there, a chance to ask forgiveness before searching out those he needed to apologize to physically.

It was not like a Dark Altar. In fact, it was as far from it as one could get. And there were people here. Namely, a familiar shock of bright red hair. Daemon tried to back away, but the nurse would only let him here or the Sunroom.

So instead, he moved to the very back corner, trying to remain unseen, unnoticed, hoping the time here would pass quickly.

He was not ready to face them yet.

[theycutitout.livejournal.com]

River's induced slumber caused her to wake with a startled, strangled gasp, the memories of the dead on Miranda and the needles and the cut-out pieces coming to a halt as the "real" world came into focus before her eyes. The pain that had been caused to the others wasn't lingering in her mind, but thoughts were scattered enough behind closed eyelids and memories dancing in flickers across her line of sight. Stiffling. Almost choking. River gasped for breath, fingernails digging into her arms even as the nurse opened the door.

Her words were hollow. Her words were nothing. Without answering any question of preference with anything more than a single word, the location that she had to be, River stood up mechanically, twitching and pawing at her tangled, brown hair occasionally as she was led down the hall to the Chapel. A place of worship. A place to worship. A place for worship, but it wasn't hers. Wasn't logical. Wasn't anything more than a tarnished symbol of somethings that weren't even written in stone. Wasn't anything to her and wouldn't have been had he not been sitting alone in his corner, cloaked in a thousand and one shames.

River was not discreet, but her tortured, aggitated demeanor was strangely soothed at the sight of him. Caring little for respect held tongue in cheek, the girl hurried right over to his side, flouncing down into the seat next to Daemon with a far-too-serious-to-be-serious expression on her face.

"Boo," she repeated in the same, serious tone, despite the fact that her arrival had been anything but stealthy.

[secret-orchard.livejournal.com]

His awakening in the morning had been more brutal than usual. The Head Doctor's final address rang though his mind as he tried to understand the cruel words, but the morning announcement was even more confusing. Visitors? But how? Armand shook his head and rubbed his eyes, sitting up with a groan.

He was back in the familiar loose gray clothing. He retrieved a sweater, automatically wanting to huddle within its concealing warmth.

The nurse, when she arrived, repeated Landel's choices of Chapel or Sun Room. Armand chose the Chapel. He felt the need to search for some sign of God in this evil place. He'd grown far from his childhood faith, but with these horrors, a distant fatherly God and redeeming Savior seemed much more likely.

He walked straight up to the front of the chapel and dropped to his knees near the area that seemed to be the altar. He bowed his head and clasped his hands before him. He didn't pray aloud, but that didn't mean his sentiments were any less fervent. He grew warmer, and he liked to think that was some sign that God was listening to His wayward, needy child.

(completely botherable)

[roger-hug.livejournal.com]

Bridget woke with a start. He didn't really recall much from last night, but, sitting up, was glad he hadn't died at least. A quick glance around and he spotted Roger and tugged the bear close to him.

The nurse asked him where he would like to go and Bridget smiled happily, requesting the Chapel for both of them. Roger never really had understood Bridget's fondness for churches and religion as a whole, but he found it amazing.

The chapel was smaller than other's he'd seen, but he wanted to pay his respects just the same, walking up and kneeling beside a tall man who looked to be praying. Setting Roger down before him, Bridget crossed himself once, clasped his hands and bowed his head.

He didn't pray though. He wasn't sure if God would hear him in this place...

[nadine-he-loves.livejournal.com]

Last night seemed like a nightmare. Nadine awoke in her bed, safe, with no sign of the terrible creature that had attacked her. And no sign of Alec or Javert, either. But the memories remained, and the stitches and bandages on her arm attested to its truth.

It had happened. Oh god. This place was hell. There was no other explanation for it. This place was hell on earth, and she was being punished for her sins.

It was on that note that Nadine chose the chapel for her first shift. She supposed she believed in God. She'd known the touch of the devil, and if one existed the other had to as well. And she'd been raised a good Christian girl.

But she doubted God thought much of her anymore. Still, old habits died hard, and she was quiet as her nurse escorted her to the place of worship. She took a pew in the back and bowed her head, hands folded in her lap.

Maybe if God knew how sorry she really was, He'd forgive her.

[floraltempest.livejournal.com]

Honestly? MOMO wasn't entirely sure why she chose the Chapel over the Sun Room, since usually it would have been the other way around. The only reasoning she could think of, was that it was the possibility of finally getting to see what the Head Doctor looked like... Even though he hadn't stated for certain that he'd be visiting the chapel, it seemed to be a possibility, if one was to believe his words on this mornings annoucement. Of course, he didn't seem to be a very trustworthy man to begin with...

Nevertheless, the Prototype soon found herself sitting in one of the pews, wringing her hands nervously as she stared down at her lap. She had been more than a little unsettled at the idea of possibily seeing the Doctor the previous day while they had been in town-- then again, she had been on edge for most of yesterday after speaking with Bast and meeting the man who sounded remarkably similar to Albedo.

Shaking her head, MOMO took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She couldn't deny being a little nervous even now, but, though she was in no way a model built for combat, she knew enough to know that it was best to know your enemy. Therefore, she needed to put a face to the voice on the intercom.

And if the Head Doctor didn't show up? Well, she'd probably feel a little foolish in regards to her nervousness, but at least she could say she tried.

[notmyfather.livejournal.com]

Valyn had always been moderately curious about human religions. He knew they'd had them, before they'd been enslaved, but only small shreds remained. Elvenkind had no gods of which to speak. Some had turned to the tattered vestiges of human religions in hopes of gaining some sort of power, but as far as Valyn knew, it had never worked.

He did want to make sure the others were well - Shana was, he knew, he'd spent the night with her - but Shadow had never returned, and Keman....

He'd leave a note on the board. As it was, his nurse escorted him to the 'chapel'. It was a lovely room, looking somewhat like the indoor gazebos some Lords fancied. He took a seat near a young woman, and nodded to her.

"I hope you don't mind if I sit here?"

[ex-northswai344.livejournal.com]

The night had slipped by again. As she was roused and ushered to the room of her choice for the morning, the Ashe silently cursed the opportunity for further exploration that had been missed. However was she supposed to find a way out of this prison if she kept missing entire evenings? The princess could scarcely remember the period of time that had elapsed between returning to the Institute and awakening the following morn. It was a disturbing thought, to be sure, that they could just steal away memories as they pleased, but what seemed worse was the feeling of helplessness that came with it.

Maintaining a stiff, upper lip, Ashe took a seat quietly in the chapel. She supposed it was supposed to be relaxing, a time, as the doctor had said, for quiet reflection and prayer, but being that it lay settled in such hell, the atmosphere did little to ease the young princess' worries. Hands clasped firmly together, she found a spot on the pew in front of her particularly intriguing and honestly lost herself in her thoughts.

What could be done if the man who led this horrid charade did expose himself here? It was bitterly marked that he would chose a place of worship, perhaps to affirm his position of godhood in this dark playground.

[enigmaticmedium.livejournal.com]

A chapel.

Xelloss felt much better this morning, although he imagined Danny's more visible injuries were probably bothering the young 'perfectly normal human' still, and that thought cheered him even more. Enough that he didn't mind the delay for breakfast.

The thought of seeing Martin Landel was only of mild interest to Xelloss, but there might be something about him that Xelloss recognized, a hint behind all of this. More interesting to him, he didn't feel at all weakened by standing in the chapel, even as he approached the spot for prayer. How odd. Stepping back again, he wandered to a center pew to sit, still wondering what sort of god exactly this place was meant to evoke. Or perhaps none in particular, judging from the generic "religious practices or meditation" offered. That might explain why he felt nothing... or this might not be an actual holy place, despite the decorations. No blessing of the gods, only calls for help from their followers.

[notahangedman.livejournal.com]

[got some plans? Shall remove myself and Seishirou if that's the case. x3 ]

Surprising didn't quite cover what Seishirou thought of last night. In fact, he avoided thinking about it at the present moment rather vehemently. He wouldn't call it denial yet, being able to smile at the general direction of Subaru and Hokuto when he entered the chapel. But for a moment he desired the easy state of being he had been entertaining before last night.

He could have headed to the twins and probably interrupted their conversation about himself. But he decided otherwise when he saw another familiar face in the crowd.

His movements were a bit stiff as he sat beside Xelloss, mindful of the injuries he had collected last night, but his smile were just as dark and amused as ever.

"Good morning, priest. I thought I'd find you here."

[fuyunohanabi.livejournal.com]

She ached all over.

That last blast of power, she didn't known how hard she'd been hit, but it had hurt and she had a hell of a headache now to show for it, not to mention using flash-step had drained her. Rangiku sat up, glaring at the lights that had come on and giving an even darker look to the nurse who had come to wake her up.

Neither option sounded particularly appealing but there was something familiar about this... She frowned. Chapel or Sun Soom. Had she really been here a week? Chapel then. If Landel was going to put in an appearance, she wanted to see him with her own eyes.

She found herself a seat somewhere near the back and flopped down on it, letting her eyes close again. She could at least nap for a while while she waited.

[muted-flame.livejournal.com]

The transition was jarring, but Roy was used to it by now. He could have been bothered by the fact that he still hadn't found the right doors for his keys, but he had at least covered some more ground last night. That was better than he could say for some other nights, he figured.

Besides, not having to use any alchemy last night meant that he woke up feeling actually rested, or as close to rested as anyone got at Landel's.

It took him a moment to realize that it was Sunday, which meant that he was once again presented with a choice. Usually he wouldn't have even had to think about it, but he wanted to go to the chapel this time. Well, he didn't exactly want to, but there was a chance that the head doctor would make an appearance again, and he wanted to be there for it this time, if only to observe.

As he entered, he looked around and soon spotted the lovely lady who he had made a sword for a few nights ago. She looked exhausted, but he didn't see any harm in sitting with her. What better way to spend his time than with a beautiful woman? Even if she happened to be sleeping.

He sat next to her quietly and waited, impatient for the man behind their imprisonment to show himself.

[longlivetheking]

Scar had taken his time with venturing through the halls this morning, much to the irritation of his nurse. He was trying to practice his walking, as his ability was still horribly lacking.

Finally arriving at his destination, he couldn't help but feel glad he could finally take a seat and being temporary rid of the hassle of moving around in this form. He felt worn and tired, though it hardly had anything to do with his current trip to the second floor. Tonight had been complete chaos, to put it lightly, and though he had escaped the bus soon enough and even managed to explore, it was still enough to tire him in his new body. It was terribly inconvenient.

The lion had no idea why he had picked the Chapel over the Sun Room. He had no desire for any meditation or 'religious practice'. The latter didn't even ring any bells.

The feline had attempted to ask the nurse, though the little explanation she offered had only reminded him of the Circle of Life nonsense his father always told him. He wondered if these humans also believed they'd turn into grass after their death. The idea of transforming into vegetation, especially vegetation that was frequently walked over or eaten by herbivores, wasn't quite appealing, actually.

His motivation for visiting the Chapel must have been none other than 'curiosity', he concluded. And perhaps the vague promise of laying eyes on the person keeping them here.

That still left him wondering what he was supposed to do around here. Having not much better to do, he began gazing at his surroundings.

[ooc; free to be bothered]

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Kratos Aurion in a chapel- now there was a bitter irony. After being the practical author of one, he'd hoped to leave the entire religion business aside. His experiences in Cruxis had left him with a permanent distrust of all things godly, for there was no Goddess- none at all.

However, there was something intriguing about the idea of a chapel for a religion that he had never heard of, had never been a part of. There had only been one religion in the twin worlds, and perhaps this idea of seeing something new (not unlike the "buses" from yesterday- although he would have preferred to have forgotten those) was what appealed to the side of him still human.

Walking down the wooden pews, Kratos stopped before one on an impulse. It was already partly occupied, but there was only one other man currently sitting in it- room enough, he supposed. Sliding in and taking a seat, he surveyed the chapel quietly, only to find that there was a firm resemblance to those back in Sylvarant and Tethe'alla. Irony indeed.

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

Jedi didn't necessarily need a quiet place like this chapel to meditate or collect one's thoughts. The quiet did help, but it wasn't needed. An ideal Jedi, Qui-Gon felt, could meditate just about anywhere and at any time. Place would be irrelevant if one simply had the proper connection to the Force.

He hadn't seen Obi-Wan yet, but that was no sure sign that something had happened. The young man could take care of himself and it wasn't Qui-Gon's place to worry about him like he was an initiate - especially now that they were equals, now that Obi-Wan had crossed that threshold into becoming a full Knight. Obi-Wan becoming a Knight in this fashion would probably open up a whole new set of problems if they ever returned to the Republic, once Qui-Gon managed to explain how he wasn't quite as dead as everyone had thought. Toeing lines seemed to be a habit for him, but between pushing for Anakin and taking matters into his own hands to knight Obi-Wan, he'd probably toed one too many.

But that was a big if right there. Qui-Gon needed to focus on the now. As he settled into one of the wooden pews, lacing his fingers in his lap, he thought back to the problem of a crude comm link. They would need to figure out a way to construct one here, if they could find the parts. When he saw Obi-Wan next, he would have to fill him in on his plan and see if he had any suggestions.

[claire-ity.livejournal.com]

Once again, Claire opted for the chapel once the choice was given to her. Not that she wanted to pray - but it was a nice change from the sun room, and it was peaceful.

Or it was, at least, unless Landel decided to crash it again. Claire secretly hoped he wouldn't - there'd be more shouting and useless attacks. She just wanted, needed a moment of peace by herself before she was shoved around by nurses and running for her life at night.

Sliding into an empty pew, Claire closed her eyes and let herself drift off.

[ol-canucklehead.livejournal.com]

Logan snapped awake. Dammit. Never did get tha' damn chair, was his first thought. He'd have to explain and apologise to Ami when he saw her next, even though it technically wasn't his fault.

Upon hearing the announcement, Logan's ears pricked up. After the disappointment of not having a chance to witness the 'main man' in the flesh the previous day, he was all the more keen to try and get a good look at the guy behind all of this, so he had his nurse lead him to the Chapel. It would be pretty unwise to attempt an attack on Landel however; the man would almost certainly have defensive measures in place, and all Logan would get for his trouble was a good dose of drugs, which, whilst the effects wouldn't last long, was still more than he wanted to deal with. He'd been drugged far too much in his lifetime already.

Upon entering the room, Logan was left to find a seat. He quickly took stock of the other patients, and his gaze stopped instantly when it fell upon the pretty young girl from the bus fight of the previous night. Even from this far away, it was obvious to his heightened senses that she looked a hell of a lot less beat up than when he'd seen her last. Others might have thought they'd imagined her injuries in the thick of battle; he knew better however. She was a regenerator, or at least had some form of magic up her sleeve. And she seemed to heal a lot faster than him in this place. Interestin'. This could further his knowledge of Landel's ability to restrict the patients' power levels.

Logan could tell that she was dozing, but he wasn't exactly sure how deeply, so as he moved over to her pew and sat down a few feet away, he was careful to make just enough noise to wake her if she was only sleeping lightly, but not enough to make her stir if she was deeper in. That would just be inconsiderate.

[part1of3.livejournal.com]

And Ashton felt oddly empty again. Dias had been ripped from him once more - it happened every night, but that wasn't really the issue. He was becoming used to it, odd as it felt come morning. What was the issue was his newfound insecurity. He'd been so sure of some things before - of Claude's position as his best friend, for one.

They were best friends, right? If so, then why did he know Dias' words to be true? When you're happy, he seems happy for you...but not particularly happy himself. It rang so true. ...Why did his happiness preclude Claude's? It didn't make sense. But then, as he had to keep reminding himself, nothing made sense. Nothing made sense, to the point that it made Ashton feel a little sick about thinking about Landel's puppetry of logic.

When the nurse offered to take him to the chapel again, Ashton realized that a week had passed since he'd first been taken here. So much had happened that it nearly felt like months. He'd met Axel, who he felt like almost had been part of his journey toward the Sorcery Globe and then to the Ten Wise Men. How Landel's had twisted his perceptions!

But for once - for now, he was content to sit near the front of the chapel, staring up at the front. To pray to the almighty creator, Tria - it wouldn't hurt, he was sure. Still, there was a little part of him that wished someone would interrupt him.

[ interruptions plz. ]

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

[ooc: Mind if a catboy comes to say hi? If you do, I'll delete it.]

The night had been two things - terrifying and a waste of time. Ritsuka hadn't managed to do anything other than see his nurse killed and get inside the Institute before the morning chimes were ringing and he was back in his bed. At least, this time, he wasn't beaten up again.

Sitting up in bed, he put his head in his hands and wondered just what the hell he was going to do now. Things were getting complicated and while he wanted to escape, he needed to sort himself out first.

The door opened and he felt his stomach twist - a new nurse with a smiling apology that his old one was sick for the day so she'd be taking care of him. He scowled at her lies, but let her lead him off through the Institute and upstairs to the Chapel. He wasn't religious, but he doubted Soubi was either, so perhaps he could have some time to think things through and form a real plan. Today was the day for visitors, the day for the Head Doctor to (possibly) appear - today, he'd get something done.

Journal and pen in hand, Ritsuka was told to sit down next to a man who was seemingly praying in earnest toward the front. He seemed a little sad and the young boy stared at him for a moment before moving into the pew. The seat creaked when he sat down on it, his legs not quite reaching the ground, and he winced. He hoped he hadn't disturbed the man's prayers.

[navigating.livejournal.com]

Nami woke up in pain.

Brainwashing or not, the fact that she had been felled twice in the kitchen so far - and so easily! - angered her. How had she suddenly become so weak, to fall under spells and take hits from ninjas? Nami was a fighter. She'd always been; she had to be. And she always would be.

And yet.. to be dropped to the floor so quickly, without a second thought from that friend of Usopp's! What..

She sighed. Hopefully the rest of her nakama were all right. Sanji wasn't very 'all right', of course. When the nurse offered a choice to her - chapel or sun room - she paused for a moment. She did have things to do this dayshift, mostly improving greatly upon the maps Usopp had given her. She didn't expect any of her friends to choose the chapel, though.

Nami probably wouldn't have chosen it if she didn't need some peace and quiet to work on her maps. And, a bit more importantly, she'd been to the Sun Room before. She wanted to see the halls of the Institute with her own eyes if she was going to improve these maps.

So she set about working in her notebook in the end of a pew at the back, wishing for all it was worth that she had a pencil.

[angels-inflight.livejournal.com]

Naminé had no idea what had gone on during the night before - or the day, for that matter. She knew there was some field trip, one that she had elected not to go to due to feeling very tired and somewhat sick. It seemed that she was unable to constantly go out at night and then only get a few hours of sleep in the morning. Maybe it was because she didn't consistently eat her food. Whatever the case was, it was only today that she felt well enough to leave her room.

The chapel was her destination, of course, especially because of what happened last time. The Head Doctor didn't say anything of real importance last time, but she wanted to see if he would show up. Perhaps he would dangle a clue over their heads, or she would be able to see more of his supposed power. Last time he showed up, no one was able to literally touch him, and all Naminé could do was watch as they failed. Maybe it'd be different this time.

She chose a pew in the back, relatively empty except for an orange haired girl busily working on something in her notebook. Sitting down a few feet next to her, Naminé caught a glimpse of what she thought was a map in that girl's notebook. No, she was sure it was a map.

"Excuse me..." Naminé softly called out to her, mildly excited. If it was a map, then not only could she help, but they could compare their maps and perhaps fill in some empty parts. It might have been rude of her to interrupt though, but chances like these were rare. "Are you working on a map of Landels?"

[lost-metal.livejournal.com]

Ed wasn't religious by any stretch of the imagination (quite the opposite in fact), and normally the chapel would have been the last place that he wanted to go (really, he wanted to eat), but the lure of seeing Martin Landel face to face was too much for him to ignore, especially after he'd missed the chance last time.

A week ago. Had it really been a week? That meant that he'd been here... oh eleven days? Twelve? It worried him that he couldn't keep count anymore.

He took up a position near the back of the chapel, resting his feet against the pew in front of him. If he didn;t turn up, he could always have a sleep, he supposed.

[Waiting for Adel]

[grosse-sklaven.livejournal.com]

A week had passed since the last time Adelheid had led an attack against Martin Landel... and had failed miserably to accomplish more than realizing how powerful the human orderlies were in the daylight. That thought was haunting and welcome at the same time; on the one hand, it was a week that he'd been stuck in this place, unable to free himself from the clutches of the Institute. On the other hand, he had survived. Considering the number of people who'd fallen by the wayside, that in and of itself said something.

What, however, was an extremely good question.

But the lure of hoping to try his luck against the Head Doctor one more time was far too much. Adelheid had gone to the chapel again, hoping that this time he could accomplish more- if the man had the courage to show his face once more. If not, then the chapel's peace was good in and of itself. And who knew? Adelheid was closer to a 'god' than what anyone else could imagine; the idea that someone else could scoff at said deity was rather amusing in his opinion. That was why he sat down next to a familiar shock of golden hair, smiling softly as he turned to Edward. The boy, despite his lazy look, had an intent gleam in his eyes; clearly, he was waiting for the same thing Adelheid was. "You had the same idea as I did, didn't you?"

[unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com]

Even back in Paris, Javert had considered himself a nominal Catholic at best. The law had been his religion more than anything else. He simply hadn't regarded God as anything more than a distant judge - and the events that had brought him here had severely shaken what little faith he'd had left.

Nevertheless, he found himself requesting to be taken to the chapel rather than the Sun Room this morning. If nothing else, he'd never been there before, and a more thorough knowledge of the asylum's upper floors was always welcome.

He seated himself at the back of the chapel, bandaged shoulder still aching abominably, and half-bowed his head. He wasn't seeking solace as much as he was a rare moment of peace and quiet - and, perhaps, some time to think.

[janus-006.livejournal.com]

Alec had never been very religious. Any hope of that sort of cultivation died with his parents. Watching the murder-suicide of the two people who mattered most to you tended to quash any budding belief in a just and merciful God.

Still, he was an experienced enough gambler to know that hedging one's bets never hurt. And the chapel was bound to be quieter than the Sun Room, and he needed time to think.

Mostly about his situation, of course. M? What in the name of all things sacred and scalpel-filled was the head of MI-6 doing here? Unless, of course, it wasn't a huge scam they were pulling on him. Maybe this place was actually crazy. Or maybe he was on a drip right now and none of this was real. Who knew? This could even be hell.

And then, of course, he thought as he spotted Javert, was the matter of those demon birds from the previous night. What the hell were they? And why hadn't they actually attacked Alec, even when he'd hit one?

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought as he sat down next to the Inspector. Best not to bother him - he looked pensive.

[godhood.livejournal.com]

Busy schedule or no, the possibility that the Head Doctor would be joining them in the chapel at some point was enough to convince Light to spend his morning there. The Sun Room might provide easier access to the bulletin board, but after trying and failing to catch the man yesterday, he wasn't about to pass up another chance to see him.

Besides, the Head Doctor had mentioned something about addressing the patients who showed up, and while Light was certain that he'd be as unhelpful as ever, he was also sure that like in his nighttime broadcasts, some germ of truth had to creep its way into his words. He just needed to be on the lookout for it.

After taking a moment to glance around at the people already congregated, Light found himself a seat and simply waited. L and Naomi should be arriving soon, if they had any intelligence at all, and while seeing them wasn't nearly as high up on his list of priorities as seeing the Head Doctor, it wasn't like it would hurt him.

[quickdrawbkiddo.livejournal.com]

Beatrix had less annoyed about waking up mysteriously in her room than she was about the pain she was in. The bird had done a decent number on her, a fact she hadn't noticed the previous night while her adrenaline was drowning out her pain sensors, and someone had tended to her wounds. While her roommate still dozed, the Bride dropped her pants to examine her gloriously bruised and tender hip and then checked out the ankle that was in an aircast. It wasn't broken, but she'd done a number on it between her plunge to the concrete and the giant bird's wing almost crushing it. Her only other injury, other than various bruises and a few scrapes, was a thick bandage on her right hand, wrapping around her palm, from where the glass from her improvised knife cut into her hand.

Sighing, she hid the jagged piece of glass, dark from the bird's dried blood, in her closet as well as the cigarettes and matches that had somehow managed to only end up with a small amount of blood upon them. Not waiting around to talk to Maki (she wasn't in the mood), the Bride was ready when the nurse came to get her.

Assessing the options, Beatrix chose the chapel for many reasons, and limped her way there. The more she got moving, the less her injuries hurt, but that wasn't saying much. Upon entering, she scanned the area before choosing a seat by a young man with brown hair.

"What kind of services do they have here?"

[bored-narrator.livejournal.com]

Finding himself once again in his bed in the morning, Kyon abruptly sat up. Reaching a hand to his temples, he stared around and tried to recall what had happened the night before.

The only thing that came to him was attacking Hikaru. His hand dropped to the bed before they were cupping his mouth. He'd really done it. The guy had came back to help him, and he tore into his neck like some kind of...

Monster.

Shaking the chills, Kyon got up and out of bed without much of a fuss to his nurse. He walked hesitantly down the halls, looking at how everything was seemingly back to the schedule, despite the horror that was last night. Kyon wanted to shudder at the thought of the night before almost as much as he shuddered at the thought of his experimentation.

His nurse left his side when they entered the Sun Room. Discovering the post for him on the bulletin, Kyon made a quick reply and soon made his way to the Chapel. He was hesitant about entering at first, remembering more vampiric lore, but decided to go on ahead.

Finding it having no effect on him, Kyon quietly took one of the pews and waited for Hisoka.

[somber-secret.livejournal.com]

It wasn't long until Hisoka entered the chapel as well. He hadn't chosen this place because of lore or hopes to "vanquish the evil demon with the power of good" if only things really worked that way, maybe he'd have a few more braincells and a bit more sanity to speak of. In truth, Hisoka had chosen this over the Sun Room mainly because last time Martin Landel had revealed himself, Hisoka had not been paying attention. This time, if there was a 'this time', the boy planned to study the head doctor rather than contemplate murdering a certain psychopath--as tempting as that was.

Catching sight of Kyon seated in one of the pews, Hisoka wasted no time in approaching with a polite nod. Vampire or not, the boy was lucid for the moment. The boy would take this as a sign that he wasn't always driven mad with hunger.

"May I sit?"