damned_institute | Day 29: Chapel

[[from the Sun Room (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/263999.html?thread=19744575#t19918911)]]

It was with some reluctance that Yuuhi entered the chapel and found a seat. The place made him just as uncomfortable as being in the Sun Room while Ururu and her friend wept, but at least here he wouldn't make anyone else cry. He saw Renji and Rukia and some of the others he'd met, but he shrank from sight as much as he could, sat in the back, far off to the side so as not to draw attention.

He put his head down on the pew in front of him, arms crossed beneath as he stared at the floor. He wouldn't find answers there, but he hadn't the courage to even ask the questions.

[From the bipolar Homura/Okita thread]

Unfortunately, Fai's withdrawl hadn't kept the eyes of the gods away, or at least not those of aparticularly intrusive demi-god. With Okita in tow, Homura made his way silently to where Fai all but cowered. Though to the man's benefit, Homura managed to tame some of his normally predatory body language; it'd hardly do any good for the man to run off screaming.

He wouldn't serve as an adequate distraction at all if that happened.

"Good morning, Fai." The man's place was poorly chosen in the end, leaving him trapped as Homura moved to take the seat beside him. He looked over the lanky man, noting he certainly seemed in much better shape than he had the night before--physically, at least. "I'm glad you're looking better than when we last met."

Yuuhi didn't look up when he heard footsteps approach him. He hoped that maybe, just maybe it would be someone quiet, who would simply sit next to him and not make him speak or ask him questions or cry... but unfortunately it was not to be. He recognized the voice first, startling slightly as he looked up from the bench. He managed to keep his expression under control, but only just.

"Ah, Good morning," he replied, trying not to appear nervous. "Yes, I really should thank you and your friend for your help. I'm sorry if it was any trouble."

Okita padded quietly after Homura, curious about this new person whom Homura wanted Okita's opinion on. It wasn't often he was asked to do so. Following in the man's footsteps as easily as he had Hijikata's felt strange, but somewhat reassuring to have something he was accustomed to. What he saw ahead of them was a rather downtrodden blonde, trying his best to hide away from the rest of the patients.

Homura certainly had a way of picking his victims, didn't he.

Smiling at the young man as he took a seat next to the war god, he waited his turn to be introduced and merely observed what was going on. Fai had been startled out of his thoughts, clearly upset over something, but not quite managing to cover everything up. Something had shaken him badly enough that he would try to hide it away and that caught Okita's curiosity.

"There's no need. You've just thanked me, and Himura would have helped you without a second thought." That had become clear enough last night, but Homura felt no need to bring up the subject. "I will, however, pass on your gratitude."

Homura relaxed in the pew, glancing towards Okita. Homura did indeed know how to pick them, and that was precisely why he wanted the swordsman along. Homura already knew Fai was more than he seemed. Now he wanted Okita's perspective. "Fai, this is Okita Souji. He's another ally of mine. I was hoping to see how you were after last night."

He doubted the truth of Homura's words, but would, of course, mention nothing of that aloud. Still, he smiled politely and nodded to the new one he hadn't met yet. "Nice to meet you Okita."

Physically, Yuuhi was nearly healed. The cuts and bites from last night, what could be healed of that had been. He was a little more willing to believe that the creature outside might not have been Kurogane after reading some of the bulletin posts. Still... "I've been better, but I'm sure I'll live," he replied. "Miss Rukia healed me up very nicely." It sounded normal enough, didn't it?

Okita bowed his head when he was introduced, dipping it low since he had no idea just what sort of person he was meeting. "It's a pleasure, Fai-san."

Polite and hiding something - two things Okita knew intimately. He had no way of knowing just what had happened between Homura, Himura and Fai, but if the man had to be rescued, then it had to have been something large. Fai didn't have the figure of a weakling - he obviously knew how to fight, but had been overpowered. Either several enemies at once, or something he didn't want to fight. The wounds had healed surprisingly quickly, but after seeing the effects of the blood, he wasn't surprised. Rukia... Someone named Rukia healed him - was it part of that magic he'd been hearing around?

While all that ran in his head, Okita merely smiled as if he were some absent-minded friend who just happened to tag along with Homura. If Homura wanted his opinion, it would be best to wait for the right moment to ask the right questions. Perhaps this was one of those times... It couldn't just be the wounds that had Fai looking so down. "Is there something else bothering you?"

Edited 2007-12-24 09:03 (UTC)

And just as simply as that, Okita saw the same as Homura did. There was much more than physical injury, and certainly that was what the demi-god was referring to in his own questions. Something had seemed off to Homura about the man from the start, as if he were afraid of something being revealed.

A man with secrets was always an interesting one.

Perhaps it was the case that some truth about Fai had made its way out, and had something to do with the injuries of the night before. But for now, Homura would wait, and see how the other man answered Okita's question before adding anything of his own.

If the name wasn't obvious, there was the "san" again that told him quite clearly where Okita was from. But it seemed there would be no end to questions and this time there was no escape; Homura had conveniently blocked the way to the door. And since Homura said nothing, perhaps this was the question he'd been wanting to ask all along.

"Ah, well I think I upset Miss Rukia," he told them. It usually helped a lie along if there was a small measure of truth to it. "Running off like I did, but she and... her friend seemed to want some privacy. Eheh! I guess it wouldn't have turned out so bad if I'd been a bit more careful. Ran into some pretty nasty creatures."

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Faith, generally speaking, was not something that Britons of M's generation were entirely comfortable with. Oh, they had it, surely enough, because great wars followed by decades of nuclear cat and mouse tend to leave people either believing or not, with precious little middle ground. But one didn't precisely talk about it -- that would be uncomfortably personal, like unsolicited hugs from a stranger, or anything more than a grave query of 'And how's the missus' met with an equally grave reply of 'Oh, she gets by, she does'.

Nevertheless, although only a few not in the clergy would actively talk about their beliefs, or lack thereof, what most of M's generation had was a great respect for Tradition, Ceremony and the Way Things Are Done.

Attending church, full of grand carvings, hushed holiness and the occasional childrens' choir, was part of it.

M rather liked churches. People were quiet, and one could have time to think.

She'd spent the last little while having an acute attack of bad ideas, which had led just as surely to an acute interview with rather a lot of sedatives. She'd finished vomiting her way through the inevitable consequences of them, brushed her teeth, and then gone quietly, if not truly meekly, to the chapel.

One older woman sitting on a pew with a white head bowed, but not prayer.

Sparda was still feeling his demonic energy stirring within him when morning had arrived, restless and longing for battle again. Once he had hidden the borrowed weapon safely away he had opted for the chapel.

He did rather like churches, especially those built in around the fourteenth century. Sparda liked the architecture and the stained glass and the decorations. There were few places that had enough holy power to repel him, but he had always been very respectful about his trips into such sacred places.

He took a seat next to a woman with her head bowed and did the same for a long moment, quietly relaxing and enjoying the atmosphere.

M's head was bowed, but her eyes were open, and the sense of someone sitting down beside a body would have been reasonably unmistakable anyways. Nevertheless, it was the span of another two minutes before she took a sidelong look at her new company on the pew, dark eyes flickering once, and then flickering back to rest their gaze on the wood of the pew in front of them.

A moment's memory tugged at her lips -- park benches in Berlin with similar silent vigils upon them, and a bevy of hopeful ducks who, as Messrs. Gaiman and Pratchett had proved, did indeed known that spies brought all the best bread.

No ducks here, however, and thus after a moment more M decided that a greeting was in order.

"Searching for the Divine, are you?"

The silence had been nice, sitting next to the woman whom he could only assume was human, despite the seeming lack of patients that actually were.

Sparda had noticed the sidelong glance, and he turned his head slightly so he was looking down at her, smiling politely.

"I imagine that the Divine would be rather hard to see from here..." Last night had demonstrated that there was indeed a powerful, evil presence here, though it appeared to sleep during the day.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sparda," He had gone by other names while living in the human world, but he preferred his own, and there was no reason to lie about his identity in this place.

"Hard to see, or simply inclined to let us work out our own damnation," M answered, before a darkly humorous quirk of her lips accompanied the reflection that "That might not be the ideal choice of words for our current situation of course."

Silence, then, reflective and considering, and perhaps a little like a prayer because of it.

"Emma," she offered in trade for the name. "Although 'Em' is probably closer to the truth."

"I believe that your choice of words was most accurate, Lady Emma," 'damnation' did seem to be the most appropriate term.

"For while this is a far cry from hell, it must be one of the worst places on this planet," Though the chapel was nice, Sparda had to wonder what it would look like at night. Perhaps he would make his way up here after he returned the sword to miss Hinamori.

"A few days ago, I would have been inclined to argue that," M replied, with a swallow to clear a throat still feeling thick and painful from the nausea brought on by the rounds of sedatives that followed naturally from her personal response to the aftermath of the Bus Trip From Hell.

"Now... well, I suppose if this is damnation, may I inquire as to what sins have landed you here, my good man?"

Sparda paused for a long moment to consider her question. He had never really considered behavior in terms of 'sins', there were simply actions to be taken, with varying degrees of 'good' or 'evil' associated with them.

He liked to believe himself to be much more on the 'good' end of the scale.

"I believe it is less what we do and more of what we are that bring us here," Demons and other strange things and god-like beings. This place had quite an interesting collection.

[thar be Saber here soonish]

Momo had been injured many times before. Many a time had she been so injured that she'd either been upon the brink of death or incapacitated in some manner. Never before had she effectively done it to herself. Well, a part of her could argue that Aizen skewering her was partially her own fault, but that wasn't something that pertained to the state of injury she was in now.

Waking up had been unpleasant. Attempting to sit up in bed was even more unpleasant and a very unshinigami-like whimper of pain fell form her lips. She was stiff and moving hurt. Wow did moving hurt. Especially her... right arm, which she couldn't move at all. Looking down, she saw her right arm in a sling and, after moving her shirt aside at the neck, thick bandaging over the shoulder. A few very painful prods at the bandages revealed a lot of stitches, both front and back of her shoulder.

Apparently Gilgamesh had shot straight through her shoulder and it was only her adrenaline and willpower that had kept the limb functional. This was bad as she was right-handed and thus he'd managed to damage her sword-arm so much she wouldn't be able to use it tonight. She could wield her sword in her offhand had it been Tobiume, but she didn't have Tobiume.

Aside from the shoulder, her head hurt a lot and she felt very... off kilter, like her balance had been effected somehow and her vision was a little blurry in her left eye. She sighed as she got out of bed, quickly doubling over with a wracking cough, supporting herself with her good arm on the bed, that left the bed sheet stained a dark red. So she still had fluid in her lungs. That explained the heaviness she was still feeling in her chest.

She hoped that her binding spell had help Gilgamesh so Saber and the man with them could destroy him, but she'd not seen much before she'd passed out. Annoyed that she had passed out, she thought she had more stamina than that, Momo noted her uniform was still there, neatly folded up and clean, in her closet, when she grabbed her coat out of it. That brought a very small smile to her face, but it quickly disappeared as she tried to get the coat on despite her restrained arm.

The nurse came in then and Momo gave her a bland look as she berated the shinigami for getting into a fight with her roommate the night before and helped get the coat over her, stuffing the end of the empty sleeve into the pocket so it wouldn't dangle. Expecting breakfast, the nurse lead her to the Sun Room before pausing and asking her if she preferred worship services. having never seen the chapel, Momo agreed to that location after taking a little time to check the bulletin board.

Moving slowly, her pride severely bruised that she had to lean on one of the enemy to stay upright on the stairs, she was panting and in pain by the time thwy got to the chapel. The shinigami chose the closest unoccupied pew and sat down, bowing her head as she attempted to appear more as if she was dozing and not severely injured. Her hair was down, obscuring the snakework of damaged blood vessels that ran from her left eye, down the side of her face to disappear underneath her collar, nor could anyone at the moment see the bright red orb that was her left eye. Had she been able to see herself in a mirror, she would understand why her eyesight was a bit blurry.

Saber should be by any moment, so in the meantime, Momo went over the fight from the previous night, the things Gilgamesh had said, what she'd seen when she faked being more injured than she was on the ground, and tried to remember the various human legends, especially the Western ones, she'd learned of while at the academy. She should have paid more attention.

Saber awoke from the nightmare more disturbed than she'd been since coming to Landels a short day or so ago. Details were unimportant at the moment, and their existance mattered little in the long run; as it were, the Servant was preoccupied with the events of previous night, the presence of an old nemesis whose undoing she'd seen to herself, and just what he hoped to accomplish by allying himself with the Head Doctor. There was no Grail to be won here, no world to taint, and she would not be so bold as to assume he'd come here for her. No, his words seemed to indicate that he'd been here a time longer than she, and hadn't he offered to help her escape? Saber frowned, forever unsure of just what Gilgamesh's motives were.

It would all be revealed in time, she hoped, deciding that little could be done at the moment with the limited information she held in her hands. For now, there would be a good deal of explaining to do, and she could hardly deny that she owed the Vice Captain at least that much. If Gilgamesh would be a threat to her allies now, it was the least she could do to warn them about him. Perhaps then they would honor her wishes to preserve their own safety if he dropped in on her again.

The small, blond woman was led into the Chapel where she was quick to notice Momo. The other woman wasn't looking nearly as well, which was to be expected and yet still troubling. Saber frowned as she approached, head held high with no other sign of emotion showing on her face. A seat was taken silently before she regarded the Vice Captain.

"My apologies," she offered simply and somewhat awkwardly, clasping her hands in her lap as she looked ahead to the altar. She seemed forever blessed or cursed with allies hellbent on sacrificing their own well-being for her sake. Despite so much time spent with Shirou, it was still difficult to understand, especially for a Servant.

The shinigami was drawn from her thoughts as someone joined her in the pew. She didn't have to look over to know it was Saber as they had made arrangements to meet. This was a conversation that had to happen. They both knew this, but Momo didn't feel like demanding answers to questions she wasn't entirely sure she should ask. She wasn't entirely sure if they were the right questions.

So she stayed silent waiting for Saber to volunteer an explanation. What surprised her was the first words were an apology. It wasn't even a trite apology - the awkwardness in it made it quite clear that Saber wasn't used to apologizing and she meant it. Though it made Momo wonder...

"What are you apologizing for?" Momo's voice was raspy, though the note of surprise was still evident within it. She turned toward Saber and focused upon her with one clear brown eye and one bloody orb that wouldn't focus.

"The battle last knight was one from my past that I never intended to continue," Saber explained rigidly, not wanting to get into things but realizing that it was probably far too late at this point. If Gilgamesh would be around, they would need to be aware of her past history with him and just what he was. "You were caught up in that; because he sought me out, you suffered. I apologize for not being able to protect you more adequately."

Saber said nothing more, focusing her attention on the front of the chapel. It was difficult to admit such things, a demon from her past she'd hoped had escaped her, but it was the only proper thing a person of honor could do.

"I believe there may be questions that I shall answer for the safety of the entire group. I would have been more detailed, but you understand that I thought him dead. He was the last person I expected to reveal himself here."

Momo watched Saber for a long moment before speaking. "Last night was not your fault, despite your connection to Gilgamesh - who acts an awful lot like a jealous boyfriend, I might add - as it was my decision to track you and my decision to get involved."

She paused and tilted her head. "You protected me as best as you could, but none of this damage was due to any shortcomings you feel you have. Most of this damage was caused through spiritual backlash as I used kidou and the actual injury from him couldn't have been prevented. He shot me in the back." Such a cowardly action; the shinigami would not forget it.

"I do not require your protection, knight, for I am shinigami. You are not beholden unto me in any way as I am not your liege, nor are you bound to me as you were once bound in your previous existence to another. Not as he is bound. Yours is severed either by your own workings or the workings of another, but regardless, you are a free woman bound only by your own decisions. It is by your choice that you have joined my group's resistance and if you were to choose to no longer be a part of it, you are free to walk away."

She took a breath, figuring she was treading on dangerous ground, but at this point, with the way she felt, she didn't care. She felt her age and the weight of her duty like she hadn't in many long years. She briefly wondered if it showed.

"I know little of a knight's particular code of honor, Saber-san, but I am shinigami so I have one of my own. I am a commanding officer and, as one, I will not allow one under my command, there by duty or by choice, to face the enemy alone. It would be dishonorable to myself, and more importantly to my subordinate, to sit in safety while she puts her life on the line. My existence is for those in my command and for the humans we protect. I don't know what humans called it when you were still one, but humans now call it servant leadership."

She smiled a little. "I rather like the name." Hopefully that would convey to Saber that she wasn't berating the knight for her actions in any way. They were still knew to working together and the shinigami was aware that once someone learns about what shinigami are and what they can do, it takes a while to adjust to.

"As for Gilgamesh being here - this place seems to enjoy bringing the dead back to life. Even more so if it is someone they think they can control," she added on. "Hokuto, for instance, was murdered shortly before being trapped here. Though all my knowledge and senses tell me she is a living human while here."

"Hm," Saber made a small noise somewhere between approval and disapproval of this other woman's attitude towards the subject at hand. A commanding officer she was, and still...

"Perhaps you do not require my protection, but you must understand my duty. As I was sought out, the safety of those with me became mine to bear on my shoulders. Your decisions were your own indeed, but my responsibility remains one that I do not take lightly. Please allow me to apologize and rectify the situation by informing my Vice Captain of what is relevant should any of us come in contact with Gilgamesh again." Saber's eyes fixated on Momo, utter seriousness and an invisible pain lingering in their steady gaze. The screams of the slaughtered in her war echoed in her mind, and the servant was thankful to be able to hold them inside for the sake of her own integrity.

Momo met Saber's eyes and searched them for a bit. Holding the woman's gaze and trying to focus her bad eye wasn't the smartest thing to do and it started to water and irritate the shinigami. She rubbed at the eye and winced a6t the pain, drawing in a sharp breath, only her willpower keeping her from whimpering. Blinking her eyes, she released the knight's gaze.

"Your apology is accepted and allow me to apologize for disregarding your duty," Momo finally said. "Being warriors from two very different orders and existences, it may take us a little bit to figure out where we stand when we stand together."

She held her hand out to Saber. "And for both of our honor, when we stand together, we keep each other safe. Is this agreeable?"

Saber stared down at Momo's hand, taking a moment to drink in what she'd just said. It was a fair comprimise, no matter how she looked at it. Perhaps sometimes willingness to bend to accept something you were not familiar with went a long way, even farther than the stubborn inability to shift oneself even slightly to accomodate and ally's needs. The knight's expression softened somewhat, and she accepted the hand with a nod.

"Understood. I will do my best to familiarize myself with your ways as well so that we might better serve one another." It was an awkward admission, but an honest one nonetheless. Saber sat in silence as she regarded Momo as though waiting for further instruction.