damned_institute | Day 29: Sun Room

It was with some relief that Yuuhi awoke the next morning, in his own bed, sore and tired and achy. He would've slept more had they let him, his face down in the pillow, away from all the others and their questions and their concern. He didn't want to see them, but he managed a little smile when the nurse came in and didn't object when she lead him out into the open hallway that had been splattered with blood, plenty of it his, just last night.

The Chapel or the Sun Room? He felt he had good reason not to be terribly religious and had a feeling he wouldn't be very welcome there anyway. The Sun Room would be nice though. It was bright and cheery and he could always doodle or write notes on the community board if he'd nothing better to do. Besides, the nurse was kind enough to let him take a book with him.

He found a seat on one of the couches, far from the entrance and seated himself in the far corner, legs scrunched up against his chest so he only took up one of the cushions. He opened up where he'd left off, fingers carefully turning the worn pages of Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz.

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It had been an odd night, what with the being hugged and all, but in the end it had been a fucking fantastic night. Farfarello was still almost high from the sheer joy of killing another human being. Not as slow a death as he might have liked, but still a very painful one. It was the best drug he knew.

His many and varied injuries had been patched up, though he knew he needed to be careful with those broken ribs until they were fully healed. It was nice to be able to draw air into both lungs again, though.

All in all, Farfarello felt great. Sure, he was stiff and slower than usual, and he wouldn't be very useful this coming night, but. Murder made it all better. So, he had a smile on his face as he plopped down next to some random guy and all but purred, "Good morning."

It wasn't long before some maggot insisted on bothering him. Sitting alone apparently meant 'approachable' in this dump. As if waiting for the boring dayshifts to end wasn't bad enough already, he also had to put up with the stupid scum around here. On a daily basis.

"Hmph, what do you want?" he asked, not wasting his breath on some kind of greeting. If this worm only wanted to nag him with trivial chatter, he didn't have the patience or interest to hear it.

"Now there's a loaded question. I want a lot of things. But from you, specifically? Nothing. I'm too tired to fight anyway, even if they wouldn't sedate my ass right away." Ahh, life was good. Who needed two perfect lungs?

Farfarello almost wished he could see an xray, just to know what kind of scarring the puncture would leave. He'd seen scarred lungs before, but only from pneumonia or smoking... and only in other people. Dead ones, naturally. It was really hard to open up the lungs and keep the victim alive at the same time.

That wasn't an answer commonly given to Albel's question. Most of these maggots began to act preachy or whiny, or otherwise being incredibly irritating. So this worm was a little more original. Or perhaps in a really good mood. Whatever it was, the Elicoorian couldn't care less.

"Then bother someone else, fool." he answered, not really interested in any social interaction. But then again, that was hardly anything new. Albel the Wicked was never interested in social interaction, unless said interaction involved sharp objects, lots of blood and a challenging battle.

"Hmm. No." Farfarello grinned, not budging from his spot. "I like it here. Sun's not right in my face, and I'm all comfy. Besides, I shouldn't move around too much, my ribs are broken." Probably. They'd certainly been set, and there were bandages around his middle, but since the broken ends were no longer grinding against each other it was hard for Farfarello to tell whether or not they were healed, or just put back together. "And which definition of 'fool' are you using, here? I fit a couple of them, but not all. Definitely not the one that's a dessert."

"Hmph, suit yourself." Albel scoffed. If he didn't want anyone to nag him, he could have left himself, but The Wicked One did not leave his seat because of some stupid maggot.

"I'll leave that to your own interpretation, maggot." he muttered. "You can refer yourself to a pudding for all I care." Some stupid announcer in 4D Space had referred to him as a pudding once. Or the 'Puddingtreat With Tentacles', to be specific. Albel still didn't understand his relation to a dessert. Or why this came to mind all of a sudden.

At least this shift didn't last forever. Though he'd probably be nagged again.

Farfarello's eye lit up, and he chuckled softly. "Maggot now, is it? Interesting little creatures. Used in modern medicine, you know. Like leeches, they've proven very, very useful. They eat up dead flesh, ignore living flesh, and so they help wounds heal cleanly."

His smile turning cruel and his eye narrowing, Farfarello leaned just slightly closer, still minding his ribs, and said casually, "Who knows. If your surgeon had used maggots, you might still have two arms." It was possible the arm had been cut off in battle, Farfarello supposed, but relatively unlikely--completely severing a limb in one shot was rare.

"And since when is my arm any of your business, hmmm?" Albel scoffed. "It isn't going to grow back, so what's the use of wasting breath about it?"

Of course, he hadn't liked it when that stupid doctor had removed it -- and that maggot was going to pay dearly! Who did he think he was, anyway?! But the captain didn't see the use of whining about it.

"Oh, I'm sure it's none of my business. But, see, I don't give a shit whether it is or not, because I'm bored and bothering you is, by definition, more interesting than staring at the wall."

Daytime was always such a letdown, and it was especially disappointing after having so much fun last night. "Place like this, a body needs a hobby to keep from climbing the walls, hmm? And since my usual pleasures are off limits during the day, I have to settle for poking the anthill a little."

The dayshifts were indeed incredibly boring, Albel had to admit. Someone as restless as the Elicoorian, whose life existed mainly on the battlefield, couldn't help but to become frustrated at having to sit around on his ass all day and wait for the night. Being sedated by those meddlesome wenches all the time wouldn't do, really.

But that didn't change the fact that Albel would prefer if this worm would just shut his trap and stare at that stupid wall instead.

"Hmph, whatever."

Farfarello just continued to smirk. This type was so damn predictable--arrogant, not too bright, claiming to be alone because they're too good for other people. "You know, the romantic myth of the lone wolf is just that--a myth. The truth is, wolves only go it alone when they're rejects. No pack will take them. They can't hunt properly by themselves, so they scavenge. The real lone wolf is a loser, getting by on rabbits and scraps."

"Hmph, you must think you're such a wise ass." he scoffed. "Too bad that I couldn't care less for maggots like you, or your silly symbolism for that matter."

No one needed to tell Albel who this maggot happened to be refer to. Truth was, there were always exceptions. Some wolves wanted to be rejected, so they acted like they did on purpose.

But no one needed to know that. Especially not the maggot he was talking to.

Day 29: Sun Room

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