ext_272160 (
mylackofeffort.livejournal.com) wrote in
damned_institute2008-01-04 08:56 am
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Entry tags:
- ami,
- bella,
- eddie brock,
- edward cullen,
- fai,
- jack horner,
- peony,
- peter parker,
- quatre,
- rena,
- rinali,
- tamaki,
- ururu
Day 29: Music Room
Quatre was thankful that his "name" wasn't called to be visited, but there was always the next shift. He knew he probably should have hunted down his comrades to see if they were safe this shift as well and if they could think of a plan to escape. It was strange being in captivity, Quatre had never been caught by OZ and when one of the remaining White Fang factions had attempted to assassinate him, the action had resulted in the deaths of many innocent politicians and bureaucrats; people who had families and who had honestly been hoping to do the best with the peace that Quatre and so many like him had tried so hard to obtain.
There were a few things that could completely take Quatre's mind off even the most horrible of facts, one of them was music. So when the nurse mentioned that he could go to the 'Music Room' he couldn't help but want to at least look in the room. There was an assortment of instruments for him to choose from. There were no classical pieces to speak of, but Quatre considered the fact that an attentive enough patient could use a number of the pieces of a piano to kill someone. That and you couldn't really use headphones on a real flute.
He ran his fingers over the electric keyboard before sitting down to it.
He had once told a good friend, Noin, that he played what he felt and at the moment his anxiousness was overwhelming. If he played at least a little bit of it, it might release from him, might take some of the pressure from his heart.
That, and it would be reassuring to be doing something he loved to do. He placed the headphones on his ears, trying not to allow his emotions to affect any of the patients that might enter the room after him, and started to play.
The sound was dulled, probably for safety reasons, but that was probably for the best. If anyone spoke to him he would be able to hear, even if he let the music that his fingers played with electrical sound take him away from Landel's prison walls.
There were a few things that could completely take Quatre's mind off even the most horrible of facts, one of them was music. So when the nurse mentioned that he could go to the 'Music Room' he couldn't help but want to at least look in the room. There was an assortment of instruments for him to choose from. There were no classical pieces to speak of, but Quatre considered the fact that an attentive enough patient could use a number of the pieces of a piano to kill someone. That and you couldn't really use headphones on a real flute.
He ran his fingers over the electric keyboard before sitting down to it.
He had once told a good friend, Noin, that he played what he felt and at the moment his anxiousness was overwhelming. If he played at least a little bit of it, it might release from him, might take some of the pressure from his heart.
That, and it would be reassuring to be doing something he loved to do. He placed the headphones on his ears, trying not to allow his emotions to affect any of the patients that might enter the room after him, and started to play.
The sound was dulled, probably for safety reasons, but that was probably for the best. If anyone spoke to him he would be able to hear, even if he let the music that his fingers played with electrical sound take him away from Landel's prison walls.
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He paused and arched an eyebrow. "If you know what I mean."
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"I care little what the church thinks. I gave that up years ago after I got involved with my little girl's father and they kept telling me I was going to burn for a million years in hell." She smirked. "At least I'd be warn."
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and fathered his own children, but motherhood did make a woman seem a bit less...Desirable? Creative in bed? Maidenly?
Oh well, beggars couldn't be choosers. He was determined to get laid and his shotgun method required that he ask as many eligable ladies as possible and one would eventually say yes. "How old is your daughter, Arlene? It doesn't seem fair that she be left all alone while her mother is locked up in a looney bin."
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"She is not alone - they have her. Fair? Fair is what it will be when I pay them back in kind," she said, her tone cool and smooth. John had just stirred the assassin inside out of her slumber.
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This was going turn out to be one of those ugly custody battles that Jack always saw plastered on the news. Ah, well. Let her vent about it for a bit. Maybe he'd come across as "considerate" and "on her wavelength" so they could go back to flirting with each other.
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"Really? They took a five year old?"
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"If they didn't take her, they've killed her."
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"I don't think they would have killed her," he said, lying through his teeth. Why wouldn't they kill her daughter? "I mean, they haven't killed any of us, have they?"
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"I just need to find the right people to temporarily ally with." Other than the teenagers she'd semi-claimed as her wards.
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'I totally did Uma Thurman,' He would tell others upon his escape.
They wouldn't believe him, sure, but if he could visualize Arlene, he'd have a much easier time recounting his tale than if he were making a woman up on the spot. Hey, it'd be something to talk about.
"I'll help ya," He offered, taking a step towards the Bride. "Assuming you could use a guy like me."
Suave.
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"That depends, John," she replied. "What talents do you have that a woman like me could use?"
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If Beatrix had been away of Jack's own deadbeat father tendancies, it wouldn't have sounded anywhere near convincing, though Jack rarely did anyhow.
"And I'm not too shabby in a fight, Sweetheart."
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