damned_institute | Day 31: Sun Room (Fourth Shift)

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Day 31: Sun Room (Fourth Shift)

Though perhaps not entirely as successful as he wanted it to be, Homura walked away from lunch feeling satisfied with his efforts. Roland and Fai both had shown interest in the goal, and that was enough for the moment. Homura could be patient, had already been for five hundred years, and felt no harm in waiting another five hundred if he had to. He would have his goals realized, no matter what obstacles he faced, be they from the prison or those trapped within.

But now was time for business of a different sort, and the demi-god made his way to the Sun Room, near the common board. He made sure he could be seen from the entrance to the cafeteria, knowing that one stranger and one member of his own group both wanted to meet with him. It worked out well enough, especially given that the stated purpose of the History Club was simple.

Revenge and escape.

For now, Homura had no intention of revealing that it'd grown more complicated than that.

[Waiting for L and Junior]

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Rukia had already explained, so he'd heard it all before, heard it much clearer, and without the breaks or the pauses or the tone of someone who did not want to say. Anyone else would have preferred to hear the more composed explanation, but now, even if this had been his first time hearing the tale, this was the one Kurogane wanted to hear. It was broken, but it was true, and that from Fai was better than any cleanly-spoken explanation.

But he was still leaving something out, something important if he still wouldn't say. Maybe about his real past, or about Ashura. He hadn't said anything about his visitor with the explanation, but still... his finished words were not unimportant either. Kurogane was satisfied with that for now. Fai was likely spent for what he could say without falling apart anyway.

Not feeling so dizzy anymore, he pulled his hand away from his head. "Idiot..." he said first as a reflex, then followed, "Next time just tell me, all right? It's not like it was your fault." His eyes moved away on another reflex. There were some things Fai was at fault for, but he knew what they were. Getting told again wouldn't change what had happened.

He scratched at the back of his head, trying to figure out the words for what he wanted to say. "If that ever happens again... something like me... if it tries to kill you, you'd better not hesitate to fight back. I told you,I hate people who don't try to live their lives. Like hell I'm going to try and end yours." He looked back again. Was that the right thing to say? Maybe... "All right?"

[Hopefully it's okay to jump in?]

He'd actually been in a room with Parker and been civil. Brock was shocked at himself. He was also feeling a little embarrassed. Symbiote aside, he'd always been able to come out on top of Parker (if not literally as they'd have liked), and while his methods might have been morally questionable, he still refused to consider the fact that they could act like people together.

Kind of hard to when they were both freaks...only they were at opposite ends on the morality spectrum: Parker was all for wasting his powers on people who didn't give a shit. He on the other hand wasn't. And Brock lived every day with this twisting hate the symbiote had for Parker's rejection inside him warring for its desire to go back to what it once had. The idea of the two of them getting all buddy-buddy gave him the shivers. It felt wrong.

If they were going to get Parker, it wasn't going to be just because they started holding doors for him and getting disgustingly nice.

That wasn't how his Other did things. It certainly wasn't how Brock thought things should end up.

Brock ended up choosing the Sun Room for this shift. He figured that Parker was a big enough nerd to want to play chess; personally, he needed some time to himself to think about how his last two meals had been, with Logan the Shortass Canuck and Peter Parker, Your-Friendly-Neighborhood-Spider-man. If Parker was in the same room with them, there probably wouldn't be a lot of thinking getting done on Brock's part.

Unfortunately, his nurse decided that he needed to be less anti-social and actually start talking to more people. She pushed him over to a kid who looked like he was Parker's age, saying: "Why don't you make friends with Albert here? It's always nice to meet new faces."

The blond gave a kind of noncommittal sigh as she left, turning toward "Albert". "Hi. I guess I'm supposed to make friends with you," he said dryly.

Archer had closed his eyes for just a few moments, but his instincts were telling him it wouldn't be so easy. He opened his eyes are turned towards the source of his discomfort.

"Hey," he said in a neutral, conversational tone. He kept his usual sarcasm out, but it seemed like his politeness was beginning to dry up. "Is there something wrong?"

"Gentlemen seem to have poor taste, then," Hikaru muttered back, quickly returning Kaoru's hug. "Now shh. We need to find out more about these 'nurse costumes' before we go after Yagami-san for his...preference."

This was priceless.

[Welcome! ^^]

Mark was surprised to see a nurse approaching, with patient in tow. This was the first official attempt to get him to do something other than stand around taking notes from what people posted on the board all day long. Then again, maybe this was as much for the other man's perceived benefit. He didn't recall the face, and wondered if the name would bring up any interesting connections.

"It seems that way," Mark agreed, equally dry as he looked up at the other man. A casual tone, then. "I'm Mark. Hi." 'It's nice to meet you' seemed premature, although it wasn't unpleasant, at least. The conversation didn't stop him from glancing at the board, scribbling down a few more names. "Nurses out to rescue you from yourself?" The comment was at least a little sympathetic in tone. Not that Mark had never needed a little help, but the 'help' offered here wasn't precisely Betan therapy. Besides, the Black Gang was needed in a place like this. Without his trusted defense mechanisms, he'd probably have been rolling on the floor in panicked hysteria long ago.

"Eddie," Brock said. He watched for a bit as Mark - now that he had the guy's real name - peered at the board and wrote something down. "Yeah, basically: they seem to think I'm anti-social or something retarded like that. What about you? They tack on some problem onto you yet?"

He hadn't seen this guy before. Landels was always fluctuating in how many people were here; some people would vanish, only to be replaced by others, and after the first week or so of that crap, you started finding that all the faces blurred together. For all he knew, this guy wasn't a total newbie like that Peter kid (not his Peter Parker, but the other Peter), and had been here for quite some time. But newb or not, he'd probably been told he had some kind of mental illness or something and been talked down to like he was made of glass.

"Oh, well, thanks." Usopp was a bit embarrassed, as he added, "But a lot of people are helping me with this project." I have lots of very large and intimidating friends? "I think we'll be okay for now. Still, I'll keep it in mind." Captain Zelnick seemed to not be shy about asking things on the bulletin board, but he didn't seem to be too shy about anything, come to think of it.

"Maybe if things go well, we can all celebrate with fireworks." An overly hopeful idea and it'd be a big waste of gunpowder, but it sounded pretty nice to Usopp right then. Celebrating a success, rather than just gathering up more projects to worry about.

Eddie. Nothing came immediately to mind, but then, despite the board's size and business there had to be dozens of patients who simply didn't bother with it at all. Others who had only posted brief notes, nothing that connected with anything else in his mind and so nothing that lasted in memory long. He wasn't going to go looking the name up in front of the man, anyhow.

"Well, they haven't named any specific illness, yet, but they do seem to think I'm in desperate need of healing and the best way to heal is by annoying me or telling me what to do," Mark shrugged slightly. There probably were names for his problems, but nobody here was actually trying to do anything about those problems, as far as he could tell. Just as well, his 'problems' wouldn't appreciate it.

Kenshin sat up and followed his green-haired (green haired?) companion's eyes. "Oro? Oh, that woman over there?" He pointed, not obviously, but enough to indicate where he was looking. "She does seem to be the type." And so do you. It lingered in the air, unspoken but obviously implied. Kenshin had only gotten a glimpse of the young man's hands, but he'd seen enough to notice the definite sword callouses on his hands and feel the fighting spirit.

The rurouni bowed (as deeply as the couch would allow). "Himura Kenshin," he said, indicating himself.

Here was another one, just like that Orihime girl; Zoro sensed the strength in the red head, but none of the danger of a potential challenge. Not that the pirate was fool enough to ignore what was right in front of him. On another day Zoro would have issued the same challenge he'd given Kurogane.

He opened his eyes again, giving up all pretense of sleep when Kenshin introduced himself. He'd take the name, maybe even see what kind of swordsman this man was later on.

"Roronoa Zoro." The pirate nodded as politely as he was able. He then smirked, somewhat amused by the smaller man. "You're sharp."

Roronoa Zoro. It was a strange name, but not the strangest Kenshin had heard in this place. Not the strangest by far. At least he could pronounce this one.

"You're too flattering," he demurred, bowing his head slightly. "It was just an observation."

Wonderful. Just the person Aya had wanted to see. He sighed as Schuldig moved to block his sun, and reluctantly tilted his chin down to look at the telepath.

There could have been any number of reasons why Schuldig wanted to 'talk', and Aya would not entertain the man by going through them for him. Instead he concentrated on wondering what the hell it was that Schuldig wanted. Weary and tired, he promised to himself that if this was some kind of game that the German was playing, Aya would hit him, right here, and right now. However, he did not feel compelled to open his mouth and tell that to Schuldig, trusting that there was enough demand in his cold stare for the telepath to get to the point.

"I was being honest." Zoro stated. Bluntly. His eyes roved around the Sun Room casually, though his attention was still on the woman by the bulletin board. Three out of five Straw Hats were in the room. Still no sign of Nami.

"Then thank you for the compliment," Kenshin said, smiling. He didn't miss the way Zoro was looking around the room. Searching for friends, perhaps? The rurouni hoped that was the case. No one at Landel's should be without friends.

"Where are you from, if you don't mind this one asking?"

"Nah, I don't mind... East Blue. Grand Line." Zoro cast a look at Kenshin. Curiosity. "Any of that sound familiar?"

Not that any of that actually mattered. He'd left his old life behind a long time ago to pursue his dream. And he was a pirate now, held down by nothing but promises and his goal to become the World's Greatest Swordsman.

He looked away Kenshin's smiling face. "You?"

Kenshin shook his head. "No, unfortunately. Apologies."

So many places, so many worlds that people came from. 'East Blue, Grand Line' sounded like something from a story to Kenshin, but it was 'home' for Zoro. It was a little sad, but it was also oddly heartening. If this place had the ability to take them from so many different places and times, it had the ability to bring them home again.

"Japan. Tokyo, more specifically. The eleventh year of Meiji."

Armand bowed hurriedly to them both, trying to cover up for his fit of nervousness. "Oh, M. Edgeworth, I am not a representative. Far from it. I was talking to M. Mustang about his organization." Or rather just beginning.

Even though he was naturally very friendly, having two people to talk to while he planned to skirt the narrow edge between falsehood and truth--he liked to think of it as hopeful thinking--made the task more difficult. He was a poor judge of character at the best of times.

"Mostly, I wanted to know what kinds of tasks your members try to accomplish and what... qualities you expect from them."

Subaru struggled up out of nightmare and lashed out at the person--thing?--attacking him. He only just barely realised what was going on in time to avoid hitting his sister in the face. "Ah... wh... Hokuto-chan, y-you can't do that..." He's become twitchier, since Hokuto's death, his instincts now more 'fight' than 'flight' when surprised.

"Fancy a Viennese Waltz while we talk, or is the leg not up to it?" Farfarello was not adverse to dancing--it required a lot of the same skills as fighting, after all--though he wasn't about to indulge River's curiosity in the other kind of 'dance'--Schuldig would have his head if he messed up River in a moment of enthusiasm.

"Does it matter, worm?" Albel shot back. Really, why did this stupid girl ask such silly, unimportant questions?

Haku shrugged. "I was simply curious. Some of the more aggressive monsters were are usually placed outside, and there was talk of two sheds, which might be important."

He smiled, unaffected by Albel's harsh tone and personality. "I haven't seen much outside myself, but I was wondering if a fighter like yourself had. Perhaps an exchange for information." He laughed lightly behind his hand and shrugged again."But if you haven't been that far, or you don't wish to talk about it, I won't pry."

"Well, if there is anything more serious that needs healing, I might be able to help," Rangiku replied, her lips in a thin disapproving line. There was no sense in suffering if the injuries were bad. Especially if there were internal problems that the nurses didn't realise.

She smiled in response to the question. "I had a rather good night for this place," she replied, with maybe a hint of smugness about it. "I just like naps. A lady needs her beauty sleep after all."

"I see." The place Kenshin mentioned didn't ring a bell, but Zoro didn't really expect it to. It was asked more out of courtesy, anyway. Who said Zoro couldn't be (reasonably) civil?

Of course, his own problems with civility aside, all the modest and easy, polite words were starting to get to Zoro. He was already suspicious to begin with. People with actual manners who didn't have some kind of quirk or hidden agenda? Feh. That'd be the day.

It would be best to just come out with it.

"So are all the swordsmen from where you come from as polite as you or do you just act like that out of habit?" Zoro was still smirking though, and his question lacked any real bite.

Brock rolled his eyes, not at Mark, but at Landel's idea of "healing". Yeah, sounded about right. "'Cause that's just all what we need," he said. "Getting nagged at and bossed around, like we didn't have that before Landels."

It certainly wasn't relaxing. And the professional help seemed to be on and off - the staff seemed more ready to just pump people up with sedatives or chuck their asses into Solitary rather than try anything else, at least from his experience. He could safely say that he didn't feel any more relaxed and "sane" than he did the first day he woke up here.

Beatrix sighed internally at Skuld's lack of stealth, but she reminded herself that this was a girl that thought she was one of the Norns that supposedly could do magic and not someone skilled in subterfuge. Well, she'd done her best to warn the girl. If she was going to be making her a katana, it was only proper that the Bride inform her of the potential of someone watching her with ill-intentions. She honestly thought the man was watching her, as he'd been before Skuld had arrived, but anyone who was interested in either herself or Skuld would only have had to read the board to know that they would be meeting at the board. She'd just have to talk to the man later on and if he was stalking the girl, she'd put his face through a wall.

The Bride reached across the table and took the paper back, folding it into quarters and then slid it into her bra through the neck hole of her shirt as she listened to Skuld. Now the girl was talking about magic in a way that Beatrix could understand. It compared exactly to her own training, just with a mystical force instead of the power of one's own body. Interesting.

"Alright, I follow that. It makes a lot of sense," she said. "It's like people that watch martial arts movies and then think because they've seen it and swung around a stick, that they can pick up a real sword and suddenly be Bruce Lee." She'd almost said be me but managed to correct herself without letting it slip. "Instead, they are liable to cut their own foot off or severely injure someone else. Or at the very least, chip the blade."

"Only magic is done with books?"

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Day 31: Sun Room (Fourth Shift)

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