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damned_institute2008-05-24 06:58 pm
screwthegods) wrote in damned_institute2008-05-24 06:58 pm
Entry tags:
- alexander conklin,
- allelujah,
- angel,
- asch,
- ashton,
- beatrix,
- brooklyn,
- cloud,
- diva,
- edgeworth,
- envy,
- falis,
- farfarello,
- gluttony,
- haseo,
- heiji,
- hinamori momo,
- hisoka,
- hitsugaya,
- hohenheim,
- homura,
- itachi,
- kratos,
- kunzite,
- kurogane,
- leon magnus,
- mello,
- nami,
- naminé,
- okita,
- raine,
- ren,
- reno,
- ritsuka,
- roy,
- sai,
- sanji,
- shion,
- shito,
- signum,
- skuld,
- subaru,
- ururu,
- usopp,
- willow,
- wolfram,
- yuber,
- zelos,
- zexion,
- zoro
Day 32: Sun Room (4th Shift)
It was rare that Homura's nurse try to persuade him to a scheduled activity, but then, it was rare that Homura didn't go. But the demi-god had plans, and the poor woman had little other choice but to leave in a huff as he once again settled himself near the bulletin board in the Sun Room.
His conversation with Kenren the previous shift had left the demi-god with a lingering sense of anxiety. Perhaps it was something only those from his own world could do, but none the less, he was all the more ready for night to begin now. Goals and memories, the truth of his past and the possibility of the future: all thoughts lingering on the forefront of his mind, more than enough motivation to move forward.
Impatience was something of a rush for an immortal, he'd discovered. Homura liked the feeling, the excitement even before he had arrived in this prison. And now while he waited, he savored it again, a yearning that shone so much brighter than the boredom of Heaven.
[Waiting for History Club Q&A time.]
His conversation with Kenren the previous shift had left the demi-god with a lingering sense of anxiety. Perhaps it was something only those from his own world could do, but none the less, he was all the more ready for night to begin now. Goals and memories, the truth of his past and the possibility of the future: all thoughts lingering on the forefront of his mind, more than enough motivation to move forward.
Impatience was something of a rush for an immortal, he'd discovered. Homura liked the feeling, the excitement even before he had arrived in this prison. And now while he waited, he savored it again, a yearning that shone so much brighter than the boredom of Heaven.
[Waiting for History Club Q&A time.]
no subject
"What, um... what happened to you?" she asked slowly after a brief pause. It was the easiest way she could think of to phrase the question, and for some reason it felt less heartless than 'How long ago did it happen?' But the words felt cruel as soon as they left her lips, so she quickly added "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
no subject
He swallowed, his throat dry. "But we're not talking about him, I guess. We're talking about me."
Steeling himself, the swordsman began his story evenly, and (as yet) without care as to how horrible it sounded. "They - I was in a wheelchair that day from some injuries the night before, so they just wheeled me out of my room and stuck a needle in me. When I came to, I was lying face-down, and I couldn't move my head."
He blushed a little to think of what came next - it was so terrible, and so very personal. "Then.. I felt them taking some of the hair off of the back of my head. It was really terrible, that loss of control.. almost as bad as the scalpel, and then the drill, and then the saw. And all - and all the blood."
It was harder retelling this than he'd expected it to. He stared at his lap, eyes wide open, hair falling around his face like it had done that night. "There were voices, too, but.. they were friendly, they weren't bad. Not as bad as feeling them taken away from me. I.." He trailed off, then shook his head. Saying more was too hard right now.