damned_institute | 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.]

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Diva had no interest in scuffles, big or small, unless she was somehow involved. At that moment, she only had a mind for her own concerns, and they revolved around the little scraps of paper tacked to the bulletin board. The Chiropteran knew what they were, obviously, but in all her long years of life, she’d always had someone else communicate for her.

The only way Diva knew how to touch many people at once was through song, and that was something mortals just wouldn’t be able to comprehend anyway.

"That’s the board everyone uses to find stuff and speak to each other, right?" Diva inquired, using the same amount of girlish cuteness she had with Leon earlier that morning. It was her best weapon when it came to humans. She stopped pointing at it, but still looked up at Cloud with a beseeching look. "I want to have something up there so I can get a bunch of information all at once. But... I need someone else to do it, and read it back to me. Can you? Diva won't be able to on her own."

Cloud glanced back to where she was gesturing and nodded his head a little. He noted her efforts but said nothing about them, nor did he particularly seem as if he were showing increased signs of helping her because of them. He had been through the loving fans type of deal since he had saved the planet, but he did think it must have been at least a little important if she was coming up to an absolute stranger about it.

"Yes, patients write to each other and ask questions on the bulletin board," he murmured. He raised an eyebrow to her statement before it dawned on him that she could perhaps not read or write. He felt a little bad over assuming everyone could.

"Ah, I could write something for you," he said and seemed more inclined to help now. "What information are you looking for or would like to know about?" He stepped towards the bulletin board before deciding to lead the way incase the scuffle grew more. "I take it your name is 'Diva', then? I am Cloud."

Of course! Diva smiled at the expected turn of events, and like Father would have liked, said, "Thank you," even if he were food. She trotted along behind him, knowing exactly what she wanted to know--she only needed someone to be the middle man, like this one. "I’m looking for my daughters, you see, but no one seems to know anything about them. They were brought here to see me, and then they were taken away--someone here said that it’s all fake, though. I don’t understand it at all."

When he introduced himself, Diva was momentarily waylaid, her attention caught by the name he used.

"Cloud! Like the clouds," the Chiropteran exclaimed in sudden glee. She clapped her hands together, amused by both being nouns of some kind. "Yup, my sister named me Diva because I sing. You must have been named that for a reason too."

Tredding over to the bulletin board, Cloud avoided garnering any angered attention and began to pick through the many leaflets of paperwork. He was, at first, looking for one that he could write on but also looking through the new notes for something that caught his attention. Nothing did, so he picked out a piece of paper to write on and looked back at Diva.

"Well... I was told that the guests were a way for the doctors to make life here more difficult and to force the patients to assimilate to the institute's way of thinking," he murmured. He remembered clearly meeting with his mother, a woman who he had known was long dead. "They want to pain us with things we cannot have..."

He looked to Diva for a moment before considering what he should write. He flipped through a few slips of paper. "Well... I do not think that was the reason for my name." Everyone did seem to think that way. "What exactly do you wish me to ask?"

“Then why?” Why have a name like that if it didn’t even mean anything, Diva wanted to know. Even Saya-neesama’s name meant something.

She considered this quandary--a mortal man with a name that either fit or didn’t fit--at the same time she absorbed what he said. He spoke in a very quiet, calm manner, a way of speaking in which Diva found it easy to listen. Diva thought and though, while Cloud rustled the paper. Things she couldn’t have…?

“How and where they all went,” Diva started, “and why no one can stop these stupid people from taking them away.” There was no one specific question Diva had in mind; it was difficult for her to investigate rather than demand. Sighing, she continued to press the tips of her fingers together, looking down at her hands. “My daughters look like me. One has blue eyes, one has red eyes… my long hair… Has anyone seen them?” Diva continued to fidget, a wrinkle growing on her brow, until she finally looked up at Cloud and said, “That’s not fake.”

It sounded, ever so slightly, like a question.

Day 32: Sun Room (4th Shift)

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