damned_institute | Day 34: Breakfast

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Day 34: Breakfast

[starting off in M13]

The last part of the night was little more than a blur in Homura's mind. The men had rushed in, but not joined them, instead staying off to themselves. Before any of them had a chance to react, however, a voice sounded through the air, mocking some other person Homura had never heard of, and the patients themselves.

To Homura, whoever that man was, he sounded a great deal like a god.

But before he could ask questions, the demi-god found himself no longer in the chapel, but some strange room on a bed. Is that what Kenren had meant from his earlier warning? Homura sat up, glad at least that the world didn't spin when he did so. Then the same man from before began to speak again, with a completely different tone. It was confusing to hear him talk that way, calling them patients instead of prisoners as he had before. Homura listened quietly as the announcement was made, then got out of bed.

Maybe he wouldn't have to go anywhere yet. It wasn't like Homura knew where to go anyway, and that meant he had time. If this was his room, and if he had been here as long as Kenren had said, there was a chance he could find something with answers. The Taisho had even told him that Homura had seen Rinrei. Certainly he would've written something down, made a map, something that could let him find her again! He started with the desk at the end of his bed, first finding a small stack of notebooks. Picking up the first, he flipped through, turning the pages with quickening desperation as he found each one to be blank.

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Armand swallowed. "There was a large black thing in the kitchen. I was the last one of my group out and it clawed me as I was leaving." He looked down, embarrassed and ashamed of his stupidity. "Morrison had already been hurt trying to protect me."

Bridget blinked. "Is it bad?" He didn't seem to find anything 'stupid' about being attacked, unless you were one to walk up to your attacker and try to help...

"I was worried about you last night," he added. "I thought I would try the walls again, but I didn't make it."

"And I was worried for you. I almost wish you had done that now. It was stupid because I hung back and didn't pay enough attention." His own self-criticism was harsh. He shook his head. "I don't think it is too bad. I can move it a little. It hurts though." The gray shirt didn't do much to hide the bandages around to the back of his shoulder.

With a frown, Bridget shook his head, expression growing stern.

"Armand, are you a trained fighter, soldier, or hunter?"

"Neither. I am, however, a perfectly healthy adult male. I should have been more careful." He could match Bridget for stern. Barely.

"So?" He shook his head. "You don't have the training for a situation like this. Not everyone here does." He shrugged slightly.

"We're all going to come across things we can't do or that we coud have done differently. The point is to learn from your mistakes. So you don't make another one and wind up dead."

"It's not me I'm worried about. Morrison was seriously hurt protecting me. I don't like that. Not at all." Armand looked down at the cooling pancakes, which looked even less appealing now than they had before. "I should tell them I can't go with them tonight." Though the idea hurt more than he liked to admit.

"Why would you tell them that?" Bridget tilted his head. "If you want to go with them, you should. A mistake is a mistake. Learn from it and move on."

He took a breath. "It's a lesson everyone learns and one I would like you to learn so that you stop thinking you're such a bad person. I wouldn't be here if you were."

"I am not saying I'm a bad person, just not a reliable companion when there's danger." He would not look up at the boy. "I can't help in those situations. I'm a danger to everyone around me then."

Bridget just looked at Armand for a moment then sighed.

"I would trust you with my life Armand," he said finally. "And I mean that, I'm not just syaing it because I think it's what you want to hear. In fact, know it's not what you want to hear. I'm still saying it."

Under the table, Armand clenched his good hand into a tight fist. Bridget wouldn't be able to see it. He tried to keep his frustration and tension from his face and voice. He knew he was a terrible liar. "I would die to protect you, Bridget." But then where would that leave the boy? He certainly didn't want to try to drive away one of his precious few friends, even though right now he didn't think he deserved any of them.

"As silly as that is, it makes you a very reliable companion," Bridget pointed out. "You just need the skills to back you up." He smiled. "You should find someone to teach you some stuff!"

It had to be easier than fumbling around alone for a while like he had. "When I'm from, those that have the money and time usually take part in a sport like fencing, or boxing." Or hunting, racing, gambling, but those had little to do with his current line of thought. "Did you do that? You could use that to your advantage."

"Gentlemen learn to fence and ride. I wasn't a gentleman. I can use a sword, but not with any finesse, and I am decent on horseback." He hadn't ever thought about trying to get a sword here. He wasn't great with one, but it was a weapon he knew something about. "There is very little here I can relate to the world I know."

"You have used a weapon before, even if it was only in sport. That's a start. You would know the basics." Bridget beamed. "Now we just need to find you a teacher!"

He thought for a moment, wondering if he'd heard or seen anything about lessons being given.

"I need a weapon to use before I can practice with one." He shook his head. "Every thought I have just gets tangled up with trying to forge that relationship or trade that favor. I am not good at this!"

Bridget frowned. "Then, you should learn hand-to-hand first. Andhow to handle yourself in a dark and dangerous situation." He nodded, seeming to come to a conclusion. "I can teach you the basics there, then maybe I have something I can trade for a weapon." He shrugged, smiling. "I don't know how to use the more conventional weaponry that's being passed around here anyway."

Diva was tired. Tired, tired, tired. It wasn’t the sleepiness of an impending sleep cycle, but something different. Different even from the sleepiness she felt when she hadn’t been fed. Whenever she was upset, she either smashed things, or laid around, not thinking of anyone other than herself, thinking of no one and nothing, putting Amshel‘s plans in a mess until things were sorted out to her standards--that was how she felt now. She was upset.

But beyond the bounds she was used to. This desperation seemed like it had no solution, because solutions for her came on quick and easy. Her Chevaliers handled things for her. Protected her, cared for her, catered to her.

But now she had no Chevaliers. Which normally meant nothing, as she could make more.

But she had made two failures and had no excuses for them.

She didn’t understand how any of that could be possible, and it was a huge blow to think Diva had been brought down so low. She was starting to feel like her old self more and more. The nameless girl in the tower. She never wanted to go back there again.

Being told it was time for a trip to the cafeteria meant only one thing to Diva. Right now, all she could think to do was go back to the boy and see if things had changed. And that was exactly what she did. She was a Queen who was supposed to be approaching one of her Chevaliers, though it didn’t feel right even when she stopped right beside them.

Armand considered Bridget's offer and was about to reply when the small woman, hardly more than a girl in appearance, approached them--no, Bridget--and stood there as if she expected something from him.

"Excuse me," he said, as politely as he could, "but this is a private conversation." He kept an eye on Bridget to gauge the boy's reaction.

Bridget's eyes widened. He felt something... again. Not like he had last night, but it pulled at him. His heart sped up and he turned to look up at the girl from last night. He smiled, though it was slightly hesitant, as though he wasn't certain that was the best move to make.

"Uh... Hello. Again." He shifted in his seat, as if he were about to rise and offer it to her, but he hesitated again.

Private conversation was like a bell being struck inside her, knowing how much she disliked the concept of anything being barred from her. Armand got a glance, a quick one, because she hadn’t come to kill just yet. She followed her hands behind her in the manner of a young lady.

Though clearly Diva had eyes for Bridget. Not that she had ever wanted or tried to hide the inhumanity lurking behind her eyes even when she was playing a doll.

“You didn’t even try to find me.” He didn’t even get up to greet her properly. It wasn’t right at all.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was the lady who had attacked Bridget, not with the way the boy was eying her and what he'd said. Armand frowned, first at Bridget in worry, but then he turned his annoyance on the woman. She didn't look that dangerous, but what she'd done with her blood made Armand somewhat wary.

He stood, for once feeling that his superior height might do him some good. Of course, he'd only be taller than such tiny people, but one took what one could get around here. "I am sorry you're upset, miss, but can't you see you're not wanted here?" He let his frown deepen into a scowl that he'd never show his young friend. There was something about her that made one wonder how she managed to take care of herself.

Bridget looked down. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You didn't seem terribly interested in me last night." He latched onto that. She hadn't wanted him, he knew that. Something about him had offended her, he could tell. He'd felt and seen that look from many people.

He glanced up when Armand stood, amazed that his friend would defend him against her.

Was she sad, mad, or both? Or not at all? Though Diva knew it to be all three: sadness, anger, and something else she hadn’t been forced to feel since her sister had been so kind as to grant her a new life.

And hunger, that was always there. The man who would soon be ready to harm her was rather sweet to her senses. Sweet, but… old. Some tastes she was old enough to remember, others different. Older still. Familiar. Like Joel, always forcing her to do things when she was weakened. Diva didn’t know how to go back to how she had been, even if she’d wanted to. She had a name now. She’d seen the outside of a cage. Learned so many things. Played with toys. Killed everyone who tried to hurt her.

Diva was never wanted, that was the thing. And she was not bothered by that fact, knowing her Chevaliers were there to serve her, and her children would be there to love her. But it annoyed her now more than ever. And her ‘Chevalier‘, too, for acting as though Diva’s disinterest meant he still wasn’t required to be near her. She hadn’t said anything either way.

“Of course not. You’re a fake somehow, and I don’t know why you are as you are. Don't let him say such horrible things to me, even so. I never like it. But you’ll stop him when he tries to kill me, won’t you? At least you understand that.”

Kill her? Was she mad? He wouldn't try to kill her, even if it weren't daylight and the orderlies and nurses were watching. Armand gripped his hand into a fist again. It was as if his words themselves offended her, which to Armand, was ridiculous.

"I don't mean to kill you," he said to Diva, glancing aside at Bridget to make sure the boy wouldn't take his words as a threat to her. "I only wish you'd leave my friend alone. He's hurt and confused by what you did to him."

Bridget frowned and stood up. "He... He wasn't trying to kill you," he said. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt you," he was careful to add, "but you're safe right now."

Why was she here? She didn't like him, she'd admitted it. Why wouldn't she just let him go from whatever it was that she'd done? Shy did she do it in the first place?

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