damned_institute | Day 21

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Day 21 - Sun Room

Ichigo was only too eager to leave the cafeteria and its fresh memories behind when the softened chime of the intercome rang clear. What had begun as another ordinary meal, a rather agreeable one despite the lack of the proper utensils, quickly became somewhat unnerving. His conversation with...what was his name again?...took so many sharp turns, he should've felt dizzy. It was easy to feel a little sorry for the guy, though; surrounded by stangers in a very strange place, it was hard to blame him for being so alarmed.

The Sun Room occurred as a more enjoyable choice to spend the time; he had nothing against music, but something about being surrounded by some of the most unruly characters he'd ever met, each of them armed with cacophonous weaponry, didn't sound smart. Once his nurse departed, the young man picked out a cozy little spot near a flood of sunshine and settled in, cradling his head in the palms of his hands. There, he stared up almost bitterly at the ceiling with sharply focused eyes, still exuding the same unapproachable sense of being as ever.

The room was warm, even a little comforting, for any of the tired, weary masses found in Landel's halls, or even those who just craved a little peace and quiet. All he could hear, from end of the room, were soft footfalls and hushed voices. That sounded just fine to the 'berry head.

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Ed was kind of glad to be led away to the Sun Room. It wasn't as though he didn't like Tamaki; he did! He was very friendly and it was nice to have someone cheerful around in this dump of a place, but he sort of made Ed feel like he was missing out on things and it wasn't a feeling that he liked. What did he know about girls and flirting and the kind of things most boys his age did? Nothing. He hadn't had the chance and neither had Al because of his stupidity.

He flopped down on his back on one of the couches in the Sun room, throwing his flesh arm over his eyes. He'd just lie here for a while and maybe get some sleep. Even if he didn't sleep, he could rest his body and relax it some. The muscles connected to the automail always got so achey. Training normally solved that, giving him chance to stretch, but he didn't have that here an Nightshift wasn't exactly the right place for it.

He wondered how the nurses felt about practising martial arts in here.

Robin decided it was time to be sneaky.
Everyone had split off into two groups. Music and Sun Room.
While Robin would have liked a little music to boost his mood, he thought that he ought to really start thinking about escape. Nobody liked it here, everyone wanted to go home.

He'd look a little odd sitting in the music room, alone and without an instrument. And the noise would distract him far too much. So, instead, he wandered into the Sun Room. Of course.... he'd rather hoped for windows.

No such luck.
Maybe he'd try sneaking out later if a distraction came.
He was left dissapointed and... a little tired. He was feeling a little lazy now. And the place was calm... And... maybe he'd just sit down.

He found a seat, settled in and closed his eyes... he wanted to see the 'Monsters' tonight. A rest might do him some good.

Qui-Gon basked in the sun, feeling its warmth fall onto his back as he sat facing toward the room. He had a good deal to chew over after the enlightening conversation with Renji and Eric, and needed time to come to terms with how it would apply, to both the larger picture and to the more immediate now.

Meditation had usually always helped him find his center. Some Jedi preferred the quiet, cool solitude of the Jedi Temple and the many rooms available for that purpose, but Qui-Gon had preferred being outside - or at least not having dead silence looking over his shoulder as he went about his business finding inner balance and peace. Closing his eyes, seated comfortably on one of the seats in the room, the Jedi Master focused on the sensation of comfortable heat on his back, feeling it on his shoulders and neck despite his grey clothes.

Well, lunch had certainly been productive. Obi-Wan considered himself fortunate, running into Hughes like that. It was encouraging to know that some people here were trying to make an organized effort in getting out of this place, and the Jedi knew it would be in everyone's best interests if people fully cooperated with each other.

Still, it had been a little frustrating to have their conversation interrupted so suddenly. For all the freedom they had at night, there was very little the prisoners had control of during the day. That's why it was a little surprising when the nurse told Obi-Wan he had a choice on whether he wanted to go to the music room or not.

"If you don't mind," he said to her with a polite smile, "I'd rather go somewhere that's a little more quiet." She gave him a sympathetic look and escorted him to the sun room, the place where he'd met RC-1136 the other day.

It appeared there weren't that many people here yet. Not surprising, considering most prisoners would probably choose to go to the more lively music room. But Obi-Wan wasn't looking for entertainment. He needed to meditate, perhaps even do a little bit of stretching. While it would have been better to get a little bit of exercise while he was at it, Obi-Wan knew it'd attract too much attention if he tried anything like that in here.

Obi-Wan took a seat in one of the large, cushioned chairs and neatly folded his legs beneath him. Hands settling into his lap, he closed his eyes and began to focus on his breathing...

Ugh. Obviously Schuldig had made the wrong choice of rooms.

The music room had been out right from the start; Schuldig hadn't listened to music (at least by choice) for years and he didn't need it now. The last thing a telepath needed was more noise bouncing around in his head.

He could feel a headache coming on from his lunchtime session with Yohji; granted, he'd needed to pry, needed to see the things Yohji had already experienced that were still in his own future, but that didn't mean it didn't bring on pain. Best to stick to the more passive type of telepathy for a little while in hopes the ache would recede; listening to surface thoughts didn't require any effort whatsoever.

It was just so hard to restrain himself. It would have been difficult for anyone. When hearing fragments of thoughts, the natural inclination was to follow them to see what they connected to, to find their context, which required pursuing the thoughts into the mind that had spawned them. And from there, that could easily lead you deeper and deeper in search of the beginning of the line of the trains of thought, curiosity dragging one into the depths until there was no possibility of escape.

The reason telepaths were so few and far between wasn't because the gift itself was rare. But most who had it wound up as vegetables, having lost all sense of self to be left as empty shells that breathed and did very little else, or madmen, who could no longer call their mind their own; it took an exceptional mind to stay on top of what that mind could accomplish.

In any case, this room was almost disgustingly peaceful. Two men meditating and two men and a teenager circling the drain of sleep. He briefly toyed with the idea of inserting highly inappropriate and/or discordant thoughts into the meditations of the master and student - possibly even trying to sow the seeds of turning them against each other, in order to cultivate them later; that was the sort of wickedness he excelled at - but reluctantly decided against that. He wanted his headache to go away, not intensify.

Besides, there was something in the minds of the two men (Jedi, his mind supplied, a word which meant nothing to him out of context but which he forced himself not to retrieve context for) that suggested that he might find himself with serious mental opposition if he tried anything. There was an air of training about them - if not training in telepathy, then training in less specific areas of the mind, but it would still make for far more formidable mental resistance than most people could present him, which would equate to an even more intense headache.

Schuldig growled in quiet annoyance to himself and flung himself into a chair rather harder than necessary. Maybe someone more interesting would show up; it was his only hope.

Renji hadn't been impressed by what these people considered to be food. He didn't even want to go near what they considered to be music. He opted for the sun room.

There was a lot about this place that bothered him. But one of the bigger annoyances (as opposed to things that enraged him or scared the shit out of him) was the fact that they were expected to sit so goddamn much. He could park himself under a tree and pretend to be the Buddha for a while if he had to - you didn't live (so to speak) as long as he did without learning some patience, after all. But he was also used to be on his feet, working, and training every day. And after just a couple days, it was starting to get on his nerves. Sneaking around and running for his life at night sort of counted, but what about some time to just get the damn kinks worked out and relax?

He followed the nurse to the sun room, thinking about these things. And he decided, what the hell, if he didn't ask, he could take a stab at faking innocence later. And as long as he kept it low-key, quiet, and innocuous, maybe they'd just ignore him. Slow and controlled didn't work up much of a sweat, but damn it was better than sitting on his ass for several more hours.

Renji staked out a small, unoccupied space near a good patch of sunlight. With some warm sun, he could almost pretend that this was pleasant. Then, slowly, he started stretching, ears tuned to catch nursely objections before they became full-blown issues.

Hughes didn't much feel like going to the Music Room. Maybe he could take a nap in the Sun Room, or at least relax. There wasn't much chance for that lately. And maybe, just maybe, he could actually catch up with Roy before nightshift.

He wasn't betting on it, though.

He saw a few familiar faces in the room. Ed was there, looking like he had the same idea of taking a nap. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as well, but they looked... well, busy, oddly enough.

Hughes did notice that guy he'd been talking to at one of the meals, before that weird woman had interupted them. He figured it wouldn't hurt to head over and see if they could actually manage a conversation this time. He figured the red head had been around long enough not to need anything explained.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to the man.

Albel didn't have to think long on what room to pick, since music interested him just as much as books did, which meant not at all. Albel wasn't exactly looking forward to noise either, so he opted for the Sun Room.

However, this shift would probably prove as boring and uneventful as the rest of the day had been. Flopping down on the couch with a sigh, he stared at the ceiling, not paying attention to the other occupants in the room.

If something interesting didn't happen soon, he was going to bore himself to death.

Vincent wasn't a music peron.

He wasn't a noise person anymore, really.

His throat hurt from talking so much and he was still more than agitated, so it was with great, great relief that Vincent Valentine all but collapsed on one of the couches, eyes closed and arms crossed.

Yohji sat dumbly for a couple of minutes after Schuldig was hurried away. the comment about him not being attractive kind of stung and he wasn't sure why. Why would he care what Schuldig thought anyway? He knew he'd savaged his hair when he'd cut it off, it had been his pride and joy when it was long, but he'd needed a fresh start and that had been a symbol sort of. Reset, do-over, start again. Be someone else! Not Weiss, not Balinese not Yohji.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching at his head, fingers clenched tight in his hair. When he looked up, he saw her out of the corner of his eye, smiling like always. He opened his mouth to say something, but then someone tapped him on the shoulder, distracting him and when he looked back she was gone. He wanted to scream or cry or... or... something! Anything.

The nurse tapped his shoulder again, saying concerned sounding things that Yohji didn't really hear, just nodded dumbly and let her guide him into the Sun Room. Lots of noise didn't sound too appealing right now, he'd probably end up trying to kill someone by mistake. He'd lost his taste for people recently. And maybe he could have a conversation with her in the quiet.

Schuldig happened first. Yohji noticed him straight away; old instinct resurfacing. He had to admit grudgingly that Schuldig had a point. He neeed allies in this place and Schuldig knew what he was. Besides, hadn't he been ready to giveb himself over to Esstet less than a week ago? Devil you know and at least he wouldn't have to watch his back so closely. Did he really care what happened to his mind anymore? It wasn't as though it was really his anyway.

He approached the telepath, intending to agree to at least not try to kill him at every opportunity. "Schuldig," he said and then stopped when he realised someone else was already there. He blinked in confusion. Had he been so out of it that he hadn't noticed?

He shook his head and smiled apologetically at the other man. "Sorry, I'll come back later."

Of course, quiet was not something that could be expected when Xigbar was in the room. While he was a tremendous fan of noise, he preferred it when he was the source of said noise; competition, in that regard, was never a good thing.

...and he hadn't gotten to finish taunting Dragon-Dude, either; that really got his goat!

So he immediately plopped onto the arm of the chair, ignoring such things as 'personal space' or 'manners' and instead gazing at the irritatingly peaceful Jedi. "Dude~!" Called low, just soft enough that it wasn't too grabbing, but too loud to be ignored. Or, as Xigbar liked to call it, 'The Perfect Tone.'

"Did you miss me?"

Hojo hadn't gotten to eat quite as much as he'd wanted to, which was annoying but unsurprising considering how he'd spent the majority of the lunch shift. After a brief moment of consideration the tall man opted to spend this shift in the sunroom rather than with the majority of patients in the music room; There were probably things there that he could use for nightshift but he wouldn't be able to make off with any of them now.

As expected, it was quiet in the sunroom; it was also void of anything that a person could use to entertain themselves with, which honestly was about perfect. After seeing what the staff provided the patients with, Hojo concluded that it was far more satisfying to be left to one's own devices.

"I don't think the staff realizes how negatively stagnation can affect a person," he said after approaching an athletic-looking redhead who appeared to be doing stretching exercizes off to one side. "Unless you're getting ready for nightshift."

While Mal had already more or less confirmed that the patient he'd rescued the night before was in one piece, it seemed like he might as well check in with him. Since he'd chosen the Sun Room so he could write a message to his crew on the bulletin board (hopefully they would see it before night came), he had to find someone to talk to in order to make the time pass a little faster.

None of his crew was present yet, so the only other patient he vaguely knew was the dark-haired one from the night before. He looked bored, anyway. Maybe he'd enjoy having someone to talk to.

Besides, it was irritating not knowing his name.

He didn't sit on the couch just yet, instead standing before the other man with his arms crossed. "They bandage you up okay?"

Renji only paused for an instant when he was interrupted. He could talk and stretch at the same time. "Or maybe they just want to see what it takes to make some of us really go crazy," he said. He glanced at the guy; he didn't know his name, but he recalled the face. And the fact that a couple of Elena's friends (acquaintances?) had been threatening him with bodily harm.

He didn't know those people, or their problems, though. So he decided to go for neutrality until he got his own impression of the guy.

He paused again, holding a stretch for a moment, and tried to get a feel for things. Nothing clear, of course, but he felt vaguely creeped out. Which, to be fair, could just be the atmosphere of an insane asylum getting to him.

"We all pass the time in our own little way," he said. "What do you want?" While the question was blunt, his tone wasn't overtly unfriendly; he just decided to be to the point, which was really his normal way to deal with people.

"Nothing. I find one notices time passing less when involved in conversation, but I can go if you'd prefer." His own tone was neutral; the offer was a polite one, but it wasn't made in a spirit of politeness. Hojo honestly didn't care either way, and he didn't know this person yet so it would likely be a more productive use of a shift than, say, taunting Valentine.

Renji shrugged, changing positions slightly. "Doesn't bother me much," he said. "I'm used to training. But I can also talk." He paused for a moment to deepen his stetch, then said, "Abarai Renji. What's your name?"

"Mm." Hojo smirked a bit, crossing his arms and leaning on the nearest wall. "Dr. Aleksandr Hojo." It occurred to the scientist that Xigbar still hadn't asked for his name -- introduced himself, yes, but not the other way around. It didn't bother him; honestly he hadn't even realized until just then, but it was an odd piece of trivia. Perhaps it would come into play later.

"Those are interesting tattoos, Abarai Renji. I assume there must be a story behind them." What was to be seen then was whether the redhead would take the prompt or wait to be asked specifically what the story was. Of course, there was also the possibility of him becoming offended, but that seemed rather unlikely. If he was the sort of person to take offense to inquiries about himself he probably would not have marked himself so blatantly.

Obi-Wan had sensed someone approaching even before the scarred man decided to violate his personal space by taking a seat on the arm of his chair. But he was a fully trained Jedi who did not allow such trivial things to distract him. He'd put off meditating enough as it was, and he wasn't about to put it off yet again because someone obviously didn't realize he was a little preoccupied.

He was faintly aware of the man speaking to him in an overly casual tone, but that didn't break his concentration too much. Instead of turning to look at him, or even opening his eyes, Obi-Wan took in a soft breath and maintained his relaxed position and focused state of mind.

Havoc wandered into the sun room figuring it was a better place for a nap than the music room. Although if he took less naps, he might actually have some contact with people. He hardly saw the colonel and Hughes anymore, but it was his own fault.

Havoc plopped himself down in the first available chair he came to, stretched out his long legs and tilted his head back. He didn't close his eyes just yet though, instead he stared up at the ceiling. Hell, he was too bored to sleep.

Well, at least there was some plan for tonight. Lyta didn't really care at that point who took the lead. She just hated the fact that she hadn't even been considered - even though the whole damn thing was her idea!

She didn't want to go to the music room. She didn't care about music. But the sun room was open and she didn't feel quite so trapped there. Ignoring her blank-minded nurse, as usual, she took a seat next to some blond guy who looked bored out of his skull.

She didn't blame him.

...oh come on, like that was going to stop the Nobody? He just grinned, kicking up his feet and lounging; at this rate, he was going to either take a snooze if it got too boring, or bother the ever-living daylights out of the Jedi until something happened. Either way, really.

"Still waiting for my 'I told you so,'" he added after a second, "or do you still not think that time's all screwy here? 'sides, you can take a nap at night if you really want to, this is important."

A flash of red hair caught Havoc's eye and he turned to see who it belonged to. Someone he didn't know. Not surprising considering there were always new faces around. He gave the woman his usual grin while lifting his head. "Don't know if I can handle much more of this excitement, how about you?"

Lyta just blinked.

"Excitement. Right." Oddly enough, there wasn't the usual mental miasma of emotion coming off of this guy. Everyone else was either wound up tight or angry or terrified. It gave her a headache, all that strong emotion everywhere, seeping in no matter what. At least no one had tried to touch her/

She just shook her head with an almost-smile. Why did she end up with the guys who tried to make jokes about everything? And she wasn't talking about just here at the institute.

Was he seriously still talking to him? Obi-Wan took in another deep breath as the scarred man's voice filtered into his mind, rattling his concentration. The Jedi had a feeling this man wasn't going to let him alone. It was probably best to get any discussion with him out of the way before trying to do any serious meditation.

After a moment, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned his gaze onto the other prisoner. His expression was fairly neutral, save for the faintest trace of a frown on his face.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I can tell it's just too much for you," Havoc joked, waving his hand around to indicate the rest of the room. "Though I guess the quietness of the day balances out the..." Havoc paused, obviously searching his head for the right word. He quickly gave up but continued anyway with, "not so quietness of the night."

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Day 21 - Sun Room

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