Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
Entry tags:
- adelheid,
- aidou,
- blitzwing,
- blue beetle,
- claude,
- daniel jackson,
- depth charge,
- edgeworth,
- edward elric,
- frey,
- guy,
- homura,
- junpei,
- keman,
- kenren,
- kio,
- leon magnus,
- lockdown,
- nataku,
- nigredo,
- okita,
- ren,
- ronixis,
- s.t.,
- sam winchester,
- sanzo,
- scar (tlk),
- schuldig,
- scourge,
- snake,
- sora,
- teisel,
- the doctor,
- the flash,
- the scarecrow,
- wesker,
- willy wonka,
- xigbar,
- yohji,
- zex
Day 40: Greenhouse [Fourth Shift]
Most days, fish and chips (and a cold beer or three) was pretty goddamned high on S.T.'s list of perfect expense-account lunches. Today, the idea of picking at greasy hunks of unidentified bottom-feeder odds-and-ends (politely known as scrod, to the delight of teenagers all across the Northeast) didn't appeal.
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
no subject
Whatever. Rubedo's name was Rubedo's business. Nigredo had no intention of probing further. "Still. I'd rather not be the one to tell him," he replied, "especially since he's your friend." The boy smiled, or more accurately, quirked one corner of his lips. It felt a little bland, even for a stoic such as himself. "And you better talk to him soon. Sora seemed pretty taken aback that his own brother didn't know." He probably figured this out already, but a reminder couldn't hurt.
When the suggestion for a new name was posed, the child blinked. He turned to the elder with one eyebrow shot up toward the sky. His expression? Incredulous. The shock wasn't quite on par with what he felt when the cat was set on fire, but nevertheless, Nigredo had to wonder. What, exactly, had possessed Rubedo to come up such a thing?
"You want to name me after the cat?" he asked, completely deadpan.
no subject
"And why not?" he asked, frowning. No, it was not a pout. "It'd be cool! Besides, it can't hurt to be prepared, right?"
no subject
The younger leaned back into the bench, sighing, before crossing his arms in quiet displeasure. "I don't know... Gaignun?" Nigredo chuckled at the frowning redhead. "I liked the guy, too, but don't you think naming someone after a pet kind of reeks of fixation? Unless you're doing it to make fun of me, in which case I don't approve." He wasn't being entirely serious; in fact, there was something in his tone that hinted agreement. Little brother was taking the elder's words to heart.
Nigredo finally shrugged. "But you're right," he admitted, again solemn. "Preparation can't hurt, and there is nothing else to use. It might help me out, actually. I can communicate over the bulletin without codes." He hesitated momentarily. The shift would sound terribly misplaced without the context, but hopefully, his brother wouldn't question it.
"Rubedo," he started, "I think it might be best for me to keep my distance for awhile."
no subject
Something he was going to mention. And did. And it looked like this day could get a lot worse. Junior blinked, trying to figure out if he'd heard the younger boy correctly. He'd just gotten his brother (both of his brothers, even) back. Now he was going to lose Nigredo all over again? Dammit! It wasn't like he was going to be gone for good, or even like he was doing the same thing as last time all over again, but having his brother right there and not being able to talk to him.
"What!? You're kidding me...right?" he asked. He didn't even really need to, but at the same time, he couldn't just stay quiet for something like that. There was no way in hell. "Why?"
no subject
"Did you forget?" Slowly, the boy canted a head to one side, locking eyes with Rubedo. "Albedo attacked me yesterday. Probably for being with you," he explained. The reason was speculation on his part--likely baseless when reality came into play. Given the unpredictable nature U-DO's taint had on a mind, the middle brother could have jumped him for a variety of reasons (or none, depending). Still, the hasty explanation was a thousand times better than pointing out those other factors. "I don't want to aggravate the situation more than I have to. We don't want to draw too much attention, right? I should be fine being alone for a couple of days."
He needed the break anyway.
The boy let out a labored breath. This was becoming increasingly frustrating to justify. Therefore, he settled on probing for the elder's thoughts. "Are you okay?" asked Nigredo after a brief pause, the strain subsiding in his voice. "I’m sorry I keep forcing everything on you."
no subject
Then Nigredo tried to change the topic, and ended up saying something that only served to remind the redhead more of why he didn't want to let his brother keep his distance. Just don't ask me to kill you this time.
"I'm fine," he insisted, probably a bit too strongly. "You don't force everything on me." Besides, he'd get back at Nigredo for it in the future, when he made him do all the paperwork. "Fine, I get why you want to do this. Just...be careful, okay? You better not go missing on me." Not that Junior could really do anything to him, if he did vanish, but he didn't want to lose anyone else to this place. "And I reserve the right to call you Gaignun on the bulletin, if you don't want Albedo to know."
no subject
"I don't intend to," he assured, "and feel free. It would be kind of pointless if we kept in touch on a public board without a cover." He sounded fairly even and unfettered, as though the boy was engaged in a business transaction, not someone along the edge of disappointment. Talking to this brother made hiding himself much less of a chore.
"Actually, you don't mind if I call you Junior, then?" Nigredo pulled his eyes away from Rubedo to stare blankly out into the garden. "Where did you get this name anyway?" Probably out of a book, he wagered.
[alsdfjasd grammar fail]
no subject
Junior let out a sigh. At least Nigredo planned on keeping in touch. That was good, and the redhead had even managed to get him to accept his future nickname. Sorta. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and they could get through this without too much more trouble.
...Yeah, and the U.M.N. columns would come back all of a sudden. Trouble followed the U.R.T.V.s everywhere, it seemed like, even about something as simple as a name.
The question threw Junior off a bit, but he took it in stride. "Nah, I don't mind. I've got my cover, you've got yours." Not that he could give too much of a reason for that cover, but thankfully it didn't take too long to come up with an excuse. "And, uh...that's what they call me here. Kinda. It sounds a lot better than George, I think." Okay, so it wasn't a complete lie, and it wasn't like he wasn't ever going to tell him the truth. Just not yet.
no subject
Really? That was nowhere near expected. "...Hmm." Nigredo paused to absorb the implications while looking positively suspicious. The view wasn't aimed at his brother so much as the institute. There existed, after all, new facts for consideration. Here, he was Nigel, Albedo was Alan, and Rubedo was George. Or George Junior. So very close to a naming scheme, to the point where the boy had to wonder if it meant anything.
Eventually, he tossed the possibility aside. Probably not. It wasn't enough of a coincidence.
The intercom chimed in before he could raise another point, spelling the end of their conversation. He rose from his seat, quietly, and began to brush off his pants. "I'll see you later." He trailed off, almost earnestly, and stepped back, intending to retreat back to his nurse.
Suddenly, hanging around his brother just didn't seem as nice.