Day 43: Chapel

[constellates.livejournal.com]

And just like that, the disorienting feeling of blacking out just to wake up in an unfamiliar bed came again. Alkaid had wondered if it would - everything about last night had been different, all the way from the zombies to the eerie emptiness of the Institute to the strange broadcast at the end of the night. Had the Head Doctor been shot? Damn, someone had gotten to it before her. And who was the voice at the end there? It was like she'd been allowed access to some kind of strange mystery that she could not understand, one that had been going on for a long time before she had arrived and would be going on for quite a while in the future, after she was gone. Had these strange sets of circumstances been bugs in this place's programming? Who could say?

The morning's intercom greeting was strange, as well. Federal training whatsit? It didn't seem like this happened very often, from the sound of it, but so much had happened since the last day she remembered that the former Demon Palace Emperor was ready to take pretty much anything at face value.

The room she woke up in was still empty. Wondering where to stick the half-cracked bat that she'd picked up last night, she shoved it under the mattress hastily when she heard footsteps in the hall.

The stupid nurse was the same as ever, though. Some things never changed. "Ahh, good morning, Eileen. It's so nice to see you awake."

Alkaid rolled her eyes at the nurse's chuckle, and shook her head. She didn't care that the NPC thought it was nice, she just wanted to see the rest of the institute already.. see what had changed! "Yeah, it's fantastic. Whatever! Just take me where I'm going and be done with it!"

It was just then that she realized that she was not wanting to devour the flesh of the nurse in front of her. And that the pain on her arm had kind of abated - she couldn't see through the thick bandages they had covered her arm with, but she wondered if her skin was still rotting off like a zombie. Had they somehow cured her infection overnight? Or was the nurse not human, like Alkaid had always thought?

There was only one thing for it: she had to go somewhere else.

"Chapel, sun room, or cafeteria, then?"

"Does it look like I care?"

The nurse sighed, then started walking Alkaid down the hall, up the stairs, and down another hall to the chapel. No one here yet, huh? That was weird. She couldn't imagine that no one else'd show up, but who could say? This place had been turned on its ass.

The chapel was empty so far, and kind of nondescript. She shooed the nurse away, and stood in the middle of the space between the pews, standing akimbo. What would happen today? What would she learn about herself... her situation? How long had she been sleeping? Was she really still going freaking undead, or had that been somehow taken care of?

All this would come to light really soon. She hoped. Geez, too many mysteries!!

[unwittingly awaiting Haseo]

Comments

[roger-hug.livejournal.com]

Bridget started awake and felt the dry stiff lines along his cheeks which meant that he'd been crying, probably while still sleeping. Sitting up, he rubbed at his face and waited for the nurse to come pick him up.

He asked to be taken to the chapel. It seemed fitting that he say goodbye where he'd said hello. Ignoring the other person inside, he went to the front and went to his knees, crossing himself and bowing his head, trying not to cry.

Oh, Armand. I'm so sorry...

[poolcuemurder.livejournal.com]

[Don't mind a very confused assassin? :D]

That hadn't been something he had planned on.

As soon as that... drama on the intercom shut off, it was suddenly morning and he was back in the room he had found himself in at night. No Alkaid, no Spock, no undead creatures; just sunlight peacefully filtering through that one window and a broken baseball bat in his hands to let him know it wasn't a dream (unless he was still dreaming, but that would just be silly). He rolled the shattered bat under the bed--from what Alkaid said, he wouldn't be able to use it for now. As it was, a woman made her way into the room with a clipboard and a smile, giving him no time to formulate a plan of escape right now.

"Good morning, Mr. Lant! It's nice to see you awake. I take it you slept well?" She was so... chipper. He could take her down without a bat, charge through the door while there were no undead creatures, and escape back to the Guild. Spock and Alkaid were no longer with him, meaning his obligations to them were over; he didn't need to worry about them. Just hit her, get the bat, and take out any guards in your way. They can't last against an assassin, even one with no magic on his side.

Sigh. He knew better than to try that (sadly). After questioning the nurse for fifteen minutes on just what this place was, its purpose, and why he was here, plus an extra ten about how, no, he didn't want to wear his hair up, he wasn't comfortable with that, and it held the same amount of stigma to him as it would to her if someone asked her to remove her shirt, the woman began her task of leading him through the hallways (and compromising for him to have at least half of his face visible) and eventually upstairs to the chapel.

It was funny how nothing in there pointed to any one religion, just a mash of pews, decorations, and a lone podium that didn't look like anyone was about to use. He let his eyes wander the area- Alkaid. So she was fine after all. Strangely enough, she didn't look worse for wear, which was fine by the assassin. If she was in good health this morning, Spock should be alright as well.

As his nurse was kind enough to take her leave once she had safely dragged him up here, he made sure to pull his hair back down and find somewhere to sit alone. It wasn't until he spotted a familiar face that he found himself abandoning his usual plans of solitude to confront the girl boy.

"You. You're that bounty hunter, aren't you?" Venom wasn't sure they ever exchanged names, but he was certain they had ran into one another a few times, though maybe not on the best of terms. Now wasn't the time to be holding a grudge, though. Besides, the child looked so... distraught. Was he okay? Considering the state of things, the answer was most likely a no. What was he even doing here? What use could they have for him? "How long have you been here?" He was terrible at comforting others. Maybe a change of subject would help?

[wing-head.livejournal.com]

[Free, no limit]

After having almost settled into a routine here, Steve was very surprised to wake up to a computerized voice over the intercom. Given a choice between the sun room and the chapel, Steve decided to head upstairs. It was a room he'd never been in before and he was curious to see it. After all, it was strange to have a chapel in a mental hospital. Not that the rest of what went on here was exactly normal, but as far as cover went.

It was also a surprisingly generic chapel, without crosses or other symbols decorating the area. Steve took a seat on one of the benches quietly. There were only two people in the room so far, so it seemed he'd been woken relatively early.

[diamondstorm]

The statue was not there again. Was this all she had came for? A petty reason, she thought, if that was the reason. Was there something comforting in this place? No, that wasn't it. It was something else.

The Digimon had opened her eyes to the room she called hers at the Institute, the long knife still in her grasp. Automatically she moved to hide it, in the process sending tremors through her body. Perhaps she had pushed herself a bit too much last night. The bindings stayed around her ribs, left thigh, and right arm, and a new cast decorated the lower part of the latter. Renamon frowned at it momentarily, then sighed to herself. Perhaps she would have to learn to work with the limitations given to her, instead of trying to abuse them. Lately, it seemed....

That she'd been having trouble. Last night left a bad taste in her mouth. And the intercom this morning, suspiciously reminiscent of Mello's theories, along with the transcripts of the night before, added to the feeling. Something was shifting at this place, and it wasn't anything good. Anything militarized had a habit of ruining what it touched, and creating something worse. From what she had seen, the same was true for here. And she did not like any of it. Tours? In a place like this? The Digimon watched warily for any that seemed out of place. What was going on here?

And so, notebook under her arm, Renamon had arrived at the chapel, for reasons seemingly unknown. Another glance at the empty space in the front, and she started to circuit the room, casting glances over the people that had decided to seat themselves within. She passed near a large man, and nodded politely, settling herself a few seats down. Her bruised body did not like her motion this morning, and she humored it, feigning peace and stillness instead.

[kindalikedit]

Okay, so food? For one of the few times in his life, just thinking about eating made his stomach turn all over again. Granted, he didn't have anything to puke up this time, but considering how he felt right now, he didn't want to risk it.

That bitch!

A lot of last night was fuzzy, but he remembered enough to remember that bitch giving the order to sedate him when he didn't friggen need it and then lights out in a big way. After that, it'd been a lot of blurs, sounds he couldn't put together into anything familiar, and this sudden realization Sam was there at his side and holding him over as he hurled. It wasn't the first time Sam had to hold him like that. Still didn't make it any more fun and while Dean hadn't exactly cared at the time if Sam saw him like that, it was just another thing he wished now Sam didn't have to deal with. Hell, the kid just came back from the dead and (barely) survived a demon attack. Having to babysit his older brother like that shouldn't have even been necessary.

Dean woke up feeling better, although not one hundred percent. His head still pounded, his mouth and throat scratchy and rough as he swung his legs over the bed. He stood up, only to have pain shoot up his leg. Not enough to send him on his ass again, but definitely enough to let him know something was up. Checking it out, Dean realized it was another injury he didn't remember getting, a big gash on his leg that had been stitched up. Demons again? Dean didn't think so. Not if that tattoo on him was working its mojo, which it should, 'cause Sammy hadn't left any breaks in the lines that one of those black-eyed bastards could use to worm into him. He turned around, feeling his hand touch something hard under the covers. While that could've been the start of a very bad, very awkward porno right there, he was relieved that when he flipped over the covers, it wasn't Angel popping outta the sheets at him but instead just a...knife sheath.

That was a new one.

Dean didn't remember getting one, although there was a lot about last night that was just a washed out blur. Picking it up, the knife handle suddenly dissolved on him, turning into a pile of dust that spilled out of the sheath and onto his bed. Dean could've bought it if the thing had been older than God, but that didn't explain what he was doing with the perfectly intact leather sheath - that should've been the first to go, not the blade itself. He hurriedly crossed the room, ignoring the jolts it sent up his injured leg, and tossed it into the closet, behind the black wifebeater that he remembered from yesterday, and glanced over at Angel's side. If he wasn't sneaking into his bed, then what -

Huh. Angel wasn't there.

The bed on his side of the room was perfectly made; it didn't look slept in. Dean wasn't sure what to make of it. Could just be that much of a neat-freak, the kinda guy who made his bed every morning despite having to jump right back in at the end of the night, the very same kinda guy who had to have his fork and knife all perfectly spaced or he'd flip out. That or there was the other, far worse options, like Angel getting outed a hunter and dragged off, for starters. Dean gazed at the bed. Now he didn't think much of Angel - he wasn't even an incompetent hunter, he was a soft one, which was maybe more dangerous - but that didn't mean he thought Angel deserved to get taken out or possessed or the hundreds of other outcomes out there. Dean pursed his lips, turning away from the bed and just in time for the door to open. Hello Nurse came in, this time with two orderlies.

Obviously his stunt last night and that whole mess with the Ice Queen doctor hadn't gone over too well, 'cause Hello Nurse didn't look all too jazzed at him today.

"Mr. Derringer," she said, curt, "I'll be leading you to the chapel today. Behave yourself."

[kindalikedit]

Dean managed a shameless grin, even as he found himself getting ganged up on by the orderlies, a big dude on each side and towering over him, like he had two hulked out Sams on either shoulder. Dean wasn't sorry he'd had to start crap with "Indy" - it'd been necessary to get lighters - but he could've gone without it spiraling like it did. At least he wasn't getting herded to the cafeteria. He was pretty sure he couldn't hold down breakfast, not yet, at least. If there was anything Dean was proud of - aside from being a crack shot with a crossbow - it was having an iron stomach. He was sure give or take an hour, he'd be able to keep something down.

Even if just walking felt pretty funky. The chapel was upstairs, a part of the Institute that Dean hadn't really explored very much. The chapel itself wasn't weird...until you really took a look at it and realized it wasn't normal at all. Sure, he wasn't religious, and maybe he didn't memorize every weird supernatural fact like his brother, but Dean did know a thing or two about churches and the like. It was just part of the job, knowing what was holy ground, what inside a church might help you and what was just decorative. Dean scanned the room without seeming to: lots of pews, marble, but nothing that'd peg it as a normal, run of the mill chapel. Just from a first look, he couldn't see a single cross here. Not even a rosary. So much for that. Dean would've liked to get hold of one. He didn't have to be a Bible-thumper to know that, for some reason or another, rosaries did work to ward off evil and that was good enough for him. The stained glass was colorful but, again, there were no angels, no specific scenes displayed. Just a lot of abstract colors.

Dean was pretty sure Sam had noticed this too as he headed casually for his brother, forcing himself not to limp even a little with the injured leg. Maybe he'd been pegged as a hunter, maybe not. The last thing he wanted to do was paint himself as an easy target, 'cause there was nothing that said that like a limp. Dean slid into the back pew next to Sam, easing himself down. Sam had picked the best vantage point he could, reasonably close to the exit but not too close in case something came at them that way.

"Got any mouthwash on you?" Dean asked, cracking a small crooked grin at Sam as if he hadn't spent half the night useless 'cause Kisugi pumped him full of drugs. "Ice cream, beer and burgers don't make a great mix. Just thought you should know."

[Sam]

[gald_digger]

Anise awakened slowly, feeling too tired to tear herself away from the bed she was in. She reached out to clutch Tokunaga, but instead her fingers brushed thin curls of hair. Hair? The girl opened her eyes to see the porcelain doll from the previous day lying beside her. So it had gotten through the attack without breaking...

The attack...

The lingering feelings of grogginess vanished in an instant, and Anise snapped awake, fully alert now. The attack! What happened? She'd tried to flee the town with that Leonard guy, and... well, it hadn't worked, obviously. As though not quite believing she'd survived the ordeal, the girl checked her arms and legs for injuries. Aside from some bruises and general soreness, nothing. It looked like the night had come to an abrupt end, like it always did.

As she did every morning, Anise collected her belongings and started putting them away. The new doll went up on her dresser, next to the felt doll she kept there. It was starting to look a little more like a girl's room, she noted somewhat proudly. She found the meat tenderizer she'd grabbed from the kitchenware store, and stuffed it under her mattress with her metal pipe. The carving knife she'd grabbed from the same store was nowhere to be seen, though. Weird.

The intercom came on as she was organizing her things, and she kept working as she often did, but the unnatural voice that boomed through the speakers made her freeze.

... "Federal training sponsorship"? She didn't really get what that meant. What was going on? She didn't have much time to wonder, as her nurse soon came to escort her like always. Something was different, but apparently not everything was.

The girl spent a few minutes in the Sun Room, trying to catch up on what was going on, before finally heading to the chapel, as she did every week. As much as the place made her homesick a lot of the time, it still felt like the most appropriate place for her to go. She sat down on a pew in the front row, and just stared at the altar blankly as she tried to sort things out in her head. There was a lot to process at once.

[free!]

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

He'd done it. He'd almost told Soubi to go after Kio and leave him and Miku and Sousuke behind. He knew in his heart that Kio was important to Soubi because he was actually important, and that Ritsuka was merely his Sacrifice, but that didn't exactly make things any easier to say. Then, just before he could get the words out, the curtain descended and Ritsuka found himself waking up in the Institute again. The sound of dead moaning and the smell of burnt, rotting flesh - all of it was gone.

Now it was just silence. Eerie silence.

Ritsuka sat up in bed, staring down at his hands and then clenched them. The memories of the night before flooded back and he closed his eyes, hunching his knees to his chest as he tried to block the images out. Blackened bodies. Fire. Blood. Pain and death and so many rotten--

Photographs. Soubi had photographs. Miku had been scared. Sousuke was fishing about for things to use in their defense. There. He was calmer now.

Lowering his hands, Ritsuka took a deep breath and slid out of bed. He had apparently overslept because his roommate was gone and his nurse was at the door the moment his feet touched the ground, shuffling him out to 'greet the day' as she put it. Ritsuka felt sick and didn't want to do anything but find his friends. Unfortunately, he wasn't given that opportunity. Instead, he was herded upstairs and then taken into a chapel where his nurse promptly shoved him toward the front and told him to enjoy the morning.

Ritsuka didn't particularly feel like doing anything but sitting down, and so he did, not noticing that there was someone nearby until it was too late. The girl didn't seem much older than him, but he could tell she was a bit taller. And she was staring at the altar with a strange look in her eyes, one that reminded him far too much of his mother when she was hollowed out inside. "...hey, you alright?"

[rocksthecourt]

[for Phoenix!]

There was a sudden touch on Klavier's shoulder, and he instinctively shot arm out defensively, whirling around to push the assailant away from him. ...Only it seemed he was no longer standing, but was lying on his back. And his would be attacker was an extremely startled-looking nurse who'd narrowly escaped getting slapped in the face. With a face mirroring that of his nurse, Klavier blinked in confusion.

His nurse exhaled patiently, but was obviously still wary at this sudden shift in behavior. Putting on a gentle voice, she tried to coax him into a calmer state, but his borderline panic was slow to fade. The woman seemed convinced he'd had some kind of nightmare. It was bewildering. Did she really not know anything? Even thought it had happened beyond this one building? That didn't seem believable....

After taking the few moments the woman offered to collect himself, Klavier quietly got up, took his notebook, and followed the nurse to the Chapel. 'So he could relax,' she said. Honestly, he couldn't see himself relaxing any time very soon, but he decided against arguing the choice.

He pulled himself from his nurse once they'd arrived and quickly took the first available seat he could find. He was far too distraught to do nothing. At times like these, he needed to distract himself with something - anything. He opened his notebook and started to write down what he could remember about the night before. Any and all detail, no matter how insignificant. Now while it was still fresh in his mind. It would, strangely enough, help his nerves if he kept it up.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

At the change, Phoenix wasn't even sure that he woke, it happened so quickly. One moment he was watching Senna, ready to tell her not to worry, which wasn't an answer at all but at least wouldn't get him chained to a chair. He clenched his fist tighter, told himself he wouldn't move if he didn't let himself, his hand wouldn't reach out and grab Edgeworth's sleeve or Ken's collar, it wouldn't jerk them close in a moment of surprise and no no no his jaws wouldn't open and bite and bury and tear-

And then, like a bubble popping, everything was gone but fabric and light and a bright plane of white paint in front of his eyes. He heard himself panting tensely, breaths shuddering out of him off-balance and only gradually slowing. His arm was prickling pins and needles, afterimage of the pain that had been making it impossible to even think a second ago, and even that began to fade as he rolled off of that same shoulder. For what seemed like a very long time, he stared at the ceiling, listening numbly as the foreign announcement clicked on and off again. It took his nurse several tries to convince him to look at her, and a few more before he was sure that they really would lock him away with the doctors if he just kept lying there, mute.

The chapel was the only natural choice, though only because even the smell of food would've made Phoenix sick right now. He was definitely sure that he wanted an hour or so to collect himself before he even tried to look at bacon. Maybe it would be better to put me away in the infirmary for a day. If that - whatever that was - if it comes back again tonight . . . He felt along the edges of his bandaged elbow with his similarly-bandaged hand, half-hearing his nurse as she chided him not to start picking at it. He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly a second, then opening them again. If that happened to him again tonight, then he could deal with it tonight. For now, he had a day that he couldn't afford to waste drifting around in a haze. He needed to meet with Franziska, more than anything. And if he had a visitor, he'd need to be on his toes for that, too.

That was what he told himself, at least. Honestly, he still felt woozy, and it was like slogging through cold mud every time he had to pull himself out of recollections of going crazy smelling fresh blood, of taking that bat into both hands and thinking of nothing but a frenzied loop of they're going to die if you don't do something and swinging and-

He blinked, hard, and found himself in the chapel. Already. Huh. Without really looking, he scooted into a seat near the back. Too late, he spotted a figure a few feet away in his peripheral vision, pale blonde hair pulled over one shoulder, and had halfway worked himself into a state of hell I do not need to deal with Kristoph right now when he turned his head and saw that he'd been mistaken. Mostly, at least - the man just over an arm's length away was similar-looking, but not the same. That brother he'd heard about, then?

Well, he seemed busy writing, and Phoenix, for once in his life, decided he could wait until he looked up.

[number1smiley.livejournal.com]

Teresa slowly opened her eyes to find herself just as she had the last time she'd opened her eyes - laying on a bed in that facility. The fact that it was lit was the only real difference. She wasn't used to laying down at all as hybrids only needed a few hours of rest against their sword and they were perfectly refreshed.

The door to the room opened and a woman wearing white entered. A human. The hybrid's lip twitched in something that could have been a sneer before it disappeared. She was being kept in this place by humans? This made no sense to her. In fact, this human didn't even seem to know what the Organization was or what a 'Claymore' was. She even so much as insisted that Teresa's name was really Nina.

Unlike some of the other warriors Teresa knew, she did not lash out at this human and the situation she was in. She'd observe and then see what to do. So, when she was lead into a room dedicated to the ridiculous human obsession with gods, the hybrid did not sit down. She stood against the back wall and watched the room with silver eyes.

Did they expect her to pray to a god that required its chosen people to create monsters like her?

[free!]

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

Someone had decided to take pity on Kibitoshin, because finally the night was over! While this had the unfortunate downside of stopping him from catching the other two's names it was a small price to pay for being taken away from those rotting, unstoppable creatures, with their tearing hands and their gaping, gashed mouths and their bloated faces, and...

He shivered. Suddenly eating didn't seem all that appealing.

The best thing he could do for himself now, he decided eventually, was give himself something to take his mind off of everything that had happened. Placing the usual notice to check on everyone he knew, he let his nurse take him somewhere new: the chapel? Wasn't that some kind of Earthian religious thing? Now was his chance to find out.

Kibitoshin stepped into the room gingerly, as though even the sound of his steps could rip straight through the floorboards. The room was all marble engravings and intricate gilded edges, and overhead he could see an organ just waiting to be played. None of it furthered his understanding of what the room was actually for at all. Maybe it was just somewhere to be quiet?

Footsteps light, he slipped around the back of one of the pews and stood at what he hoped was a respectful from a blonde woman, who, strangely enough, didn't seem to be all that interested in doing whatever it was you were supposed to do in here. That didn't mean she wasn't busy, of course. Kibitoshin gave her a hopeful, apologetic smile. "Is it okay if I stand here?"

[lady-general.livejournal.com]

Celes had woken up in fight mode, the knife in her hands still clenched tightly. She noted with some vague amusement that she'd been well-cleaned before waking and the bite on her arm had been bandaged neatly. Celes only wished she had a moment to check on it. Her arm ached when she pushed the covers off and hid the knife in her closet next to her clothing. The new voice on the intercom was strange and disturbing.

Before she deigned to eat, her first stop was the chapel. Celes paid little mind to the others, and sat down at a pew to start her prayers. It wasn't, she reminded herself, that she'd been terribly religious before, and she wasn't now, either, it was only that it was familiar, and a familiarity that she approved of.

O Triad, do I now put before thee...

[nobleman]

It wasn't often these days that Guy woke up gasping. He was too used to the institute for it to faze him much anymore, but last night had been hardly normal. Just having to deal with an unending hoard of zombies would have been bad enough, but then Claude had been bitten -- one bad thing had led to another after that. Guy hadn't realized that the creatures carried infection until he'd seen the rot on Claude's shoulder, and he hadn't realized the true danger until they'd ended up in another scuffle and he'd been bitten by his own friend.

He'd tried to stay calm, but the symptoms had kicked in quickly. His own skin had started to decay, a steady hunger had grown in the pit of his stomach, and then--

Back to morning. Guy was sweating in his bed, clutching the covers with both hands before he glanced down to his chest. He pulled up his shirt only to find that he was tightly bandaged, and he was about to start checking under them when the nurse walked in.

He quietly stood and pulled his shirt back down as the woman chattered to him about the free choice day -- all things he already knew, and not something he could really focus on at that moment. When she offered him three different places to go, Guy immediately chose the chapel. He was hungry, but that hunger scared him even though it seemed normal enough now. The chapel would calm him down.

He wasn't surprised to find that it was rather noisy despite it being a place of worship, though he quickly found someone else who seemed serious about using the room to find some inner peace. He silently slid into a seat next to Celes, though he kept a safe distance between them as he closed his eyes and tried to recover from last night's events. He wasn't big on praying, but he liked the feeling of places like this.

[himetsuru.livejournal.com]

It was unbelievable that after everything that happened the previous night, all the cuts and bites she'd taken, that Falis did not require a wheeled chair or even crutches. Oh, she was in pain, looking like she'd gotten into a fight with a blade golem, but she could still walk on her own. The worst part about it all was the hangover she had from forcing herself to get drunk at the end of the night once Hokuto had gotten her out of the park. She'd manage, but she was not looking forward to the day.

If she'd been aware of what religion really was, Falis would have found the nurse's choice to bring her to the chapel oddly appropriate, as if the woman had known she'd killed an innocent man in the midst of her rampage and wanted her to repent. Falis was upset that she's ended his life when she'd tried so hard to save him, but she had killed enough people over the course of her life since it had made its presence known to not agonize over it.

Sitting down on a pew, Falis closed her eyes to the light and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn't even know what that man's name had been. Falis had no intention of looking for it. She did not wish to bring attention to herself. Not today when her head felt like it was going to split open if she looked at the light funny.

[for Sechs]

[sixth-attack.livejournal.com]

Buried deep within a disarray of twisted bed sheets, the slumbering Replica restlessly tossed and turned whilst murmuring out a jumble of words and names. Some of his bemoaned words included Armand, guard and repair...

Suddenly Sechs' pained sleep was sharply interrupted by the harsh, robotic voice that screeched over the speakers. Giving off a startled yelp, Sechs sprung awake, expecting to see another deranged zombie stumbling towards him with its jaws unhinged for a bite. Yet instead Sechs found himself back in the same plain room he had woken up in before. Once realizing that he was back in the institute and away from the zombies and... Armand... the Replica gave out a frustrated growl as he flopped back against his pillow. Thinking over what had occurred the day before, Sechs felt overcome by a nauseating mixture of pain and bewilderment. "Shit! What a day..." Sechs groaned. The Doyleton trip and all that occurred there was like an emotional roller coaster from hell! Dammit! He really hated this...!

It was then that Sechs noticed that his left hand was still clasped upon the wooden handle of his double bit axe. Blinking with surprise, the Replica gingerly rose up to find his tool to be nearly spotless, it was as though it had never been used in the gory activities from the night before... He was also back in the institute's grey uniform and his splint had been replaced with an even stiffer brace that made the use of his right hand even more strenuous. How the HELL does this keep happening? The thought of some strangers screwing around with his body while he was unconscious vexed Sechs to no end...

Taking advantage of the institute's mistake of leaving the axe in Sechs' possession (or was it done on purpose...?) Sechs struggled out of the disordered bed covers and stuffed the axe away into his closet. Just as he slammed it shut, a rather standoffish nurse barged her way into the room to gather him up with the rest of the patients.

By the time he was finished going through the message board in the sun room and then dropped off in the ambiguous place of worship, Sechs' terrible mood had intensified tenfold. His nurse proved to be, in Sechs' own words, "stupid and useless as a damn Deckman!" She refused to answer his questions about the night before and she just insisted on calling him that infuriating "Mr. Sasaki" name. To add insult to injury, the Replica's demands to know what became of Armand went unanswered, leaving his rage to fester inside him.

Disgruntled and furious over the denial he encountered from the staff, Sechs restlessly shuffled around the chapel like a caged tiger as he fumed over the information he had gathered from the board so far.

A female with really long blond hair and red eyes... But where was he going to find this "patient"?

And then he saw her. The lengthy hair was hard to miss and he caught a flash of scarlet in her eyes before she sat down on one of the benches. That must be her! Latching onto his target, Sechs zeroed in on his suspect without another thought, dismissing any possibilities of an honest misunderstanding. He didn't care. Right then all Sechs wanted was an outlet for his anger and he wanted it NOW!

Standing over his target from behind the pew she sat on, the Replica's aura practically crackled with rage as he snarled in a dangerously low tone, "...it was you who killed him last night... Am I right?!"

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Edgeworth woke with a start, half-expecting to find that he'd been knocked out and had the undead swarming over him. What he didn't expect at all was a recording, and a strange one at that. What was that? Consoles? Welcome bags? It honestly sounded like a facility tour.

He made some mental notes on that, then headed upstairs. It had become something of a custom to go up to the chapel on Sunday mornings, since the Head Doctor's first speech. He had stopped thinking that the man's appearance was likely, but regardless, it was better to be there and able to report on it than not.

On the way up, he remembered that he was supposed to be meeting Javert there. Well, that just made the meeting easier. He settled into one of the pews near the back, and waited.

[closed to Javert.]

[unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com]

Javert awoke to a veritable cacophony of aches and pains, all of them, he discovered as he moved his arms and legs experimentally, having been tended to sometime in the night. He wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with that. Nor was he entirely comfortable with the alien voice coming from the intercom. He might be a century and a half behind the times, but even he could tell that something was wrong with the woman's voice.

The gloves he had taken from the hardware store were gone, but the axe was still here, lying on the floor as if it had fallen from his hand during the night. Javert's eyes narrowed at the sight; as if he needed any other signs that they were merely toying with the patients here.

The axe went into his closet, next to his saber. Then it was slowly up the stairs under the watchful eye of his nurse and into the chapel. Edgeworth was seated near the back, and Javert made his way over as quickly as his injuries would allow.

"Morning, M. Edgeworth," he said, dropping into the pew beside the younger man. "How did you fare last night?"

[tostepforward.livejournal.com]

Ever since she had first found herself in this place Ayumu had continually encountered stranger and stranger situations. Last night, however, had gone far beyond anything she'd ever seen, or even imagined, and apparently this bizarre new twist hadn't ended even with the morning light.

At least she was back in the building, and no longer surrounded by hordes of foul-smelling walking corpses. She'd never thought she would find that a relief, but the relative safety was nice, even if the events of the night previous had only made her even more determined to return home as soon as possible. Not that Kyoto would be safe, not by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there the dangers were familiar ones that she knew how to deal with. There she had things she needed to accomplish, which couldn't be done if she fell in battle here against some bizarre nightmare creature made flesh.

Some of what she'd picked up in town had made it back with her, though it seemed rather odd to her exactly what had. All of the pieces of candy she'd stolen from the toy store were still there, but only one of the packets of skewers from the kitchen store? Odd, how that happened, though the fact that they, whoever they were, had let her keep any of it was likewise odd.

She slipped her newly-obtained prizes into their usual hiding place before the nurse arrived to collect her, then picked up her journal and headed off with the woman for the morning shift. Given the options, she decided to go with the "chapel" - not from any sudden need for western religion, but merely because it was a place she'd never been. It meant she would only have time for a very brief stop at the bulletin board before heading upstairs, but she could deal with that; everyone else seemed to be congregating there anyway, which made it difficult for her to leave her own note where she needed to.

Once she reached the chapel she found the faces were entirely unfamiliar. For once not in the mood to strike up a conversation with a stranger, Ayumu found a seat in an unoccupied row and there settled down. With her attention seemingly directed upwards in an absent, unfocused contemplation of the room's decor as she kept an eye on those around her, she allowed her thoughts to drift, mentally sorting and filtering through what she'd seen and learned. Every now and then as she thought, her fingertips brushed lightly against the cover of her journal, as though reminding herself of what it contained.

[free~]

[host-club-honey.livejournal.com]

Last night was a nightmare and Honey was just glad to have Usa-chan by his side when he woke up. The mop handle from last night was still in his hands and he placed it under his mattress, listening to the strange broadcast for this morning.

He didn't have much appetite when the nurse led him out of his room, so he followed her up to the chapel; it was something new, and it was nice to get to see the second floor a little during the daytime. At least the nurse had let him check the bulletin. While he didn't see anything from the twins, Tamaki and Takashi were alright, and Ed too. Maybe they'd gotten lucky.

Honey looked for a familiar face and was glad to see that Anise and Sen were alright. He hesitated a moment before deciding to go see the second girl.

"Sen-nee?" he asked, hopping up onto the bench and sitting beside her.

[she-is-ruin.livejournal.com]

_{[free, no limits]}

The girl woke from her unconscious state still in the high of a fight, which translated to a short, gasped breath and fists clenched in the bed sheets. So out of sorts was Yomi that for a moment, there was a beat of white noise, sheer silence in the maelstrom of her head, before her mind began to process what she was doing, seeing, feeling. Lying on her back with her hair undone beneath her, a whitewashed ceiling above her, and sterile sheets around her.

Back. Night had ended, and she was back. The bar, the lesser Category Ds, the one she’d been battling… they were gone, and…

Although a part of her was still struggling with the transition, Yomi forced her body to calm and begin adjusting to the new situation--that she was, once again, rolling out of bed in her pjs like an invalid after a vivid nightmare. Only in addition to the injuries on her left arm, Fujiwara Yoshiko now had a fresh bandage wrapped around her right. The twinge of pain told Yomi that in protecting the upper half of her body, the D had raked her arm just enough to be a bother.

That, she could ignore, but it was testament to just how jarring it was for sesshouseki and girl to be so soundly whisked away from last night’s ’situation’ that it took her another second to realize the usual intercom announcement was different. Very different. Forgoing all pretence, Yomi jerked her head up sharply, a frown marring her features. “Today, we will be showing what a normal schedule for one of our patients will be like by putting you in their shoes.” What was that? She struggled all the more to fill in the gaps, fully alert now. Iris. Iris? Something about a personal console…

She hadn’t been listening closely enough, and something in Yomi came to a hotter burn, infuriated at being treated like a puppet on strings over and over. One step forward, three steps back, that was what it felt like. She spent the rest of the time before her door unlocked readying herself until the unorganized mess of her waking reaction felt as sharp as a knife, tucked behind the usual benign smile she reserved for the Institute’s staff. And when someone finally did come to collect her, Yomi made her choice without a blip in her façade. She hadn’t seen this ‘chapel’ yet.

It wasn’t much to look at in all honesty, but the layout and design of the Institute was less of a concern for her that morning, considering everything there was to mull over after a brief stop at the bulletin board. Hair back up its ponytail, Yomi slowly padded up the main aisle, the tail of it swinging behind her. Were any of the others praying? Wishing for answers, or for what had happened to never happen again?

Taking the aisle seat at the front of the chapel, Yomi sat. If she were the praying type, she’d only want back what’d been taken from her--she’d take care of the rest.

[lastlovesong]

Chise woke up to the smell of new bedsheets and fire-free air. For once she was glad to be back inside the institute, away from the horror-stricken-zombie-infested-nightmare town. Thank god for that!

Speaking of gods, she never seen the chapel before(or knew they had one). Back home she occasionally found herself visiting the nearest church whenever the battle was over. Did she feel the need to pray to god to repent all the sins she've done? Or did she go there to ease her soul? Whatever the reason was, she didn't know.

Inside the chapel had a very simple design, complete with pews and an alter. Sitting down in an empty pew, she let herself be taken away by the peaceful atmosphere.

[Fai-mama!]

[not-rly-fai.livejournal.com]

Yuuhi woke suddenly, eyes darting around the room as he threw the blankets back and pressed his back to the wall. Empty.

Whatever had gone on last night, it'd vanished now, leaving him with the taste of blood in the back of his mouth and a wobbling weakness when he tried to get out of bed. The announcement came on and he steadied himself on the edge of the bed. By some miracle he was still alive. But what about the others? Last night was a blur. After he'd used his magic, things had gotten fuzzy. Were they alright?

Either way, he had little appetite after last night; he could still smell the rotting corpses that'd been pressed all around them. He had a feeling any food wouldn't stay down and since there was another option, he took it.

The nurse led him up to the chapel and pushed him toward Chise, deciding for him that he needed to spend more time with his "friends." After a warning to play nice this time, she left him to sit next to the young girl. She seemed to be tired or absorbed in her own thoughts though. For the moment, he said nothing, but glanced around the now familiar setting. It was a relief, at least, to know she was alright. There was still Ururu and the others in the club, he recalled somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew he ought to have posted a message, but after last night, what if he didn't like the responses he got?

[idolism]

_{[free, no limits]}

Aidou was ready to go anywhere, do anything, so long it lessened the memory of disgusting, undead hands on him, and disgusting, undead bodies all around him, and the smells, and every other sensory memory that refused to leave him. He could still smell them everywhere, but that was apparently explained by the fact that the bites were infectious, and now other prisoners smelled like disgusting, undead corpse--

The vampire chose a pew seat as far from anyone else as possible, and ran his hands over his face. He tried to focus on other things, besides the obvious.

… Like how he’d just come away from a night spent outrunning hundreds of zombies! Zombies. It didn’t help that he hadn’t been bitten, or otherwise physically harmed, because being in biting-distance of the moaning freaks at all was too close already. Ugh, the night had been its own indescribable horror fest, so much so that the daylight seemed almost a blessing. And in a way, that meant Landel was winning, and he couldn’t win--but damn, he had to trust the information he’d gleaned from the bulletin that morning, which added only more questions to the mix. Stupid, stupid, stupid zombie stereotypes!

He’d managed not to fully consider the possibilities of just who might’ve come back from the dead besides Alec Doyle, and he’d continue to do so. With as much effort as he could.

Lifting his head just high enough so that he could see over the edge of the pew in front of him, the noble’s expression gave away exactly what he thought of what’d been happening only a moment before he’d awoken in his cell. It was enough to make his skin crawl. Because he could still smell them, blegh.

Separating last night’s circumstances from the oddity of the intercom announcement was going to take more time for the young vampire.

[stringless-doll.livejournal.com]

One minute he was in the car thing beside Will, the next he was laying in bed again with no transition at all. Nataku sat up slowly, his whole body protesting with little injures he hadn't even noticed the night before. It looked like they hadn't made it out of town after all, but he wasn't as disappointed (or surprised) as he ought to be by that. Given the time to think it over, he wasn't sure what he would have done if he'd woken up outside somewhere anyway. Even with Will, he would have spent a great deal of time wondering about Kenren and Homura and the others. It would have been impossible not to come back for them.

Speaking of which, Ritsuka was nowhere to be seen, but his bed was obviously slept-in so Nataku wasn't overly worried.

As he moved to get out of bed, he found the machete still beside him. No longer streaked with gore, it was a pleasant surprise. It was unfamiliar and small and not at all graceful, but a comfort to have something that felt like a weapon in his hand. He tucked it beneath the mattress just before the nurse came in for him.

After leaving a quick note on the bulletin, he asked to see the chapel out of curiosity. He'd never been inside one before, and he didn't know where any of his friends would be anyway.

It was more boring than he expected, just rows of benches and a different backdrop from the sunroom. He wondered over to one of he windows, vaguely intrigued by the multicoloured glass and swatches of red-orange-green-blue light. What was this place for, anyway? Was it just a place to sit around and talk like everywhere else? Nataku sighed. He would have taken more of last night over another long day of sitting around doing nothing inside.

He pressed his hand against the glass, scowling to himself. On the other hand, if they'd escaped, at least he wouldn't be here, weakened and caged. He'd thought it wouldn't make much of a difference to him with no one to use his strength, but not having it when he needed it...that was another matter. The window remained unbroken beneath his palm.

[Closed to bird boy~]

[no-ones-son.livejournal.com]

Jason jerked awake again, immediately throwing himself out of the bed and to his feet, looking for any sign of danger.

What. The. Fuck? He'd thought for sure that they were almost in the clear. How the hell was he back here again?

"Fuck!" He spun around, kicking the dresser and slamming it back into the wall in a fit of rage. More furniture would've been drawn into the assault if it hadn't been for the intercom coming on to deliver it's message, the change from the usual routine making him stop and listen. That was something new. It suggested that something wasn't going as planned here. Didn't make him any less angry - at this place for managing to round them all up again no matter how much they were spread out and at himself for being stupid enough to think they could get away that easily. He knew nothing was ever that easy but he'd still believed.

Fine, he could deal with this. Just think of it as another fucking lesson. Not like he had any other choice. His mood did improve slightly when he saw the machete laying on the floor by the bed. Yeah, the fact that they wanted him to be better armed was a bad sign but he'd needed a weapon and now he had one.

About then the nurse came to collect him, same as always, acting like there was nothing different about this morning and like they hadn't still been in the town last night. Following her out of the room, Jason turned down the offer of 'brunch', really not in the mood for food just yet. Last thing he remembered he'd been surrounded by the living dead - it didn't matter if that's what he was too, at least he wasn't rotting anymore - and eating was the last thing on his mind. He didn't feel like sitting around the sun room either. He should talk to the other inmates about what had happened last night and this morning and try to get some leads but he wasn't in the mood for that crap. And he sure as hell didn't want to look for Alfred (or Bruce) to make sure they- he was OK. So Jason went to the chapel. No one he knew would be there.

Except someone was, but it was someone he didn't mind seeing again so it wasn't a bad thing. Wandering over to Nataku, he slumped back against the wall. "Generally they don't break just by looking at 'em, no matter how much you glare."

[feartehreaper.livejournal.com]

[One pre-sedated Haseo for yon Alkaid up thar. Limit: ask first. ^^;]

The woman escorting Haseo had a displeased look on her face as she half-dragged him up the stairs, and though it was clear she was trying to be kind to him and filled her ongoing babble with words like "horrible nightmares," "it's not your fault," and "should have known," anyone with a few brain cells to their name could have told she wasn't having the best morning so far.

Even dazed and drugged out of his mind, Haseo thought that indeed she "should have known" leaning down right in his face when waking him wasn't anywhere close to being a good idea. He'd spent the night fighting off endless hordes of the undead, so yeah, he might be a bit "jumpy." It was a shame he was too indifferent to hope the blow was still stinging.

Instead, he was forced to valiantly avoid tripping over and try piecing together the idea that he wasn't in Doyleton fighting for his life anymore, and that there was something, definitely, that was off. At the moment he couldn't quite figure out what might have happened to him that made trying to kill the staff to death for throwing them all to the zombies not as appealing as it should have been.

He was sure of one thing, however. All of that - the zombies escaping from the ground and surrounding forest, he and his friends fighting and desperately looking for a place of relative safety - it wasn't a dream, and the shell-shocked expressions sported by the other 'patients' and rather extensive bandaging covering his own arm from nearly his shoulder to fingertips proved it. And then there was always--

...Oh. This place.

Considering the nurse had explicitly mentioned where she was taking him, Haseo probably should have known earlier that it might mean finding the weird chapel he and Endrance had been sent to two nights previous. But he was way too tired to make an argument, and with nothing better to do, he continued to ignore what the nurse had to say and wandered a few steps in, staring at the ceiling and dully imagining it upside down and bleeding "up" against his own sense of gravity. Proper lighting and different point of view aside, he was pretty sure it was the same place.

He was just about to duck into a pew and try waiting out the shift half-conscious when his gaze finally traveled downward enough to catch sight of something else entirely, and all at once he froze up, merely staring at the young woman in the middle aisle like she was an illusion that would dispel if he dared to make another move.

"...Alkaid?"

[constellates.livejournal.com]

As the room slowly filled up with people, Alkaid breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like Landel's as usual, now, and while she wasn't exactly happy that the maybe-program still had a bunch of people captured within it, she was super glad not to be alone with a bunch of noobs anymore. And - ah! - there was Venom the Hair Guy. How could anyone mistake that big blue eye dyed onto his hair? Looked like he'd made it to the land of the living okay. Not that he'd been in danger, but, eh, whatever.

She looked boredly at a pew, about to take a seat, when she heard her name. And in that unmistakable voice, too! That guyyyy.

She turned around, waving happily to her friend. "Oh, hi, Haseo!"

He looked different. Not just tired, as if he had been drugged, but the wavemarks on his face, and his hair, had changed from the last time she saw him. It was like he was in his old Flick Reaper form. Geez, Adept Rogues had it kinda good sometimes, even though they were still a jack-of-all-trades class. Being able to change your costume was kinda cool. Alkaid liked her normal outfit just fine, though.

Maybe he'd just had a rough night. In any case, good old Alkaid could take care of that!! And if it was true that she'd been out for a while, like she had theorized last night, he might be kinda surprised to see her again.

"Come on, the Haseo I know wouldn't let a thing like zombies get him down!" She winked, taking a step toward him, putting the hand that waved back on her hip.

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

The past night--and really, the past week--had weighed heavily on Kurt's mind. He was glad to finally have the chance to visit the chapel, and on Sunday no less. It wasn't a Mass by any means, but it was designated as a house of God. Even if it was in a hellhole of a place.

Kurt slipped into one of the pews and bowed his head, falling into silent prayer.

God in Heaven... deliver us from this place. Help us who can't help ourselves...

He was mostly remembering Peter today. No one should have to go through watching their best friend die twice, and yet Peter had experienced that. Both of their powers drained, and with nothing for them to fight with save scraps of metal and some matches, Kurt didn't know if they would escape this without divine intervention.

(Free!)

[mind-the-sukima.livejournal.com]

A passing glance at the bulletin board told Yukari that, despite their hardships, Sheena and she had gotten off quite lightly the night before. The idea of having to fight off hordes of the undead all night long was simply... tiring. Yawning, she followed her nurse upstairs.

Ever curious, the youkai had opted to visit the Chapel, one of the places she'd yet to see yet. She'd seen some writings regarding it on the board before, but it seemed the strange statue that had been mentioned was something that only occurred at night. Still, it was interesting enough to see during the day and it had been decades since she'd been inside a Christian house of faith. Sitting down besides a young man obviously deep in prayer, she considered what her own faith meant. Youkai could venerate gods as well as humans could, but when her power rivaled that of one...

Of course, that wasn't exactly the case now. Getting some divine help wouldn't hurt, but she somehow doubted this building would function as a branch shrine for the gods that she was more familiar with. Churches tended to be quite exclusive on only serving one master. Still, for those whose faith did belong to that master...

"It must be nice to have somewhere to place your faith in these times," said Yukari absently, leaning her elbows on the back of the pew before her. It was a waning trend, but it seemed this sort of thing was still important for some humans in the Outside World.

[gentiana-clusii.livejournal.com]

Okay, whatever the fuck happened last night, Ken could quite safely say that he did not want to see it happen again. He'd take mind-numbing monotony over zombies any day.

Speaking of mind-numbing monotony...by the time he woke up, Yukito--or Yue, whichever--had already left. Or never came back to begin with, but Ken really hoped that wasn't the case. His nurse, assuming 'Andrew' would want time for quiet reflection, or perhaps mistaking him for a practicing Christian, led him to the chapel after a short pause by the bulletin, just enough to scribble out a response to Artemis and realize halfway down the hallway that he hadn't signed it. Well fuck. He blamed it on being distracted by the fact that his leg fucking hurt.

...if Sister could hear him now, he'd be getting his mouth washed out with soap. For starters.

Tiredly, Ken found a pew and dropped into it, staring up at the stained glass windows and their studiously non-denominational patterns.

What the hell. How much could it hurt? Ken bowed his head and began to pray, something he hadn't done regularly since he was a kid. What was the worst that could happen? Nothing. They were all already in a pretty good approximation of Hell.

[Free, no limits!]

[briar-thorns.livejournal.com]

This jarring wake-up was getting on Aya's nerves. No, it was past that.

His roommate wasn't there when he awoke, alive or just ushered out before Aya awoke, he wasn't sure for now. At least working at home allowed him the luxury of knowing if his acquaintances and teammates were alive when he went to sleep.

...at least he got to choose when he fell asleep as well.

Not that it mattered. Aya didn't feel like he'd slept at all as he sat up, choking down the lingering taste of salt and water and chasing the sent of rotted corpses away from his mind. His arm, he found was neatly bandaged and strapped into a sling. Didn't stop it from hurting.

He was ready to go when his nurse showed up and ignored every single word she said. The priority right now was to make find his teammates. Yohji was confirmed in passing by the Sun Room, and Ken had to have swept in as well because his scrawl was up on the board under their teammate's note.

Finding Ken in the chapel, kneeling and for all it looked like praying was unexpected. Aya slowed as he approached, then stopped. Would it do any good? He never had believed in heaven. Hell was where he pronounced Weiss' targets were going and deserved to be for what they'd done. Maybe this was hell. They all had died in the water and this was what he was trapped in, sentenced to for his own actions. Trapped in this place with only the faintest tease that she was alright.

Maybe...

His hand on the arm uninjured clenched.

Hell would have to try a lot harder.

[shallweplay.livejournal.com]

Much to Ophelia's chagrin, she had no chance to further slash her way through the undead hordes. As she had just told Kvothe, the usual dawning and reawakening had taken them before they could escape the borders of the town. She did not have much time to dwell on her disappointment, however, when the intercom caught her attention. The voice she heard upon awakening was neither Landel's nor the Head Nurse's. In fact, it didn't even sound like a living being's voice; it sounded artificial, just the way GLaDOS did, only even more stilted and with less emotion. Two glaring upsets in the established order in less than a day. Things just keep getting more and more interesting, she thought with a smirk as she rose out of bed.

She looked under her pillow, half expecting to find nothing there but her flashlight as usual. She had awoken more than once now to find useful weaponry snatched from her grip, and while it was always unbelievably frustrating, she wasn't going to let herself lose her head over it every time. To her delight, one thing from the previous night had remained - the long, lovely butcher's knife. Artificial or not, if this being is Landel's replacement, I think I'm liking it better already. Let's hope it's easier to topple and rip apart as well. The warrior licked her lips and hid the knife away beneath a pile of grey clothing in her closet.

After her nurses came to collect her, she was asked where she preferred to spend her first shift. While the natural light of the Sun Room was always appreciated, she was curious to explore new areas of the institute, and told the human women as much. It didn't hurt that in addition to that reasoning, one of her circled areas of interest (the Pharmacy) was on the way to the Chapel. Ophelia and her nurses ascended the stairs, and she noted the route and location of the Pharmacy door as they passed around the railings.

She was about to resign herself to pestering some hapless church-going patients when she noticed something interesting. On the way in to the chapel, she could see a blonde woman standing against the back wall. She did not know the woman's face, but it nonetheless looked familiar in a way that she could not immediately place without her heightened senses. It took a sidelong glance or two before Ophelia could see what it was more clearly - the woman possessed the same silver eyes as she did. Well, well. Has another of our number comes to join the game? she thought with an amused grin, wondering if the other had noticed her in kind.

She was considering heading over to speak to the other warrior directly, but declined for the time being. If the other wished to speak right away, she could approach Ophelia herself. Otherwise, there would be time enough for an encounter later. Besides, she was not in the mood for a potential repeat of her disastrous encounter with Irene in the cafeteria. For the time being, Ophelia slid into a pew on the other side of the room, hoping to find one of her little playthings to perk her up further.

[Eventual threading with Kio, but open to others. Limit: 3]

[stalksperverts.livejournal.com]

He needed time to think and with these free shifts, he would have time to do so. His nurse seemed concerned about the lack of food, but Kio had told her he was fine. He had made his decision. He wanted Soubi to rely on him for once, to do something with him. His hands balled into fists, but he calmly asked for the Chapel. It would be quiet, it would be enough.

The long rows of pews daunted Kio. He'd never been in a church before, but some found solace here. He scanned the room, trying to find someone to talk to. Her blonde hair stood out immediately and a smile blossomed on his face. At least someone he knew who hadn't vanished. He wanted so badly to go and hug her, but he didn't. There was something holding him back, though he did approach her slowly. "Ophelia-kun?" Kio gave her a small smile. Maybe she was busy.

[screwthegods]

The immediate transition from night to day was always startling, even once it became part of the routine. This morning was different only in that the shock was all the greater: Homura had been about to sheathe his weapons (so much as the provided clothing would allow) in preparation for the climb when he found himself laying in bed. Between the adrenaline he still felt from fighting the undead, and the total lack of warning that the intercom usually provided, Homura couldn't hold back a gasp as he sat up. Being taken so suddenly from the battlefield only put him more on edge, and it took several long moments for the demi-god to calm himself.

The routine made it easier; as he became aware of the shift, Homura fell into motions not unlike those he followed any other morning. He immediately sought out the weapons he had carried, knowing that those things patients had on them at the end of night usually remained. However, Homura only found the knife when he searched. Apparently the opportunity to raid the town inbetween shambling waves of the undead wasn't quite the grab-it-all spree it had initially appeared to be.

Still, Homura wasn't going to complain when weapons were so hard to come by, particularly those with blades. Hiding the knife before his nurse arrived, he went briefly to the Sun Room. It was unsurprising to see the flurry of activity on the bulletin after the previous day. And it seemed that new patients had arrived as well, adding to the activity. He left a few notes of his own behind, then headed upstairs to the Chapel. It seemed appropriate, given that apparently, a man with the arrogance of the gods had fallen last night.

Entering the largely quiet room, Homura took a seat near the doors. He saw Nataku talking to an unfamiliar person, and briefly wondered just what had made the boy come here. Perhaps if he had the chance, Homura would find his fellow demi-god to ask later. For the moment, however, he had a previous engagement: the self-proclaimed soldier, if he remembered right. Taura's patience seemed a bit tried over the bulletin. Homura would see just how true that was once they met in person.

[Closed to Taura]

[ninelivesonce]

Taura woke with her pillow twisted in her hands, clenched and ready to strike. At thin air, and with a bag of foam or maybe even real bird feathers. She laughed a little at the incongruity, and sat up. Everything ached, but it wasn't until she started to stand that she realized that blow had done more than bruise. She was going to have to relearn her limits, wasn't she. Ouch. She supported herself with one hand on the dresser while she dug through the drawers for a warmer shirt. She'd have to ask for a hand putting it on, or sit back down.

Huh. Her roommate wasn't there, and her bed had the perfect corners the staff were so fond of -- though maybe Rangiku liked it neat. Still, something seemed different in the room. Or it could just be pain and the strange intercom announcement making patterns appear where there were none. She'd ask; Rangiku knew lots of people here, and surely someone would know. Or want to know.

Taura had sat back down and finished pulling the shirt on when a medtech knocked and then entered. The woman came in pushing a chair in front of her, with two long wooden objects laid across it. "Oh, good, you're awake. You fell out of bed last night, dearie, and shouldn't try to get up. Now, would you like me to wheel you down to breakfast?"

Was she really supposed to pretend to believe that? That falling out of bed could do more than a scraped elbow -- that claw marks and bruises that went down to bone were from fighting a nightmare in her sleep? She just stared back. The chair had wheels -- it was a primitive float chair. Almost ingenious, except that she had a meeting to get to and she would get there on her own two feet.

"I can walk," she growled. To prove it, she took one step, and then another, hissing a little as she put weight on her right leg.

The medtech sighed, and picked up the things, which turned out to be wooden crutches -- there was a design that hadn't changed, except for the fact that no-one in their right mind would make medical equipment out of real wood. Taura took them without further resistance; arguing with medics was like shooting at a plasma mirror; the only damage it'd do was reflective fallout. The crutches were followed by a pill and some water. After assurances that it was just a mild analgesic, and it wouldn't make her drowsy, Taura swallowed it and swung out into the hallway at a steady clip.

She'd planned to drop by the bulletin on the way into the cafeteria. Toss up notes about the two possible disappearances she'd witnessed -- Mr. von Karma's and her roommate, and head in. That had been the plan. Simple, straightforward, nothing could go wrong. Nothing, that was, until she saw a short note, unsigned but needing none, which said that Armand had fallen last night. While she'd been running around haphazardly, unable to gather allies beyond a ragged team that could merely defend itself, one of the best people she'd met here had been murdered. Murdered, not killed, as he was a civilian, and the battlefield was never his home. Damn it. He'd been trying to protect people, even when he didn't have the physical talents for it. He'd flown too close to the sun; let the gravity well pull him down, and leaving only a legacy of broken promises. That was no surprise; she'd never seen a single person go to their death without unfinished business, even among mercenaries. She would keep the ones she could; and the one she'd made to him, to see what she could do for TK if they made it out.

No, not if. Once. She would find a way out, and then she would come back and raze the place to the ground. And that meant she had a meeting to attend. One last sweep of the board turned up Homura's note pointing her to the Chapel. It seemed appropriate, though divine help was not what she had in mind. She headed up the stairs and found the room. A man matching the description was sitting near the back; she set the crutches up against the wall and limped over to sit beside him.

"Homura?" she said, holding out a hand. "I'm Taura."

[141-12.livejournal.com]

After last night, he figured he could forgive himself for skipping meals. Fox and other comments on the bulletin board had implied that this was hardly the usual, but Otacon wasn't feeling too reassured. The clothes they'd put him in every morning appeared nearly brand new, and no trace of dirt or gore remained on his skin, but he still couldn't help but remember rivers of blood and the stench of zombies...

Besides, the last time he'd been upstairs had been during the night, and he wanted to get a fuller picture of the building. The short walk to the chapel didn't reveal anything the bulletin board maps hadn't already noted, but it was still good to know the information was reliable.

"What do you believe in, Mr. Langley?" the nurse asked.

"Me?" Otacon considered trying to correct her, but decided it was probably pointless. "Ah... I'm not really religious." He supposed he was Jewish, but his mother had died so early that all he'd inherited from her was a few Yiddish words, and his father had rarely ever been concerned with questions of a higher power than scientific progress.

The last time he'd been in a room like this had been for his father's funeral service, actually, and that was mostly Julie's influence. No loved ones who'd died since had received any ceremony. Maybe Snake would've, if Otacon hadn't been taken to Landel's Institute before he could have... found him.

Otacon took a seat in an empty pew, and decided he could check up on his friends later.

[Closed to Kaworu.]

[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

All morning, Kaworu's thoughts had continuously wandered back to the night before. His nurse seemed concerned by his behavior, and how difficult it was to get his attention. He did not dislike her, nor was she uninteresting. But when he looked at her, her features blended with the memories of rotting flesh and nameless faces. He couldn't meet her eyes for long.

She suggested he go someplace peaceful, because it was possible that his first day at Landel's had overwhelmed him. He needed to take it easier on himself, she had said. Kaworu had agreed benignly. It did not particularly matter to him where she took him. It was all mostly the same, and did not even differ much from most of his life. It was just another clean facility full of Lilim whose names he mostly did not know.

Though in many ways, he liked it better here. Most of the Lilim ignored him, but it was not the same purposeful avoidance of his childhood. It had never bothered him before, but he wondered if Shinji had changed his standards. There were also a lot more windows. If he thought of those things, nighttime felt fake. Like something he had read about.

As Kaworu glided into the chapel alongside his escort, his eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar figure. He saw the dark hair and the tired, bent shoulders of Otacon.

He must have shown recognition on his face, because the nurse asked, "Do you see someone you know?"

"I do," he confirmed.

"You can go say good morning, but only if you want to," she told him him, so he left her side and approached the man gratefully.

Otacon looked very sad again, so Kaworu smiled at him as he slipped into the pew. "I'm happy to see you again," he said sincerely. Distantly, he acknowledged that Otacon could have easily died last night, if he had indeed experienced the same phenomenon. Many humans could have, of course, but it was good that Otacon had not.

[falseblack]

If Nigredo had any say, he would have continued--black-visioned and unaware--clear through to next week. The conscious world did not seem all too concerned with his presence; time wouldn't be missed, in the end. They, however, felt differently, as evident by the soft hand at his back.

"Nigel? Nigel? Wake up, dear," its owner urged gently. There was a soft intake of breath. "We shouldn't have given him that strong of a dose."

"I'm sorry," another spoke up, before mumbling something inaudible. As if she realized he was listening in. "...mg was enough. It worked with..."

The one whose hand he felt clucked her tongue. "He must be sensitive. Cut the dosage in half next time-- Nigel, dear." The hand shook. "Please wake up."

Nigredo lifted an eyelid, only to clamp it shut immediately. The light forced an increasingly sharp sensation against his sinus, signs of a migraine in full swing. "My head hurts," he whimpered, feeling bad for both his excuse and the part in question.

Eventually, the child stabilized long enough to be escorted out. Of the three choices, they opted to leave him in an area of the institute called the "chapel", where the lack of sun and harsh noises should prove more beneficial than not. Nigredo, who held no opinion, gave no objections and was simply content to lean into the ice pack one of them held out to him. His nerves still crackled almost audibly while his blood rushed in between breaths, but as long as they didn't require him to do much of anything, he should be all right.

Ideally, that is.

[Closed to Sakura.]

[giftofstars.livejournal.com]

Sakura jolted into a sitting position in her bed as sounds outside her room indicated dawn had arrived. Waking up was probably one of the oddest sensations to get used to at Landel’s, and since she had only experienced it once before at the institute, Sakura felt particularly disoriented this morning. “Huh?” she vocalized to herself, gazing around the room in a daze. Yet, it didn’t take long for her to remember what happened. Her memory returned in flashes – Doyleton, horses, Fai, zombies, Yue injured, zombies bursting in, scream of terror as they were about to be overwhelmed. That was where her memory stopped, but merely those images were enough to send her heart racing once more. It seems they were lucky that the night ended there.

Suddenly, a knock on the door caused Sakura to jump in terror once more. “Eri? Are you awake?” a nurse’s voice asked from behind the door.

The young girl gave a sigh of relief and responded, “Yes! I’ll be out in a second!”

Tossing her blankets off, she rushed over to the closet to put on the ugly institute uniform once more. She quickly fixed her hair and the room before running and opening the door. The nurse who she had talked with was simply smiling and ruffled her hair once the door opened.

“I know where the cafeteria is,” Sakura told the nurse with a nod.

“Don’t you want to visit the chapel though? It’s Sunday!” the nurse smiled, taking her hand.

“O-Oh… sure…” Sakura responded unnecessarily, as the nurse was already leading her down the hallway and up the stairs.

Once they had reached the chapel doors, the nurse looked down and began explaining once more, “After you’re done, you can head back downstairs to the cafeteria to eat.” She paused to tap Sakura on the nose. “Have fun!” And with that, the nurse left her without even looking back.

Walking slowly inward, a young boy accompanied by a nurse ice packing his eyes caught her eye. Once she had reached conversation range, she asked, “Umm… are you okay?”

[sheisthecause.livejournal.com]

Well, she was still alive, or something like it, anyway. The first person she thought of wasn't Phoenix or Senna, actually--it was Manny, the same as every other morning. She didn't get up right away, just lay there and wondered whether she should wish he'd be there at breakfast or be glad he wouldn't be. Or even whether she should pray he was still alive or hope he wasn't, so he could go back to El Marrow and get his ticket back, get to where he belonged--and then she did think about the others and she swung her legs out of bed. Wherever Manny and the kids were, she still had people she had to take care of here.

She was still clinging onto the duck cane in one hand. She must have hung onto it even when she was sleeping, and Meche wondered again why the nurses didn't try to take things like that from her. Her ankle took her weight with only the occasional twinge if she didn't try to move too fast, so she got up and walked the cane over to the closet. When the nurse opened the door, she was sitting quietly on the end of the bed, waiting.

She wasn't hungry. Really what she wanted was a cigarette, and to know that the others were okay. Maybe to hear that Domino wasn't coming again this week. Would they let her refuse visitors if so? No, if they'd gone to all the trouble of bringing him back from the dead, they'd probably make her sit with him for a few hours and listen to his insults. Maybe if she just didn't say anything, he'd leave. Sniping right back at him felt good, but it was just what that sleaze ball wanted, wasn't it?

Thinking about Domino's smug face really killed her appetite. Meche got the nurse to walk her by the Sun Room to look at the bulletin board first, and when she was sure everyone was okay, she asked to go to the chapel. She just...needed a little time to decompress, she guessed. Then she'd ask again about letter openers. The nights weren't going to get any easier than this unless she did something to make them easier.

She sat on the far end of an empty pew and bowed her head, wondering what in the world she should pray for. Or to. It was tough to find solace in faith when you knew exactly what was coming, and how ugly it could be. In the end, she just sort of made wishes.

[I heard some creepy little kid with glowing eyes was coming.]

[purgatio]

[yeah, you usually attack the crazy things. or go the opposite direction. =P]

Albedo came off of sedation straight into it again.

The chemical concoction had came late in the day, and had lasted throughout the night, short as it seemed. The edges were just starting to fade when morning settled around him; soft sheets instead of gnashing teeth. He could scream.

And did, at length. Normally, the boy had some semblance of sense. Calling attention to oneself just added trouble, especially when there were things necessary to hide. But after that... After the horde, and Rubedo fighting for them, all for naught. And Nigredo quiet at his back, saying the sentence Albedo couldn't think about, wouldn't think about. -"I don't want to die."- And knowing, somewhere in his sedated lost mind, that they couldn't come back like he did, that they could and would possibly die in this scenario, and then he would be alone, they would be taken away from him-- Throwing himself into the horde as a distraction, as a feeder tray, wasn't the best plan, but it was desperation and sedation, and none of U-DO for once, and they could have died!

He screamed, and he fought the nurses that came, and he tore his room apart in his desperate struggle. Two unknown injections later, and his questions were answered in basic form before the haze slipped back over his eyes. 'George' was fine. 'Nigel' was fine. They were perfectly alright. A part of him caught the hesitation at Nigredo's fake name, but it was soon swept away with the rest; leaving, once more, a consuming loneliness and a deep unending depression. And no brothers in sight, even if they were in the mind to choose to comfort.

And so Albedo couldn't contemplate the confusion of the past twenty-four hours. Not going to Nigredo for comfort; not, then, attempting to murder him; not afterward when they did something close to cuddling in comfort; and not even at night, when he gave himself freely for a chance at their lives. No, none of that was present, and neither was his taint. A part of him wished for U-DO then, anything but this loneliness. Anything but this pain. He understood 'chapel', and still found it ironic. Other day, and he could be quoting parables to fit the theme. As it was, he found himself the lost lamb, hoping for something, a well-known shepherd perhaps, to find him and lead him back from being astray. He had lost himself on this path. He couldn't find....

His wounds from the night previous were healing at a snail's pace comparatively--even so, it was rapid for most humans. The flesh could visibly be seen repairing itself if one looked; most bites already faded to red scars that would continue to lighten as time went on. The deep gouge in his forearm was bandaged, but the wound along the top of the tendon above his collarbone lay uncovered, forgotten, and he would have fixated on all of the slow, slow, non-instant healing if he could. But instead he was sat down on a bench. Sitting, however, did not work, and he found himself tilting, upper body sliding down until he hit something that was decidedly not a wooden bench.

[givemeoblivion.livejournal.com]

Well. The night before had certainly been interesting, which was more than Callisto could say about several of the nights before that. She might almost have said she'd enjoyed herself, which was something given how everyone else seemed to be reacting.

Her nurse led her to the chapel and she didn't even protest, though she was disappointed that she hadn't been able to stop by the bulletin first. She was going to love reading some of that mess once this shift was over. It was going to be full of everyone checking up on everyone else, since just taking a good look around apparently wasn't enough.

There weren't as many people in the chapel as she might have expected after an event like that, though plenty of those she saw seemed to be doing what was expected in a place of worship. What a joke. She made herself comfortable in one of the pews, sticking a leg up on the back of the one in front of her.

[free; limit: any]

[blackestate.livejournal.com]

In the context of even a couple hundred years, a single night would mean little to any creature--never mind one capable of sentient thought. At the same time, however, but a half an instant could change everything, a concept Master Ciel was surely fully aware of last night when he had only his butler to defend him last night against a horde of undead beings.

Never mind that his butler was more than up to the task. Humans rarely let such paltry truths assuage their feelings.

Shortly after Sebastian woke, he was led to the chapel. He had meant to visit the bulletin, but it would do no good to complete the task his master had assigned him in too much haste. So instead, he hid his smile as his appointed caretaker brought him into the Institute's one "sanctuary" of worship, sat down, and kept his peace.

The woman beside him was sitting with a form ill-suited for churchgoing, which only made Sebastian's hint of smile widen into a more obviously amused expression.

[blessedaccel.livejournal.com]

There was grit in her eyes. That was why they were stinging and red-rimmed. There was grit in her eyes, and that was all.

For once, even Daphne didn't believe her own bullshit.

She followed the nurse who came to fetch her for the morning mechanically, not engaging in either banter or small talk. The deviation from her normal flippancy was enough to make the nurse ask her what was wrong, and she half-expected some sort of punishment for her snapped-back denial. Apparently, it wasn't violent enough, and she was led out into the hall, only half-listening to the redoubled attempt to draw her out.

In amongst the morning chatter, the mention of a chapel snagged her attention. She hadn't been in a church since before her mother had died, not for the purpose of actually going to church, but it seemed fitting all of a sudden. The chapel was a let-down, with none of the comforting trappings she remembered, but she remained anyways, and claimed a solitary seat on a pew up near the alter.

She tucked her knees up, hugging them to her chest and resting her chin on them, the posture unconsciously childlike. Closing her eyes helped to block out the presence of other patients and the murmur of conversations, but she found actually praying quite beyond her. If there was a god, she was pretty sure he wasn't listening.

[adorkabledragon.livejournal.com]

Keman spent the first several minutes of his day vomiting into a bucket obligingly provided by his nurse. He shouldn't have pushed himself so far last night, should have conserved his magic, but what other option had he had? The only other weapon he could find was that blasted branch.

Needless to say, he wasn't feeling up to breakfast just yet. He allowed himself to be conducted to the chapel, trying not to hobble around the gem he'd hidden in his slipper while he'd been throwing up. He couldn't believe it was still there when he woke up, but it was.

His nurse finally left him alone after she'd helped him to a pew near a girl who looked about as miserable as he felt. His head was still pounding, but at least it was quiet in here.

[aleaderwillrise.livejournal.com]

Nathan jolted awake to the strange voice coming from the radio. Everything was back in place, including him, back in his own bed, in goddamn pajamas, even. He slowly sat up, looking around the room. He only had time to notice that the bed across from him was empty before he let out a sudden deep cough, raising his hand to his mouth to stifle it. Smoke inhalation? It was the only sign that whatever had happened yesterday had been real, and not a dream or some kind of crazy hallucination. Nathan clung to that sign desperately. Despite being in an institution, he was not crazy, and if Peter was here too, it was starting to look like this place didn't really care whether the people it brought in were crazy or not. The other two he'd met last night didn't seem too bad themselves. Peter had certainly known at least the one well, not that that really spoke volumes in Sam's favor. Peter had a way of mixing with the wrong sort.

It didn't matter. Peter was alive now, Nathan reminded himself, and Nathan was going to keep an eye on him. That was what big brothers were supposed to do. Maybe, he reasoned, some part of him was trying to make up for what he'd risked, being a central part of the plan to destroy New York, using his younger brother has a living bomb. Nathan already knew guilt, front and back -- he'd become well-acquainted with it during his time in the hospital, where he had nothing else to do but lie there and think, sleep, and have drugs pumped into him to keep him from the agonizing pain.

If this sudden need to watch over Peter was purely caused by guilt, Nathan wondered how long it would last. It would be lying to say that he'd always looked after his younger brother, and the age gap between them was hardly an excuse. Even when Peter was causing all kinds of trouble a year ago, Nathan knew he'd been more worried about his campaign than his own flesh and blood.

Even now, he wasn't certain that had been the wrong path to take, but here, in this place, Nathan had nothing but Peter. No reputation, no office to uphold, nothing but his younger brother, and right now, that was almost everything to him. It was certainly enough to matter a whole damn lot.

He got up, coughing again, and changed into the normal clothes, slipping into his shoes just as the nurse opened the door. Knocking was, apparently, not a necessary courtesy here. Nathan flashed a smile at her and she seemed a bit caught off-guard.

"Well! It's nice to see you so cheery this morning," she said. All Nathan could picture was the nurse from the night before and her well-placed scalpel, cutting Peter's arm--

"I try," he said, smile still in place. "I heard we have a choice this morning?"

"Yes! Though I would really recommend you get something to eat... three meals a day is much more healthy for you."

Nathan thought about eating for a moment -- he coughed, suddenly, but shook his head. Somehow, the memories from the night before -- rotting bodies, and the stench that came with them really wasn't doing anything to fuel his appetite.

"Think I'll pass on that one," he said.

The nurse looked a little discouraged before she sighed. "Well, it is your choice. Your chart says you're religious... maybe we could start the day there?"

[aleaderwillrise.livejournal.com]

Nathan blinked. Religious? Well, it looked good on a campaign, and he'd remembered going more frequently as a child -- over the years he'd evolved into a Christmas and Holy Week only kind of guy -- but the chapel sounded... peaceful. A place to think, to work out the many thoughts firing in his head. Plus, it was unlikely anybody would try to talk to him too much there. Now that he knew Peter was safe, Nathan was more more open to conversation, but he wanted to get his bearings a little more, first. He didn't want to come off as the "know nothing good guy". That was no way to make connections and earn respect. He'd lay low a little longer, associate with Peter and maybe the people Peter knew. He'd push forward after that. The only way he was going to find a way out of here was knowing as much about the place as possible. He'd already set that rule in his head.

"Sounds good," he said, distantly, and before he knew it the nurse was leading him through the bright hallways and towards the chapel. Nathan thanked her quietly as they stepped inside, seating himself in an empty pew towards the middle of the room and staring up at the religious decor around him. There was a prayer book tucked into the wooden cubby on the back of the pew in front of him, but he didn't touch it, instead beginning to work through everything he'd seen so far in his head, trying to make sense of it all.

[free, limit 1]