damned_institute | Day 43: Chapel

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Day 43: Chapel

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]

Threaded | Flat

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...

[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.

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."

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!]

[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.

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!]

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...

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]

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.]

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~]

_{[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.

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!]

_{[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.

Edited 2009-08-10 04:44 (UTC)

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~]

Edited 2009-08-10 05:13 (UTC)

[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?"

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!)

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!]

Edited 2009-08-10 09:52 (UTC)

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]

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]

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.]

Edited 2009-08-10 19:24 (UTC)

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.]

Edited 2009-08-10 22:29 (UTC)

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.]

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]

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.

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?"

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