damned_institute | Day 43: Arts & Crafts Room (4th Shift)

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Day 43: Arts & Crafts Room (4th Shift)

When Momo left Hitsugaya's side, she felt both relieved to be away from him and disappointed that the nurses had separated them. Either way, she felt like she was suffocating, that she had too much building in her mind with all this on top of the message she'd been given by the undead knight on that rooftop the night before. There was only one way for Momo to relieve the pressure.

After leaving a note on the board for Senna, Momo headed into the Arts & Crafts room. She was still in a lot of pain, but Hitsugaya's healing, though minor, did make it much less painful to hold things. Taking all of the special markers, she stood before the large white board and uncapped the lightest of the colors - yellow.

Save thyself.

Those words would echo in Momo's mind for a very long time. She had much to thank the knight for, the least of which was leaving her right arm relatively undamaged. She needed it for many things, being her primary hand, but right now she needed it for one thing.

Momo began to draw.

[reserved for Senna]

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Howl found it impossible not to follow Ryuuzaki's advice to not choose a location too far away. The nurses kept him on a short leash, and it was beginning to fray his nerves. He had snapped at this most recent one for treating him like a child, and then immediately regretted it. She seemed no worse off for it, but Howl was in no hurry to face disciplinary actions.

However, any such cautionary instincts went out the window when Howl could find no rulers. Presumably because he might somehow inadvertently skewer himself with it. But with Howl's face twisted and flushed from frustration, the nurse he questioned seemed more concerned that he might intentionally skewer someone else. It was nearly all that he could handle, and honestly, Howl thought he had handled quite a bit that day. His behavior had been admirable, despite being kidnapped and then told he was either insane or in some twisted inter-dimensional catch-all. He might even say he had bordered on saintly.

"This is an embarrassing charade! Atrocious! With staff of this caliber, it's no wonder that your charges are pictures of mental health!" He called dramatically after the nurse, who, as anyone dealing with a child on the edge of a tantrum would do, mostly ignored him. Howl decided to return the favor, and violently pulled out a pair of scissors and something colorful in a plastic package. He took all of his frustration out on the packaging, until he had produced a flimsy length of plastic with a perfectly straight edge. Next, a black marker assisted him in laying out measurements as accurately as he could manage.

Being meticulous while making still sure everyone who glanced at him realized how unfairly, cruelly and inhumanely you were being treated was difficult, but somehow Howl managed it. He was practically seething over every centimeter.

[Free, but kind of in a snit.]

[late, but this okay?]

Keman would have liked to spend more time with Mr. Shakespeare, but his nurse seemed to think it was "unnatural" for a boy his age (to which he almost replied, "twenty-seven?") to spend so much time curled up in a corner, reading. He hadn't even had time to mark his page when the blasted woman lead him off! He knew that he'd been somewhere in Act II (or was it Act III?) of Titus Andronicus, but beyond that, he couldn't say. There were so many people being murdered, maimed, and raped that he couldn't keep it all straight.

Maybe it was a good thing that he'd stopped reading when he did. He hadn't really enjoyed all that bloodshed.

The nurse sat him down in the Arts and Crafts room with a box of crayons that were supposedly "non-toxic" and a pile of construction paper with the extremely vague order, "draw your feelings." Even after over three weeks in this place, he still didn't understand what that meant, so he settled on sketching the people around him. The man nearest him was Keman's first suject/victim. He looked thoroughly put out over something, and it made for some interesting body language to try to capture.

[Totally! ♥]

Howl could vaguely see that someone had sat near him, at the behest of one of those insufferable nurses. Before arriving at the institution, Howl thought he had already met all of the worst members of the fairer sex. This place seemed determined to prove him wrong. If he had been thinking clearly, he might have reluctantly acknowledged that no nurse had ever berated him for being a useless embarrassment, put a curse on him for jilting her or cleaned his home. He did indeed consider the last one a great offense.

Regardless, it all had very little bearing on the fact that the young man who had sat nearby was drawing him. Howl felt simultaneously flattered and uncomfortable. He suddenly felt the need to move, but he was still dedicated to looking very angry, which made it difficult to casually walk around and escape being captured on paper.

"Are you going to need me to sit still?" He asked in a voice that suggested he may or may not agree to do so.

"Hmm?" Keman looked up, a little embarrassed. He'd been noticed. "Ah...no, you don't have to. I mean, I didn't--sorry. I apologize for drawing you without asking permission first."

This was a fine mess, now wasn't it? The young dragon's mystery model had seemed rather upset to begin with, and now he had a perfectly legitimate reason to lash out at the random kid who'd started invading his privacy without really meaning to.

"I can go now, if you want..."

Howl winced faintly and pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite all of his frustration, he didn't really want to take it out on what looked to him like a very shy teenager. Michael knew well enough to steer clear of him when he was in a less-than-pleasant state of mind, but Howl still felt a little ashamed when he inadvertently made Michael jump or cringe. He and Sophie had fled readily when his hair had pushed him over the edge, which was just as well. It showed that they knew what he was truly like. Horrible Howl, he thought with a self-pitying sigh.

"No," he groaned, and slowly tried to pull himself into a a friendlier tone of voice. It wasn't a huge improvement, but he was getting there. "It's alright, you don't have to go anywhere. This place is as much yours as mine, which is to say it belongs to neither of us."

He tapped his fingers against the table, finding that at the moment his social skills were less than stellar. "I would hate to interrupt an artist at work, but can I at least know the name of my voyeur?"

Keman smiled a little. "I don't know that many would willingly admit to owning a place like this," he joked. "It's dull, tacky, and the monsters at night do get tiresome after a while."

He held up the picture that he'd been sketching for his companion to see. There wasn't much there yet, just the rough outline of a man sitting at a table without any of the features filled in yet. "I'm not much of a voyeur. Or an artist. My name's Kemanorel. You can call me Keman, everyone else does."

"Keman, is it? For someone who claims not to be an artist, you've got some talent," Howl said thoughtfully. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, whether you be an artist, voyeur or neither. Rest assured, if I appear put off, it is not because I am unhappy to meet you, but rather because where the meeting must take place. I'm Howell." Keman had an unusual name, at least for this world. That is, for the world he was supposed to think he was in. If someone had introduced themselves as 'Kemanorel' in Ingary, it would have been slightly less unusual. Particularly if it were preceded by the title of 'Witch' or 'Wizard'. The magically gifted loved to sound dramatic and unusual, and Howl was no exception.

"The monsters are still fresh and exciting to me." Howl did not seem excited, so much as agitated. "I've yet to see them personally. At this point I wouldn't particularly mind if I found out you were all lying to me about their existence."

"I'm just good at observing people," Keman demurred, trying to hide how pleased he was with the compliment. He really had been trying hard here, especially now that Orihime was...missing. Oddly enough, drawing made him feel even closer to her. Maybe because it was the first thing they'd ever done together. "I still can't get faces quite right. They always look kind of off." Which was why he'd left the face on his drawing blank, though he was rather hard at work sketching in the hair. Maybe he'd put hair in front of the face so he wouldn't have to draw as much.

"Likewise, Howell." Keman gave the older man another polite smile. He wondered if, somewhere, his mother could see how well he'd kept up the manners she'd taken such pains to teach him. Probably not, but it was a good thought.

The young dragon frowned. "I wish I were lying, I really do, but..." He pulled up his pantleg to show off the scars he'd gotten when a blob-like creature with very sharp teeth had decided to use his ankle as a chew toy several nights back. "I'm afraid I'm not. You've only just arrived then, right? Have you got anyone to go with at night? It's very dangerous to go alone."

"Someone has agreed to accompany me," Howl said, but he sounded obviously distracted. It was hard to mentally multitask in the face of Keman's scars. He leaned forward to take a closer look at the unusual wounds, and found himself entirely unable to place the animal that could have done it. Howl was not a biologist, but he had imitated enough fauna and magical beasts to guess that it was unlikely to have been anything mundane. It was frankly not a conclusion he wanted to come to. He looked back up at Keman's face, which seemed perfectly, disappointingly earnest.

"What did this to you?" Howl's voice was suddenly sharper, reflecting the way his nerves had suddenly all lit up at once. Everyone's warnings about how dangerous it could be after dark had taken a backseat to escaping. All day long, he had simply smiled and nodded like a myopic fool, unable to see anything but the obstacles to his calculations. Now on top of wondering whether or not he could get a decent portal, the issue was compounded by a real concern that he might get mauled before he put down a single mark.

Keman nodded. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. If you find yourself alone, though, my room is M88. Oh, that reminds me. This may sound like an odd question, but have you got any special abilities that might have been lessened by this place? I haven't got much magic left, thanks to them, but I do have a bit to draw on in a pinch. It makes self-defense a little easier..." Otherwise, Howell would probably need to get a weapon. Keman disliked weapons, though he was decent with them. They were so...inelegant. Sparking, or dueling with teeth and claws? Much better.

He ducked his head. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "It's not really like anything I'd ever seen before. It was smallish--about the size of a lapdog, maybe bigger--with great, bulging eyes and very sharp teeth. It didn't take much to kill it, thankfully, but not before it got hold of my leg. Bled a fair bit, too."

"Wait," Howl held up a hand both to stop Keman as well as his own thought processes. He could put fretting over the monsters aside for a moment, since Keman had just said he could use magic. The way he addressed it meant that he was aware, and that he seemed to be able to cast actively and purposefully. Ryuuzaki had implied he had experienced something supernatural recently, but this would be the first wizard he had met in this place. It seemed extremely unlikely, but considering the last twelve hours, he was willing to let a few things go on faith.

"You can use magic?" He asked as calmly as he could manage. "And what exactly do you mean, that you haven't got much of it left?" Though Howl didn't say as much, the very subtle strain in his voice said that it was uncomfortably relevant to him on a personal level.

"Yes sir, I can," Keman said politely. "I'm not exactly a prodigy with it like my sister is, but I do fairly well for myself with it. Or I used to." Now he could barely throw a lightning bolt without getting a bloody nose! He felt very useless like this, and that wasn't a fun feeling at all.

At least his guess hadn't been too far off the mark when it came to Howell. From the way the man sounded, he too had felt his magical abilities dampened by this place. At least he wasn't looking at Keman like he was crazy. That was always a good thing. "I mean that I used to be a lot more powerful before I came here. This place has a way of limiting its prisoners more than just physically; anyone with any sort of 'preternatural' abilities will find that they can only use a fraction of what they used to be able to. My magical specialty used to be, ah, shape shifting, and now I can't even change the color of my hair. When I do use what magic I have left, I find that I get splitting headaches and bloody noses if I try to push against my limit; I even fainted once. I imagine it might be the same for you. My advice is to try out some simple spells in your room tonight, before you leave. It'll give you an idea of what your new limits are."

"Not even your hair?!" The question was already verging on a whine, and only getting worse. That seemed to be the safest topic via which to express his horror.

Everything else was upsetting, of course, but Howl's appearance had a tendency to become hugely important when other things were spinning out of control and slipping through his fingers. Howl always knew he at least maintained authority over his appearance, but not here. Now even that had been taken from him. His body tensed all over as he tugged on the ends of his long, dark hair with evident loathing towards it and Landel's Institute at large. The good mood he had been easing himself into seemed to be quickly crumbling away, and he imagined just making the building collapse with it. It would be easy, especially with frustration and fear coursing through his veins.

"I have tangles and frizz, and I've tolerated looking like this," his voice had grown quiet loud, and he gestured dramatically at his nearly black hair, "for far too many years of my life. I think I deserve quite well to be the master of my own head!" He threw up his arms and stood, because his diatribe was not nearly as effective while he was crouching over a plastic crafts table like a schoolboy.

Keman smiled in what he hoped was a bracing sort of way. From the entirely-too-tragic expression on Howell's face and the generally dramatic way he seemed to be taking this, he seemed to be a pretty vain sort of fellow. Poor man. Had he heard that showers were only two or three times a week yet? Well, Keman wasn't going to be the one to tell him if that was the case. "I think it looks fine," the young dragon said encouragingly. Since he'd never seen Howell with any other hair color, he was having a hard time imagining it.

"But...ah...calm down? The nurses are looking. You don't want to get sedated on your first day, do you? Trust me, it isn't fun."

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Day 43: Arts & Crafts Room (4th Shift)

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