damned_institute | Night 43: Grand Ballroom

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Night 43: Grand Ballroom

[from here]

As Anise neared the bottom of the stairs, she could hear water running. There was also light coming from the room, which was a welcome sight. Once they were close enough to that light that the others wouldn't need her flashlight anymore, Anise eagerly ran ahead into the room.

"Wooow!"

The girl's voice echoed through the large, empty ballroom. It was far grander than she ever imagined. There were fountains flowing, and candles glowing, and a shiny marble floor that reflected the flickering lights beautifully. It didn't look anything like the dreary, scummy institute halls she was used to. "It's like we're in a whole other building!"

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Sync bit back a groan as he began to descend the stairs after Anise, making sure to take slow, cautious steps as to not trip and fall. The refrigerator had done a good job cooling his body, but it wasn't long before he began to perspire from the added weight and exhaustion.

Since he'd been there once before the spectacle had lost some of its charm, but it was still a relief to know that they actually made it. The last time he'd been unfortunate and came by too late, but the night was still early this time around.

'It's a lot like home, isn't it?' Sync would've pointed out if Dahlia hadn't been present. Instead he smiled widely, carefully lowering the redhead until her feet touched the floor. By then the sticky concoction that stuck them together was beginning to dissolve, allowing the God-General to carefully peel away from the latter until they were completely separated. This didn't mean it had disappeared completely though, but it was less of a nuisance with this problem out of the way.

"It's hard to believe something like this would be underneath the institute." Already he made his way to the fountain, pulling off his right glove before dipping his hand into the water.

"Ah, I almost forgot..." Even now Sync had pulled back slipped a finger underneath his left glove to pull out the spice bottle under his palm. He took one last look at the item before outstretching his arm and offering it to Dahlia.

For once, she actually agreed with Annie's sentiment. In between being lowered off her trusty steed and wiping the remaining goop off her face, Dahlia looked around the ballroom with, dear god, actual awe on her face. It was... really impressive in here. Then again, everything was impressive after five years in prison and time locked in an asylum, but...

Wow.

Her feet just moved without her, spinning her in a slow circle as she took everything in. Now this was something she could get used to. "It's so beautiful..." It was really hard to tell if she was still acting or not.

But then Sync dragged her out of her dreamy state when he finally handed her her spice bottle. It only took three hours. "Oh! Thank you, Sy!" She smiled warmly at him and placed the bottle in her knife bag. "It's good to see your face again."

The sticky stuff was finally wearing off? That meant that Sync could move freely again, which was both good and bad. At least Dahlia wasn't stuck to him anymore. Anise didn't know how she could deal with such a horrible experience. Then again, it had to be a lot easier without knowing what kind of person Sync really was.

The girl noticed when Sync handed Dahlia something small, and caught a glimpse of a tiny bottle as it exchanged hands. What were they carrying a thing like that around for? It didn't even look like it could hold anything worth having around. Maybe Dahlia just thought it was cute? Huh.

Quickly forgetting about that, Anise grinned and nodded in agreement with Dahlia's sentiment about the room. "Hee hee. Right? It's kinda romantic, even. Or it would be, if we had any good men around here." The implied jab at Sync was small enough that it could probably be considered friendly teasing. Anise figured she could get away with that much.

They probably didn't go all the way to the basement just to see the pretty interior design though, so Anise shifted her attention to the doors she could see. Straight ahead was a pair of fancy white doors, and to each side was a pair of large wooden doors. "So, where to?" she asked. If Sync had been to the basement before, there was a good chance he knew where he planned on dragging the two girls to.

She needed to be extra careful, on that note. If they were getting close to Sync's destination, there was a chance that he would decide to just get rid of them sometime soon. Anise still didn't know why a loner like him would even bother gathering companions in the first place, when he could get there ten times as fast by himself. It was seriously suspicious.

"Ha ha, very funny Anise," Sync spoke after exchanging the spice bottle and getting his flashlight back, laughing slightly when Dahlia mentioned seeing his face again. He glanced over his shoulder at the Guardian, smiling confidently as he did so. "Just give me a few years and I'll be more charming than any guy you know."

The God-General grinned.

"Though I can't say the same for you."

Fortunately, Anise would've been glad to know that Sync did have specific reasons with bringing another pair of people with him.

He'd found it somewhat strange that Claude, Guy and some other nobody would always venture out in a group. It'd been obvious that it slowed their progress down considerably, having already delayed themselves for nearly a week, but each night he found them together regardless. Sync theorized that either the number of people or the obstacles that lie ahead may have forced them to move along as one. It made sense, considering he couldn't get through the doors last time, though that may have been because he'd arrived too late.

Regardless, it was always good to come prepared, and having two girls made it painstakingly easy to lead them along. The grin had all but disappeared on his face by then, replaced with a calmer expression as he made his way to one of the wooden doors.

"This way." The God-General picked up his pace as he approached the obstacle, taking a moment to eye the ornate figures despite having already seen them before. Yet it didn't take long for him to grasp one of the handles, taking in a small breath as he prepared to pull.

... And blinked when the door opened with ease, revealing the hallway behind it.

"Ah..." For a moment even he couldn't hide his surprise, but Sync quickly recovered and motioned for the others to go in before following.

[To here.]

At first, he hadn't been able to see a single thing, but eventually there was a faint light streaming past him. The other two must have followed him. Once they reached the bottom, they had even better lighting, which was a huge relief. There was a lot down here that he wouldn't have expected, really. The chandelier, the lighting, the ballroom, and especially the fountains. Someone must have had a lot of time on their hands.

Interesting as architecture from this time period was, not once did Junior ever think he'd have the chance to see it in person. It was too bad Gaignun wasn't-- well, okay, so he sort of was there to see it. But it was so antique, and Nigredo probably didn't appreciate that as much as he would when he got older.

"Woah, take a look at this..." Junior said it half to himself, but his voice echoed back eerily. Warped. It sent chills down his spine, but it didn't prevent him from continuing to take a look around while he waited for the other two to catch up.

Eyes twitched in a repetition, something almost like hatred then, building up and breaking down, as Albedo watched Rubedo's back. Albedo didn't want to. Didn't want to continue this game. But he wasn't scared. There was nothing here, at this Institute, that held any sort of fear for him. This basement would be no different. It was nothing. Another game.

And he couldn't leave. He knew that in an instinctual way that wasn't questioned. His right hand clenched around the plastic and metal of the flashlight, left hand curling into a fist, half-moon tears forming where his nails were digging in. A full minute passed--silence and solitude dancing around the middle Variant's mind. The boy blinked, then followed his other down the stairs inlaid under frost and death.

It was simple to catch up with Rubedo, flashlight catching the eldest in the dim light. Albedo had slipped back in silence, following halfheartedly, until they reached the inner chamber. Where Rubedo was in awe, Albedo had instead turned uncomfortable. The architecture, the place in itself, was moderately disturbing for a reason Albedo couldn't name. He shifted in place, anxiety taking the place of the indifference he had been holding on to. Instinct pushed him to step closer to Rubedo, before realizing his folly with something quite like horror. He quickly tried to step back and half-tripped. Adrenaline surged, and his eyes widened. "What is this?" The panic was plain, the reason was unknown. Either way, it was far easier than what had just been.

Edited 2009-09-10 04:06 (UTC)

Scared wasn't an accurate descriptor, but Nigredo had to agree the word was fair. They had come this far, for one. The black-haired child had given his consent much earlier, for another. The misgivings were a little too late at this point.

He waited patiently for the twins to continue before beginning his descent, which proved cumbersome as the trio went further in. The steps did not match easily to his stride while his brothers trudged too fast for him to catch up. So when Rubedo and Albedo reached the end, Nigredo still had some ways to go, and with his injury, it would take time to make it to the bottom.

The distance hardly mattered, however, as one brother paused to consider his surroundings. For good reason, too. Even in the faint candlelight, Nigredo could see them: wall, pillars, tile... A chandelier so intricate he, too, fumbled for the correct reaction. Although he held no knowledge to place their origins, he knew their time was before his own. Lost Jerusalem. Right.

A sudden chill stopped Nigredo in his footsteps, and his attention diverted to the words floating down. Static and disjointed syllables. He recalled hearing something similar from the intercom earlier in the night, but familial matters had kept him from paying complete mind. Hearing it now jostled sense and rendered him confused.

And when a white and gold visage passed before his eyes and a cry came from below, Nigredo blinked hard. He thought he saw...but it couldn't have been. What, then, was Albedo speaking of? "Huh?"

"What do you mean?" he echoed, a tiny bit of annoyance seeping into his tone. What's it look like? he almost added, but stopped himself just short of that. It was starting to feel awfully cool down here, but the redhead attributed that to the fact that they came down through the freezer. It had to be connected somehow.

"Come on! Let's take a--!" Junior froze, and the hair on the back of his neck stood stiff, any noise over the intercom passing right through his As he'd turned away from the architecture to face his brothers, to gesture them to follow him, Albedo's face had changed. Instead of the twin he'd been dealing with all night, he could vividly see Albedo's adult self, face just like their damn father's with a different eye and hair color. Those eyes looked dead inside, and the expression was begging, pleading him for a release that would only come in one form, a form the redhead didn't want.

And that face was covered with blood, trailing down from his scalp and forehead, over matted hair that was tinged red. It looked as though his head was only barely hanging onto his neck by a few tendons, like it could twist off easily and roll around on the floor until someone squashed it and it regenerated itself.

One heartbeat. Two. And as it vanished, Junior screamed. He stumbled backwards a few steps before he finally faced the other way, suddenly finding the surroundings even more fascinating than before in an attempt to get that face out of his mind. It's just your imagination. You're not going to have to kill him again, he tried to convince himself, though it hardly worked. After that argument with Albedo earlier, it only succeeded in making him feel even worse and worry that he was single-handedly sending his brother down that exact same path.

"C-come on..." he started again, voice shaking. "Let's go take a look around."

Edited 2009-09-10 05:40 (UTC)

What did he mean? What did he mean? This place was wrong. Wrong, wrong... Right? Was it right? Disturbed, unhelped. This was. Something else. What was this? What was--

Albedo clutched the sides of his head, a keening sound escaping him, and then, and then... And Rubedo spoke and the waters parted, and Rubedo screamed and something shattered. Rubedo was staring at him with horror and something ripped open. Chest laid bare, ribs cracked wide, muscle and flesh torn apart to show--show--show the beating heart laid bare, the organs, once removed and grown back, and the blood, a stem, a flood, a constant stream that never ended, never ended, never stopped no matter how much he bled there was always more, always more, always more, and it glowed and undulated, violet becoming magenta becoming violet becoming magenta becoming the absence of everything, becoming fear, becoming fear, becoming a melody, becoming that, and it consumed and it burned and it sang, and it sang, and it....

The boy was hyperventilating by now, but it didn't stop the burst of emotion shooting forth. "Don't look at me like that!!" (Don't see me. Don't look.) Eyes widened to extreme levels as the tainted Variant tripped backwards in his haste, slamming hard against the right hand door. Hands clutched in his hair, strands loosening and falling to the floor, fear prevalent and graced with a growing madness. His eyes were unfocused, there wasn't a certain thing that had started this, no. This was a surge of something unknown, mixed in with what had already happened this night. Albedo pressed his body heavily against the door, gasping, tears on his face out of desperation. The door wouldn't open. Something realized this. He let out a giggling desperate cry, pressing his face against the door, murmuring, "Don't look at me like that... Don't look.... Stop the bleeding...."

If only Albedo knew his twin's thoughts. He would have begged him for the chance.

The remaining steps were taken in alarm, Nigredo wondering what had happened, what had driven these two mad, while the cynical part of him could not decide if they were worth the effort-- So far gone were they, to the point they couldn't descend a simple staircase without someone screaming at the other.

He stopped at the last step, his face set to convey none of his thoughts, only something tired. He looked to Rubedo, whose eyes could be seen, and silently shook his head.

Junior would have sworn up and down that he was only imagining it, anything to convince himself that that bloody, partially-decapitated face wasn't really there. That was before Albedo started shouting something, too. At first, the redhead's heart sank, thinking he'd done even more harm tonight by letting shock and fear get the better of him, but then Albedo said something that didn't make any sense.

"Stop the bleeding..."

"Hey, Albedo..." What the hell, was he seeing something, too? Junior looked back up to find his brother huddled against one of the doors, with Nigredo shaking his head at the redhead, and was more than relieved to find that his hallucination made no reappearance. Cautiously, he approached his twin, crouched next to him and moved to pull him close with one arm.

"Calm down, Albedo. I'm not bleeding, and neither are you." He could well have been talking about Nigredo, but he'd seemed to handle that well enough upstairs. "I'm sorry," he finished lamely, not knowing what else to say to his twin's outburst. "I'm sorry." The repeat was for more than just the most recent incident.

The murmuring had continued into a low drone, now wordless. Albedo crouched against the door, hands still clutching his hair. The mindless monologue continued, all sweet words and constant sensation. Memories pushed to the side, overwhelming and warm--cold, and so cold. The boy shook with this force, this alteration, and for a moment, forgot he was not alone.

The fact was pointed out when a body seemingly materialized at Albedo's side, arms reaching out to him. Instead of finding comfort in this, Albedo panicked, pulling against the one holding on to him. Both boys knocked into the door, leaning against it as Albedo gasped. It took only seconds for his vision to clear and see that it was Rubedo. His words were clear, unlike any other's. For a moment, Albedo's expression stayed, all wide-eyed and shining with madness and fear. Then slowly it softened, the boy deflating. Tears built within his eyes and slid over, and Albedo still said nothing, just reached out to Rubedo and clung to him, head tucked into his twin's chest. There was something almost delicate in this, a mirror image of an old scenario; another breaking to add to a long list.

The inclination to walk away came and went. Instead, the child dropped his eyes and stepped around the pair, mind and face notably absent. Nigredo would do his best not to disrupt, true to his word.

He edged closer to the other end of the door. It was by far one of the largest he'd seen in the place, trumped only by the two in the vicinity. Where they led to or if they even opened, Nigredo could only guess; they appeared too sturdy for three boys (even weapons) to push. Absentmindedly, he slid a finger across a panel.

A groan echoed from beyond the door, sounding suspiciously like weight giving way to a break. It was enough to freeze the boy in his spot, finger seemingly glued in place. Then, in a completely unexpected fashion, the door creaked open into the next darken area, dragging any leaning bodies with it.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Surprisingly... it looked as if that was the end to these 'elemental' rooms.

Sync blinked slightly as his eyes tried readjust to the dim light of the ballroom. The sudden drop in temperature was enough to make him shiver involuntarily, but the relief he felt for that moment was enough to raise his spirits. He didn't really care that the door disappeared behind them the moment it closed. Using his newfound strength, the God-General carefully escorted Dahlia to the fountain and set her down near the pillar before he began to tend to his wounds.

The burn itself was somewhat severe, but fortunately it only covered about a hand-sized portion of the back of his shoulder. Sync had pulled off his shirt by then, reaching out to sprinkle a palm full of water onto the wound whilst gritting through the pain. He didn't bother to pull out what tattered cloths stuck to the burn, knowing it'd do more harm than good without the proper tools, instead folding his shirt and tying it (with difficulty) around his shoulder. Sync sighed once he was finished, reaching back out to drink a few palm full of water.

But really, a sword? There had to be another reason why Guy and Claude would invest so much time into going down here. He seriously doubted they needed a sword, even if it looked to be well crafted; it was just too short.

Sync found himself standing after a while, pacing around while deep in thought. The short sword was back in his hand, and he took the time to examine it carefully as he walked. Yet it wasn't until he was at the south end of the room did he finally look up, staring at the white marble door standing in front of him.

This hadn't been the first time he'd taken the time to look at it; after all, he tried to kick it down only a few nights ago. However, his eyes soon looked passed the angels, trailing off until they spotted a pair of indentations that also resided on the door. The God-General looked back down at the sword before raising it and hovering it inches away from one of the holes, a small smile drawing up his mouth when he saw that it was just the right size.

"... So that's what it's used for," Sync finally said, voice echoing throughout the entire room.

Edited 2009-09-15 11:01 (UTC)

If the ballroom was gorgeous when she first stepped in it, it was ten times more beautiful now. For once the smile on her face, however weary, was not acted. No more fire. No more boulders. No more fog or ice or... She just let out a happy, tired laugh as Sync carried her over to the fountain. For some reason, being in here after all that hardship just made the urge to push Sync off a tall building lessen.

Granted, it didn't fade completely, but it was enough for her to slip her disguise back on.

Getting a bit more comfortable in her spot, Dahlia tilted her head as Sync blundered about the room and did whatever with his knife. "If there are two indents and you have one key, where's the other?"

Sync's sharp look did shut Anise up, and she frowned quietly as they made their way out of the room. Well, whatever. It wasn't like she cared if Sync was mad at her. It was better than slipping more information than necessary to him.

When they reentered the ballroom, Anise wanted to just lie down on that cool, marble floor. Finally, a room people could live in! The girl followed the others to the fountain, and quickly started on washing the sweat off of her face. While she was at it, she washed the blood off her arms too. Pulling at a tear made by one of the icicles, she was able to rip off the short sleeve of her shirt, which gave her just enough material to tie around the gash on her forearm.

With that finished, she sat down on the floor, exhausted. She was surprised Sync still had the energy to walk around and investigate, but... then again, it was Sync. Anise frowned a little to herself when the God-General seemed to figure out the artifact's use so quickly. Okay, maybe it wasn't worth the effort to try and hide that information from him. She didn't regret it, though. Every little inconvenience helped.

When Dahlia voiced her question, Anise glanced around the room curiously, eying the door opposite from the one they'd taken earlier. When she realized that might be it, the girl looked away and turned her gaze to the ceiling above instead, pretending like she wasn't even listening to their conversation. There was a good chance Sync would have everything figured out soon enough, but she was determined to be as unhelpful as possible to him.

Unfortunately for Anise, it didn't take long for Sync to put the puzzle pieces together, rubbing his chin in thought while he spoke to Dahlia.

"My guess is that each room in these halls have some kind of key. Since there's only two indentations..."

Even now Sync's gaze trailed over to the other side of the ballroom, stopping at a door identical to the ones they've stepped through.

"Let's check out the other hallway," he began as he glanced back over at the other two. "We can probably put something on the floor to keep the first door open and scout the other rooms. If it's too dangerous then we can just go back."

Sync had to wonder if there were also two paths they could take within the west hall. Maybe it'd be in their best interest to choose something different this time...

What was Annie doing, acting all innocent? Did she know something? Dahlia would have narrowed her eyes at her, but hell, she didn't care right now. She was still recuperating from having lost ten pounds in fifteen minutes, one hand slipping into the fountain's nice, not-frozen water to calm her frayed nerves.

She was getting out of here. Prison was annoying, and so was a noose, but they weren't this. They weren't two-faced little boys dragging her into deathtraps at one in the morning. They weren't undead zombies trying to eat her. She'd get out of here and she'd get out of prison, and she would dodge these bullets like she did all the others. They weren't going to stop Dahlia Hawthorne. Anyone who did didn't have long to revel in that victory.

Unless, of course, she was already dead and this was her punishment for being so naughty when she was alive. But who ever believed that, hm? Not her.

Though, that did remind her how she was still bleeding. Unfortunately, she didn't have either the conveniently placed tear or muscle strength at the moment to rip her shirt open, so she just pulled herself together and slowly made her way to Anise, pout in full-force.

"I... I'm sorry, Annie, but." She looked down, like it was embarrassing to be asking for help after all they went through. Oh, poor, powerless Dahlia! How did she ever get roped into this?! "Can you help me bandage these?" It was going to be hard to bandage up her back, but she'd manage if they couldn't. She was a big girl.

Sync, on the other hand, was not. Really, Sync? Must you be an overachiever? "So soon?" she sputtered out, eyes wide and shocked at the notion that they had to go at risk again. "Shouldn't we rest for the night?"

Dahlia's request got Anise looking over at her with a brief hesitation, then a nod. "Oh, sure. I should get my stuff back, too." Actually, she kind of just wanted to stay sitting on the floor for the rest of the night. As she stood up, Anise felt her body aching here and there. It was a pain, but she couldn't exactly refuse someone asking for her wounds to get tended to.

When she reached Dahlia, she looked over the wounds carefully. Some were too deep to get away with just cleaning and leaving as is. She needed bandages, and she couldn't quite bring herself to ask someone like Dahlia to start taking off her clothes, so instead she pulled the meat tenderizer out of the bag, taking it back. "Wait here a minute." The girl walked to the other side of the fountain, out of Sync's sight, then removed her pants, laying them on the floor. Dragging the sharp corner of the mallet across them, she was able to weaken the fabric enough to tear somewhat neatly. When she returned, her pants had been converted to shorts, and she was carrying four long strips of cloth.

Always the knight, never the princess. How come she always wound up doing the chivalrous stuff like this?

She used the strips to bandage the worst-looking of the wounds, tying one around one side of Dahlia's neck and under her arm to cover a bit of her back. The others went to shoulder and arm wounds. "There, that should help," she announced when she was finished.

"Dahlia's right," she said to Sync once she was finished tending to the girl. "The only thing we should be doing is..." Anise stopped as the intercom came on yet again, leaving them with even more confusing messages (The radio man? Was he alive?) and even louder screams. When it finished, Anise didn't continue where she had been interrupted, feeling too distracted and disturbed by the agony in those voices.

Sync didn't say much as he allowed Anise to tend to Dahlia's wounds. Any bystander would've called the God-General 'heartless' for trying to push both girls so soon after their last dance with death, but the God-General knew better than to give into their 'whining'. After all, he knew what they both were capable of, so letting them off for the rest of the night would just be a waste.

Still, he couldn't just go out and say that. His eyes narrowed somewhat when the intercom went off, but these strange messages had appeared so often that he was desensitized by them now. There were more important matters.

"I know you guys are tired, but what we went through could very well be the worst this basement's going to dish out at us." Really, there wasn't much worse they could do than a room filled with lava, and in the end everyone's injuries were only skin deep at most. He doubted his burn would last more than two days.

"And besides..."

He flashed them both a smirk before laughing.

"After what happened last night this is just a cakewalk. Right?"

Sync knew he didn't have to elaborate, and so he walked over to the pair and pulled his possessions out from Dahlia's bag.

"I'll give you guys 10 minutes. After that let's go."

[To here.]

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Night 43: Grand Ballroom

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