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damned_institute2009-09-20 11:43 am
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-09-20 11:43 am
Entry tags:
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Day 44: breakfast
Yuffie had died.
No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…
Had it all been some kind of hallucination?
Had she imagined the whole thing?
No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.
The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.
Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…
[Closed to Sheena]
No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…
Had it all been some kind of hallucination?
Had she imagined the whole thing?
No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.
The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.
Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…
[Closed to Sheena]
no subject
One minute a guy was trying to figure out just how to kick spider boy hard enough to keep him down, and the next there was a fuzzy blue splicer being slammed into his head. The lingering ache Terry felt when he woke up in bed was slightly less painful than the shot to his ego, at least. If there was one thing he could easily decide on, it was to tell no one about that little mess up the night before. Especially not Bruce.
Terry was hoping he'd see Kitty or Kurt in the cafeteria, but there wasn't anyone he recognized when he went in. Not that he'd actually be able to pick Kurt out of the crowd; Terry hadn't exactly noticed any blue guys the day before, and that sort of thing stood out. And there was no chance he could talk to 'Peter' unless the guy revealed himself. Terry didn't think it'd be the greatest idea anyway. Provided the brainwashing had worn off, and the guy wasn't a total ass, spider boy had enough guilt to keep him company. He didn't need some stranger adding to it.
So Terry took a seat where he could be seen, just in case, and began picking apart his breakfast. Not even close to how his mother made french toast, no matter what the nurse said. It was still good though, especially to a teenager with a healthy appetite.
[Free]
no subject
It was weird; when he'd been a hawk, he'd missed human food, and it had been a treat to go to the mall for not-quite-two-hours, or for Rachel to bring him burgers in the woods. Now that he was human again (at least most of the time), it was the other way around, and he missed hunting, missed the wind and the stretch of his wings and the grasp of talons and rip of his beak...
With a sigh, he took the best he could, sausage and bacon and an apple to make it something like balanced, and sat down across from another kid, maybe a couple years older to him.
"Hi," Tobias said, with an expression almost like a smile, "don't think we've met. I'm Astor."
no subject
"Probably not. I'm still pretty new around here." No point in pretending he was anything other than a newb; Terry already knew how much they stood out from his talk with Robin. Speaking of, maybe he should see how the guy was doing--and find out if there was anyone else who used that name hanging around. The only members of Bruce's troop Terry met in his own time had all bid a fond farewell to middle age years ago, but here, who knew? Of course, it was a matter of getting their attention without alerting the wrong people. Bruce hadn't been that upset over Terry contacting him for no reason.
Well, other than that he was Bruce, and he tended to lean on the paranoid side of the scale.
"I'm Alex." Astor wouldn't be a hard name to remember, if only because it sounded like a name Terry expected to see during a round of Sentries of the Last Cosmos. But since he didn't know if Astor would appreciate the reference, or even understand it, Terry kept the thought to himself. "What about you? Been here long?"