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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
Whatever. He had his cigarettes. Owed Rude for that one, so maybe he should thank the guy by gracing him with his presence. Finding his partner was never hard; the guy didn't exactly blend in with the crowd. They never had a need to. Turks did a different kind of covert work, ones where it helped that people shifted uneasily out of your way without having to be asked.
Reno set his tray down and flopped gracelessly into his seat. He didn't bring up Elena. They were both thinking it and they were probably both thinking the same thing. There was no need to discuss it.
Besides, Rude had that look, the one that said he had something to say and if he knew anything about his partner--which he did--he figured he could guess. But he was feeling generous so he chose not to steal Rude's thunder this time around.
"Yo."
no subject
Rude stabbed at his breakfast. Not many people knew it, but he could be a bit of a comfort eater. It was like his appetite grew when he was annoyed, or maybe he just needed something productive to do and, when you weren't near explosive devices, food was the next best thing. Of course, whenever he ate a lot, he felt the need to work it off. Big meals meant trouble whichever way you looked at it.
"We need to do something," said. He had his spare notes hanging out of his journal, which he'd give to Reno later. They needed to discuss these links between apparent universes or dimensions, whichever. That'd maybe help them understand what was going on, but they still needed to find a way out. Rude wanted to check the Institute top to bottom first, for whatever device had brought them here. There was a chance they'd keep it away for protection, but it made more sense to check here first.
no subject
"Okay," he said, chewing slowly. "Proposal? 'Cause we ain't gonna rocket launcher our way outta here, that's all I'm saying. We're gonna do this, we should do it right."
One door in, one door out, that was the theory they had to work with for now, though in truth, he kinda suspected it'd be a hell of a lot more of a headache than that. Sometimes, doors only opened one way.
Then again, once you blew a goddamn hole in that door, it was a moot point.
no subject
'Doing it right', by Turk standards, means busting out the front door. That didn't mean it was always the Turk way. It was just...doing it right. The Turk way also included hostages, blackmail and generally sneaking. Judging by Rude's waking moments here, hostage taking wasn't as straight forward as he was used to.
And, like Reno said, no rocket launchers. Yet.
"Start from the top," he said. Investigate first. Turk methods weren't all underhanded and violent. Just... most of the time.
no subject
Nah.
Maybe next time. He left Rude's strawberries alone.
He shrugged a shoulder. That wasn't exactly the most impressive plan ever, but while they liked their flash from time to time, Reno always did like it simple. He just liked it best when it was simple and flashy. That was kind of the optimum.
"Fair enough. Bring Cissnei into it, yeah? She's a chick," he said, as if that explained everything, which it did. Girls had advantages in the field. Their boobs distracted men, or the occasional lesbian, and since there was, unfortunately, a stronger male presence in this place, he figured she'd have plenty to do.
Not that Reno couldn't distract a guy just as well, mind, but the risks of possibly getting punched were somewhat greater. Even he would admit that.
no subject
Maybe later they'd split off into teams if needed. But whatever. First thing first. Explore up top.
Honestly though? Rude wasn't sure the girl thing (or occasional Reno thing) worked on Monsters. But whatever. Maybe they'd find the Head Doctor.
"Been upstairs?"