Day 44: breakfast

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

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]

Comments

[inviolentgrief.livejournal.com]

"Both?" flew out of Jun's mouth before he thought about what he was saying. When he took a step back and considered the situation, with the way Edward was acting, and the way the other man was acting, it was obvious something had happened after he left the room. What it was, he didn't know; none of them seemed comfortable at all with the conversation, himself included.

"...Never mind." He added, glancing up for a second at the other two, then lowering his gaze again. There would be no getting the story out of them, he realized, nor was he the type to pry into it. It was their issue, not his: just like Maya's death was his business, and his business alone. In a sense, he was glad he left the room the night before, because to let them see him die was not only disturbing, but he had an inkling that they would probably know more about him than he was comfortable letting on.

His behavior last night had been atrocious as it was. Adding dying to that mix could have only made things worse.

When Edward spoke, Jun felt a tiny bit relieved: though he didn't want to know what happened to the others, he understood his own situation a bit more. He hadn't been the only one. And that thought was better than anything he'd heard so far in this hell.

"I'm as new as you, but I hadn't heard about that from anyone yesterday. I would think that's not something you just forget to mention." He replied, his voice deathly quiet. If the other nights were like that, then. Well, he would jump that hurdle when he reached it. For now, he was alive, and though not in the best condition, he'd been through worse.

[poolcuemurder.livejournal.com]

Venom had been through awkward conversations before and was no stranger to them. As the Guild Head, awkward discussions and he had by now made good friends, and he prided himself on being able to diffuse them. But somehow, this one in particular... Was there a right way to put it? It felt... weary. Suffocatingly complicated, especially when thought was put into the specifics of what had happened to them and what could possibly happen in the future.

Whatever it meant, he wasn't planning on staying here for long. He'd find those responsible for this, punish them, destroy this institute and all those capable of replicating it, and return to the Guild. End of story.

His eyes stayed firm on the table like it was a lifeline, but that didn't mean he hadn't noticed where the vampire's attention was. Nnngh, why was he staring at him? Wasn't his discomfort obvious enough? Even Sora had no problems reading his intentions. He ended up pawing at his own hair, pulling the strands back into his face to mask his expression (he was sure that, somewhere across the cafeteria, Nurse's sixth sense was going off and she would be back to harass him any moment for doing such a thing, but he couldn't say he cared) and trying to stifle the sigh of relief that came with being hidden again.

It wasn't a change of topic that the vampire instigated (how would that transition manifest itself? Asking about the weather seemed far-fetched), but it was at least something to focus on.

"It hadn't happened the night before last, but, according to both the intercom and everyone I spoke with, the events then hadn't been planned by Landel either." Mask back on, his earlier hesitation quelled itself and his voice became more cold and professional. It wasn't personal to him anymore, just a job as always. "It's a safe a guess as any to assume this was the same.

"If that is the case," he added after a moment, quietly rolling a strawberry across his fingers, "I'd suggest preparing yourselves for the unexpected."

[prodigalson]

His discomfort was terribly obvious, actually; the vampire was just ignoring it. Simply fascinated with the man's demeanor, he couldn't help but stare. Most victims would not be quite so adept at acting themselves, especially in close proximity (even if the man had been on a quick road to death without his aid). Though he had personally seen the man's tenacious nature of remaining complacent, it was still surprising to him. During the years he had taken human victims, Edward had never left one alive. Forcably thrust out of his comfort zone, it proved difficult to remain hidden behind a human facade.

"I was surprised to even wake up this morning. I mean, death aside - I don't recall any sort of transition from night to day, nor how I even made it back to our room." He spoke without looking at either of them, avoiding Jun's sad state, permanently seated for the time being, and the other's obvious bristling discomfort.

It somewhat explained his fussy nature about his hair, at least.

He did lift his eyes once in surprise, but only for a fraction of a second. He had as much reason to want to hide his face as the other, what with his blood swirling red behind Edward's irises. "Landel, being... the director?" he guessed. Was there really some straw man behind this whole ordeal?

Impossible to believe, but then... he had thought he was already dead, and was unable to do so again. Also unable to lose his senses, his ability... and bleed. Or get wounded at all by human means.

So. Believable.

"I don't think it gets more unexpected than dying," he said, allowing a small, amused smile to cross his lips. With what little humor there was to be had, he needed to grab what he could. Perhaps a change of subject was also required - even if it was not a smooth transition.

I haven't been outside, so weather's out of the question. "Before I forget," he started, motioning to himself, "we had little chance for introductions last night." Consider this further apology, which is all I can offer. "I'm Edward."

[inviolentgrief.livejournal.com]

"I was wondering about that too. How can we be sure that we died last night and woke up the very next morning? For all we know, that could have happened weeks ago, and the masses are only just now waking up from it." He said, twiddling his thumbs slightly. In his world, consciousness was fluid, and all interconnected: it wouldn't be that much of a stretch to say it was the same here. The transition from night to day had been disjointed and hadn't made much sense at all.

But he tended to over think these things when it wasn't necessary. The concept of consciousness versus unconsciousness was one that fascinated him, especially after Personae and the Collective Unconscious came to light. Nyarlathotep, he wasn't interested in, nor Philemon, to a point.

Jun looked up the two men near him: neither of them seemed to have gone through any physical change. Perhaps his theory wasn't as spot-on as he'd originally thought.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Fortunately, Edward provided a change of conversation for all of them. Introductions were good: though he knew his roommate's name, the other man had nothing Jun could use with which to identify him.

"My name is Jun Kurosu." He added onto Edward's introduction, nodding at the other man. The idea of bonding with someone whose name he didn't even know was not a new one to him, as he'd spent an entire summer not truly knowing his precious friends' faces, but here, things seemed to be slightly different. From what had been said on the Bulletin Board, knowing someone's identity was important, in case something severe happened. Things were more dangerous here than in Sumaru, if that was even possible.

[poolcuemurder.livejournal.com]

Did he not know who Landel was? He thought it as strange, but Venom would give him the benefit of the doubt (it was the least he could do after he attempted to drive a knife into his skull...) and assume he only woke up last night. "Yes, the director," he clarified. "I thought he had died the night before, but," he paused, glancing up toward the ceiling and at one of those ever-present intercoms, "I was wrong."

That or Mr. Landel had been pulled back from death like the rest of them.

And as if he hadn't enough paranoid theories to wear him out, Jun decided to pile another one on top of it. How could they be sure the events of last night were just that? ...It was a silly theory, granted, but after what he had seen, anything sounded viable. They had been kidnapped, killed, brought back to life; who is to say they hadn't been out for however long before being resurrected? Somehow, that idea was more frightening than anything else this morning. How long had it been? How long had he been away from the Guild? Did they suspect he abandoned it? They should know better than that, should know the Guild was all he had and that he'd never do anything to betray it, but they were assassins and acted with only self-interest, not for the betterment of the whole, when Master Zato had passed away. Would it be the same now? How long had it been, if not forty-eight hours?

...This was silly. He didn't need to get so worked up about a suggestion, so he didn't. Still, that didn't mean he laughed at the other man's quip, none the less smile. There was nothing to smile about.

Thankfully, a change of subject had presented itself, something decidedly easier to handle at the moment than dizzily spinning around questions they had no answers to. So their names were Edward and Jun Kurosu (another of Japanese decent. He'd never get used to that)... alright then. "Venom," he offered, briefly raising a hand before realizing that shaking hands would be needlessly formal and dropping it back into his lap. Yes, it also dawned on him that his name was incredibly out of place with their own, but it was what Master Zato had called him and therefore that was who he was. It didn't matter. "I'm sorry we had to meet the way we did."

[prodigalson]

The director himself had died? Or, supposedly. That struck him as an occurrence that should have been nigh impossible. Was he murdered? Attacked by one of his own... missile throwing children? If one was to assume this Landel was truly in control (though he could, of course, be merely a pawn in some higher authority's schemes), one would assume he knew about what had happened during the night, and any night prior.

That line of thinking assumed he had died and been... was resurrected the correct term? Edward himself had awoken with no wounds as a tell-tale sign that the death had been reality, but he knew what dying of that influenza felt like. He had practically died to it; there was not a way it could have been some sort of vivid hallucination. Not that pain.

Jane's power came to mind, but he quickly abolished the thought.

Likewise, he did not want to consider time did not move as his mind measured it. In that similar vein, he could imagine how long he had been in this asylum. If it could control his state of consciousness (something that was literally against his biology), keeping him here would have been quite simple. And how long had he been away from Forks? His last moments before his arrival were not hazy or unclear: it had been several days since the threat of Victoria had been quashed, several days of watching Bella slice away the ties to the do - Jacob, several days of doubt and confusion.

No, that was all clear. He could remember to Sunday night, the Sunday after he had destroyed Victoria and Riley. After that, his memory simply stopped. He had left Forks behind (this institute could not be anywhere near Forks, or he would have heard wind of it) in August. Was it still August? Was it even still summer?

Don't think about it.

Easy for you to say, conscience.

The vampire simply nodded at the introduction, thinking wryly that Venom had been poisoned by venom. Had the man not been here now, Edward would have been much more worried. But if the venom had affected him at all, he wouldn't be able to sit here so calmly... let alone sit up at all.

Even his venom had been affected. That was much too intimate for his liking.

"I'm actually quite glad for it," he challenged Venom. "Burning in the middle of a field was not the best situation for the two of us. The help was much appreciated, even if the circumstances could have been much improved." If what they had speculated was true, however, it probably could not have been too improved. "I feel if my first night was that horrid, it can't get much worse."

[inviolentgrief.livejournal.com]

How was Jun to reply to that? He was, of course, sorry as well that they'd had to meet like that, sorry that they'd had to meet at all (for he'd rather be home, far away from here), but that wasn't something to be stated in plain conversation. "I'm sorry we met too," didn't tend to go over well with the crowds. But now that he thought about it, if going home meant that he would forget everything, he wasn't so sure that he would take that option again. If only he could see Maya again, even here.

"...It's nice to meet you, Venom." He finally replied, slightly annoyed by his own failure at basic conversation. Being amiable and sociable was practically his job: why did it seem that all of his attempts thus far had been unsuccessful?

Perhaps it was because the other two had witnessed one of his more intimate scenes, something that he would've preferred to keep to himself. Though he wasn't sure whether they'd actually heard Maya's death or not, their bearing witness to his (and her) "death" effectively put a damper his ability and desire to put on a face. Though he was a master of manipulation, both the fact that they'd witnessed his own mania and the fact that he saw nothing to be gained from it meant that putting on a facade was completely unneeded.

But, of course, those were his problems. So he remained quiet when Edward spoke, focusing on, instead, eating the breakfast his nurse had provided him with. Letting the food go to waste would hang on his conscious, after all.