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damned_institute2009-09-20 11:43 am
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-09-20 11:43 am
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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
"Good morning, Jonathan." A nurse replied as she bustled in, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. That was proof too, that she knew about his burns, but the look on her face told him that she wouldn't answer any of the questions he wanted to ask. He completely ignored the intercom when it came on, as the nurse wheeled him to the Cafeteria. He didn't like being in a wheelchair, that was for sure. The fact that a nurse, who he didn't trust at all, was now responsible for his well-being didn't sit well with him.
But that wasn't important. How was he still alive? If this was really was Nyarlathotep, he probably would've ended it there. No matter how "evil" he was, he wouldn't push Jun to his breaking point, would he? Was he really cruel enough to send him here, make him relive Maya's death through her eyes, die, and then live again?
He might've. Jun couldn't know for sure. It was only recently that he'd even known his father's true identity, after all.
"Let's get you something to eat, okay? You're so thin and pale, Jonathan. We need you to eat more." The nurse broke him out of his reverie again, and he nodded dumbly in response, his train of thought now broken. The cafeteria was mostly empty so far, so the nurse put him at the end of a table right in the middle of it. Jun was sure that she intended for him to talk to people, to be social, but after the night he'd had? She was lucky if he even ate.
[for Venom and Edward]
no subject
He was still alive.
There had been no possible way he had survived last night and he knew, he knew he hadn't. He had died, and yet here he was, sitting in bed with his chest pounding as though it were just a bad dream. There was no more blood, no tired feeling, no parasite, only bandages splayed across his neck and collarbone in his only evidence that he hadn't been dreaming the entire thing.
He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead.
It was a mantra he kept repeating in his head, fingers pressed against the wound on him but too cowardly to push them down, as Nurse came to collect him. She let out a little gasp and ran to his side, pulling his hands away from the bandages like he were about to do something with them. When he looked up at her, she gave him a nervous smile (...why was she so nervous? Even if she had known he was dangerous, why only react now?) before coaxing him into leaving his room.
"Vincent," she started once they entered the cafeteria. For some reason, it was... less obnoxious this time. Strange. "You won't start feeling better unless you eat something. You can't eat anything if you keep your hair in the way." Really, it was as much warning as she gave before she removed a comb from her pocket and moved to brush his hair back. Unfortunately, he had neither the strength nor drive to properly convey to the woman that if she stuck her hand in his face one more time, he was going to snap her fingers backwards like they were wooden popsicle sticks. In the end, he just let her get away with it for now.
He was still here. Still imprisoned, still away from his Guild, still alive...
From the looks of it, he wasn't alone in that. Jun, the poor man who had properly excused himself to die elsewhere (and now he was sure of it. Jun had died. They all had), sitting alone and decidedly not dead. Venom was never good at comforting others and in fact planned to find an empty spot himself, especially having his face exposed as it was, but... He made his way over to the man and set the tray Nurse had given him down, obviously speaking to the smaller man despite his eyes being locked on the table.
"Did you survive last night?" A question that normally would have been met with a sharp stare and a sarcastic "no, I'm dead, you moron. As is why I'm speaking to you now", but it was surprisingly legitimate in light of past events.
no subject
When his senses returned, he groaned. He wanted to vomit - perhaps the act would help cleanse the taste of blood coating his tongue. Maybe, for a moment, he could pretend he wasn't licking his lips for the last flaking drop.
He welcomed the pain when he swung his legs off the bed to hit the floor, the burns coating his side erupting in pain once more. To his surprise, however, every inch of his wound was meticulously bandages with clean, white strips of gauze - touching his face yielded the same conclusion.
Who had?
With more disgust, he studied his hands. Spotlessly clean. If the taste of the man's blood wasn't still in his mouth - and if he didn't feel like he had completely gorged himself - he would have believed that part, at least, was a dream.
He hadn't only died himself, but turned into a murderer at the last possible moment.
The vampire shivered in place when his room's door opened; with the light coming out of the hallway, he finally noticed Jun was gone. No - was he...?
"Good morning, Christopher," a nurse greeted him quietly, watching him with slit eyes. She looked almost... suspicious. "It's good to finally see you awake. Now I can give you your official welcome to Landel's Institution."
So. His guess was right. Was she staring at his eyes, or the bandages across his cheek? "I'm sorry," he began, releasing the failed mental block he had tried to create the night before. Nothing. Not even static. It was to be expected, so he grasped for straws. "I feel rather sick. Did you call me Christopher?"
The woman didn't sigh, but it looked as if she wanted to. "After what happened to you, I'm not surprised to hear your memory is fuzzy - yes, you're Christopher." At that point, she did sigh silently. "It's breakfast time, and I'm sure you're feeling rather ravenous. Shall I help you to the cafeteria?"
Struck silent, Edward simply stared at her. A fake name, some sort of incredibly convenient story to go with it... the false normalcy of the morning struck him dumb. Finding no answer in his mind, he simply nodded. Luckily, she didn't move to touch him but simply waited patiently by the door for him to rise from the bed slowly, tentatively take his first painful step, and follow her down the hallway.
The room was crowded, with many more patients than he would have imagined were here. The building must certainly be quite large... so they had only seen a small portion of it.
Speaking of they, he caught the familiar white hair of the man he'd - and Jun was with him. Before he could move towards them, his nurse interrupted.
"Food, Christopher?" It wasn't a request.
After he'd acquired a tray full of it, the nurse finally relinquished her grasp on him and he was free to approach his roommate and their would-be savior. Even as well-fed as he was, the smell of the man alive (and refilled? it thought hopefully before being immediately quashed) brought venom to wet his mouth.
Edward sat as far away from him as was not conspicuous. What point was there in hiding away from the man, anyway? He had been conscious during the attack, had seen what he really was -
"Good morning," he mumbled, dropping his tray on the table and pushing it away. The smell was sickening. It seemed almost a joke to use such a cheerful adjective, but compared to last night, it was.
Except, after the humorless greeting, he wasn't sure what to say.
no subject
He assumed it was the former, as the latter was made quite obvious by the fact that Jun was there, he existed at that moment in time. While he had experienced a ghost the night before (it was decidedly not a hallucination), this was not the case.
"I thought I hadn't." He replied after some thought, staring down at his own untouched food. The phrasing of his answer was awkward, but when he found himself speaking it was the only way to accurately describe his situation at that moment in time. The wounds that had manifested inexplicably weren't there, but the ones that he knew the cause of were. And now he was confined to a wheelchair... the thought of what could happen during the Night worried him.
When Edward made himself known, Jun couldn't help but feel worse than before. Both of the people who had last seen him before he died were there, but then again, they didn't look much better than he felt.
Then he spoke, and Jun was unsure of how to respond. He understood that it was more ironic than anything, so replying with "good morning" would be more redundant and unobservant than anything else.
He remained silent, still staring down at the table.
no subject
From the brief glance he had stolen and sound of that answer, Jun was feeling even worse than the assassin was and for good reason; for all the trauma inflicted, he was not suffering second-degree burns and confined to a wheelchair. In the very least, his burn wounds had been bandaged by who he could only assume to be the nurses. It was sad how that had been their entire mission last night and, not only had they failed miserably and died on top of it, but it was also entirely pointless now.
Then the other man from last night appeared and, frankly, Venom had every right to stand back up and leave the table. Not only would he be justified in doing so, but it would also be beneficial to his health if he did so, if the sharp contract of white bandages against his neck were any indication. ...But if the sound of the vampire's voice said more than just a greeting, he wasn't exactly proud of himself. It was such a difference from Slayer's attitude that it actually confused him; weren't all those immortal demons so sure of themselves and their power? Didn't they always gloat at those weak, pitiful mortals who would never be able to best them? Why was this one so different...?
Now that the Guild Head thought of it, hadn't the man reacted in a severely negative manner when Jun began to bleed near him (something he had, at the time, shrugged off as an act of squeamishness), like he were trying to get away from it? Then it made sense that he had only acted on his true nature when there had actually been blood on him, something that (and he had to remind himself this) was his own fault, possession or no.
Sigh. A vampire he had no logical reason to hate. This world was so full of surprises.
Still, he didn't look up, not to either of them, as they spoke. He only nodded his head, keeping any and all eye-contact between them nonexistent. He held no animosity to either one of them, not really, he just didn't want them to look at him.
He had no idea what to say to any of them. "It's," Venom paused, hesitantly reaching for a fork to find Nurse hadn't given him one with the tray she shoved on him earlier. Well, there went the usual plan to prod at his breakfast in hopes the heaviness in the air around them would lighten sometime. He continued, completely monotone, "nice to see you both alive."
no subject
Not that the vampire faulted any of his victims their disgust.
He honestly was clueless in this situation. There was no hiding, no trickery he could induce in the man to flawlessly clear his memory. He couldn't threaten, couldn't blackmail. Just simply hope he had nothing to gain by spreading the knowledge - or finding his own brand of revenge. (Which he wanted none of. The little pseudo-attempted murder was enough for him.)
"Likewise," Edward answered, dragging his gaze away from the other's eyes. Looking to his abandoned french toast for answers, he held back a sigh. "It's nice to be alive." Not so nice to have someone else's nightmares in his head when he woke up, however. "I'm assuming reliving another's death isn't a common occurrence in this institute?"
no subject
"...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.
no subject
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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
"...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.