damned_institute | Day 44: breakfast

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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]

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"I doubt I'd have the same success convincing people to join me if that wasn't the case. Though I'll agree, it's rare." Homura was also confident, yes, even to the point of arrogance. But he prided himself on that confidence being well-founded. He accomplished his own goals with his own hands, and fought for what he believed with his own strength. That was true power, and those who did the same were the only ones Homura would acknowledge.

So far, Homura hadn't seen anything that made him dislike Teresa. But she was the one who had initiated this meeting, and for Homura, that meant she would take the lead. He'd presented himself and his club on the bulletin, and what they were didn't change in person. So Homura had nothing more to say on that matter.

There was, however, a question Teresa hadn't known the answer to before. Homura ate a few bites of his meal, knowing he'd need his own strength, and more than comfortable with stretching the silence for those few extra moments.

"Have you thought about it since yesterday? What you would do with a truly free life." Homura didn't expect Teresa to have plotted out every moment, of course. But he'd learned about the little things, simple tasks that took only a handful of minutes at the most, yet that could bring Homura to the best places.

Spending time with her in the flowers. Braiding the long strands of her hair back. Nothing that would take up every moment of a life time, but things he longed to do none the less.

The concept of a truly free life was something Teresa had yet to fully grasp. She'd never been free until she made the decision to kill those human bandits and rebel against the Organization. Orsay had known one day she would, almost knowing the former Number One better than she knew herself, but he had not known she would refuse to submit to the Organization's will. Still, she had thought on it.

"I would like to see this world, travel it and experience what it has to offer," Teresa replied. She then chuckled. "It feels as if I should have something grander in mind, but no... just this simple life. I've always enjoyed the beauty of the wilds and places untouched by humans."

She would have liked to show more of those places to Clare, especially the glade with the waterfall Teresa had stole to when she was but a whelp and first gaining her problem child reputation among the handlers.

"And what of you?"

When Teresa said she almost thought she should have grander plans, Homura shook his head. He could understand the feeling, since his goals at one point involved the destruction of the universe. In comparison, such plain things seemed insignificant, but only to those who didn't understand the true value in them. "Grander is far from what matters most when deciding your goals."

He wasn't surprised to have the question turned around on him, especially since he'd already confirmed to Teresa that he was dead. "Not too different from yours, actually." Though he didn't intend to live out his life alone. "I prefer fields of flowers--untouched, as you said." Untouched, where they could be together without worry or fear. And one day, Homura would make that dream a reality for them both. This world had given him the opportunity to truly create the universe he'd wanted to, even moreso than his own home.

"But that is a long way off. First comes escaping from here, and that is hardly a simple task." Homura couldn't let either of them get too lost in thought. Teresa had said nothing about joining with History, or allying with Homura. While dreaming had its place, there were also practical matters to keep in mind.

The faint smile returning, Teresa nodded at the demi-god's response. Fields of flowers. Calming. Every warrior deserves a time to rest until they choose to stand once again.

"Yes, this building and its handlers are in the way," she replied. "How long has your group been working toward escape and have you achieved any measure of success?"

The question was inevitable, certainly from anyone who was looking to make real progress towards escaping their prison. And the answer, of course, was a reminder that it didn't seem like Homura's group had found much success in their endeavors. Even the night before had been a failure, simply because they all ran out of time.

"Two weeks, or longer. It's hard for me to say exactly." Homura could give the number of days that had passed since he woke up in the hall that one night, his memories freshly stolen. But he also knew that he had been a prisoner and a leader before that. "You've heard of the experimentation nights. During one, my memory was altered."

"As for our progress, it's been slow." And each day they were still trapped, they had to suffer some new torture or indignity. Whether it was something like the reports from the previous night, or simply being there, with the knowledge that they couldn't choose to be anywhere else. That each of them was subject to the whims of some insane Head Doctor, or the forces that pulled his strings. "There have been gains. And there have been losses. But I couldn't tell you with any honesty that in so many days, our group will walk free."

But Homura knew no other group could make such a claim either, not without lying or simply being wrong. For his goals, Homura had to make sure that the History Club was at the forefront of the ultimate victory over this place: that they were at the head of the battle, where they could stop the entire facility from being destroyed without thought or care. "Ultimately, I think that the patients choose the groups and allies they are best suited to work with. That is what I did." And it was all he expected anyone else to do. Even if he fought alone, Homura's goals wouldn't change. So while Teresa's strength would be of use to him, Homura also knew that it didn't matter where she placed herself, in the end.

He would have his life, and he would save Rinrei. That was all that was important to him.

She wasn't sure how she knew, given her abilities did not aide her in this manner, but Teresa sensed that this man, this half-god, would achieve what he set out to do. Of course, that didn't mean it would happen quickly. Far from it, the hybrid believed that Homura's victory would be long and grueling, more Pyrrhic than anything else. Yet, it would still be a victory.

Although a bit concerned about the memory alteration and its consequences, she chose not to pry into the matter. Such an inquiry would irritate her if she was in Homura's position, and she tended not to do things that she, herself, would have issue with. Usually.

"The other groups come across to me as children playing games with blades they think they know how to use, not understanding they will loose a foot long before they come close to reaching their opponent," Teresa replied. "And then act like it wasn't their fault in the first place." She had stopped being a child the moment she'd be implanted with youma flesh.

"I would like to work with your group if you believe I am suited," she stated. She then gave a little grin. "If not, I'll make sure to leave the door open for you when I find my way out."

Like Teresa, Homura held no illusions as to the effort and the time it would take to achieve freedom. That the woman understood that truth was made clear in her wish to join Homura, and the demi-god only appreciated her more for it. The same could be said of her estimation of the other groups; Homura held a similar opinion, particularly after Hitsugaya's death. Though the young leader had returned, Homura hadn't seen any truly decisive action in his communications yet. Working with Hitsugaya previously meant Homura wouldn't write off Arts and Crafts completely yet. Both they and Cooking could still be of use, along with other splintered groups.

But the politics of the clubs was secondary then. Homura's grin widened when Teresa made her offer, as he of all people could appreciate her confidence. "I think you'll do well with us. But you should be aware that your initial tasks will be menial. Normally I don't always meet with new volunteers in person, so I use simpler tasks to gauge them. While I've gotten my impressions of you, I'll still have you complete those tasks: the initial metal you gather will be used to make you a weapon, should you stay with us long enough." And should Teresa not have already found her own sources. Homura certainly wouldn't complain, particularly not with Adelheid's condition. Which he would also need to check on before the end of the day, now that he was reminded.

"Whenever you're ready to begin, just confirm it on the bulletin. I make at least two posts daily: one near the start of day, and one near the end with assignments. You are free to come and go as you wish, of course. The more you work with us, the more I'll trust you with." A simple method of going about things, but it was one that Homura relied on. Those who joined did so of their own will, and remained of their own will. He refused to have things work otherwise.

"Is there anything else you care to know?" Homura chuckled lightly. "As I said, I don't typically meet interested parties in person. You should take advantage of our time while we have it."

Though spending the nights doing menial tasks was a clear waste of her talents, Teresa understood why such a structure existed. After all, if one was unwilling to spend time perfecting the basic forms, only a fool believed advancement to complex swordplay was deserved. This may not be the barracks and the sword circles, but Teresa was well-versed in the matter. This simply meant whatever task she was given, she'd bear it as she had the menial jobs of weak youma extermination Orsay had occasionally given her and complete them with brutal efficiency.

It also helped that within these menial tasks lay the way to her acquiring a real weapon. She doubted the people within this place could make a claymore suited to her as it was made from a unique metal, but any large sword would be better than what she'd fashioned for herself.

"I feel so privileged," Teresa lightly teased.

What did she want to know more about? She was curious about how these people were making their weapons, but it was a trivial matter. In the end, how a sword was made paled in comparison to how well it was made. There was the matter of the youma nest, but Homura did not have a youma's scent lingering on him; she doubted he had anything useful to give her concerning that. Her thoughts drifted to the previous night (and day).

"I have two questions, two warnings and a request," she replied after a moment of thought. "What would you like first?"

"You should." Teresa hadn't made any comments about other weapon makers, so Homura assumed he would need to add her name to the list. But that practical thought aside, Homura returned the tease in kind. "It means you interested me. It's not something everyone can do." And those who did either recoiled from Homura's brand of provocation, or stayed close, becoming the people Homura held the strongest connections to. "So far, I like you, Teresa. And I'm looking forward to what you'll show me."

"As for which comes first, I'll leave that up to you. After all, they're all things I'm going to hear, aren't they?" Whatever warnings or requests Teresa wished to make, Homura would deal with as he could. He'd much rather her be upfront with such things anyway, though if she turned out to be another like Himura, who refused to kill, her usefulness would be lessened. "I do have a request of my own, however. I'll need a description of the type of sword you want. A drawing would be best, including proportions of the parts, but use whatever method you'd like. Just be aware that it will be simple in design: decorations and flourishes are an unnecessary waste of energy. If you have magical or supernatural abilities you've tried to use here, you'll understand what I mean by that."

Teresa's grin grew just a bit. She was finding herself somewhat fond of Homura. Well, as fond as she could be of someone that wielded power and wouldn't hesitate to try to kill her if he felt the need. It was almost like she was back in her early years with Irene...

"A sword needs to cut and hold up to my strength. Any adornment is pointless," she replied. She'd like to have her glyph on her blade, but as this blade was a substitute for her claymore, she'd forgo the mark.

"I can get the warnings and request out of the way quickly, so I shall start with those. I am very opinionated, Homura, and will speak my mind when I feel the need. Should you or any of the others in your chain of command do something I do not agree with, I will make my voice heard," Teresa stated. "The second warning is in regards to another. I am not the only hybrid here. The other, named Ophelia, is from a younger generation and she's partially awakened. This makes her dangerous, unpredictable, and I caution you and yours against any association with her. I will take care of her when the time comes; she fears me and rightly so." She paused. "We hybrids are recognizable by our silver eyes and pale hair - remnants of the transformation process." The other remnant she didn't feel the need to mention.

"As for my request, when you address me on the board, I would like you to use my glyph and not my name. Acceptable?"

"So long as that's clear. I'd hate for you to be disappointed." Homura was enjoying Teresa's company just the same, and that dangerous element only added to it for him. If Teresa decided she no longer agreed with Homura, she wouldn't hide that fact, nor hesitate to act against him. It was a quality he appreciated in anyone.

And just as he thought it, Teresa said almost the same words. Letting out a quiet laugh, he gave the woman a teasing smirk. "You didn't think I already realized that about you? Still, I suppose there is something to be said about being upfront."

The matter concerning the other of Teresa's kind was more serious, and he nodded slowly as he mulled over the words. "She hasn't approached me or any of my people, so it isn't an issue so far. I'm not in the habit of turning away those willing to join me, however." Still, that choice had brought Homura his share of troubles, particularly in regards to Takasugi. Even the heresy of the club structure had its limits. "But I'll keep your advice in mind. I just ask when you do decide to take care of her, you inform me. I'd rather your personal agenda not interfere in the efforts of the group."

"As for the use of your glyph, it's perfectly acceptable. You aren't the only one to request such a thing." Homura folded his hands together, interlacing his fingers. "I will tell your real name to those closest to me, however, so be aware of that. And I'll ask you for additional information regarding the name the nurses call you and your room number. I try to keep track of my club. But that can wait until you've asked me your questions."

"I just wanted to be clear. I spent too many of my years keeping my personal opinions regarding the Organization to myself, Homura. I have no intention of falling into old habits." Teresa replied. "As for Ophelia, as long as she stays in a half-awakened state, I will let her be. Should the situation changes, I will do my best to let you know. If she fully awakens, though, there will be no time to tell you unless I happen to pass you by on my way to kill her."

From what she'd picked up about the other hybrid, Teresa did not believe Ophelia would come seeking acceptance into this group. She came off as wishing to work with someone she thought she could manipulate or at least cow beneath her strength. Homura was neither of those.

'Thank you, for agreeing to the glyph. It isn't a need to keep my identity secret - there's no need for that - but a desire to keep business and pleasure separate." Some old habits died hard.

"My questions," Teresa said as she shifted onto the two matters that had not been answered by others or through her own inferences. "Last night, in the chapel, I encountered an ornate fountain of human blood with some markings on the floor near it. Nothing happened when I stepped on the marks. None of the correspondences on the board for new arrivals mentioned this. Do you know what's it purpose is?"

She then narrowed her eyes the tiniest of fraction. "And the creatures about at night - are any of them capable of reading the mind?" She was not about to forget how well that incorporeal thing had found the only chink in her mental armor. As if it knew about Clare...

Homura nodded in understanding, knowing all too well the pain of that silence. He'd lived a long time thinking he wasn't able to fight for what he wished, or even speak out of turn. Those purposeless days had been the worst agony he'd ever known, second to the loss of Rinrei. "That's a wise choice."

Teresa made the conditions regarding this Ophelia clear, and Homura accepted that easily enough, along with the comment on the glyph. None of it was unlike the truce and conditions held between the Shinsengumi and Choushuu who worked with him, after all. As for fully awakening, to Homura, it almost sounded like Son Goku after his limiter was removed. A power no doubt restrained by this place, but he didn't say that out loud. Teresa spoke of the woman as one spoke of a duty, and trying to put her off guard would be pointless.

Homura frowned slightly at Teresa's first question, regarding the Chapel. He recognized the nagging sense by now, though it hadn't come so frequently as of late. The idea that there was something he should know, that he had known about the topic, but that he couldn't remember. "There is something important about that place." That much Homura was certain of, but as for the rest, he could only shake his head. "But I don't know what. Ask on the bulletin. Someone will know, no doubt."

The second question he could answer, but that made it no less easy to do so. That encounter he recalled perfectly, down to the slightest detail. "There is a fairly complete list of monsters kept on the bulletin. But I have encountered one in particular." For the first time, Homura looked away from Teresa, his eyes growing distant and regretful. "A creature here has the ability to take on the shape of someone--important. The disguise is perfect: everything, from appearance to voice to mannerisms is exactly how it should be. Until the thing tries to attack."

Until it had gone after Kenren, thanks to Homura's foolishness.

"Physically, it's weak, with little defense. A simple enough thing to kill." After Kenren's blood had exposed the illusion. "But it is something to be wary of."

"I shall, though I find it hard to trust in the information given on the board beyond the basics. Too much of it is colored by the writer's opinion." Teresa gave a soft snort. "Yet, it is still better than nothing."

The creature Homura described was not the one she and Rolo had encountered the night before, but it was far more troublesome than the apparition and it's cries. This one could conceivably get within her defenses if it used its abilities in the right manner. Killing it would be done without hesitation, but she Teresa did not relish the thought of possibly having to kill something that looked and sounded like Clare. Irene would be an easier image to kill, but it was still undesirable. Though if it took on Irene's appearance...

"I see. That creature - is it capable of fooling refined senses? Can it reproduce unique energy signatures?"

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Day 44: breakfast

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