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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
There was a tilt of the head and a soft apologetic smile, as though Kristoph regretted his jest. "Indeed, I was," came the reply. He touched the rim of his juice glass. "So sorry I could not prevent the misfortune." Another smile, accompanied by a well-manicured hand. "Nor introduce myself properly. Kristoph Gavin."
no subject
But before he could process that fully, the man spoke again, the smarmy grin replaced by a more disarming expression -- or at least the pretense of such. Bah. You were enjoying every second of that entire scene, he grumbled to himself, remembering the look on the man's face. He glanced at the outstretched hand reaching from across the table. Hmph, he thought, quickly appraising the perfectly trimmed fingernails, at least he pays far more attention to his hygiene than most of the idiots in this hellhole. He extended his own to give Mr. Gavin a firm, nominal handshake.
Kristoph Gavin. A German name, but none that von Karma recognized at all. Thus, after a moment of silence, he finally nodded and replied, "Mr. Gavin. I am Manfred von Karma." He paused briefly, studying the man more closely, before continuing, "Judging from your name and speech, you hail from the country of Germany, no?"
no subject
Suddenly, the night of the undead seemed even more ironic.
For once, he refrained from smiling, choosing instead to offer a curious look. "Correct. Your ability to observe is quite impeccable." Somewhat. "I take it you are from the same?"
no subject
"Indeed, I am." At this point, hedging about his country of origin would prove futile. Besides, von Karma needed to learn what this man -- this veritable stranger to him -- knew of him. The prosecutor gave Mr. Gavin a scrutinizing look. "I suppose you have heard of my family's name before?"
no subject
He had a feeling there would be confirmation. If so... Well, he would cross that bridge when they came to it.
no subject
Shame. If it included his career's ignominious end, then that more than nullified his initial pride. That had been the reason for his demand for an expedited trial and sentence, away from public view. But his execution was scheduled only a month after the DL-6 issue had come to light, and he had arrived at this hellhole just right as it was administered. Surely that was much too soon for an update to include that particular matter. ...Was it not?
And finally, this man was another lawyer, or at least serving in the legal field in some capacity. Another prosecutor like himself? von Karma highly doubted that, as he had never heard of Mr. Gavin. The older man knew of most of the attorneys on his side of the bench from Berlin, Germany, and Mr. Gavin wasn't one of them. Defense attorneys, however...
A facade of nonchalance -- and a hint of affected pride -- on his face, von Karma replied carefully, "I see that my family's reputation precedes us. However, I am unable to say the same for you," he said, sneering a little. "On which side of the bench do you serve, Mr. Gavin?"
no subject
Kristoph chuckled. "The defense, if that is important." A decision he was admittedly proud of. Too many stalwart law students settled for the restrictive, unchallenged life of a prosecutor; he was none of the sort. "No longer as...well, considering our current circumstances."
(Oh, he's so asking for it~)
"Never mind our current circumstances." The prosecutor shook his head in condescension. "You are still that same miserable bleeding-heart underneath, just like the rest of the ones out there who are free to argue their clients' cases and let them walk without so much as a slap on the wrist. You will probably return to that wretched career once you escape from this asylum... though I suspect that you belong in here anyway," he snickered.
no subject
He tilted a head as stifled laughter escaped his lips. "Fufu, excuse me." The words might have come out in a purr. "I hadn't realized we were in court. But I suppose even dead murderers require playing prosecutor now and then." Here, the smile stretched to a smirk. "Please, do continue."
no subject
For a moment, von Karma just glared at this man, who merely sniggered back at him. He was even more irritating than Mr. Wright and Edgeworth, Sr., put together! Bah! These audacious defense attorneys! Will they never learn?!
But before the prosecutor could say anything more, Mr. Gavin said something that confirmed that one nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Dead murderer. So word had already spread about his fall from grace, to the point of being published in the law school books.
"Hmph." At the moment, von Karma had nothing to counter Mr. Gavin's claim that he was a murderer; he would have to think on how to convincingly refute it. However, there was one immediate fallacy in the man's statement. He narrowed his eyes at this vexing defense attorney, folding his arms in a guarded pose. "Fool. Do I appear dead to you, defense attorney?"