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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
"You sound fine to me," he replied, not really hearing himself.
Wow. He'd picked the wrong week to dust out. "I'd rather hear it all from you." Because he had a feeling he wouldn't believe it if it came out of Wright's mouth.
no subject
She finally picked up the orange and began to peel it, dropping the peel piece by piece on the tray. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I went over to a friend's room for--" A spear lesson that turned into a teenage zombie catfight. "--the evening. Phoenix told me he'd heard you were coming back soon, but I'd just talked to him last thing before dinner; I didn't expect it to happen that quickly."
What were the most important things for him to know? If Manny could pick, he'd probably demand to hear about Domino's visit, but Meche didn't want to talk about him right now. She finished peeling the orange and extended it across the table, offering Manny a slice. "It might take another week to tell you all of it, but I'll give you everything I can in the time we have. Why don't you tell me the big things you know about this place so I remember where we left off, and then I'll try to fill in the gaps," she suggested.
no subject
She was doing it again. She was trying to distract herself, which meant something was on her mind. Oh, he hoped he didn't screw this up. He took the orange slice and held it between his fingers, feeling its texture as he thought about where to start, then put it down on his plate.
"Okay. First of all, we weren't meant to stop here; we're being held captive. I don't know where, or why, but the answer's gotta be there. Second of all, this place is full of scary monsters and even scarier stories. And last but not least, Phoenix told me Martin was cut down two nights ago, but he seems to be doing fine now."
no subject
She took the rest of the orange back, pulled out one slice for herself, and left what was left on her plate so they could both get at it. "That's a pretty good start. Okay. I still don't have an answer for why we're here. I probably told you my first theory was that everyone here has been dead, but that doesn't hold up. So far our best guess is that there's something 'special' about all of us. For some people, that means superpowers, but they're too weak here to do much good.
"Second: the monsters are real, and they're dangerous," Meche continued. "Bigger than in the forest, Manny." She knew he wouldn't need to ask what forest she was talking about. "I think one of my friends has a sword you can use. It's pretty blunt, but you can probably find someone to sharpen it." Come to think of it, maybe he'd need lessons too. The things roaming around here at night were a whole lot tougher than Domino.
She paused to eat the orange slice and clean her fingers before she kept going. Better at least to get something in her for the morning.
"I don't know about what's happening to Landel, but what you should know is that there's a resistance movement. It's a little fragmented, but there are still groups trying to..." Meche paused to think about how Salvador Limones would have put this. "...gather intelligence, train operatives, collect materials--that sort of thing. I've been working for one that calls itself the Arts and Crafts Club. A lot of our leaders are...well, I'm not sure you could call them 'reapers,' but something like that. One of them's a friend of mine; the two of you really should meet when we get a chance."
That was a bigger monologue than she was used to. "Any questions so far?" she asked, taking a sip of her juice.
no subject
"Where do I start?" he said dryly.
He had learned from all those years in El Marrow that the closest the dead got to the living was on two occasions: when a soul needed to be reaped, and when everybody went home for the Day of the Dead. But they weren't allowed to mingle; that was one rule you couldn't break if you tried.
"What do you mean, it 'doesn't hold up'? Are you saying these people are alive?" He didn't realize how dumb it sounded until he had finished saying it. It had been a long time since he had seen the living through a living man's eyes.
"¡Híjole!" he exclaimed. "Forget about the sword. We need someone who can fight those things!" But as far as he could tell, even demons were scared of them. Or maybe it only applied to that one guy.
It had factions? It didn't sound like he was going to get bored here. And how could you be 'something like' a reaper? "What's your friend's name?"
no subject
Obviously one of the things she'd already glossed over was the most important point. "Yes, these people are alive. So are you and I, at least in pretty much any way that matters from day to day." She swept one hand out in a small arc, indicating the bandages, the food, their skin. "I think I've met a few who remember dying right before they woke up here, but no one yet who even knows about the Eighth Underworld."
Meche tried to remember which members of the Living Dead Girls Club had actually been dead and which were honorary; except for Senna (dead, of course), she was drawing a blank right now. Oh, well, they could all sort it out when she introduced him. She decided just to press on for now. "Manny, finding someone else to fight monsters for you is easier said than done. There aren't many people who stand much of a chance against one of the big ones by themselves, and even if there were, we can't travel around with bodyguards all the time. A lot of good people have gotten hurt trying to protect me from the big scary monsters."
She began drumming her fingers lightly on the tabletop, trying to come up with a way to make her next statement sound anything other than suicidally ridiculous. After a few seconds she decided there probably wasn't one, so she just said, "So I've started fighting lessons. My first one was last night." Oh no, and she'd just realized she hadn't had a chance to get her spear back before the end of the night.
"And my friend's name is Senna," she said, then continued thoughtfully, "Actually, you know, she and my fighting teacher share a room, and I'll have to try to stop by tonight to pick up my weapon. Maybe you can meet them." Hopefully Alita wouldn't eat him. "Oh, what do you want to do tonight, by the way? If you're interested, you can come on assignment with me, or I can beg off."
no subject
He let it go. He'd have to keep digging.
He frowned at that. He couldn't think of a reason why anyone would want to protect him, anyway; not unless he paid them. He wasn't exactly loaded right now.
"What kind of fighting lessons?" he asked, almost teasing. It was an interesting thought, but he didn't know how anyone could look at her and think she was suited to combat.
One of the leaders was a woman? She was probably as tough as Eva. "Your weapon?" Man, had he fallen behind. "What's the assignment?"
no subject
"Promise you won't laugh," she ordered Manny, giving him a Look that hinted at what the consequences would be if he did (nothing good, that was for sure). "They're..." Oh, good Lord. "They're spear lessons." As soon as she'd said it, she felt like an idiot and hurried to add, "I know it sounds silly, but we really don't have much else to work with--they took the gun back. A short spear is something I can handle pretty easily at my size, and my teacher claims she once beat one of the nastier monsters by herself with the kind we're using." It was still silly, when she thought about it. In the daytime, at least. Somehow it had seemed so deadly serious at night.
She'd always come out sounding so impressive when she'd imagined that conversation. Well, she'd just have to show him. If she had to know how to fight in order to protect people and stop Landel, sign her up. She could be good at other things besides being taken prisoner and making up bedtime stories, Meche thought a little defensively. But then, she realized, Manny had never said she couldn't. Her insecurities were talking again.
"I never know what the assignment is until after I take it," she explained. "I could ask for something on the safer side if you don't trust my fighting skills, though." Which was fine; actually, Meche didn't really trust her fighting skills either. Not yet, anyway.