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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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- zoro
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
"I can sense them all, but I don't know all of them," Momo replied. "I've worked with a few and one I've known most of my existence." She cocked her head. "Why do the matters of the shinigami interest you?"
no subject
"Who wouldn't be interested?" Matt began cutting up his french toast with the side of his fork, not having bothered with syrup. "I've just run into another since I've been here. You two don't seem much alike, though."
no subject
Just because the shinigami Robin had met wasn't, to him, a lot like Momo, didn't mean the one he was referring to was one of the outside shinigami. If one were to stand her and Zaraki-taichou side-by-side, no one would think them alike. And yet, both were shinigami.
She smiled again. "I'm not like many of my fellow shinigami. The one you met - what's his name?"
no subject
This girl seemed far too friendly to be from a group of beings that stole life from humans by writing their name down in a notebook before their time. That was a difficult topic to just breach with someone, so he decided to be cautious for now.
no subject
Really? Bob? That was a Western name, so it was most certainly not one of the Gotei 13 shinigami. No one she knew would use such an alias.
"I'm sorry, but that's not one of the shinigami I am personally familiar with," Momo replied, "He is either one of the others or perhaps one of the shinigami that recently vanished." She gave a wane smile. "I can feel when they leave. It is somewhat jarring if I'm paying attention at the time."
Chewing on another piece of fruit, this one watermelon, Momo tilted her head at Robin. "You seem to be handling spending your morning meal with a death god fairly well. I commend you, Robin-san. Most of the humans I've spoken to about it seemed a little... spooked."