Day 44: Sun Room, Second Shift

[superdynamic.livejournal.com]

[from here]

He really had beat the rush. Suzaku found a chair as close to the corner and as far from the bulletin as he could, and turned it to face the wall before curling up in it. His nurse frowned at him again, but she was still being cooperative, and frankly he didn't care what she had to say in the slightest. He didn't care even if he got sedated. All he cared about was finally having a few moments to himself, to sort out what Euphie's love meant and what the hell Lelouch's problem was.

It felt like he had all the pieces of a puzzle and was just too stupid to figure out how they fit together. What Lelouch had said about Shirley at breakfast and the tone he'd taken with Euphie on the board, Lelouch asking how Suzaku was, Lelouch dying. . . "All we can do is move forward and look out for the ones we care about." Euphie struggling to get out her last words, pain overtaking Suzaku's consciousness while he fought pathetically to carry out Lelouch's order. . . The last couple days, when he'd felt like he was finally figuring this out, seemed so far away now.

There were a couple things that were certain, at least: he hated what Lelouch had done, he always would. But he -- he didn't hate Lelouch, and he hadn't for a while now, and that wasn't going to change. And he didn't have much time, because everyone but Suzaku was terrifyingly mortal. And Lelouch was an idiot, but he still wasn't sure about the how and why of that one yet.

[for the Saucinator]

Comments

[oftemptation.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722484.html?thread=59205940#t59205940)]

The Sun Room was quiet, and that suited Endrance just fine. What he wanted was some time to think in silence. He had gotten most of the tears out that morning, something he still felt a bit...not ashamed, exactly, but he knew he couldn't keep reacting like that to everything that happened here. He needed to pull himself together and calm down.

Fortunately, this morning, none of the cats that tended to like to keep him company were staying away this morning. That was a very good thing in his mind - he wasn't sure he would have been able to keep himself from yelling at any of them. A sedation was the last thing he needed right now. Time to think things over was much more important.

He stretched out on one of the couches near the windows, staring up at the skylight overhead. What did it all mean? He'd really died last night, he knew that much...but why, and how had it been possible?

[one emo pretty boy free to a good home]

[prodigalson]

[A sparklepire is okay?]

Edward didn't want to say he was desperate to leave that conversation, but... well, he was. Defusing the most awkward of conversations was usually part of his forte (being telepathic didn't exactly hurt that skill), but there were some instances in which cutting the conversation short was the best course of action.

He seemed safe... for the moment. Venom was strangely reserved about the attack last night, but it was quite obvious he had been conscious enough to know what was happening. That only viable explanation was that perhaps this was not something strange to him. Could he have... met other vampires?

Insanity, of course. The Volturi would never let someone like him know and survive.

No. Even his mind wasn't exactly screaming about the whole experience, which left him suspicious. Speaking to him privately would probably be for the best; not that Venom's suspicions were exactly the best blackmail material (and it was unlikely he could do much about it outside of outright killing him... and look how well his last death had gone) but the vampire had to be cautious. He could live among humans expertly. His facade did not ever slip. But being trapped among them was a different game.

He was at a loss. By no means was he ever going to harm another human - not while he could help it. And though what he had done was outside of his control, it didn't excuse that he would have killed the man if he wasn't already dying. The whole reason he had stopped feeding on human blood is because his conscious could not take all of his murders onto itself and survive.

There was a grim silver lining in this. With the human blood in his veins (strength like he hadn't felt in nearly a century was flowing through him!), he would not be required to feed for quite a time. But when he needed to -

When I come to that bridge.

He sighed when his nurse coerced him into the newest room of his tour; only when he saw how sunny it was that he began to worry. The sun room - of course, Venom had mentioned it only last night. A man had been attacking people here.

In the morning light, it didn't look it. The room was spacious and quiet, almost like a well-lit library.

He could be skillful about this. Once his nurse had left him to his own devices, he weaved carefully throughout the light cutting into the room through the skylight, slipping into a seat had slipped into shadow, just beyond the frame of a window. Too close - much, much too close - but the nurse had not given him the option to leave, and he had little choice if the facade would stay.

The maze of cats running around in the room wasn't exactly making the facade any easier. Any that came too close to him would raise the hair on their backs and scramble away, ears peeled back and eyes vividly locked on him.

At least this area was clean of them, somewhat.

Perhaps conversation would keep his mind off of... everything. The man closest to him was lounged on a couch squared off from the chair (with blue hair? That was... odd.) and seemed the best victim try for it. So he grasped for straws.

"Are you not a cat person?"

[diamondstorm]

[from here]

She was a bit more composed than before as she entered the sun room. Her hair did not resemble a passing bird's nest as much as just frizzy hair. Renamon ran a hand through it perfunctorily, mind already attempting to shift unto the items at hand. She had three areas of issue in front of her currently, and she would do well to work through them.

The intercom. She was taking it that both men were alive, in ways unknown, if both the previous nights were to be believed. The hows and whys escaped her, and that was what Renamon needed to rectify. Jiraiya was another point. The man seemed hesitant in speaking with her, and she hadn't seen him this morning. Something twitched inside of her at that, but she attributed it to general unknowing. The night had ended with her glance of him, crouched on the ceiling of muscle. And Renamon did not know how the night had affected him, or what had gone on. She had sought out Yukari instantly, but now with him. Perhaps because he was not a child, and she understood this. She didn't have to like the distance.

The remaining point worked its way to the forefront, and Renamon slid open her notebook, flipping to certain pages as she remained sitting on the couch. If Dairine didn't think the computer would be fixed that way, the only option left would be to ask on the board if anyone else had knowledge of the machines. The irony hadn't left her, that she herself, a computer program in form, had no knowledge of it. But the board was a risk, especially with such a precious piece. The undercurrent of everything was placed for a reason did not fail her, but Renamon still held on to that tiny hope.

[Dairine]

[wiz-kid-redfive.livejournal.com]

It had been a while since Dairine had seen Renamon; and it was easy to understand why. On the pretext of not feeling well, she'd been able to stay in her room for a few days, trying to get Spot up and running. No matter how much she swore quietly and fiddled with the lemons and paper clips, they produced nothing more than a momentary charge. Then again, Spot wasn't a normal computer - it made sense that he'd need more power than a few lemons could give him, especially here, where his wizardry was cut off and his battery was gone. It made sense, but Dairine didn't have to like it.

The intercom last night had intrigued her, and she hadn't even needed to write the string of binary down, translating it in her head. It was troubling, to say the least, and she didn't know what it actually meant in terms of the Institute's trickery. In the morning, she'd decided that she needed to go and talk to people, and found Renamon's note. True to her word, the Digimon was waiting for her.

"Hey," Dairine said, walking up to her.

[tender-cruelty.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722484.html?view=59210292#t5921029)]


Allelujah headed out into the sun room, finding it mostly empty for the moment which suited him just fine. More importantly, Lockon and the others weren't around yet to see who he was going to be talking with. "We need to stay calm this time," he murmured softly, feeling Hallelujah snort softly at the back of his head. He wasn't sure if it meant he agreed or not. If something happened, he wasn't going to assume that Hallelujah would let it continue, but he'd try to prevent it himself if it did.

He settled down on an empty couch and waited for Soma to appear.

[Strictly for Soma]

[madeinthehrl]

[from here]

It had taken Soma longer to wash and dry her hair than most, and it was of no surprise to her that they had arrived in the Sun Room first. She almost hesitated at the threshold, despite the fact that it was she who had wanted to meet in the first place.

Speaking to the enemy like this went against all common sense. She didn't want to do it. But she'd made something resembling the same decision before, and she hadn't regretted it yet. She'd learned the importance of prioritizing, if nothing else. Advancing into the room, she halted, still standing, just out of reach.

"E-0057." There was no mistaking the undercurrent of hatred in her voice, but at least this time it remained exactly that--an undercurrent.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722484.html?thread=59211828#t59211828)]

Edgeworth took a seat by the bulletin board, jotting down some notes on the new information that was coming out that morning. He wasn't entirely sure that he believed that bit of added info on the monster post - but who would go so far as to throw false information into such an important post? Not even the people he knew were murderers back at home would go so far, to his knowledge, unless it was just another attempt to lure someone into a trap. He made a note of it, circling it once.

After that, he set to work on copying out the rough map of where people had wound up the night before and the manner in which they'd passed away, if they had given that much detail. There had to be a method to the madness, and he intended to find it.

[free; he'd love to talk to other investigatory-types.]

[dualistic]

[From here. Harvey can join the prosecutor club?]

The first thing Harvey did after getting out of the shower was head over to the bulletin to see if he had any more responses to his post. There wasn't much, either because what there was to say had already been said or because most of the patients were busy showering. Well, half of them were. The point was that no one seemed to know anything useful, and he wasn't sure why he'd expected anything different.

As he turned away from the board, Harvey realized that instead of looking for an empty spot, he was actually looking for someone who wasn't already busy with a conversation. That wasn't like him, but right now he knew that the second he stopped moving, the second that he had only his own thoughts for company, he would hear her voice again, see her charred body. It wouldn't be as real as it had been last night, but it was a haunting nonetheless.

While the man that he first set his gaze on wasn't talking to anyone, he was definitely occupied. It looked like he was copying down information or taking notes -- either way, he was someone who would probably be willing to talk and keep Harvey's mind on task and away from destructive thoughts, provided that he was willing to abandon his work for a time.

Seeing no reason why he shouldn't give it a shot, Harvey strode over to the spot where the man was seated and stopped a few feet away. "Mind if I take a seat?" he asked, motioning to the chair nearby. His tone was still rough, but it was a lot more polite than he usually cared to be. In a way, it annoyed him.

[purgatio]

Consciousness came slowly, pulling upward through murk and muck; unnaturally rising from an early grave. He understood this was his body's rejection of chemicals, a fact made clearer when it attempted to expel its non-existent contents on the floor of the room he was assigned to. His head spun with a dull pulse, his stomach worsened with every movement, and Albedo simply felt wretched.

Some kind of quiet panic underlined that he didn't remember being sedated. The nurse watching warily over his as he woke, however, confirmed that unknown fact.

A shift had passed without him knowing. He was escorted out of his room without words--Albedo understanding perfectly that he was balanced on the tip of a knife. Chemicals had entered his system four times in the days he'd been here. They would understand soon--that it wasn't effective. They would find worse soon. Even with that threat, he would still move against. Every time, his vows to himself, the promises to be more careful, to not allow it to happen again, for emotion to rule him; it didn't matter. Forgotten and dismissed, the same instances occurred again... The same effect, for different causes. And what had been those causes?

He blinked in the hall, dead expression passing curiosity. What had happened, for him to react as such (again)? What had happened?

It couldn't have been in the morning. Too little time had passed, too few-- So the night before, then, dark and clouded. What had happened, in that shrouded night, in the hours still unseen? What had crossed before him then?

It was a surprisingly reserved Albedo that entered the sun room--pondering what could not be remembered as such. Medication still swam in his system, thick and potent, wearing out slowly--and unlike from before, no heavy emotions had rose. What had forced unconsciousness in him had dulled his processes, and as he was given the option of where to sit, his eyes looked for the familiar. Gaze blank and distant, he found none in the moments, and sat instead, working on willing the concoction out of his system so he could remember that abstruse and atramentaceous night.

[for the Gavins]

[rocksthecourt]

[from here]

Klavier's mind was still racing as they headed into the room, trying to figure out what, if anything, Kristoph may have heard and what he could potentially say to any of it. But he was coming up blank. What could he possibly say? There was no room for excuses. His behavior as of late had been completely unacceptable in every sense of the word.

He moved to one of the couches closest to where they'd entered. No sense in aggravating the situation by making an unnecessary trek of this. However, Klavier didn't take a seat. He couldn't possibly feign a relaxed enough composure to sit in the given situation. Instead, he turned to Kristoph somewhat warily. "...What's wrong?"

Those two words had to have been the hardest thing for him to get out. He was terrified of the answer.

[ryuuzaki]

[From here.]

L took the opportunity to check the bulletin board in passing, but it wasn't long before he'd found a seat alone on one of the sofas. He perched on his feet, bird-like, the fingers of his left hand tapping against his lips. It was a contemplative pose: an accurate representation of his mood.

What Dr. Jones and Keman told me -- how is it related to this place, and to what happened last night or the night before? Is it a mistake to consider that the ruined town is related at all, or -- ?

He was not too lost in thought to notice anyone who might sit down or try to strike up a conversation -- or both.

[For Tony Stark.]

[i-dont-paint.livejournal.com]

For once, Tony didn't head directly for the bulletin board upon entering the sun room. He would check it, he knew, and soon. He had to know if the phenomenon last night had occurred for anyone else, how widespread it was, if anyone had noticed what prefaced it. But at the moment, the thought of wading through all of the notices, the inevitable assurances to friends that people were all right, hadn't died, made him feel exhausted.

Damn, he needed a drink.

But, barring a sudden medical breakthrough promoting alcohol as a cure for false diagnoses of insanity, he didn't think that was going to happen.

He dropped onto a sofa in one of the seating clusters dotting the room, nearby a younger man who seemed more inclined to perch than sit. He spared the man a curious look before flipping open his journal to a blank page, intending to cannibalize it for a note.

Which would say...what? You know that bleeding out from phantom gunshot wounds I did? Yeah, sorry about that. False alarm.

He snapped the book shut again with an emphatic sort of thump, and looked up at the nearby man. "Penny for your thoughts."

[kingside]

[From here and for Heinrich Lunge.]

Lelouch had enough sense to remember that he needed his journal for the meeting with Lunge, and after arranging a brief detour to his room to go and fetch it, he arrived back in the Sun Room, took one look at the bulletin, and immediately turned around and found a nearby couch to lie down on. After passing on his messages to Reinforce, Euphy, and Suzaku as well as checking in with several others, there was no need for him to spend any more time on it. Besides, he'd had a hard enough time simply writing straight; many of the messages he'd ended up posting had been his second, third, and even fourth attempts. Anything more complicated than what he'd done already could wait until the goddamn sedatives had worn off.

He closed his eyes, not particularly caring that doing so left him in an especially vulnerable position and that he'd need them open if he wanted to locate the person he was meeting. He was just-- so, so tired, even without the drugs currently pumping through his veins, that surely five minutes or so wouldn't go amiss right now. It didn't look like Lunge was there yet anyway, based on the short glimpse he'd gotten of the room's other occupants, so maybe...

He let out a long sigh and shifted into a slightly more comfortable position. Just a little while longer...

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

The Sun Room was slowly filling with people. Lunge paused in the doorway, scanning the room for curious eyes and a waiting face but finding nothing. If Lelouch was here, he was keeping a low profile. Useful for him, perhaps, but without a description to go on the inspector was left somewhat stranded.

With a sigh, half irritated and half resigned, he made a slow circuit of the room, fingertips idly brushing across the rough-soft surface of the chairs and sofas. Kinetic experience was so underrated these days. One often forgot how useful it was to feel as well as to see and hear. That wasn't to say, of course, that observational skills were surplus to requirements. Without them Lunge would most definitely not have noticed the familiar young man- slender, dark-haired, curiously effete up close as well as at a distance- stretched across the seats of a couch with his eyes closed, undoubtedly feeling the effects of that little dose he'd received for his troubles.

Well. Here was as good a place as any to sit. Lunge made himself comfortable in an armchair opposite the young man. Hopefully (more for their sake than his), they wouldn't mind a quiet observer. Just how strong were the sedatives they used here, anyway?

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722484.html?thread=59223092#t59223092).]

Howl collapsed onto the nearest couch. The shower had woken him up enough so that he had the presence of mind to readjust himself into a more graceful position. The uniform wasn't flattering, but Howl knew how to arrange himself so that his long limbs seemed natural and well-suited to him. He ran his hands through his hair, which was still damp and made inky black from the moisture. He had refused to pull it back, particularly while it was still wet, and instead arranged it carefully over his shoulder. Bangs and shorter layers fell around his face and into his eyes, and Howl could only hope it would dry well without any spells. He would have killed for at least a good drying spell.

Howl had been barely out of his teens the last time he had been forced to let his hair act naturally. It had been average and short back then, and very unremarkable. In fact, at the age of twenty, nearly everything about Howell Jenkins had been unremarkable. None of his old friends would have recognized the stately man on the couch, even in sweatpants and with his true hair color. It was just as well, since Howl didn't feel much desire to reach out to his past.

[For Ciel!]

[deadlynoble.livejournal.com]

Ciel was still irritable by the time morning had rolled around. He hadn't accomplished as much as he wanted to the night before and had, instead, been forced to endure the company of some overprotective imbecile who was fully intent on not letting him complete any of the tasks he had set out to do. What was the point of even coming up with a plan when one's demon butler would decide on his own to do something else entirely?

Not that Ciel was protesting the delicious cookies as they were the first palatable thing he'd eaten since he had arrived here, but he hadn't accomplished anything. For the second night in a row. It was getting to be frustrating, and Sebastian's attitude about the whole mess was deplorable, at best. He had assumed the demon would be far more concern with the loss of his infallibility, but his actions spoke otherwise.

He couldn't help the irritation that seized him, trying not to wave away the nurses who insisted on fawning over him some more and patting his hair to placate him. Once they left, he found himself sitting on the couch tensely and taking a slow look around his surroundings.

It seemed as if he had a companion -a young man with dark hair whom he couldn't recall ever seeing before. There was nothing particularly outstanding about him or interesting about him, but Ciel wasn't going to use that fact to discredit his potential usefulness.

He remembered his purpose here, the fact that he had to investigate matters in the institute more thoroughly. For that alone, he had to shed away all the irritation from his face and force his lips to quirk upwards (though they were aching grievously from doing this repeatedly) as he greeted the man in what could be perceived as a warm and friendly manner.

"Hello, Sir."

[feartehreaper.livejournal.com]

The nurse that had fetched Endrance didn't seem to care, but Haseo was definitely on top of getting away and out of the cafeteria before anyone else from the staff fully realized what they had done. That is, if after all that the morons hadn't glitched or something and forgotten their own stories. Anyway, in line with his general level of mild disobedience, he had already decided full force that this 'Arts and Crafts' bullshit could shove it entirely and refused to even get near the room. The separation in the patients was bad enough- being grouped with the 'children' was absolutely humiliating to Haseo, considering how much he'd already been out on his own back home. Of course, the nurses still didn't bother to listen, and so Haseo left it shortly after initially expressing it.

He went to his room at first instead, and while the nurse that had more or less followed him lingered outside the door, he made sure to check up on his possessions under the cover of putting on a sweatshirt and obtaining his notebook- it would have really rubbed him the wrong way if his knives hadn't been there. And the boots, for that matter, even if he was less positive about their original source. In the process he noticed that none of his shirts were blood-stained, though... that probably went without saying. Endrance lacked the wounds he had sustained, and Haseo was fine in spite of almost disintegrating, so it wouldn't have fit. Unless they intended to upset him again, which he didn't exactly put past them.

After that, Haseo figured he might as well be somewhat productive, and went to the Sun Room with the express purpose of reading the bulletin board some more. Endrance was there, but he decided not to try his luck with approaching him again, and busied himself frowning at the board as he copied information. He passionately hated writing down things by hand.

[For Scott Pilgrim. Limit: ??]

[vstheworld]

Scott had never been one to linger long in showers, especially not after having to deal with his and Wallace's basement apartment showerhead of questionable working-ness. The only thing he had gotten from his shower was a clean head of hair and yet another cold jab of reality. He suddenly realized just how much he missed Ramona already.

After the shower, he headed out to the Sun Room with the intention of going straight for the bulletin board to re-read some of the messages there more closely than he had the previous day. As he approached it, however, he saw his second head of strange, spiky hair of the day. It took a moment, but miraculously, Scott remembered the other meeting he had arranged over the board. The guy had the right face tattoos, so Scott headed straight for him instead. "Hey, what's up?" he asked, able to keep himself relaxed and casual for the time being. It wouldn't do to start freaking out at a semi-random stranger, after all. "I'm Scott Pilgrim, from the board. You said we could meet today?"

[constellates.livejournal.com]

Arts and Crafts? Yeah flippin' right. No way Alkaid was going to risk getting glitter underneath her cast and risk seeing what damage had been done underneath it. Besides, Badou had used all the glitter all writing some stupid love letter to his other partner... or whatever that guy was. Tch. At least the stupid eyepatch was okay and hadn't somehow gotten his head bitten off by the huge, hulking monster thing.

Anyway, there were more important things to do than play around with construction paper, such as think of things she might want from Venom if he ended up seeking her out this shift. What a weird guy... There was definitely something underneath that waxed black skin of his. Maybe the guy had a heart. Ha ha.

Stuff like going to Patient Possessions really reminded her of doing quests in The World, and it was a piece of home that really stuck out in her head.

So Alkaid took a seat on one of the cushy chairs, flipping through pictures of some blond guy with douche sunglasses. A woman was in a bunch of the pictures - or maybe it was multiple women, 'cause none of the ladies seemed to have faces that weren't all ripped out. And then, in some of the pics, there was a black guy with a pretty face and white hair. She knew that one. Any time now, he'd come by - maybe on hands and knees, haha!

She knew she'd have the upper hand in these circumstances.

[reserved for the rest of the facepalm triumvirate]

[poolcuemurder.livejournal.com]

[Time warping from after his conversation with Homura]

If Alkaid had assumed he would lower himself enough to beg to someone like her, she was going to be surprised. No, the Guild Head showed no signs of sadness, embarrassment, or anything of the sort - he was only surrounded by an undeniable aura of hatred as he entered the Sun Room and stalked her down. Once he found her (looking through thos- she had no right to do that!), he fixed her with a glare, his one visible eye (Nurse had requested at least that, if he couldn't bother to tie it back altogether) glowing with the type of murder that would make even the most stubborn of men cry for forgiveness and pray he didn't crush their skulls in with a five-ball.

"Alkaid." Just like his gaze, there was no warmth in his voice. He wanted those pictures and he did not wish to speak any further on them. He held out his hand to her, saying nothing else.

She shouldn't have those. They shouldn't even be.

[tartaros-avatar.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722484.html?thread=59207476#t59207476)]

Recluse was led into the sun room by his nurse, Calmly denying that he had been up to anything with Mr. Darrow. He'd just been friends, that was all.

The insufferable woman left him alone with an admonishment to "Be good." Recluse's only response was a derisive snort. What did he look like, a nice man?

[Free as a damp and well-scrubbed spider!]

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

Indy wasn't big on chatting in the shower. He spared enough time to glance around again for Pierson (easier to pick him out of a group composed only of adult men), but of course he had no luck--the guy was dead or as good as, in terms of accessibility. Indy showered efficiently, dressed and had his shoulder rebandaged, and returned to the Sun Room to see what the morning had in store for him.

It turned out to have what most mornings had at Landel's--a few worthwhile posts on the bulletin board and an unsmiling nurse giving him the evil eye until he found someone to make small talk with. Might as well get to it, then. Indy found a seat near a fellow about his own age (that was something unusual, at least) and nodded a greeting. "Morning."

[osakapwnzu.livejournal.com]

Heiji, upon informing his nurse that no, he didn't need to draw his feelings, shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked over to the bulletin. He swore, if Shinichi wasn't prancing around like he was so goddamn happy to have a case, Heiji would've punched his teeth in for the most recent crack about his accent. Shinichi was just lucky that Heiji wasn't enough of a douchebag to reveal his 'little' secret.

The detective flipped through other bulletin posts, looking to see if anyone was coming forward. Someone was, but Shinichi was interviewing them. Man, and Kenren wasn't even coming forward to talk--guy must've been really messed up. Maybe he'd even seen Sanzo die.

Once he was satisfied with his bit of research, he flopped down on a couch and watched the flow of traffic. Someone here had killed a man, and it was his job to figure out who. How could he do that, though, when he had little to no authority over witnesses and suspects?

[Free! Would like to talk to someone who knew Sanzo, if possible! ^^;;]

[itstaichoutoyou.livejournal.com]

When the nurse had asked him if he wanted to draw and paint with the other children, Hitsugaya had fixed her with a glare that would have froze hell over. She flinched, which Hitsugaya found oddly satisfying, even if he was chiding himself for his childish reaction.

He shouldn't have been so on edge, but these past few days had taken their toll on him, particularly Matsumoto's death. She had been his Vice Captain and an irreplaceable comrade and friend. Who could he rely on now? No, he couldn't act this way, couldn't let anyone see him down. He was a Captain, and he needed to act that way, dammit.

Cooling his nerves, he allowed his nurse to lead him to the Sun Room. Once she left him, he sat down on a couch across from a young man. "Morning."

[sir-savien.livejournal.com]

The discussion with Alvin over breakfast had left Kvothe feeling drained, and since he wouldn't have been able to do much in the Arts and Crafts room anyway with his hand still in a cast he got his nurse to let him go to the Sun Room instead. He claimed a place on an empty couch, outwardly calm and composed, but thoughtful. He wouldn't have expected it to be possible when he first arrived, but it seemed like every day things only got worse.

[Free!]

[boyking]

[from here]

Hair still damp, Sam started to move towards a more secluded area in the room when he spotted someone familiar out of the corner of his eye. Skuld. Right. She'd made it out of the town all right, it seemed, though considering she was apparently a goddess, that probably wasn't unexpected.

There wasn't much reason for him to stop and chat, and in truth, he didn't particularly want to: what happened last night wasn't leaving his mind any time soon; as much as he didn't feel like dwelling on it—he already knew how much he'd screwed up; it wasn't like this fact required further contemplation—he also didn't want to be distracted from his thoughts, either. He wasn't inclined to spend the next thirty minutes or so acting as if everything was fine, as if he wasn't feeling like the thing he wanted the most next to a goddamn miracle was a drink or the ability to sit for longer than two minutes without the snaking realization that he'd never be able to save Dean because it just wasn't his lot in life to keep what little he had. God knew he had to do enough of that in front of Dean.

But it'd be rude to pass her by, especially since she was alone. Besides she was doing him a favour, and when it came down to it, she was probably as safe a conversationalist as he was ever gonna get. She didn't remind him of anything he didn't want to be reminded of, and didn't seem much interested in approaching especially personal topics.

He could deal with that.

Sam walked over, a casual smile in place, put on with practiced ease after four years of Stanford and way too many interviews with witnesses. "Hey."

[innovator-skuld.livejournal.com]

Skuld had refused to go to the Arts & Crafts room, partly because she didn't want to be handed glitter and glue like some kid, partly because it was more likely she'd find people in the Sun Room.

And more likely people would find her, apparently. She glanced up from her journal, not sure she was the one being addressed, then nodded when she saw--Eddie, was it? "Hi."

She wasn't the best at carrying on conversations with people she didn't know, so she figured it was better to get down to business. "Are you busy tonight? I have a slot free." Not that it mattered if he showed up, but he might want to.

[sewenteen-sir.livejournal.com]

Unable to eat anything, sedatives still running their course through his body, Chekov's nurse shoveled him into the Sun Room and onto a couch. The young man sat there, staring at the floor, wondering if this was how it felt to go insane.

Commander Spock had died, and someone (he thought) was trying to tell him that Spock was still alive. He'd looked up at the sky last night and found nothing familiar, nothing comforting. He didn't know which galaxy they were in, which reality (if any)... he didn't even know if all of his learning had been real, everything in the sky was in such disarray. What if he was insane? What if he was only imagining comfort in the form of his captain and the commander? What if there was no Federation, no space travel, no Enterprise?

Then what was he before them?

He stared down at the carpet past his folded hands, and began to wonder if he was seeing a pattern in it.

[Free to someone who doesn't mind a drugged up nawigator!]

[sheisthecause.livejournal.com]

[yay!]

There was nothing like a shower to really make you feel like one of the living, Meche thought. The shower had felt so good--and given her time to clear her head, which was important. She'd rather have taken it before she saw Manny, but she was also ready to take what she could get around here. At least she'd still be clean tonight.

She saw a few familiar faces--Soma and Albedo--in the Sun Room, but both of them looked so preoccupied that she decided to leave them alone for now. Instead, Meche found herself walking toward a young man she'd never met before. He was staring down at the floor. Also preoccupied, but in what she thought was sort of a lonely-looking way--maybe someone who could stand to talk about it. This place was bad enough as it was, but it must be even harder on the kids.

Meche took a seat at the other end of the sofa. She didn't say anything at first, just waited a few moments to see if the young man would react to her presence or tell her to get lost. After a little while, she asked quietly, "Are you all right?"

[denied-future.livejournal.com]

One shift down, another four to go before night-time. And then what? Rey doubted that, in his current state, he'd be able to go anywhere without being in severe danger. Therefore, it was best that he stay in his room--or that was what the logical and hopefully more dominant part of his brain was saying. Another part was pointing out that he practically counted as suicidal anyway (he decided to ignore said part). Staying inside it was, then.

His nurse led him to the Sun Room, where he immediately went to the bulletin board. It seemed what he'd heard about people mysteriously dying was true, leaving him to wonder if he would've been one of those victims, if it hadn't been for his already-existing wounds. Once he was done with reading the notes, he headed over to a couch and sat down, careful not to move his arm, hung in a sling.

His body hurt, he was still as depressed as ever, and he knew that he likely wouldn't be doing anything remotely productive with his time. Needless to say, he wasn't looking forward to the rest of the day.

[Free, no limit]

[faithful-frost.livejournal.com]

Haku wasn't terribly surprised that he'd missed breakfast, but he wasn't very hungry to begin with. The staff here had forced some milk on him for the pain medication, and now he found himself being 'helped' over to a seat in the sun room.

"Here you are Chris! A nice new friend for you to talk with! I don't want you to exert yourself again, understand?" The ninja smiled at her, and nodded slightly, as much as the heavy bandages around his throat and shoulders would allow. When she'd gone, he turned to his 'new friend' and closed his eyes in something that was almost a bow.

"Forgive the intrusion."

(Hope you don't mind?)

[toobothersome.livejournal.com]

Arts and Crafts sounded like a hell of a lot of effort. With nothing to make and nothing to steal, there was no point in going and Shikamaru took his usual place on the sun room sofa, one arm behind his head and the other across his stomach. The orange cat leaped up to rub against his leg, but he ignored it. Damn cat. He didn't know why it bothered with him to begin with.

Through the overhead window, well-formed and rounded clouds hung against a pale blue, the type of clouds that caused other imaginations to conjure animals and faces. His favorite kind, usually, though he appreciated them as what they were: clouds, unattached and free. For some reason, he'd expected blank blue or overcast grey, something either too full or too empty to understand. It bothered him, that the world overhead seemed indifferent to his mood. It was irrational, even laughable, to expect the sky to empathize, but he couldn't push aside the feeling that its perfection felt like betrayal.

He was past all of this. He'd moved on, though he'd made a few mistakes, and he should have been ready to handle this kind of stuff. The life of a ninja was short and bloody, as Kakashi had just reminded him. As the last few weeks had just reminded him. As years of training had tried to teach him, but he'd probably slept through those classes.

Whatever. He was sick of thinking about the matter. He'd been here what, six days? This was pathetic. Their team had only been in one combat situation, and he was acting like an academy student. He sure as hell hoped that the version of him out there was doing a better job than he was.

[Sokka?]

[alwayscomesback.livejournal.com]

Sokka had already missed the first shift, but he had been too freaked out to care, and then too drugged to care thanks to a sedative from his nurse. It wasn't his fault that he had freaked out from disappearing last night though. He shouldn't have been able to freak out at all from having such a thing happen to him!

By the time second shift had rolled around, the nurses decided that Sokka was fine enough to be taken to the Sun Room where he could "calm down" by their standards.

The had him set down next to another on the couch and told him to play nice before leaving him to his devices. Sokka was just able to get himself calm and controlled enough to look and see who he was stuck with.

"Oh, hey Shika," he greeted with a weak smile, "How've... you been?"

[whohitreset.livejournal.com]

If he wanted to, Matt figured he could probably have a nice fun time in Arts and Crafts. He just didn't want to. He felt silly sitting among the glitter and fingerpaint. It brought back bad memories of Wammy's house. None of those kids had been normal. He'd seen a mural covering an entire table, made completely out of fingerpaint, done by a six year old girl.

He'd never been an artist. He'd kept to the corner with his graham crackers and tried to avoid flying acrylic.

So it was the sun room today - watching the bulletin for the usual folks or anything else that might look interesting. Boring tasks, in other words. Maybe he'd just take a nap instead.

[for one last talk with Ayu ;_;]

[tostepforward.livejournal.com]

[in from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722871.html?thread=59268023#t59268023)]

It seemed that Lelouch was still feeling the effects of the drugs the nurses had given him at breakfast, as Ayumu automatically took note of his position. Suzaku didn't look to be feeling much better, even if he wasn't drugged himself, and not open to company. Best to just keep an eye on the pair of them from afar, then - and perhaps that boy who'd been with Lelouch with breakfast, and the Euphemia woman. Her list of people to watch was certainly growing exponentially.

As she moved farther into the Sun Room, absently pulling her damp hair into a twist at the base of her neck and securing it with a pair of pens, she noticed Robin lazing on another one of the sofas and smiled slightly. There was someone else she hadn't spoken to very recently, and he likely wasn't going to be pleased about that. That was something she could deal with for now, at least.

Ayumu just hoped Himura hadn't felt the need to inform him about certain matters from the night before; she'd already had to spend enough time dealing with the young man's suspicions. She moved up behind him, reaching out to lightly brush her fingertips along the hair at the back of his neck to alert him to her presence, with a soft, "Good morning."

[heraldric.livejournal.com]

Once he was satisfied that his work on the bulletin was complete, Leon made himself comfortable on one of the sofas. He was actually getting things rolling now. It was a good feeling. Though it might be too much to ask for everything to work out perfectly, those that had signed up appeared to be decent enough so far.

The cats were fickle animals. Sometimes one would crawl up into his lap without him having to do anything, while other times he could chase them around trying to get a hold of one to no avail. Today he had one rub up against his legs and move on, and he decided it wasn't worth moving to go after it.

The young mage leaned his head back and closed his eyes, still a bit tired from the night before even if breakfast had helped.

[free]

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

Barely recovered, Kibitoshin headed into the Sun Room still squeezing out the damp weight of his hair. Oh, well. Some battles just weren’t meant to be won. Maybe he’d be brave enough to stay in there longer next ti- hey! Wasn’t that Leon?

“Leon!” Kibitoshin bolted over towards the mage, darting around furniture with surprising single-minded ease. The words tumbled out before he even reached him. “Are you okay? Last time I saw you, you were totally beat! I mean, I know it was nearly two days ago now and you’ve had plenty of time to rest and all, but…”

Oh! Was he tired? Stood in front of Leon like a child waiting to be punished, his eyes lowered with his voice and he toed at the ground embarrassedly. “I’m babbling, huh?”

[demon-beast.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722871.html?thread=59273911#t59273911)]


The Sun Room was thankfully not so full when she entered and she easily found a seat, curling her legs up beneath her as she settled onto the couch. She tilted her head back to look at the skylights for a few moments before glancing around the room. She couldn't see any of her tribe. There was no Roland, no Gale or Heat. He was back now. This could make things awkward. He didn't remember obviously if his message on the bulletin had been anything to go by. She just hoped that they could find him before he tried to eat someone.

[For Junpei!]

[whos-da-man.livejournal.com]

Junpei had been reading the bulletin board for a while before he got bored of it. No, not bored. He was angry. Sure, he already knew about Akihiko, but to see his roommate mention it on the board made him upset all over again. Not wanting to cry anymore, he channeled it all into anger. He hadn't been wrong when he told Yukari and Minato that he needed to blow off some steam before he did something stupid.

Unfortunately, he hadn't had the chance to do that. Stupidity was about to occur thanks to the appearance of a freshly-showered, pink-haired woman that was looking far too comfortable in that chair. As if she was content. With a full stomach.

Junpei didn't even think before he was suddenly standing over Argilla, blocking her from easily vacating the chair, with a look of pure fury on his face. The fires inside him burned hot, practically flickering in his eyes. He so wanted to set her ablaze, let Trismegistus turn her to ash.

"What did she ever do to you?!" His hands were clenched into fists at his side.

[darwinism]

Sylar wasn't sure if he should feel better or worse after his talk with Wally. On one hand, he'd already taken one step toward getting revenge on Tyki, but on the other, he still couldn't get that distraught expression of Wally's out of his head.

The feeling of uncertainty bothered him. He was used to being confident in his decisions, and sure of his own strength and superiority. He usually took pleasure in getting the emotions he needed out of people, and while he felt that satisfaction now, it was muted. It was hard to feel triumphant when his thoughts and priorities had been thrown into such a disarray, when he was so injured that an orderly had to help spongebath him in a corner of the shower.

Humiliating. He'd even resisted at first, but that hadn't lasted long; just a small amount of pressure on his bad foot had forced him to brace himself against the wall, and as much as he hated it, even he could tell how much sweat and grime was clinging to him, which wouldn't do much for his healing or for his interactions.

At least cooperating had gotten him out of there quickly, though the fact that going along with this farce at all had become normal made him clench his jaw so tightly that his wounds started to strain and burn.

He wanted out of this place. Out. He wanted his powers back: if only he'd been able to send another surge of electricity through Tyki; if only he'd been able to hold him against the wall with his mind, to break his bones one by one without even touching them. Tyki would be in so much agony that he'd wish Sylar was merciful enough to cut him up the way he had.

But he wasn't. He'd repay Tyki a hundred times for what he'd done, for what he and this place had made him feel.

But right now, he couldn't do much, planted firmly in the center of the Sun Room. He'd managed, at least, to move from his wheelchair to one of the empty couches, but the change in position had only made his freshly-aggravated wounds even more painful.

He let out a long sigh and leaned his head back against the couch. He closed his eyes.

You're not Gabriel. You're damned.

They shot open again and he heaved a breath, but the only comfort he got was the sharp points of pain all over his chest and side.

And it was a comfort.

[ For Peter Petrelli; limit: 2. ]

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Brushing back hair that was still damp from his own shower, Peter couldn't stop himself from looking for his brother yet again when he entered the Sun Room. He hadn't seen the man in the showers, so he'd thought that maybe he had managed to opt out of taking one somehow (not that he had any idea as to why Nathan would want to do something like that, since he usually liked to look presentable).

It didn't take long to confirm that Nathan wasn't there, so Peter then searched for someone else to sit with and spotted another familiar (and yet not nearly as welcome) face. A face, he realized once he got a closer glance, that had a few bandages slapped on it. It didn't stop there, either. Sylar's arm was in a sling, and there was even a wheelchair next to the couch where he was seated, indicating that one or both of his legs were injured as well. These were all things that Peter soaked in due to his nurse training, but he had no intention of helping the man.

Still, seeing Sylar during the day was extremely rare (the psychopath was way too good at hiding), and finding him injured was even rarer. Peter couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his enemy. His first thought was that Sylar had been victim to the same things that he and Claire had, but he quickly dropped that idea. For one thing, all those wounds had healed; for another, Peter knew that Sylar didn't have a single death that he felt guilty about.

No, he was the one that caused other people to feel trauma. Peter had seen, even through the pain of his own fatal wounds, the cut that had seared across Claire's forehead.

But that was when Peter remembered. Tyki had called Sylar out on the bulletin yesterday -- was he the one responsible? Peter found that hard to believe, but maybe he was giving Tyki too much credit.

There was only one way to find out -- besides, he needed to make it clear that Sylar was not to get within ten feet of Claire again. Peter stalked over to the couch where the killer was sitting, pausing in front of it as he stared down at him. He didn't want to admit it, but it was satisfying to see someone who was usually so dangerous reduced to this.

"Looks like you lost," he remarked, arms folded over his chest.

[piggy-king.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722484.html?thread=59328052#t59328052).]

Ah, Porky was finally out of that water-soaked hellhole and back into the nice, cool, and above all dry sun room. There wasn't much to do, though. In fact, all Porky really thought to do was plop down onto one of the seats and lean back, letting his body dry in the light. Hmmm...What would Porky do tonight? He didn't have any plans are far as he knew, but it wasn't like he could just sit around or go alone or something...

[free]

[dahliahasthorns.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/722871.html?thread=59333047#t59333047)]

She still hadn't braided her hair up by the time they got there, but coming out of that steamed hell just reminded her of last night and it took all the energy out of her. Running through boulders, through the fog, across the ice, and over the lava... Not to mention stupid riddles and Annie's... well, problem. Ugh, thinking about it made her injuries flare up more than normal and she gave a little huff before laying down on a couch to rest for a while.

A cat jumped onto her stomach once she did, some fuzzy little black thing with yellow eyes and a penchant for nuzzling her hand with its face like she was going to pet it. "Get lost," she whispered to it with a kind smile. When it didn't, she shifted her weight to lay on her side to push it off of her body. Instead, the furball leaped onto her hip and curled up there.

She hated cats. Whoever had trained this one to be so obnoxious was burning in hell.

[Oh Syncie~]

[godforsaken]

So Anise was alive.

After leaving the cafeteria, Sync scanned over the board in the sunroom and discovered that this 'dying' phenomenon had actually occurred with several other people. This meant that it'd been nothing more than a ruse to shake up the entire institute, which led to the conclusion that the Guardian was probably still alive after all. Of course, he had to make sure, and so Sync decided to do a little experiment.

Suffice to say, it was a success.

This meant that his plans had changed somewhat from when he originally talked to Claude, but it wasn't like he'd let that stop him.

After giving one last look over at the board, Sync stood up from his chair and scanned the room for anyone familiar looking. Almost immediately a bright shade of red caught his attention, and in no time the God-General strode over to where Dahlia lay. He gave no warning as he suddenly reached out and grabbed the cat by the back of its neck, tossing it off to the side while he graced the woman with a friendly smile.

"Good morning, Dahlia."

[cannotlogout.livejournal.com]

The message on the bulletin had left Tsukasa practically gasping with relief, staring at the responses for a long time before he felt that he could believe his own eyes. They were alive, really alive, and not comatose or mindless like those who were caught in The World. The truth of the messages were confirmed when he spotted Endrance and Haseo entering the room, looking none the worse for wear. they needed to talk, because he... he'd seen them die, he knew that he had, and from Haseo's message, he was sure that they knew that they had. But for now he was content to find a nearby couch and settle down, turning his attention to a more immediate problem.

Showers.

The nurse had seemed surprised to have him ask if he could shower alone, but had refused that idea right off, saying that he'd just have to stop being shy and go and shower like the rest of the children when the time came.

Just great.

[Free]

[ham_fisted]

Gumshoe thought he was being discreet when he jerked to the left of the corridor and flattened himself against the wall next to the entrance, poking his head around the corner to check if the coast was clear. When they had got to the main hallway, he'd panicked, and before he knew it, he was riding on instinct. A look of intense focus on his face had appeared so suddenly that it had prompted his nurse to ask him if he was alright. He couldn't tell her... He couldn't get distracted...

As soon as he was 100% certain she wasn't there, he bolted across the room and straight through the door to the Men's Showers.

[ham_fisted]

[to here]