"RYUUZAKI" (L - Death Note) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryuuzaki) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-09-30 05:12 pm
ryuuzaki) wrote in damned_institute2009-09-30 05:12 pm
Entry tags:
- abe sapien,
- alfred,
- allelujah,
- argilla,
- asch,
- brainiac 5,
- edward cullen,
- faize,
- harley,
- howl,
- l,
- leonard,
- lockdown,
- lunge,
- meche,
- mele,
- peter petrelli,
- pied piper,
- porky,
- rolo,
- scar (tlk),
- schuldig,
- sechs,
- sho,
- suzaku,
- sylar,
- tenpou,
- tenzen,
- teresa,
- the flash,
- the scarecrow,
- two-face,
- tyki,
- venom,
- yue,
- zex
Day 44: Arts and Crafts Room, 4th Shift
The day had been slow for L so far, slower than he required: the events of the previous night were traumatic, but they did not outweigh his need for information and a useful way in which to apply whatever he might learn.
When the nurse shepherded him from the cafeteria, through the Sun Room, and over towards the door of the Arts and Crafts Room, he experienced a small internal wince: this was the room where it had happened the night before. Unpleasant, yes, but likely to be irrelevant in terms of my own welfare, except in terms of what I can learn from it, he reminded himself.
He had the impression that he could avoid the room if he wanted to, but there were several convincing reasons to push past his reluctance: his meeting with Lunge was necessary, the opportunity to see the room in more usual circumstances might be valuable, and he did not want the staff to see that he had been affected. He wasn't sure how they were tied to the events of the previous night, but the buzz of information around the Institute suggested some kind of strong connection.
As he stepped into the room, feet feeling imprisoned in the slippers that the staff kept insisting that he wear, he avoided the area where he had collapsed. Instead, he turned to the right and proceeded as far into the room as he could, then left, then took a seat in the back corner.
If the nurses pressed him to be more creative, he would take up painting. However, he expected to express his creativity in other ways.
[For Lunge.]
When the nurse shepherded him from the cafeteria, through the Sun Room, and over towards the door of the Arts and Crafts Room, he experienced a small internal wince: this was the room where it had happened the night before. Unpleasant, yes, but likely to be irrelevant in terms of my own welfare, except in terms of what I can learn from it, he reminded himself.
He had the impression that he could avoid the room if he wanted to, but there were several convincing reasons to push past his reluctance: his meeting with Lunge was necessary, the opportunity to see the room in more usual circumstances might be valuable, and he did not want the staff to see that he had been affected. He wasn't sure how they were tied to the events of the previous night, but the buzz of information around the Institute suggested some kind of strong connection.
As he stepped into the room, feet feeling imprisoned in the slippers that the staff kept insisting that he wear, he avoided the area where he had collapsed. Instead, he turned to the right and proceeded as far into the room as he could, then left, then took a seat in the back corner.
If the nurses pressed him to be more creative, he would take up painting. However, he expected to express his creativity in other ways.
[For Lunge.]
no subject
With Cody properly restrained, the nurse strode over with a syringe she had already pulled out of her uniform's pocket, where it was always safely secured in case of such incidents.
"I'm sorry that it has to come to this," she said with a sigh once the man had stopped shouting for long enough for her to speak, "but you've simply gone too far this time." She reached forward and stuck him in the arm with the needle as gently as she could. There was no reason for it to hurt more than necessary, after all.
She glanced to one of the orderlies, her brow knit. "We're going to have to wash that marking off of his face, as well..." It was an inconvenience, but not one that they were ill-prepared for. He would just need a trip to the bathroom and all would be taken care of.
no subject
"NO! YOU'VE gone too far! LISTEN TO ME! THIS PLACE-- ARGH!!" Sechs' shouts were cut off by a strangled holler as the syringe entered his arm; his reaction was more of desperation to not be silenced than feeling the needle's pinch.
Sechs continued his violent struggle once the syringe had left his skin but his fight against the two bigger caretakers didn't last long. Within moments the Replica's aggressive efforts slowed down until his whole body reluctantly relaxed and fell limp within the orderlies' restraint. His strident fury gradually shifted into weary mumbles.
Whoa... What... what was going on? He didn't feel so great... He felt so tired... NO! He HAD to keep fighting! He wasn't down yet! His marker-- ...so tired... He just wanted to sleep... sleep until he'd wake up back in the Z.O.T Tournament again... this game sucked... No!! AR-6... thrown out... finished... 6...
"No... I'm not... disposa...ble..." was all Sechs could murmur before he was dragged off by the staff.