Day 46: Sun Room

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Peter woke up suddenly, his body twisting in the bed and then forcing him to catch his breath in pain. Pain, which was coming from his middle because of the thing that had scratched him last night, and after that...

After that, Zach had jumped in front of him like some kind of martyr, like the exact opposite of everything Sylar stood for, to take the next hit for him. It got pretty fuzzy after that, so night must have ended right around then.

The man let out a pained grunt as he straightened himself up in bed. For some reason, he got the feeling that he'd slept in. There was no way for him to really tell without a window in the room, but he just knew. The fact that Sam's bed looked long since vacated was another clue.

Sam, but was he Sam again? Had the brainwashing worn off, as he and Roland had hoped, or was he going to have to go through this nightmare for even longer? He didn't know how long he could handle "Zach" and "Harrison" before he started going batty himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter lifted his shirt and saw that he was tightly bandaged. The scratch most likely wasn't nearly as bad as the bite that "Zach" had received, but it still smarted. He let his shirt fall and then had to deal with a nurse chiding him for sleeping through the morning announcements. Not that Peter really cared at the moment. He was too busy thinking about last night and the fact that in a way, he now owed something to Sylar. Except it hadn't been Sylar. That was something he was sure of now.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter reached the Sun Room right as the rest of the patient populace was trickling in from breakfast. Sighing to himself, he headed over to the bulletin board and then saw a note written in familiar yet unpleasant handwriting. Holding his pen in a vice grip, Peter scribbled out a reply and then stalked over to an armchair and fell into it with a huff.

While Sylar was maddeningly frustrating, there was one good thing about the fact that he was himself again. It meant that Nathan was too.

[For Spock!]

Comments

[mrs-nose.livejournal.com]

Now if they really wanted her to get a move on, the least they could do was answer her questions first. The nurse was trying to be polite-- Sophie applauded the effort, really, it would have been nice if it weren't quite so grating to be out of the loop-- but she also couldn't understand why the woman couldn't take the time out to talk to her properly without all the smoke and mirrors. She got enough of that trying to ask Howl what he wanted for dinner, thank you very much.

"You were late for breakfast," was all the nurse thought she needed to know. Well, Sophie was about ready to tell the woman what she thought the woman needed to know, right before they passed into a very well-lit room. It was like nothing Sophie had ever seen before, and the nurse was somehow saved an earful of not-so-well-meaning scolding.

It was probably for the best that the nurse slipped out of the room when she did, for once Sophie had gotten her wits about her she wouldn't have had another chance to escape. Sophie sat down at a sofa, silently frowning her displeasure. Didn't an old woman deserve some kind of an explanation? Having accidentally transported yourself somewhere you weren't supposed to was upsetting enough when you actually knew where you were.

Sophie sighed and looked down at her hands. They even took her clothes, did they? They could have at least given her a skirt, whoever they were, these people who liked to take poor little old ladies hostage without so much as a by-your-leave. Turning her fingers over, she observed the neat, clear nails, wondering how they got that way when she was always having to clean up after Howl and had not yet had enough time to properly wash them. Then she saw the skin on her hands, a lot less wrinkled now, and Sophie managed a very unladylike gasp.

Someone had managed to cancel out the curse of the Witch of the Waste! That was either very good or very bad. And judging from what Sophie had experienced so far... she was beginning to think it might be the latter. In the back of her head, she wondered why she wasn't as happy as she should've been. It was like she'd enjoyed being old, after all.

Oh, how she hated being the eldest!

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

Howl's head was hurting with a vicious ferocity when he woke up, despite the fact that he had apparently slept right through breakfast. The bulletin had informed him that the nightmare that was yesterday had crumbled overnight, and he did not need to doubt his sanity any more than this place originally inspired him to.

And yet still, he couldn't make any sense of this place. Every time he thought he had a good handle on the situation, someone up and changed the rules on him. Absently, he wondered if perhaps this was how people felt when dealing with him, albeit on a much larger scale. Really, after facing this down, he'd see no reason for them to complain about him at all. He could be so much worse if he put his mind to it!

Howl was about to find somewhere good to sulk and let the world know that he was unhappy (about what, it didn't matter), when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Howl couldn't explain his attraction for a pretty, ginger haired girl, but there he was regardless, letting his eyes wander. But then his glance became more focused as the young lady began to pull at his memories. He knew this girl.

Yes, he thought as he walked around to get a better angle, the girl was most certainly the shy little mouse he had crossed paths with on May Day. Furthermore, he could now see how much she looked like Sophie's sisters. It had been a passing fantasy, of course, but Lettie had described Sophie head to toe. Howl swiftly hid away the confusion and desperate hope that he knew was beginning to show on his face.

"Haven't we met?" he asked, with just the right amount of humor in his voice. If it was Sophie, she would think he was being flippant and making fun of her. If it were not, well, he would be happy to pick up where the little gray mouse had ran off.

[gentiana-clusii.livejournal.com]

Ken sighed as he settled down onto one of the chairs in the Sun Room, feeling exhausted and thoroughly sick of all the bullshit this place dealt out. At least Yohji wasn't still pissed off at him for yesterday. His head tilted backwards to rest on the back of the chair, and his eyes slipped closed.

Now he just had to find Aya, and hope to God it didn't end up with him getting floored. He'd rather not have more bruises, or get sedated, and he knew that if Aya started punching, he'd punch back. That was just how they dealt with one another, it seemed.

A sudden warm, furry pressure in his lap caused Ken to sit up straighter and look down. One of the therapy cats had decided he seemed to be a decent cushion. Ken smiled slightly and scratched behind the feline's ears.

"At least you're not mad at me, right?"

[Aya~]

[briar-thorns.livejournal.com]

How he kept losing so much time, he didn't know. After running into Ken, Aya still refused to even consider thinking of him as 'Andrew', he'd tried to find Yohji and make sure the same fate hadn't befallen his other teammate with no success. Another bruise to nurse in the myriad of blemishes continuing to build over his perception of usefulness.

When morning came around again Aya was determined to see what he could do to break Landel's hold over Ken. At least today he was more successful in tracking the other man down. Aya steeled himself, pushing down that flickering flare of anger over the words exchanged during their last conversation.

He'd do whatever it took to break all of them free from this place. Ken, Yohji... and his sister.

"Ken." Just to set things straight, right off the bat. He wasn't going to coddle the fake identity Landel's had painted on, but he was going to try to keep this conversation from devolving into flying fists once again. That last punch had been pretty solid and it hadn't done much good. No use injuring Ken even more.

Aya watched his teammate, waiting for the twitch or wince which would tell him how to continue on. He blinked, noticing the cat in Ken's lap since the thing was starting to purr up a storm with all the attention given. Cats...?

[no-barbarian.livejournal.com]

Sometime or another Teisel was going to have to get hold of Zex, if only to explain why he hadn't shown up last night. Though, if he remembered right, Zex hadn't been quite there himself.

The bulletin was devoid of anything interesting or useful save for a call-out from Sechs, which Teisel was already getting used to. He scribbled down a reply and retired to a quiet corner of the room to daydream.

When he finally got around to building the family's next airship, he'd have to see about some kind of reinforced hull plating. Something sturdy that wouldn't add too much extra weight...