Tsubaki stayed silent rather than rush on, watching him while he continued to digest her explanation. She’d never thought of herself as particularly ineloquent, but it did occur to her that some of the other prisoners could probably tie things together better for Ranulf. She was just happy to do whatever she could. After all, there were just as many less than unsavoury characters around; she was glad he hadn’t crossed paths with one of them first.
“I see,” she replied at Ranulf’s negative. Now how could she go about this? It was worse for Ranulf, being from a different culture. “Well… it’s a hospital, just that its main job is to try and fix problems with the mind.” Tsubaki’s experience with legitimate mental institutions was shaky at best, but the fact that Landel’s was merely a façade for something far more sinister--an underbelly they hadn’t even seen the whole of yet--was the more unnerving aspect.
She returned his look a little ruefully. Hospitals were supposed to help people, but this one…
“Yes, only this place--Landel’s Institute--isn’t actually a hospital. It pretends to be one during the day, but once the sun goes down, everything changes,” Tsubaki said, giving the corridor another hooded look from the corner of her eye. And then she fixed on Ranulf again with an air of vitalness. “During the day, there’s hospital staff, and they’re going to treat you like you’re sick, like you’re a human from this world who’s only imagined your life up until now. But at night something happens to make it all transform. It becomes dangerous: monsters and other enemies appear. The prisoners try to arm themselves with what they can find, but… it’s like a game for the man who runs the Institute. When night ends, it’s as though none of it happened, and we go back to being treated like patients in a hospital.” Her voice, having grown quieter and quieter during the account, ended just above a murmur.
no subject
“I see,” she replied at Ranulf’s negative. Now how could she go about this? It was worse for Ranulf, being from a different culture. “Well… it’s a hospital, just that its main job is to try and fix problems with the mind.” Tsubaki’s experience with legitimate mental institutions was shaky at best, but the fact that Landel’s was merely a façade for something far more sinister--an underbelly they hadn’t even seen the whole of yet--was the more unnerving aspect.
She returned his look a little ruefully. Hospitals were supposed to help people, but this one…
“Yes, only this place--Landel’s Institute--isn’t actually a hospital. It pretends to be one during the day, but once the sun goes down, everything changes,” Tsubaki said, giving the corridor another hooded look from the corner of her eye. And then she fixed on Ranulf again with an air of vitalness. “During the day, there’s hospital staff, and they’re going to treat you like you’re sick, like you’re a human from this world who’s only imagined your life up until now. But at night something happens to make it all transform. It becomes dangerous: monsters and other enemies appear. The prisoners try to arm themselves with what they can find, but… it’s like a game for the man who runs the Institute. When night ends, it’s as though none of it happened, and we go back to being treated like patients in a hospital.” Her voice, having grown quieter and quieter during the account, ended just above a murmur.