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damned_institute2010-03-07 12:36 pm
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-03-07 12:36 pm
Entry tags:
- abe sapien,
- aidou,
- ange,
- ashton,
- battler,
- celes,
- claude,
- depth charge,
- edgar,
- faith,
- grell,
- guy,
- heat,
- hinamori momo,
- kibitoshin,
- kio,
- kirk,
- l,
- leonard,
- okita,
- peter petrelli,
- prussia,
- ranulf,
- red xiii,
- remy,
- renamon,
- scar (tlk),
- scott pilgrim,
- sechs,
- senna,
- sheena,
- tenzen,
- the doctor,
- the flash,
- tifa,
- two-face,
- venom,
- xemnas,
- yue,
- yuffie,
- zack
Day 48: Courtyard
"I could tell you some stories," Yuffie suggested brightly, "of unquestionable legality." Illegality, that was. Petty little things like the law didn't usually mean very much to her, except for the times when she had to uphold it. Always fun for the breaking, though, the law, and messy for the clean-up. Just the way she liked it.
Her nurse looked like she wanted to rub her temples. With sandpaper. "No, thank you," she said instead. "Why don't you run along, now?" Please!, was the unspoken request. Before I spontaneously combust. Or commit various acts of violence that would have me arrested, or placed in a loony bin. Like this one. Yuffie had quite a bit of fun filling in the blanks other people left. Sometimes she did it outloud, just to see the reaction; sometimes she kept it to herself. It really, really depended.
"Don't mind if I do!"
She took off, bolting out into the Courtyard. The weather was dour, overcast and threatening rain, but Yuffie didn't care. She'd refused a coat on principle, and had found herself bargaining: Fine, fine, Plucky had conced she could go without a coat, but unless she had at least a sweatshirt on, there'd be no outside-time for her. She ran a little ways down the dirt path, then toppled herself into a series of cartwheels. Straighten, run. Cartwheel. Straighten, run, just for the sheer sake of movement, and the whip of the wind. She laughed a little giddily, checking her gait down to a jog. Gawd, Leviathan, she'd needed this. Right from the get-go, she'd needed this. Every day she spent cooped up in side, the more nervous energy she had.
Nanaki had helped, she realized. Sort of. He'd…helped. In a way. His presence and everything that was wrong with it weighed on her, for sure, but he was still Nanaki. He didn't deserve to be here, didn't deserve to be stuck in a body that he hated and couldn't use, but all the same, she found herself glad to have him.
Yuffie started to hum, as she jogged leisurely around the Courtyard. A cheery little tune, one of her favorites; no, it was her favorite. A Wutaian walking song, with the roughly translated title of Pathway After the Rain. The pace stayed even but the tune picked up, and she found herself half-singing snatches of the lyrics to herself. It felt like ages since she'd last said anything in her native tongue, at least outloud; she wrote in it all the time.
[The Doctor]
Her nurse looked like she wanted to rub her temples. With sandpaper. "No, thank you," she said instead. "Why don't you run along, now?" Please!, was the unspoken request. Before I spontaneously combust. Or commit various acts of violence that would have me arrested, or placed in a loony bin. Like this one. Yuffie had quite a bit of fun filling in the blanks other people left. Sometimes she did it outloud, just to see the reaction; sometimes she kept it to herself. It really, really depended.
"Don't mind if I do!"
She took off, bolting out into the Courtyard. The weather was dour, overcast and threatening rain, but Yuffie didn't care. She'd refused a coat on principle, and had found herself bargaining: Fine, fine, Plucky had conced she could go without a coat, but unless she had at least a sweatshirt on, there'd be no outside-time for her. She ran a little ways down the dirt path, then toppled herself into a series of cartwheels. Straighten, run. Cartwheel. Straighten, run, just for the sheer sake of movement, and the whip of the wind. She laughed a little giddily, checking her gait down to a jog. Gawd, Leviathan, she'd needed this. Right from the get-go, she'd needed this. Every day she spent cooped up in side, the more nervous energy she had.
Nanaki had helped, she realized. Sort of. He'd…helped. In a way. His presence and everything that was wrong with it weighed on her, for sure, but he was still Nanaki. He didn't deserve to be here, didn't deserve to be stuck in a body that he hated and couldn't use, but all the same, she found herself glad to have him.
Yuffie started to hum, as she jogged leisurely around the Courtyard. A cheery little tune, one of her favorites; no, it was her favorite. A Wutaian walking song, with the roughly translated title of Pathway After the Rain. The pace stayed even but the tune picked up, and she found herself half-singing snatches of the lyrics to herself. It felt like ages since she'd last said anything in her native tongue, at least outloud; she wrote in it all the time.
[The Doctor]
no subject
The paradox went unappreciated, but she supposed she could give Battler a benefit of a doubt. Ange edged closer to the young man, restrained curiosity lacing her countenance. "You talk like you went to Hell and back." Literally, perhaps. "Must have been a harsh experience, if you're serious."
Ange happened to glance down just as the hand extended out to her, and again, her face betrayed. Every disappointment, want, and fear rose to the surface-- She might as well have confessed right then if not for the one constant in her mind, knowing they couldn't extend beyond superficial pleasantries. Again, it disappeared, and without extra prompting, the girl drew out her right to touch his.
no subject
"Hell? ... That may be accurate. That's what you'd normally call a sentence to eternal torture, isn't it? But a place like that is nothing but damnation and resignation. It's something else entirely, knowing that chain can be cut even though you can't quite reach it. But even so, that hope isn't something I can't let go of. I can only stumble forward, believing I can grasp onto it." It was something one would normally expect to hear with a certain sense of resignation, but that was something Battler lacked. There was certainly pain and sadness, but also an undeniable sense of confidence, as though he could create the result himself.
He had to swallow thickly when he saw her expression, pausing internally, almost wondering if he was going about this the wrong way, but it was too late to question the decision. At this point, slow steps forward were the best that could managed. Instead of pausing to overthink things, he took the hand he was offered firmly, only breaking away when there was a sense of mutuality to it.