Day 48: Courtyard

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

"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]

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[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Peter was torn when it came to answering Heat's question. On one hand, remembering someone who was gone was always a good thing. On the other, wasn't the wound still a little too fresh? His arm was still sore from Roland's fangs tearing into him, even. But maybe talking about the man the way he'd usually been would get the image of that monster out of his head.

"Well, all sorts of things," he said with a shrug, which he regretted. He needed to stop moving the parts of him that hurt. "He... saw me in action when I got brainwashed a few weeks ago, so that was how we first started talking, but after that we would just talk about whatever problems we were going through at the time. Both of us had visitors come to see us, so we talked about that, and... I don't know. Just whatever came up, I guess." He didn't know if he was giving Heat a particularly satisfactory answer, but it wasn't like he and Roland had only discussed one thing. Who did that?

[idontregret.livejournal.com]

Brainwashing... he'd seen that in action. Not just with himself, either - that girl they'd run into the first night had apparently been brainwashed. What abilities did this guy have where witnessing it would prompt a conversation from Roland? There was nothing demon about him.

He wondered if Roland would have wanted him to disclose more about who he was now that he was gone - at least to this friend of his. All the demon knew was hearsay, but some of it would at least put him in a positive light. For now, he held his tongue. This man might have been Roland's friend, but Heat hardly knew him. He'd told him enough.

"Visitors?" Heat thought out loud before he could catch himself. What visitors could they possibly have here that wouldn't try to rescue them given the opportunity. He wasn't sure, but memories of the person who was Seraph and yet wasn't had him wanting to see them first hand. Maybe he was getting too far ahead of himself and it was something completely different.

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Did Heat really not know about the visitors? Peter thought it was pretty common knowledge at this point, but that was when he recalled what the man had said earlier: he hadn't even been here for a week yet. That meant that there was a chance he'd arrived after last Sunday.

That was when his mother had come to see him -- no, to see him and Nathan. It was hard to believe that that had been less than a week ago, when he'd been spending the past two days worrying over his brother. It was strange how anxiety could make it seem like minutes were hours. Once again, Peter held back a sigh and huddled up into his coat.

"Every Sunday people from outside come to visit, but they're brainwashed," he explained. "For example, I saw my mom last time, and she was just as convinced as the nurses that I was sick. Some people think they're fakes, but me and Roland agreed that they were real - that was my mom, no doubt about it. Still, there's gotta be a way to snap them out of it." He figured that the mass brainwashing that had happened a few days back was even further proof of that. If they could just figure out how Landel seemed to do that as if he was flipping a switch, then they'd be able to make real progress.

[idontregret.livejournal.com]

Heat's interest was peaked now. He watched Peter, doing his best to focus on what he was saying and how he was saying it. It was doubtful he was lying; at the very least he believed what he said himself. If there was the slightest possibility that one or more of his comrades was somewhere out there, trapped or living a false life, they had to find out where.

"Do you know who visited Roland?" More questions. He didn't like having to rely on this man for so many answers, but with the last of his tribe gone there weren't many others to turn to. Chances were it wasn't even anyone he knew. What members of the Lokapala he'd met hadn't lived long enough for him to remember them. Who knew who their leader considered the most important.

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

That was actually a tough question, since the conversation had been a while ago. Peter leaned his head back against the courtyard wall as he tried to sift through his memory. "I know it was a friend," he said eventually, "a guy, I think. But I don't remember him giving a name. It sounded like someone he was pretty close to, but that's all I know."

Now he had to wonder if it had mattered more than he'd realized at the time. It was silly to try and grasp onto things now that the man was gone, and yet it was hard not to. He didn't want to forget even more. They hadn't known each other for long, but Peter had still liked Roland. Having someone who'd become a sort of constant be pulled away in such a gruesome way...

Well, it made him hate this place even more, if that was possible.

At that point the intercom went off, and Peter realized that their conversation had probably gone on for long enough. He never would have expected to talk to Heat like this, but at least the man had given him the information he'd needed. It wasn't good news, really, but it gave him some peace of mind. Pushing off of the ground, Peter stood and dusted himself off. "Thanks for answering my questions," he said. He considered offering a hand up, but he doubted the redhead would take it.

[idontregret.livejournal.com]

That gave Heat next to nothing to work with in regards to Roland's visitor, not that he should have expected better. Dammit... why hadn't he just kept up with hunting? If he'd known the other demon hadn't been eating, he might have gone out of his way to lend him a hand, but it had been difficult to even keep in contact with him...

And then the shift was ending. Swearing under his breath, Heat focused on the task of standing. Getting to his feet wasn't actually all that difficult, but he was hit with a brief moment of vertigo once he was fully upright. Thankfully, it didn't last long as he leaned against the wall again. The drugs had nearly worked their way out of his system.

"Hey," he called out gruffly before Peter could walk away. "You might know it already, but my name's Heat." This was where he left it open for the man to respond with his own name in the off-chance that he actually wanted to get in contact with him again.

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

While Peter did notice the way the guy was swaying, Heat did catch himself. He still had to ball his fists to stop himself from reaching out to help support the man. For one thing, he got the feeling he'd just get snapped at for that. For another, he didn't really owe this guy much. Still, that sort of thing could just be instinctual sometimes.

Even though he'd known the man's name this whole time, he did have to assume that it was a big deal that he was hearing it from the horse's mouth now. Heat had apparently not bothered telling Alita his name, for instance. Peter nodded in acknowledgment. "All right, Heat. I'm Peter." He had already given as much thanks as he thought was necessary, and so he headed off as a nurse circled around for him.