Day 50: Chapel

[full-score.livejournal.com]

The last thing Claude heard was the Head Doctor's voice faintly filtering into the corridors of the ship before he found himself tucked beneath the sheets of his bed. It took a moment to register he'd even changed locations, but then he he abruptly sat up, fought the wave of nausea that washed over him, and felt the blankets beneath his fingers. The room. He was back in his room now. Under different circumstances, he might have wondered if last night had been some horrid dream, but the sharp pain in his eyes gave him a rude awakening. Hissing through his teeth, Claude buried the heels of his palms against his lids, only to discover two cold compresses had been taped over them.

"Good morning, Thomas," he heard the nurse's cheerful voice from beside his bed. Her sudden presence nearly made him jump out of his skin, and he sharply turned toward the source of the greeting, heart beating rapidly in his chest. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well today, but hopefully you can still enjoy some of the activities we have planned."

'Not feeling well' was a bit of an understatement. His hand hurt, his stomach kept turning with every movement, and it felt like someone had dumped a bunch of sand into both eye sockets. Right now, Claude just wanted the nurse to leave him be, but it didn't look like that was an option. Taking his uninjured hand, she gently tugged him out of bed, despite his protests that, no, really, he just wanted to stay in and sleep, please.

"I think getting out of your room a little bit will do you good," she told him. "I'm sorry your eyes are probably hurting, though. If you're ever feeling uncomfortable, don't hesitate to ask one of us for some pills."

"What about eye drops?" Claude asked tightly.

"Oh, no, too much of that could damage your eyes," she cautioned, and the sheer irony of the situation hit Claude so hard that it would have been laughable if he didn't already feel like crying right then. The nurse was as oblivious to it as always, however. "I know you usually go into the chapel during this shift. Would you like to go there again?" Claude didn't answered immediately, but that didn't deter the nurse. "Yes, I think that sounds best..."

In truth, he probably should have requested the sun room -- it was closer, for one, which meant the nurse didn't have to lead him as far of a distance. For another, lying down on one of their sofas sounded like a good option. But by the time Claude came to that conclusion, he was too stubborn to say anything, and he made his way up to the second floor, his footing slow, but steady.

The nurse deposited him on one of the central pews, next to the aisle, before leaving him to himself. Thankfully, it was still early in the shift. As he paused to listen, the room was mostly silent, save for the footsteps and hushed voices of the occasional staff member or patient who trickled in. But it was probably only a matter of time before others came. For some reason, the thought of being stuck in a crowded room made him tense, not necessarily because he thought anyone would pay him any mind, but because he simply didn't want it right then.

Somehow, the full implications of what happened last night hadn't sunken in: experiments, healing himself, the issue of whether he could actually go home after this, not being able to see, the ship, father. Instead, he just felt saturated with all of it, paralyzed by the horror of what they'd done to him, and the uncertainty of what it all meant beyond this moment. Claude took a shuddering breath, uninjured hand balling into a fist in his lap.

[For Guy.]

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[idolism]

Even in daylight, no corner was safe, and company--different, unfamiliar, non-vampire company--seemed to find its way to him exactly when he least wanted it. Unacceptable, to have an audience during a moment like this, a private affair of teetering on thin ice that certainly no human eye should see. He shouldn’t have had to put up with it. It wasn’t right.

Nothing was right.

And in the face of this ever growing truth, he didn’t know what he needed, what he was missing in order for him to assemble the many pieces circling around and around in his mind. But he did know he was finding comprehending his circumstances hard enough when he was alone with only himself. Some girl’s pity, or false cheer, or gods forbid, misplaced empathy, would make things that much more unbearable.

How was it, the vampire wondered, that he had anticipated this very second, but now that he was here, all he could taste and feel and think about was his own nervous tension?

Though Aidou didn’t look directly at her, a faint furrow appeared in his brow when the presence he’d picked up on sat in the spot next to him. Not so close as to be impolite. Still too close. What giveaways had been in his mien retreated deeper down, leaving his features smoothed over. "Yeah," he acknowledged, for the sole sake of letting her know she wouldn’t need to repeat the greeting to get his attention. He had absolutely no ties to the essence behind it. Yes, that. The morning we don’t share in common and the state of being we will never understand.

[akarusa.livejournal.com]

"So to speak, anyway," Hokuto murmured, looking at the altar rather than her companion. "I only got a glimpse of the board, but it looks like I missed a lot of excitement. Not that excitement's really a good thing around here."

She wasn't about to push him to tell her about his night, she just thought he looked like he needed someone to talk to; if he wanted to open up to her, he would. If not, even the superficial connection of idle chatter sometimes helped.

[idolism]

… Excitement. Yes. Aidou had seen the board, too, and the dropped hints had been more than enough to feed his frustrated despondency.

"It is if you learn something in the end," he said distantly. The truth currently shaming him, put to words.

The vampire didn’t want to be subject to the Head Doctor’s games; he loathed them, more deeply and more vehemently than anything. But he, too, hadn’t been able to see where last night’s had led due to powers currently beyond his control--being catapulted straight back to his cell after nights ended before it‘d begun--and to the noble, time wasted on nothing was a greater evil than participating in some demented test of will. There were things to be learned during the latter. Even bearing witness to the extent of Landel’s power meant something. Once more, though, he had to rely on secondhand information to augment his understanding, which was not even half-formed yet.

That other prisoners who saw visions of their home might have been shaken by the sheer gravity of the event was cold comfort. He had seen nothing. Another missed opportunity, as far as he was concerned.