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.]

Comments

[idolism]

_{[free, no limits]}

What a night!

Maybe it should've been something of a reassurance, being able to anticipate his mood once he inevitably opened his eyes to his cell’s white walls and was met with the morning intercom announcement. But his growing string of nonsuccesses was growing more burdensome with each day gone, plaguing him like a burning brand in the back, always there, always just out of reach. This was starting to go beyond pathetic. Aidou had practically been living in a foul mood since his imprisonment, but always with the understanding that he would be able to go out and face down an obstacle however many tries it took.

Now, though, he was beginning to feel he needed to do something greater to get around nights ending too soon, and the genius, the miracle genius, couldn’t immediately think of what. The noble had spent almost a month warding off the feeling, but it was there in the cloudy blue of his eyes: dismay.

Crap! Hadn’t he come this far in order to go all the way? Outlast any enemy? The phantom witch, the shadow, Akatsuki, everything, he’d endured it because he wouldn’t--couldn’t--be subdued. And in so short a time, less than a month… It was a drop in the ocean of such long-lived creature like himself. But no amount of rationale was about to dampen the shadow that loomed over his thoughts, and the vampire mutely crossed the second floor to take a seat in a cool, quiet spot along one of the chapel’s pews. Not knowing the full extent of the problem, he couldn’t think up a solution.

He leaned forward, dropping his chin into his palm. You need blood, a part of him whispered. You’re starting to lose it.

[dreadofthegrave]

For once, Battler was actually glad for the disorienting style of awakening that the institute always provided. It may not have been any less jarring, suddenly waking up in a room with no recollection of ever sleeping or anything leading up to that point, but unlike that last bizarre jump, he could at least say that he wasn't cold and wet. Of course, the previous night had been pretty exhausting, so even though he was thankful to be dry, rolling out bed was still done with some reluctance.

It was hard to explain, but being offered the choice between the Chapel and the Sun Room, he found himself going with the former, the familiarity drawing him in despite the fact he knew that there was no connection to what he was thinking of. And while Battler had never been a particularly religious person, he'd always found the elegant design in those places kind of cool, so it would be worth checking out. The interior was nothing like the one on Rokkenjima, and not all the impressive, but that was probably to expected. There was no way there'd be anything extravagant in a place like this. But still, it wasn't at all that bad, and that fact that it didn't match his memories was probably a good thing, making it easier to find pleasant .... Maybe he could actually relax and take some time to think things through in a place like this.

He took a seat on one of the pews, leaning back and casting his gaze upwards. The night had been pretty complicated, hadn't it? First there was Erika, who seemed to be relying on petty tricks. If he were honest, Battler would say that he didn't want to deal with her at all, but there was no choice, was there? He didn't like her, but she seemed to be the only one who knew about what was happening back on the gameboard while he was gone. ... If she was even telling the truth. That was possible too, wasn't it? Maybe there was nothing wrong at all. She probably knew that was something he wouldn't be able to leave alone, so maybe she was working it to her advantage. ... It was seriously annoying. Even if that were the case, there was really no choice but to continue playing into it until he discovered what her real intentions were. As long as there was even a vague possibility that she was telling the truth, there was no choice but to call that ridiculous bluff of hers.

The jumps, too presented a problem. They'd been looking into them, but now that it was the morning, they were stuck with what minuscule information they had. They could safely say it wasn't the doors themselves that were the problem, and the places they'd been transported to didn't seem to have much relation. What if there was something else connecting them? Instead of the places themselves, the distances, or something like that. Of course, that would require a map of the institute and Doyleton drawn to scale, and it didn't seem very likely he could get his hands on something like that... It seemed like they needed more to go on, but there was no telling if any hints would be remaining the coming night. It would probably be best to ask around, to see if anyone else had gone through something similar, and if they had, if they'd noticed or thought of anything interesting.

... It was kind of weird, having to look into things using that style, with no indication of what he found was true or not. It was a lot different than his style of fighting against Beatrice. But still, in this world without red or blue, the method was going to be completely different. Rather than relying on old tricks, it was better to adapt to the current situation.


[for Anise!]

[tightsofmight]

The deck of cards had yet to be acquired, there was still web fluid to be made, and he hadn't even come close to looking for a way to the third floor.

Yet Peter woke up feeling a lot more accomplished than he had in a while. The other mornings he had rolled out of the wrong side of the bed because he'd spent the whole night meandering the halls like an aimless jerk, getting a sum total of diddly squat done in spite of his best efforts to beat the clock. But tonight, he had actually helped someone. The chances of that kid being able to fight off the shape-shifter were about as good as Keanu Reeves winning an Oscar: absolutely zip. Plus he now knew for certain that Terry and Kurt hadn't been picked off by monstrous cockroaches or something equally fiendish. This was always a good thing to know. It was far too difficult to keep track of people in the institute.

Peter rubbed his eyes, good spirits dissipating at the thought. When was the last time he had heard from Steve and Tony?

Last week?

The nurse strolled in to collect him for the daily cattle herd to the feeding trough. Peter contemplated asking her about the two men. It would get him to stop worrying, for one. He could stop leaving hopeful notes on the board.

They walked without uttering a word. He didn't want to hear about what a speedy recovery the two had made. Nobody kept silent for that long. Not here.

For the first time during the day, Peter was directed up a flight of stairs. He had nearly continued on to the cafeteria until a firm pair of hands whirled him around by the shoulder.

"It's Sunday, dear. To the Chapel this time."

"Huh?" Peter blinked. "But I don't go to church. Do I go to church? I mean - is Tyler...?"

"Whether you go or not, it's a good time to relax and think. I thought you might need a little rest after this week." Her face settled into a frown. "You're going to keep confusing yourself, Tyler. Carrying on like that."

"Like what?"

She didn't answer. Just gave him one of those matronly looks and deposited him in a pew. Peter watched her leave, unsettled, then slowly turned back to the front. He didn't think he'd even been in a church before. Not even for a wedding. Were there supposed to be fountains at the front?

[Ange!]

[anemptydecapo]

The tombstone was completely illegible, its letters too soft or too blurred to be anything other than gibberish. The stone itself had been rocked out of its upright position by some unknown force, keeping the sun from properly displaying its shallow script. They were too shallow to even be deciphered by touch, its cold surface refusing to tell what it was there for. Without the words conveying its meaning, it now meant nothing at all. It was just there; a rock out of place and nothing else.

He turned his eyes away from the stone and to the deep red ocean it faced, quietly watching the figure standing on top of the waves. He wasn't going to ask why they were there, none the less how they were standing above the water that way (was it water? It moved like water, had the same consistency and thinness as water, but it was hardly clear. The sky wasn't nearly as red as to produce that unholy color). He wasn't going to say anything, really. He knew what would happen if he did. He knew what would happen if he tried to meet that figure. He wouldn't try to get close anymore. He wouldn't start the fight he knew would happen when he tried to be near. Even in dreams, he could only watch. Nothing ever came of wanting to be close.

So he sat on the sand, legs curled against his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, chin resting against his knees, and he watched the man from afar. It was peaceful, in a strange way. Just watching the wind comb through blond hair that was almost too far away to make out. Listening to the waves lap against the shore. Being able to see the ocean working with the sunlight to consume the shadows, to bury them under the water where they wouldn't harm anyone anymore.

Light glinted off the hand being extended to him, inviting him off the ground and away from the grave, but he wouldn't move. He couldn't, he knew that now. He wasn't going to hurt him any more, wouldn't be hurt by him anymore. He had to stay on the shore.

Suddenly, whatever had been holding the figure above the waves gave way and he plunged into the ocean--

Venom's body moved before he was even fully awake, pushing hm forcefully out of the bed to save an image that was already fading before a sharp pain literally met his forehead with a loud thump and it jolted him back onto the mattress. From the shrill gasp in his ear and the sound of heels backpedaling away from the bed, that unfortunate greeting was from Nurse.

"...What were you doing?" he managed between pulling himself back up and trying to rub the hurt away with his fingers (the pain in those had at least lessened from last night. As for his legs and stomach... Well, the bruises there were still cheerfully greeting him in the morning). When he finally opened his eyes, the woman's right hand was on her own head, mimicking his actions.

"You were having a nightmare, Vincent. I was just trying to wake you up." She gave her head a shake, like that would help it go away faster. Oddly enough, despite the pain she was obviously in, she was... smiling. Laughing, even. "Ow," she chuckled.

As per usual, Nurse soon went about her normal routine of pulling him out of his room and through the hallways. The trip up the stairs and through the second floor hallway was met with quiet paranoia, even in the morning, as memories from the night before last assaulted him, and it wasn't until they made it to the chapel that his shoulders stopped tensing. No blood fountain in the morning, then?

The assassin took a seat to himself, vaguely recalling that this had been where he had found Bridget his first day here. He sighed, elbows coming to rest on the pew in front of him as he put his head in his hands. He couldn't worry about where the boy had run off to now. He needed to concentrate on his plans and how they were going to get off the ground. Being some place quiet was supposed to help with that...

[Nataku? :|a]

[gald_digger]

Was it just a dream?

Anise found herself wondering that as she stared up at the ceiling of her room. There was no doubt that she was on Earth now, but what about last night? Anise wasn't sure if she had really gone back to Auldrant, or if it was some elaborate illusion, or even if it was all her imagination.

A quick stop at the bulletin in the Sun Room allowed her to rule out the third possibility, at least. There were others who said they 'dreamed of home,' so whatever happened, Anise wasn't alone in seeing it. She'd have to check back later to see what other people said about their experiences, but for now her nurse was nagging her about deciding on where she would go today. Without really thinking about it, the girl answered, "The chapel." It was where she usually went whenever she had the opportunity. Even though it often made her homesick, it was still the one place on this alien planet that Anise felt had any familiarity to it.

Unfortunately, things had changed a bit since her last visit.

Rather than reminding her of home, the sight of the pews and the people sitting in them suddenly brought back sickening memories of the chapel Anise had discovered in the ruins by the institute. In her mind's eye, she could see row after row of dead bodies, the floor beneath them covered in a layer of dried blood...

"Are you feeling all right, Dolores? Why don't you take a seat?" The voice of the nurse beside her mercifully pulled Anise away from those thoughts, and the girl realized she had been standing in the doorway for a few seconds too long. The actual room before her was clean and bright, and sparsely populated with a few men, most of whom Anise knew. She gave a curious look at a redhead she'd never seen before, but the nurse caught it and immediately gave another demonstration of her talent for completely misunderstanding the situation. "Oh? It's not like you to be shy. If you'd like to meet Henry there, why don't you go ahead and introduce yourself?"

Before Anise could protest, the nurse guided her down to the row the young man was seated in, and stood to the side, waiting for her to go ahead and sit down. Normally, Anise didn't have a problem with approaching strangers, but the nurse's looming presence made it about a hundred times more awkward than it had to be. She eased herself onto the pew, taking a space near the man, though not too near. Anise knew that some people preferred their space when in a church.

"Um, you don't mind if I sit here, do you?" she asked, grinning in a way that was somewhat awkward, but was hopefully cute enough that the stranger wouldn't be able to deny her. As soon as Anise spoke to the young man, the nurse, appearing satisfied, left them.

[akarusa.livejournal.com]

Hokuto felt... better, somewhat, in the morning. She had recovered enough so she even the nurses acknowledged she could get around without a wheelchair; if she was really lucky, she'd be well enough to do something that night.

When given a choice about where to go, she selected the chapel; no real reason, she'd just seen Subaru in there enough so she thought... well, that it might bring her some peace, if nothing else. Maybe if she meditated enough, she'd even be able to check up on him.

She didn't want to dwell on that too much, though, so when she saw someone who looked like he needed cheering up even more than she did, she gravitated towards him without a second thought. "Good morning," she said softly, sitting down next to him. He looked familiar enough so she knew he'd been around for a while; even if she hadn't recognized him, she thought the expression on his face made the time he'd spent here clear enough. By now, she just knew.

[mitase.livejournal.com]

Hanatarou woke with a sense of lingering chagrin, remembering just how easily Tsukasa had opened the door that defied his attempts to do it. And Senna had seemed like she really wanted out of the room, too, so that was a particularly bad time for him to display just how very useless he really was. He sighed, absently ruffling his hair. Hopefully she was okay; he didn't want her to be upset.

The nurse arrived to shoo him out of bed and offered the choice of the Sun Room or the chapel, to which he responded with an apathetic shrug. Neither one was really appealing, to be honest, since no matter where he went he'd just be stuck sitting there until the nurses herded him off to the next activity. That's how it always went here, didn't he?

Once at the chapel he found an empty row and slumped down in the middle, leaning his head against the back of the pew and closing his eyes. Last night had been frustrating for many reasons, first and foremost the fact that he'd done basically nothing useful at all the entire time. Okay, well, they'd ended up getting some supplies, but he didn't know exactly what since Senna had the bag. But otherwise... even Marc hadn't let him try healing. Hanatarou was always kind of useless, but today it just felt even worse.

[for Grell]

[36-24-35.livejournal.com]

What woke her wasn't the chipper voice of the institutional nurses, but a pain that radiated from her nose and encased her whole head. Her eyes cracked open into thin slits, the brown of her irises practically matching the skin around her eye sockets. Experimentally, Tifa sniffed and regretted it immediately. Her nose was clogged with either gauze or dried blood and all her efforts had amounted to was making her eyesight waver. The young woman sat up in bed stiffly, trying her best not to jostle her equilibrium more than necessary.

"............" Fingers gingerly touched the side of her swollen nose and felt soft padding and a brace. When could they have possibly touched her? Tifa would have woken up... right? Well, obviously not, and the realization the staff had such power chilled her. Throwing off the covers, Tifa placed unsteady bare feet on the floor and shuffled toward her closet, too focused on other things to see if her roommate was still sleeping. The young woman expected to find all of her things to have disappeared, so it was quite an exhilarating shock to find her sweatshirt bulging with items and there was something else. Her hand enclosed over a dark orb which, when she held it close to her eyes, glinted a familiar green.

My materia...

It was her ice materia! What luck! But remembering her situation, Tifa hastily dropped the materia into her sweatshirt and closed the doors to her closet. Just in time too, for her door unlocked and the florescent lights flickered to life.

"Oh, Rachel... you are already up? Was it from the pain? Did your pain reliever wear off?" She had a look of genuine concern, or she was a damn good actress.

"Uh... y-yeah..."

"Well, come with me, we'll get you some medication. You can rest in the chapel this morning, I think that'd be nice for you. Would you like to wear a sweatshirt again--?"

"No! N-No, I'm fine. I'm actually a little hot..." Tifa feigned tugging on her shirt as if she were having a hot flash.

"Oh dear... I wonder if you're catching a cold..." A cool palm pressed against her forehead. "Mmm no, you seem fine... Alright, Rachel, let's get you something to take away that headache..."

They made a quick detour to the nurse's station to grab a cup and two pills, which Tifa readily threw back. Anything to get ride of this constant pain. Her nurse then took her upstairs and passed what she knew to be the sun room below. The large doors of this chapel were opened quietly, the only noise the shuffling steps of Tifa and her attendant and a few quiet whispers coming from other patients. "Sit right here, dear. I'll come back in a bit..."

And with that, Tifa was left alone in a pew close to the back with only thoughts of last night to keep her company.

[For Cloud ]

[boyking]

Before he'd had the chance to turn around, the world went black and he was back on his bed. God, that'd been a screwed up night. Not as bad as it could've been, but trying to figure out what it could all mean and why? Yeah, he could feel the headache already.

But there'd be time for that later. Right now, he could feel the gun digging into his back, letting him know that he was in possession a bunch of stuff a patient at a mental institute really shouldn't be. He got off the bed and quickly put everything away, knife and lighter included. He'd let Ruby know about it later, maybe drop her a note if he couldn't catch her alone. He knew she'd want it back and technically, Sam didn't need it. He could take his butterfly knife back from her in that case. Had Dean gotten his hands on anything useful? He had to admit, the whirlwind of teleporting had landed him in far more locations in a single night than any amount of running around the institute could've.

Anyway. He'd find out soon enough. He had every intention of talking to Dean this morning. They'd spent a full night with no communication and that kind of put him on edge. Of course, today just happened to be the one day out of the week where Dean had the potential of being in more than one place. Still, they'd met in the chapel last Sunday. Sam had a feeling that that was where Dean would look first before checking elsewhere. When his nurse showed up, he didn't even think about it before picking the chapel.

He followed her up the stairs and down the hall. The rows of pews greeted him as he entered-but a quick scan led to no Dean. It was early and there weren't too many people here yet, though. Dean would probably be here soon.

Sam settled in one of the pews near the back, off to the side. He didn't know how much (not very much) he believed in a higher power anymore, but he'd always liked being in a church. He never went often at all, but maybe that was why. It remained relatively unattached to bad memories. He remembered he'd minded less Dad leaving them for extended hunting trips during the times when they'd be dropped off at Pastor Jim's.

While he waited, he chewed absently on a thumbnail, carefully making a list of what he should bring up to Dean. There was Peter. Obviously, that was a given. How much about the trip back "home" should he tell? He figured it'd be believable enough that he exorcised a demon the old-fashioned way so maybe he wouldn't have to dodge the details too much. Though the location would seem pretty random to his brother, he knew. Pontiac meant nothing to Dean. Neither did New Harmony.

Jesus, he should really find a way to tell his brother, shouldn't he? But the more time passed, the less he felt like he had another choice. Less like it wasn't too late. As if it'd ever been anything but.

[for Dean]

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

Mello woke up roaringly pissed off, the head doctor's voice over the intercom blending together with the last thing he remembered from the insanity of the night: Matt's snarkiness as Mello had followed him out of the cafeteria. They'd landed in the game room, he thought, but everything after that graded into grey, then black. Except for his anger, which still burned red-hot. Fuck you, Matt, he thought, all the more vehemently for having been cheated out of saying it to the prat's face.

Maybe you've lost your touch - but I sure haven't, the prat had said. The worst part was that he'd intuited something was wrong almost immediately. So will L, next time you see him, Mello thought. Probably, everyone knows. Especially the people who knew the other one.

He needed to do more, was all. That had always quelled that whisper in the back of his mind before, and it would do it now, if he could do enough. It would. He forced himself to sit up, already tired of fighting a battle with his own mind on top of everything else. The opportunities last night had afforded, squandered or not, were past now. No sense dwelling on them. A small light cut through his gloom when he realized that everything he'd managed to collect was still here. Even the gun, thank god. Two bullets were better than none.

A glance at the other bed to see if the insufferable roommate was still asleep, and Mello secured everything under the mattress--and there, right where he never would have expected it, was the pipe he'd upended the mattress in his old room looking for. It would've been funny if it weren't so stupid.

Another day, another round of idiocy from Landel's. The visitors would obviously be fakes of some sort, and as for the suggestions, were they fucking kidding with that? He considered scribbling, Drop the damn act, and let us fight it out with you, and actually chuckled, right as the door opened, and the perky bane of his daytime existence came in.

"It's nice to see you smiling, Michael," she chirped, so of course, Mello immediately scowled. It didn't derail her cheer. "You'll have a lovely brunch later, but right now, you get to choose!" She said this as if he ought to have thought it was Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. He let the frown settle in for the long haul. "Would you like to go to the chapel, or to the sun room?"

"Chapel." Less chance of running into Matt, or, come to think of it, L, there.

Mello hadn't been a believer in a long time. He was still faintly annoyed, a wavelet in the tossing sea of annoyance, by the chapel here, everything watered down to the point of being meaningless. He sat in one of the pews, consciously sprawling, and thumbed idly, discontentedly, through one of the insipid hymnals.

[for Kagura! <3]

[girlsandgadgets]

His eyes opening slowly, Edgar put a hand to his head, fighting back a world of soreness. For a moment, he thought he'd fainted from blood loss- it would have been embarrassing, but not entirely unexpected. However, he found himself in his bed; an end to the night had finally arrived.

He rose carefully, his hand immediately trailing to his injured shoulder. He felt thick bandaging through his clean shirt, his wound wrapped far better than his improvised job during the night. It seemed Landel showed some charity to the injuries sustained on the patient population during the night. Edgar couldn't help but feel that the false concern shown for the patients was even more of a slap in the face given what they faced during the twilight hours. He next inspected his leg- also bandaged, though lighter than his shoulder. Moving to his desk quietly, he opened the drawer to see if his finds had returned to the room with him. Surely enough, atop the parts of his radio and Luxord's was the silver knife, as ornate as he remembered. He moved his journal from atop his desk to the drawer, hiding the contents beneath it. He could investigate them later.

The night had been so long: Celes was gone, and Edgar's attitude toward her during their final meeting surely hadn't helped her in the slightest. It was likely she'd finally given in to Landel's brainwashing- it was a testament of his power to see a once-strong general so defeated. Worse was that she'd been right all along: there truly were beasts roaming the halls that were far more vicious than they seemed. All he could do now was take her warnings to heart and not allow himself to give in. Allowing Landel to win so easily wasn't an option.

Edgar straightened the fabric on his arm sling as his nurse knocked on the door and announced she'd be escorting him to the first shift. After a brief stop to the message board in the Sun Room and a few minutes spent looking out the windows, she led him upstairs and into the chapel. He headed for a middle pew and took a seat, turning and giving her a pleasant smile for now; he had to bide his time and act carefully, but he was through playing nice.

[Natalia]

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

McCoy opened his eyes, to find himself once again lying in a bed that wasn't too familiar, in quarters that were cramped and the wrong color and layout. He was back in the institute, as disoriented as the first time they'd gone through that door-transporter. For a second, he thought he might have woken up sick. It took a few more moments to get his stomach back in order. If he thought seemingly appearing somewhere completely wrong was bad enough, waking up that way was much worse.

Had that all been a dream? It felt completely real, and yet, it could very well have been a dream. He knew Spock well enough to probably do a good job playing him out. Lord knew why he'd want to do that, the real thing was bad enough at times. The only way to verify it was to ask Spock, see if he'd done the same. McCoy didn't think Vulcans dreamed, and if he provided the exact same details, then it was highly likely that it wasn't some figment.

McCoy followed the nurse, taking in the new room. The chapel was pleasant enough, a few pews, some books, looked more like something you'd seen on Earth than a starship. There wasn't any room for decorations or windows like this, just benches and a podium.

The doctor took a seat, inspecting one of the books.

[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.

[dreadofthegrave]

Lost in thoughts of the previous night, it was no surprise that Battler wasn't paying too much to his surroundings, so even though someone had joined him, he remained of it until they spoke up. "Mm?" He turned towards the speaker—a young girl with some kind of stuffed animal on her back—before grinning.

"Sure, sure, it's not a problem at all!" he replied cheerfully, temporarily abandoning thoughts of the previous night. It probably would have been easy to get bogged down with the situation, but that was no reason at all not be any less friendly. After all, weren't they all stuck in this screwed up situation together?

Since it stuck out a little, Battler found himself taking a closer look at the toy she wearing. It was on the crude side, with strange stitches and mismatching button eyes, not the sort of thing you'd be very likely to find in a department store, but that wasn't a bad thing, adding to the charm rather than taking away from it. "That's kind of cute," he commented. "Did you make it?"

"Oh, I'm Battler, by the way. What's your name?"

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

Kurt's eyes opened, focusing on his four-fingered hand. Well, that was a short night, he thought with mild irritation. Nevertheless, his irritation was a little short-lived, as the teenager rolled over onto his back and tried to catch a few more minutes of rest.

He rolled back onto his stomach to get more comfortable, cracking his eyes open briefly. Though once he caught sight of the other half of the room, his eyes were open and he was upright.

Terry's bed was empty. Untouched. Like he hadn't slept in it last night. Like he was gone.

Kurt was out of bed and over to Terry's in a flash. "No no no no, this can't be happening again...!" he muttered, tearing the bed apart. Not a wrinkle in the sheets. Kurt went over to the desk and started rifling through it. Nothing. He opened the closet.

There was Terry's suit, but nothing else. Not a coat or a pair of slippers, just the suit. Kurt put a hand against the opposite door of the closet and hung his head. Gone. Another friend gone, and he couldn't do anything. Except for one thing.

"He's not getting this," Kurt said, almost as though he were talking to Terry. He furrowed his brow and ripped the hanger off the closet rod and stalked over to his own closet, stuffing the suit inside. It was the least he could do, keep Terry's secret even if he wasn't there anymore.

His nurse came to get him and took him to the chapel without asking if Kurt wanted to go elsewhere. It was nice she remembered, at least.

He took a seat and folded his hands. Even in this terrible, horrible place, God must have been watching them, right? Kurt had had several crises of faith in his youth, but he'd always come out faithful again. Now though, he was beginning to doubt that God could even see this place. Otherwise why would the patients still be struggling without any sign of hope? He didn't expect anything flashy, or a miracle... but he did want a friend that didn't vanish a week after they'd met.

Wherever Terry and Kon are now... look after them, please.

[For Minako]

[gald_digger]

The stranger looked kind of preoccupied at first, so Anise wasn't sure how he'd respond, but once he grinned at her, the girl was able to ease into a more natural smile. It looked like she wasn't interrupting anything too serious. In a chapel, there was a chance that she could have bothered someone while they were praying or something, and Anise was pretty sure that would make for a lousy first impression.

The mention of something 'cute' had her blinking in confusion for a moment, wondering which of her many cute features he was interested in, but it soon became apparent that he was looking at the doll on her back. Beaming, Anise pulled it over her head and held it out to show. "This is Tokunaga!" she eagerly told him. "Mama made it for me."

A sort of weird look crossed her face when the older boy introduced himself. What kind of a name was Battler?

...Oh well. Anise was happy enough to meet someone who properly appreciated Tokunaga's cuteness, so there was no point in letting something like that bother her. "And my name's Anise! Nice to meet you."

[nobleobliged.livejournal.com]

There were many things of which Natalia had become newly certain as a result of the previous night. The one foremost in her mind upon waking? Dr. Landal had a truly unpleasant, disagreeable voice. Though, she would allow her feelings on that to be entirely a result of a building bias. Her nurse arrived to find her bed made, and Natalia sitting primly at her desk.

Happily, the woman allowed her a stop at the restroom to rinse her face and teeth, and to toy some with her hair. She did miss her headbands. When given the option between the Sun Room and the Chapel, Natalia opted for the latter, as she had passed through the former yesterday, but had yet to see the Chapel. After her own stop at the bulletin board ("I know you've only just arrived, dear, but perhaps you've a suggestion? We're really very excited about this!"), they ascended the stairs.

Natalia forced herself to focus on her surroundings, on the path to the Chapel, and not on her pressing need to stare at her nurse, to let loose a plethora of questions. How could the woman smile so sunnily, speak so lightly, and completely ignore what had gone on the night before? How? But, even her limited experience of yesterday told her quite clearly that asking anything of the nurse would result in disappointment.

"There you are, Sarah!" her nurse whispered, ushering her into the main aisle. Natalia took in the striking colors, the red pews seeming darker in the dim lighting; gazed up at the stained glass (it was really quite pretty), looked on the fountain, from which a peaceful babbling of water issued. Too strange; not alone the difference between this and the Order's churches in Auldrant. Caught up with the colors of the window, Natalia paid little attention to the pew in which she sat until she did.

Reaching instinctively for a black bound book, she glanced down the pew and noted a blond man. Most striking was his arm in the sling. Natalia remembered Himemiya's warnings of monsters, though they had not encountered any, and pursed her lips with concern. Pressing the book to her lap, she slid closer along the bench.

"Pardon me," she said, just above a whisper. "I understand this to be a rather... insipid question, but are you all right?"

[hasnomeaning]

Morning broke in waves. Ayanami couldn't be sure what had been real or illusion. (A lie. This was a lie. She knew the truth when faced with it, like the rushing pound of waves at the shore.) The only fact of truth that any of the night happened in undeniable evidence was her plug suit hanging calmly in the closet. The girl stared at it a moment, then shut the door carefully. And if that had been real. Should she accept the rest as fact? Everything. This place was more than what it appeared.

A moment before the nurse came, her hand crept under her mattress, touching cool metal and taking some strange reassurance from that. Everything had changed, in parcel and part, and so she would continue as she had, with a new understanding.

Rei didn't particularly care for this place. She would be content to leave it, even if she returned back home, to death and nothing. It was an endless circle, after all. This was some disjointed symmetry in her own actions. This was considered as she was led quietly to a place she hadn't been before and sat in the back. A chapel. A place that housed some kind of god. She wondered, then. Why it seemed so empty.

[for the opposite one.]

[diamondstorm]

Here again was morning to rise in the midst of actions. Renamon supposed she should be happy. With morning, there was no threat to any in her party, Nunnally especially. And here, too, were ministrations to the injuries now claimed as her own. The Digimon's hands were lightly wrapped and light gauze was placed over her right eye. She was gently scolded for scratching at her eye, but reassured that it would heal with time. A blessing, that, if nothing else. She would be a limited fighter with a higher blind spot.

Nevertheless she was prompted to the place that she had visited the week before. An argument of checking the bulletin board was ignored in favor of later, and quietly sullen, Renamon followed the woman to the chapel. There were not many in the room, and Renamon moved to a seat on the end of an aisle, sitting delicately. If she was not allowed to check in with the others just yet, she would consider just what exactly she needed to do. If anything else, she needed to get back to... everything. It had been far too long that she had researched anything. The loss of partners was truly unsettling.

[free]

[notthistrain.livejournal.com]

Cloud woke up with his screwdriver still in his hand. He was dry (thankfully), and no longer in the locker room. That second part was actually a bit disappointing, since he'd really wanted to take a look at what was in some of those lockers. The good news was that they wouldn't be going through any more tricky doorways for a while - at least until night rolled around again. That should give Yuffie the time she needed to rest up.

Once the sword and his screwdriver were tucked away, he waited for his nurse to come in and lead him out so he could check the bulletin. Checking that let him know that Zack and Yuffie were all right, as he'd expected. He was a bit more disparaged to find out that Tifa had injured herself. It would have been more difficult to meet up with her, what with how the doors had been acting, so he couldn't blame himself too much, but he couldn't help but think he might have been able to keep her safer if he'd been present.

His first priority had to be finding her - not only to check up on her, but to tell her what had happened to the rest of them that night. She'd want to know about the empty Highwind and Kalm.

Morning activities divided the patients, but he'd made a hopeful guess as to where he might find her and asked the nurse to direct him that way. Before this morning, he hadn't even been aware that the Institute had a chapel built into it, and he made a note to himself to check it out after dark at the first opportunity.

It looked like he'd made a good guess when he caught sight of the back of a familiar head of dark hair, and he was checking for injuries even as he approached her.

"Better than it looks, huh?" He asked as he took a seat beside her.

[livesbyinstinct.livejournal.com]

It was too quiet here.

Kiba slid into one of the pews located on the left-most side of the chapel, choosing a row as near to the back as he could possibly manage. He kept to its edge while his nurse hovered just to the side of him, as if debating whether or not it would be prudent sit down and keep him company, which earned her a withering glare in return. Kiba was all ready beginning to regret his coming here, though he hadn't initially given a damn which one place he went to--and perhaps it still wouldn't have made much of a difference, anyway. There were all ready a fair number of people here, more filtering by the minute, but most of the Chapel's attendants were currently on their own, sitting in a sort of hushed contemplation. None of them were intimately familiar, to either his nose or his eyes.

It wasn't that Kiba couldn't deal with the quiet atmosphere. He worked with perhaps two of the most nonverbal teammates on the face of the planet. Shino was monosyllabic and adhered to the belief that most things could be answered with a simple 'yes' or 'no', while Hinata tended to stutter herself into nervous silence--though she was a lot better about that these days. Time had done its work, though Kiba had hardly noticed, and didn't tend to unless he really thought about it--which, of course, didn't usually happen. Kiba wasn't one for meditation. He wasn't one for the kind of deep thought that some people reveled in. He did better keeping an active presence, allowing the energy of things to drive him forward. Moving. He liked feeling like he was actually doing something, not sitting back and thinking up strategic plans and possibilities.

Which was why this place bugged him. Sitting around here staring at rows of benches wasn't going to do a freakin' thing. But what could he do? Last night he hadn't gotten much of anywhere. He had met with Naruto and that one other guy, but hadn't found Akamaru, or at least determined whether he really was here or not. Kiba could all ready feel the loss of the canine's presence slowly eating away at him, and he didn't like it. He hadn't found a way out of Landel's either, and he'd be damned if he couldn't recall going back into his shared room. One minute, he had been talking to Naruto, the next, he had woken up disoriented with no idea how he got back to his room or why.

Kiba sighed, leaning back against the hard pew, and the nurse finally decided it was better to leave him, saying she'd check on him in another twenty minutes or so. Good riddance.

[For Sai.]

[threepwood]

Guybrush stuffed his possessions under his mattress haphazardly, his irritation from the previous night already showing. LeChuck was here. LeChuck! He already had to deal with this Landel guy, who he suspected was De Singe back from the dead, and just adding to the mountain of problems he had yet to solve was that LeChuck was here, human, and Voodoo-less, and as badly as he wanted to believe the dread pirate was probably just trying to pull the wool over his eyes, Guybrush couldn't help but think that he was being serious. That made things complicated.

What else made things complicated? Morgan showing up alive and well. Morgan! She'd been dead- definitely dead, not in one of those states where one might make a sudden and miraculous recovery from death- and had somehow shown up alive and kicking. He was happy to see her, but her appearance was another brick in a mounting wall of evidence that he really had died, and that the institute really did bring people back from the grave for some unknown reason. Figuring out why was going to be tricky.

Another wrench in the cogs? The special guest appearance by Elaine. Elaine! Not Poxy Elaine or Sexy Swimsuit Elaine, but the Elaine that hadn't yet said her I Do's and could therefore take them back at any time. Or what if LeChuck put on his nice guy act and wooed her? No, that could never happen. Could it? Why was she taken from the past, while Mo and LeChuck and himself were brought to the institution from vaguely the same time frame? It was as if De Singe/Landel had his heart set on screwing up Guybrush's life.

His panicky thoughts were interrupted by his nurse, who wordlessly nodded her head for him to follow her. Sliding into his slippers (he had two, thankfully), the mighty pirate did as he was told for the moment. He had to find Elaine and talk to her, get back on her good side, let her know he was still the same sweet, handsome, charming pirate she'd agreed to marry years ago. ... Yeah, this could be a lot harder than he thought.

His nurse left him in a chapel, so he took a seat toward the end of a lonely pew, picking up one of the hymnals along the way. He'd not been in a church in some time, but they were all pretty similar, aside from the depictions in the stained glass windows. And this one had a fountain! Classy.

[Laineykins]

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

Having his night end with the doctor's voice was unpleasant, though it confirmed beyond all doubt that Doyleton was within his area of control. Morning, however, started with six sweet notes, none of which had been crushed despite Mihai's horizontal position. The mini-bottles were stowed away quickly, before the prying eyes of either his roommate or his nurse saw. He had no desire to lose any of them, be it to staff or stranger.

Shortly after, Mihai found himself being led not to the Cafeteria, but upstairs. Sundays ran on a different schedule, or so explained the nurse. Regardless of the day, however, Mihai had little use for the Chapel. Perhaps God had never favored him because of his disbelief, but Mihai had shed too much blood in his days to consider himself eligible for forgiveness.

Perhaps he'd have pleasant company, however, if Renamon's faith was similarly lacking. He'd moved into the pew on his nurse's prompting, then smiled at his fellow patient when the woman took her leave. "Good morning, Miss Renamon." Or had she been one of the ones who wanted to forgo the formality? Ah well. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

[replicatedorder.livejournal.com]

Old habits started to resurface while back at home. Little glimpses of his behavior from before started to shine through, taking over as he realized he couldn't be completely honest back home. Anise hadn't been aware, hadn't understood that he was dying, and that when she returned home, she would have to watch him die and know it was coming. Maybe once Landel was done with all of them, he would decide to erase all their memories. He couldn't help but feel it might be better that way. It might be better if Anise forgot about this place, and had no idea her friend was dying. Luke never wanted any of them to sit and be uncomfortable about his impending death. He wanted it to all go easily.

Strange that it was impending. For what seemed like far too long now, his death and its inevitable consequences had always been a thought on his mind. From his haircut in Yulia City to those final moments when he left his friends in Eldrant, he knew death was a necessary part of his existence. Being here didn't change that. As much as the others wanted to believe he was coming home, seeing Baticul a year following his death hammered it home. He was dead. Nothing could change that.

It didn't make returning to Baticul any easier. Every step they too through the familiar city twisted Luke's stomach into knots, and he remembered vividly the sound of the people's shoes as they clanked against the metal steps, and the screeching halt of the carts as it would carry them across the city. Every aspect of the city resonated with familiarity, and even if he saw very little of it growing up, Luke couldn't deny that he loved being home.

Baticul was the place where they titled him Viscount. Baticul was the place he returned to time and time again to see his mother, regardless of whether it was to check on her health or give her a massage to acquire some new tactic. It was where he knew Guy explored growing up, disgruntled and dissatisfied with his existence, but somehow still knowledgeable enough about the area to provide them with information. Not all the memories of the place were good. Luke realized that he still felt uncomfortable as his eyes traced the steps of their escape the time Asch gave them an opening to leave, but the good outweighed the bad.

It was home. Sprawling and somewhat metallic in its interesting structure, he was glad they ended up there instead of the light feeling setting of Grand Chokmah, or even Belkend or Sheridan. Each place would have their share of the good and the bad, but he preferred being able to see his family again. If he could never see his home again, he would favor the chance provided by Landel's antics. It didn't matter if it was a trick designed by Landel to give them false hope. What hope did he have? At least he could look upon this final opportunity as closure before he helped his friends escape.

These thoughts wouldn't have a place in the institute. Just as he behaved before, Luke knew he couldn't show that he lost all hope of returning home. Eventually, his friends might notice, but their safety and their return far outweighed his own concerns. He would do everything in his power to ensure that was possible. If it meant sharing information or organizing meet ups, he would do it. They followed him to every part of Auldrant before. They could follow him here until he got them home, couldn't they? He hoped they trusted him enough, even with his lack of experience with the setting.

Luke mustered every bit of strength to roll himself out of bed, and he continued to keep drawing his blankets up as he considered everything. Some part of him favored grabbing his journal and skipping the opening activity of the day, but he knew this was unwise. So, instead, he finally dragged himself out of bed, and moved toward his desk. His journal was as he left it, and he imagined that a cursory glance of the closet would reveal that his sword was right where it belonged. It was too bad they acquired nothing in Auldrant, but he hoped the information would be enough.

[replicatedorder.livejournal.com]

Chances were, he realized, that others had the same experience. Theirs was odd, but the bits and pieces of Landel's speech that he heard made him realize that he was probably not alone. That meant he had to start with that and move forward. Collect information. It helped that he realized it was best to contact everyone in his party. If Jade was there, Luke realized he would be especially curious about last night's visit to Baticul. And if Natalia was in this world now, then Luke would need to explore every avenue until he found her.

That meant a trip to the bulletin board. Luke gripped his journal hard underneath his arm while he scribbled out the notes, putting extra care into the one meant for his friends. He didn't want to risk them not finding it. He had no desire to linger around the Sun Room, though. The nurses told him he could leave his note and vote and go to the chapel if he still desired, and the idea appealed to him.

He stepped inside, and realized he wanted to come here because the setting reminded him of his two lost friends. Tear wasn't dead, but she was missing, captured and brainwashed in this world until they found her. Luke knew that it would be difficult to find her here, but there were some who knew Earth somewhat well. He hoped they could assist.

The other one it reminded him of was Ion. Ion, who was a replica like himself. They had their good-byes long ago, but he wished he could talk to him sometimes. It almost felt like their time was always cut too short, like Luke never appreciated him long enough for while he was there. This combination of thoughts only led to him thinking of Ion's death, and the song Tear sang in memoriam.

Luke tilted his head back and closed his eyes and remembered. For as much as he appreciated his visit to Baticul, it was nothing like visiting everywhere on Auldrant that touched him. Even here, he could take advantage of the places that reminded him of home, and of his friends. That would help him keep strong as he helped them find their way back.

[for Raine!]