damned_institute | Day 50: Arts & Crafts Room (3rd Shift)

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Day 50: Arts & Crafts Room (3rd Shift)

Sai's nurse had tried to usher him toward the music room, but the ninja had very little interest in spending a shift there (not to mention that the off-tune sounds currently coming from that direction were sure to give him at least the beginning of a headache), and chose instead to head toward an activity that he was more familiar with.

Most of the paint was still finger paint, but it wasn't as if his only artistic talents involved a brush. Calmly, Sai sat down a selected a bright green, beginning a quick but detailed painting of a landscape with just the tips of his middle and index fingers. If nothing else, this activity would help keep his mind off of everything that had happened in the past... while. But the last couple of days, especially. He once again kept an eye out for Okita, but hopefully the other man would choose a different activity for that particular shift.

How long, he wondered, would he have to keep running from him? He was already starting to put others in danger.

[for Honey]

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Honey was always in a fairly good mood after cake. Even if pancakes weren't real cake, they were the next best thing. And he'd even managed to keep his Usa-chan free from any syrup. Though arts and crafts might be tricky too.

When he walked in, the room wasn't too crowded just yet and it looked like Sai was sitting all by himself. His roommate was usually fairly quiet, but lately even Honey had noticed a change. Something was definitely bothering him, though what it might be he could hardly guess. There were an awful lot of things that someone could be upset about here.

"Sai-chan!" he called out as he hurried over to the table and took a seat next to the other boy, settling Usa-chan into his lap. He peered up over the table at the painting and could hardly keep an awe-filled squeak from slipping out.

"You're so good at this! Can I watch?"

Speaking of those he might be putting in danger... Sai blinked at Honey as the young boy trapped in a not-so-teen body sat down next to him. That was right - if Okita ever found out where his room was, and Honey ever got in the way... Perhaps he should ask a nurse to be relocated somewhere without a roommate.

He smiled at the boy somewhat awkwardly. Having an audience when he painted bothered him on occasion, but he'd practically come to expect it here. Since he was just passing the time, it hardly mattered. The ninja nodded. "I don't mind."

Brushing his fingers off on a damp napkin, Sai switched to yellow, blending it a bit with the orange to create a color like goldenrod rather than the bland, nearly green hue it had been before. The image he was painting wasn't much more than a field of flowers with a small skyline, but if Honey was curious he was free to watch.

He didn't think Sai would refuse him, but the nod gave him excuse to scoot his chair closer so that he could see a bit better. It was fingerpaints, yes, but done with a skill far beyond what Honey's little hands and fingers could manage. He caught a lot more though in the expressions Sai made as he painted. The smile that didn't quite fit and the way he'd been acting the last few nights... it was more than enough to worry him.

"It's so pretty! How did you learn to do it so well Sai-chan?" he asked, entranced for a few moments at least, as the other painted.

"Ah? Practice, I suppose. I'm self-taught, have been painting and doing inkwork for years." Sai switched the color to red now, but paused just as his hand was hovering above the paper. The ninja stared at the color on his fingertips, only pulling himself back into reality as a drop nearly fell onto the paper. He kept it from falling, returning to the flowers with a blank expression.

The painting was quickly finished, and he slid it in front of Honey before getting a second piece of paper and starting on something new. The red was still on his fingers, and he used the rest to mark the outline of a twisted female figure. Then he changed color to black, and was soon covering most of the paper with it, leaving nothing uncovered save some of the red and the woman's pale skin. The walls merged with her hair, spread out from it, rather.

"What about you, Honey-kun?" he asked quietly, saying nothing about the subject matter of his current painting. "What are your hobbies?"

It was interesting that a ninja would also be doing painting or inkwork in what sounded like an extracurricular activity. If he was self-taught, then it had to be something he did for fun, didn't it? Honey nodded along, watching as Sai slid it over to him, glancing over the work with a soft smile on his face. Even if Sai didn't show a lot of emotion, his paintings said a lot. He glanced over curiously at the new one Sai was starting.

Was that a woman? The pose seemed awkward and unnatural and the more he painted, the more Honey worried. It was very different from the serene field of flowers, but it was possible, and, Honey felt, probable, that the second painting was closer to what Sai was really feeling.

"I think you already know a little," he replied, not bothering to hide his worried glance this time. "I like cake, of course, playing with Takashi and Usa-chan, and really anything that's cute or fun. Sometimes I fingerpaint too, but you're much better at it than me! Mine always turn out really messy and brown when all the colors mix. And people are so hard to draw, aren't they? You do it really well! That lady, it reminds me of some old-fashioned paintings I've seen before. What's this one about? Someone you know? Or did you just make it up?"

The figure wouldn't take proper form. No matter how much he tried to conjure up an image to go with the deathly rattle he'd heard in his mind, it was just a blur. How could he describe her to someone? Was it even really female?

As Honey talked (babbled, really), Sai stared at the painting in front of him. His fingers were coated black now, something he ignored as he set them on the table and left several dark smudges. His brows knit together, the stare turning into something sharper. In one movement he slid the palm of one hand across the paper, effectively smearing the image so that the already hard to distinguish figure was completely unrecognizable.

"I'm not sure," he said, voice low. He lifted the paper slowly, a couple drops of paint falling into his lap, then crumpled it up in his hands. "Maybe it is something I just imagined."

Honey was childish in a number of ways, even if one discounted his appearance. But it didn't change the fact that he really was eighteen years old, and more than capable of noticing when someone he considered a friend was having serious trouble. Whether the painting was a coping mechanism or a cry for help, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to let one more thing slide.

"Sai-chan?" he tried again, slipping off of his chair so that he could put a hand on Sai's shoulder. "Did something happen to that person?"

"To them?" Sai stared at Honey for a moment, not completely understanding the question. "I... don't know." Whatever motives drove the creature that had taken him over, he didn't know them. The emotions that had taken him over that night - he was sure they belonged to them. Yet it wasn't something they'd had the ability to fight directly. It was just a haunting enigma.

No, it was a different person with long dark hair who'd fallen by his hands that night. He could picture her face the clearest of all, but he wouldn't dare try to bring it back to life on paper. He shook his head, forcing a strained smile on his face for his roommate.

"You shouldn't worry about it, Honey-kun. It wasn't a very good painting, anyway."

Even if he hadn't been studying people and their relationships for some time now, it was becoming more and more obvious that Sai was trying to push something away. Faking smiles wasn't what he did best, but he was familiar enough with them to know that Sai was having a difficult time with his.

"I'm not worried about the painting," he said finally, "I'm worried about Sai-chan."

The smile fell away from Sai's face, and he watched Honey a little longer. He was upsetting him somehow - that much he could tell. His roommate was a kindhearted individual, and his worry shouldn't have come as a surprised to the ninja. It was unfortunate that he'd caused another to be concerned for him, however. He wanted to avoid anything that might potentially get others involved in his mess.

He began cleaning his fingers off on a damp paper towel, after which he pulled over another clean sheet of paper. "I'm fine. Please don't think any more on it. Look - I'll paint you something else. What would you like to see?"

The fake smile vanished for a time, and though it meant Sai didn't look very happy, at least he was being honest with himself. Even if it was just a tiny bit.

"Are you sure? Sai-chan didn't even dress up in his favorite ninja clothes the other night. And there's other things. Small things like the way Sai-chan smiles. Hugs help, but they can't make everything better. Not the really sad things, or the really scary things. Even I know," he admitted, but moved to put his arms around the other boy, resting his head gently on Sai's shoulder. He could barely reach standing when Sai was in his chair, but it didn't matter. It was the gesture that was important, and he meant every bit of that.

"I just don't want Sai-chan to feel sad all alone. If you share it, sometimes it doesn't feel so heavy as it does when you carry it all by yourself." He'd been lucky enough to always have a friend like Takashi to help him carry the really difficult things, but not everyone was so fortunate.

Even though Sai saw Honey approaching him, he was still thrown off by the hug - especially since his roommate was male. If he'd hugged Naruto in a public location like this one, he had a feeling his teammate would throw a fit, or push him away at the very least. It must have been part of Honey's innocent nature that kept this from being awkward for him. Though the blond was older than him, it was more like being friends with a child. Or at least he assumed as much. He'd never had any younger friends, really.

The ninja turned his head just enough to get a good view of Honey's face out of the corner of his eye. Raising a hand, he gave the boy a light pat on the head, as it seemed the right thing to do. "I appreciate your concern, Honey-kun. I do."

His hand fell back into his lap, and he stared in front of him at the still empty sheet of paper. "But this is something that sharing will only make more difficult."

There were some potential people to speak with on the board. She checked the replies and added her own, and when given the option of where to move to this shift, she settled on the arts and crafts room at whim. She had seen Jiraiya there before, after all, and from now seeing the man in days, she was curious if she would find him there again. His replies had been sparse in the past few days, and she had to wonder... if another was succumbing to the losses of time.

So had she, though. So it meant nothing. Still, inside the room, there was only a pair of boys. The Digimon moved to a table, tracing fingertips over the paper that was piled there. After a moment, Renamon sat, and pulling a paper to her, began to add the broad stokes for her talisman spells once again. It was something that was her, even as that self did not exist in this place.

[Nataku]

He shouldn't have let it get to him. Nataku clutched the broken pen in one hand, the sharp edge hidden under his sleeve, resting lightly against the skin of his wrist. His awareness of it seemed to block out all else. He had taken it from the bulletin board with every intension of burying it in the throat of Jason's roommate. If they had managed to meet before the nurses intervened, he knew he could, and would, kill the man for his words. He could do it quickly. Even with his power diminished, they wouldn't be able to stop him until it was too late.

Jason was gone. He held on to his anger. Unlike loss, it was a beast he understood. It was clear and quiet and focused. Jason's roommate would be a warm-up for the man that had really taken him away. His death wouldn't mean nothing a second time. It would be paid for in blood.

"Takehiko, if you won't talk to me, will you talk to Reiko? You're friends, arn't you?"

Nataku blinked once, his awareness shifting to the nurse's hand as she reached to guide him, fingers tightening briefly on the pen. "Don't."

"Alright, alright, it's one of those days. Why don't you draw together for a while?"

She moved a second cup full of coloured sticks closer and left him standing. Nataku looked at Renamon then, slowly, took a seat across from her. His lips parted slightly, then closed again. Nataku swallowed and tried again, "Hey."

The boy moving closer under the watchful eye of the nurse was noted, and though the Digimon continued the motions, widening the strokes (useless as it was), she continued an awareness of the apparent child. When Nataku sat, Renamon laid the brush horizontal against her knuckles and raised her eyes.

The hesitation gave, motive unknown, was noticed. Renamon nodded slightly in response. "Hello." She might have paused in asking--she did not know how he would react to concern, after all--but Nataku had already made himself a solid presence in her life here. "What's wrong?"

Both hands shifted to his lap, closed around the broken pen as if it were a talisman. He had been wrong about losing friends. He had been naive. He could see why it might eat one up inside and leave them hollow. Nataku dropped his gaze and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry. What I said to you before was harsh. I passed judgment on you for something I didn't fully understand." His words were steady and even, authentic despite their lack of intonation. "I'm sorry," He repeated. "Now I'm starting to understand."

The fact that he had lost the very things that pointed him as a child still to Renamon was more than concerning. But one hiding behind a veil of detachment was something well known. And she would not dishonor that by pointing it out. Nataku's words, though.

Renamon's voice was the same, still and even. "Your apologies aren't directed at me." And they weren't, in all truth, if he was changing his mindset. They were directed to the person the child-god had failed to protect. "And even if harsh, Nataku. They have allowed me to move from where I would have stayed stagnant. Only your words, and a memory. So I am grateful."

The Digimon paused, watching him. "I'm sorry you do." Understand. There was nothing she wanted less.

Nataku was silent. What could he say to that? She understood.

It was the other thing that felt strange, almost foreign. The way she said she was grateful or sorry as if it held no obligation. It was simply what she meant. How many people like her had this place taken or broken?

"I'm glad you're here." He said, finally looking up. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what he'd said. "I mean. With me. Still here. I... You know what I mean." He really wasn't good at this. He exhaled slowly, face flushed, trying and failing to loosen his grip on the pen. "I can't let them live after this. Whoever took him away... I'll kill them for it."

She did, more than she wanted. How many people had been taken? If asked, the answer stood as still as stone. More than she had ever had before, she had lost within these walls. Was it damning, or something like deliverance? Even speaking to one known as a god, she wouldn't know. She didn't think in those circles of thought. Loss was only that. Slower steps. A heavier weight.

Renamon watched the boy, neutrality slipping to understanding, and she paused before speaking. "I've said that, too. Because it's better, isn't it? To have people where you can protect them with your own two hands." To see their life in front of you, and not have to imagine if they still existed elsewhere. "And I'm glad for you as well."

She understood all of this. Even the grip shown was something she had mirrored. And even though it might be rejected, she reached across the table to lightly drop her hand over his. "If it ends, it will end correctly," she said firmly. "There is no other option."

He nodded. One, perhaps, he could protect with his two hands. But how many were there here? Homura, Kenren, Renamon, Hanatarou, Ritsuka and all of the children and adults he'd met in passing to share a laugh or smile. How many of them had passed on, like water leaking through his fingers, before he noticed this one? How many more until he held nothing?

Her had covered his own, conveying empathy and understanding. Nataku's shoulders sagged, as if the strings that held them up had been suddenly and abruptly cut, and he was left a broken toy with no spine. His hands shook beneath hers, but he couldn't remove them. All of a sudden he felt exposed and vulnerable, cornered and powerless.

"There's no other option." He agreed quietly. "None at all."

"Rachel, why don--Oh dear, your nose is bleeding again..." From whatever pocket in her uniform, the nurse brought out a tissue and gently dabbed the skin under her nose.

"Can I have another 'pill'?" Tifa could feel the dull ache begin anew behind her eyes. It was frustrating to have to rely on these women who ultimately stood in the way of her freedom.

The nurse stared at her, head tilted slightly as if in distant thought. "I gave you one this morning, and it is...." Her last word was held between them as she checked her watch. "Yes, it's been plenty of time. Here, why don't we set you down in here for the day...?" The young brunette was led out of the Sun Room and through a neighboring door into a... well, a very different kind of room. It was very sterile looking, and there weren't many patients in here. Either way, Tifa was set down at an empty round table, where her nurse grabbed a bin of crayolas and place them in front of her with paper. "I'll be right back with it..."

".... Thanks...." After a few confused moments of silent self-pity, Tifa's curiosity finally won over and she stuck her hand into the bin, pulling out a colorful assortment of crayons. "Really?" She couldn't help but laugh. The last time she had ever colored had been before her mother died. Taking a royal blue, the young woman began doodling stick figures fighting, though to anyone looking it probably just looked like a bunch of amoebas flailing at one another.

[Badou! Come play house wif mommy~ ]

Arts and Crafts was still fairly empty when Badou arrived. Sure, that meant he might not be able to steal any glitter, but if that was the worst that happened today, he wouldn't even complain about it. Much. At least he had no real worries about visitor shift. Most of the people he knew were already locked in with him, and after that first visit from Haine... well, not much could surprise him. Might as well take it easy for the day.

The first familiar face he noticed just happened to belong to the cute brunette from the bus. Badou headed over, waving once with his uninjured hand. Maybe the sling would earn him some pity points. "'Sup. Is that supposed to be a... Abstract art? It's got - flow. Sort of." He settled into the chair across from her. "Rough night?"

Tifa hadn't realized she had become so absorbed in drawing until someone sat down in front of her before she even noticed. Brown eyes unhinged from the paper and met Badou with a tired look. Truly, the brunette was happy to see someone she knew, and this boy had a good sense of humor, but it was hard to show her appreciation. Those pills had some weird side effects!

"It's supposed to be people--Hey, what happened to your arm?" She pulled her chair closer to hear this story. From what she had seen of others and on the bulletin board, quite a few people had taken quite a beating this past night. The young woman was surprised none of them had died, if her own experience was any kind of general model. "I went back to my home, did you too?"

Well, actually, he'd gotten worse responses from women in the past. He liked to think of anything non-violent as positive enough. Besides, from what Alle had told him, last night must have been rough on a lot of people.

"What happened to you?" Badou countered. "I slept in. Kinda glad I did for once." This was why he hadn't wanted to bother with the sling. While it was nice to whine, telling virtually everyone he met that his doctor was out to brutally maim him and kill all of his friends got kinda old. And, well, most people really didn't want to be friends with someone who might get them murdered for the sake of angst.

As for the other thing, he shook his head, reaching for a piece of paper and a crayon. "You know they were just fucking with you, right?"

"Oh really...?" Sleeping, huh? Her smile wasn't exactly sympathetic to his plight. "Yeah I got this from sleeping too..." Pointing to her busted nose, Tifa's swollen face split further in a painful grin. It was ultimately worth it. "C'mon, all men like to talk about their battle scars. I'll go first!"

Pushing her drawing aside, she interlaced her fingers and rested them on the round table. "I was on the back of a friend's motorcycle after we went to his 'house' or whatever. One minute we are riding through the snow, the next we crash into the kitchen pantry, and I face plant into the brick wall the man calls his back... Pretty pathetic, huh? I didn't even go down in a fight!" Laughing harmlessly, she picked up her crayon and began doodling again, not wanting to pressure Badou if he really didn't want to talk about his arm. But he fucking better, because she was curious.

"Yeah..." Though it was hard to verbally admit it. At least she hadn't been as crushed as Logan when they came back to the institute. Or, well, he might have been, it was hard to really tell. Logan basically had only two expressions: neutrally moody and slightly pissy. "The town was completely deserted and... some monsters were roaming around that shouldn't have been...

"But what can ya do...?" While she didn't exactly feel peppy, Tifa did her best to move past the sudden dark cloud that hovered over her. "Just gotta keep moving ahead, right?"

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Day 50: Arts & Crafts Room (3rd Shift)

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