rocksthecourt: ♪ Where you going with that gun in your hand? (pushed too far)
Klavier Gavin ([personal profile] rocksthecourt) wrote in [community profile] damned_institute2010-07-09 01:31 pm

Night 50: M11-M20 Hallway

[M12]

Klavier felt a wave of sickness as soon as that man's voice came over the intercom again. It was less apprehension and more bubbling anger than anything else. It wasn't so much the mocking that was grating as it was the sound of him sounding so smug, so satisfied with everything that was happening. So safe. Klavier told himself it was fine. Let the man believe he was untouchable. It would make it all the more satisfying when he was ripped down from his pedestal and made to face the consequences.

So last night's events had been done intentionally, after all. Herr Doktor was setting up a new system. A system of what, no one could say at this point, but if it resulted in anything like the previous night, it would prove to make things even more complicated than they already were. If anyone was to do anything, it would have to be now before they finished setting up whatever it was they were doing.

Herr Doktor was already mocking them to investigate to their heart's content, probably confident there was nothing to be found out there. But there was bound to be something overlooked. There had to be cracks in the system. And Klavier would find them all and see this place ripped down.

But first he needed to validate this claim about jewels and rings and whatnot. A teleportation ring? It didn't seem possible... But a lot of what didn't seem possible was fact in this place. Klavier opened the drawer on his side of the room and searched the inside. His good hand shuffled the contents about a little in search for anything like what the man had described, but there was nothing. The only "ring" in there was the small keyring. ...What were these keys for anyway? He picked them up questioningly and looked over the drawer again.

"...Nothing."
affictitious: (ALL BY MYSEEELFFFF...)

M13.

[personal profile] affictitious 2010-07-09 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
I know where your heart truly lies.

And his posthumous commentary went as such: no kidding. There was nothing like feeling a small explosion in the pit of your stomach because you were exploding. Puncturing a grace was akin to throwing a hydrogen bomb on top of an atom bomb. While the second was already mid-explosion.

The afterlife wasn't particularly as thrilling as it'd been surprising; the fact that there was one for him at all was very against the rather ineffable wisdom that Daddy had shoved into his mind. The fact that it was a whole lot of darkness was pretty damn boring. You go out a martyr and what do you get? No eyes, apparently. Heaven had been nice and all, but he knew he wasn't going back; not even death was gonna send him back home.

This wasn't so bad. The darkness came with comfy sheets. And... a radio message.

Not that he was particularly paying any attention to said message. He was, in fact, quite taken with curling his fingers. Around the comfy sheets.

He had fingers.

Now, get this: there wasn't anything particular fascinating with having ten fingers. A couple thousand years, you're pretty used to them – you lose one, it always comes back. There's always going to be two hands and ten fingers. He could probably grow more, but there's not really a point in that. Ten's enough.

It must be the little things, he decides, after you're dead. There were a billion questions to be asked: why his brother had chosen as he had, why he was sitting on a bed clothed in gray (which wasn't anything new, mind, but he'd long abandoned those particular threads), where he even was. But the most particular: why he had ten fingers and complete control over them.

Okay. Two facts of life were being blown out of the water here.

One: angels didn't have an afterlife. There wasn't a Heaven for the heavenly. It was just… nothing. Or at least he'd assumed so. And he'd embraced it: being nothing was better than destroying what he loved. But here he was, watching the fingers he was inhabiting curl and uncurl and wondering the absolute existential crisis: why am I alive?

Two: martyrs stay dead (you know, for the most part). The bad thing about coming back after martyrdom is you're expected to live up to the values you died for. While humans were great an' all, he wasn't about to kill his brother for them. The reason he'd stood up to Lucifer in the first place was to give his brother one last chance, to see how far love really could go.

Maybe he'd been away from home for too long, because apparently it didn't go far at all.

Even if Daddy had finally opened his eyes to the world (which this particular angel was still doubtful of – and why him, of all his brothers and sisters who'd died?) there wasn't much point in doing so. He'd given the Winchesters the alternative with an underlying promise – neither of his brothers would die. Lucifer'd be trapped, sure, but he'd still be alive. He'd grown enough of a pair to stand up to the other archangel, but call him a coward if he still couldn't kill his brothers. He'd finally picked a side, but it wasn't with either of them and it never would be.

You'd think the Winchesters would've quit giving him such shit over it. You know, kindred spirits and all that – the two of them weren't particularly good at murdering each other either. But, seeing as they were the human representations of Michael and Lucifer and the one thing Gabriel could always count on from them was a bunch of shit, it really did make sense in the end.
affictitious: (relax bitches.)

M13.

[personal profile] affictitious 2010-07-09 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"Annnd… end inner monologue," he said to the darkness, moving that strange sense of control into his legs. Really his vessel's legs, not his, but while he was in the body, they were good as his.

So. Vessel was still intact. Not quite sure if that should have been the case, but he'd roll with it. He was already rolling with the idea of being alive, so having an unmutilated body was kind of a step below that.

Now to grasp the concept of not knowing where the hell he was. The perks of being an archangel? Instant knowledge. No one ever got the drop on him. Gabriel should know where he was, what planet, what time (in every timezone), what century, and how he'd gotten here. Apparently a nice big bout of betrayal came with free amnesia. Not exactly a thrilling deal. He would've preferred some –

- fuzzy slippers. He was not wearing fuzzy slippers. Be gone, fuzzy slippers.

But they were still there. Staring at him.

Summary: alive, angel mojo intact. That Heavenly connection had shorted out a couple of times since his not-so-heroic escape, but it was there. A little fritzy, sure, but he'd gotten used to it. Wings intact. Angel mojo not particularly quick to be used. Vessel unharmed – not even a hole in the chest. Fuzzy slippers.

… roommate.

Okay, the one step at a time thing wasn't working so well. There was too much to absorb and there was a human in the room – he'd heard the breathing. A rough shove showed that he was either dead or comatose; another thing Gabriel should've been able to tell without touching him. He was kind of warm, so… alive? But a heavy sleeper.

With nice glasses. Well, if he couldn't make his own (for the moment)…

So. Getting the hell out of here seemed like a good idea, but either he'd broken an imaginary wing bone or something was keeping him from flying out. Which didn't happen. Again: archangel. Nothing beats 'em.

Well, one Guy did, but he wasn't around to be keeping a pet Gabe-in-a-box anywhere.

After a few fumbles around the room which led to a bumped knee, another rather uncomfortable touching of the human, and slamming a closet door, he'd found another one. Presumably into more darkness –

Bingo. Ding ding ding. Winner.

Forgoing the disbelief that he had to resort to using a plastic tube to see - one that he hadn't made himself – and that he was alive and yadda yadda yadda, he took a step into the darkness outside the other darkness.

Posthumous adventure. Woo.

[Over to here.]
Edited 2010-07-10 03:20 (UTC)
girlsandgadgets: ([composed])

[M16]

[personal profile] girlsandgadgets 2010-07-09 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)
The end of the nightly announcement left Edgar shooting a questioning look to Gren. A ring that could take them to the last location they'd visited? And only one per group? That certainly explained why he'd not found a ring in his own drawer, but had him wanting an answer for why Landel would distribute such a powerful item. Their night had ended in a fairly normal locale, but what if the dawn had come an hour earlier, while they were still fighting the beast? Would the ring transport them to such a seemingly important room, as well?

It was a curious notion, and one that could prove useful in the future, especially if the rumors of the basement were true. It couldn't be easy to reach the inner sanctum of the institution before the morning arrived- if one could simply gather their weapons, party, and courage and warp there...

It seemed like such an invitation for the patients to find Landel. What game was he playing?

Edgar pulled his radio from his desk, slipping it into the pocket of the jacket before grabbing his light. "At least it seems you won't be breaking some girl's heart," he said lightly, "though this does make for an interesting turn of events, granted he's telling the truth about the ring. What do you think?"
stellarregions: (neutral)

[M16]

[personal profile] stellarregions 2010-07-10 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
Gren had pulled the ring back out of his pocket when it became a topic of conversation over the loudspeaker. It looked pretty innocuous but... it seemed almost too good to be true, and was just furthering his conviction that whatever else went on here, the institute was one elaborate mind game, the point of which he couldn't begin to guess at.

"Just as well, I wasn't looking forward to telling her I wasn't interested." He walked over to his closet and pulled out one of the sweatshirts. It wasn't warm enough outside for shirtsleeves, no matter how accustomed to the cold he'd gotten in the past three years. The ring got slid onto one pinkie before he pulled the sweatshirt on. "I think I'm not going to be too eager to test it unless it's really necessary," he replied. "Or until I hear from someone else that it works as advertised." For all they knew, it was a ploy to get them to use the things to some unfortunate end.
girlsandgadgets: ([moonlight])

[personal profile] girlsandgadgets 2010-07-10 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
Edgar nodded. "I agree. Knowing what this place has to offer, I wouldn't be surprised to find that ring has dire consequences. It could be that Landel wants us to reach him, that he wants a challenge... however, I can't see him offering his prisoners a legitimate aid without some strings attached."

His shoulder ached sharply again, reminding him of their limitations. They'd have to be careful, especially when outdoors, where the darkness was much thicker and the chance of attack greater. Their injuries were bad enough; the fact that they were still unarmed only made matters worse. Hopefully, they'd not be without decent weaponry for much longer.

He opened the door to the hallway, ready to move. "To the courtyard, then?"
stellarregions: (smile)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2010-07-10 06:28 am (UTC)(link)
"If something seems too good to be true, it probably is," he joked wryly. "Even if it works the way they claim it does, I'm sure there will be some sort of drawback." He just couldn't see the point, otherwise. Why give them something so potentially useful with no strings attached.

He picked up both his flashlight and his radio, wishing he had more pockets for all of his stuff. As unfashionable as it had been, he almost wished for his old army uniform. At least that had been designed to carry equipment. "Ready as I'll ever be." He was going to have to be extra vigilant... he knew Edgar's injuries were worse than his own, and as the one with two functional arms, it was his duty to keep them both safe to the best of his ability.

(no subject)

[personal profile] girlsandgadgets - 2010-07-11 22:27 (UTC) - Expand

M19

[identity profile] replicatedorder.livejournal.com 2010-07-09 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
It was time.

Given his talk with Cloud, he hadn't had the opportunity to get up and check for the "present" Landel might have left him in the drawer. When Landel went through the description of what was said, Luke found himself immediately disappointed; if those special places meant their homes, it meant that even if he found one within his drawer, it might be useless. They spent their time in Baticul the night before and then woke up. They wouldn't be able to see where they had gone.

But then, he realized that there was a chance that someone else could use it, someone who had been to a far more useful place. Luke only hoped that would work out in his favor.

Not wanting to waste a minute that night, Luke clambered off his bed and moved toward his desk to look for the object that Landel described. He was surprised when he had it, but not as much as he could be; given his role among his friends, it almost made sense that he would have the ring. They always left him in charge of inventory. He slipped the ring over his finger, and proceeded toward the closet, tugging out his sword the same way as before. He realized he still really needed a way to make this easier to use, but again, he decided to wait. A note on the bulletin board tomorrow would rectify this problem; surely, there was someone in the institute willing to work or trade with him so this would be easier to use. He had to be optimistic about how things were here, even if people consistently proved that they weren't willing to change things.

But that was where he had to show them and try to talk to them. That was what he had done on Auldrant, wasn't it? He wasn't some ambassador, but it wasn't like him to just give up.

His fingers slid tightly around the hilt, and he knew he could handle it. It wouldn't be easy if he ended up running into some monsters tonight, but he decided to deal with it. Arriving in Baticul had removed any worries he had the night before, but now things were different. He wouldn't be running into his friends tonight, he figured, but he knew he had to get somewhere and do something. There was bound to be someone out there that would be interested in the information he had, and he had to be prepared.

Filled with determination, he grabbed his flashlight, gave a single nod toward his roommate, and started out. The night was waiting, and he knew this place well enough to be ready for it.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/936970.html)]
Edited 2010-07-09 22:12 (UTC)

Re: M19

[identity profile] notthistrain.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
For being the supposed leader of his group, Cloud was finding that he failed rather often when it came to making actual plans for meeting up here. For example, the next time he arranged to get together with one friend to search for another, it would be a good idea to actually list a place to meet. The blond sighed as he grabbed up his flashlight, radio, and sword. Thank goodness for the main hallway.

It was doubtful that Zack would leave the main patient blocks to go looking for him, so finding him shouldn't be all that difficult. That didn't make the situation any less frustrating. Come on, Cloud. You're better than this.

He'd checked his drawer for the item mentioned by the Head Doctor, but if such a thing actually existed, he hadn't been the one to end up with it. That didn't speak very highly of his leadership skills either, unless the one to receive it had just been chosen at random. Given the Institute's sense of humor, it had probably ended up with Yuffie. They'd worry about that later. Right now there were more important matters to deal with.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/936745.html?thread=70912297#t70912297)]

M12

[identity profile] oftemptation.livejournal.com 2010-07-09 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Endrance had just finished changing for the night when the announcement came over the intercom - a teleportation ring? Just for a moment, he thought that it might be a way to get back home. A way to go back, to be there at home and have things be normal again, but those thoughts were crushed immediately.

The Blade Brandier aimed his sword at the intercom once, scowling at it before letting his arm fall to his side with a quiet curse. "I'll find you. And when I do..."

That was all assuming that he had access to one of those special rings. He checked the drawers of his desk, but...nothing. His face fell, but the determination returned quickly.

Re: M12

[identity profile] feartehreaper.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/939724.html?thread=70911436#t70911436). ]

It wasn't until Haseo was out in the halls before something other than the state of hurrying managed to get through to him. It wasn't like he had much of a reason to be rushing so much anyway... Endrance wouldn't have left without him or something like that, after all. If anything, the Blade Brandier would merely show up at Haseo's room first if he took too long, as he had on numerous occasions in the past.

Of course, in the end all that hurrying wasn't much more than a way to avoid the dark thoughts and feelings that the hospital caused. Ignoring what had happened to him wasn't the most elegant of solutions, but Haseo was already aware that how he addressed his problems wasn't always the healthiest or best way to go about it. Recognizing that was the easy part... finding a way to do something about it was less so. He didn't want to admit that the things "Erin" had said were far more damaging than he wanted to admit, or that he had no idea what to do about it.

The Adept Rogue's grip on his swords tightened, pace quickening once again as he walked the short distance between 'his' hall and the next, and then the length of the hall leading to Endrance's room. He made to knock, but before he could make his presence known, he noticed that for the first time ever he could hear more than one voice coming from inside the room.

"Hey!" he said after a beat, deciding to forgo knocking in favor of not having to shift his swords between hands. "Endrance?"

Re: M12

[identity profile] oftemptation.livejournal.com 2010-07-11 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
"Haseo? Come in..." Endrance stepped towards the door and opened it immediately. "Ah. Klavier, this is my..."

He paused and actually blushed for just a moment, folding his free arm over his chest. That was probably saying far, far too much with his body language, but he couldn't particularly bring himself to care. But now, he needed to get back to his senses and make introductions, ones that didn't involve lines and lines of gushing superlatives. The only problem was that he didn't think he could go without at least some

"My...dear friend from back home, Haseo. I...I really don't know what I would do without him in this place...he means the world to me and then some, and...and he's one of the strongest people I've ever met. I owe him my life more than once over, within these horrid walls and outside of it. He's so..."

Endrance shook his head and looked down at the floor, in an attempt to stem either the tide of compliments or his own blush - or the gesturing he was doing with the hand that wasn't holding his sword. He hadn't actually realized he was gesturing so much when he had been talking, but...this was Haseo. The most important person in the world to him needed to be...introduced as such.

And speaking of, the introductions didn't need to be so one-sided, did they?

"Haseo, my roommate, Klavier Gavin. One of the most honest people I've met in this place, and I don't mean that sarcastically. Also, very good with music and very smart."

So that was short in comparison. That wasn't that noticeable, was it?

Re: M12

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winged_moon: (yue all of my memories)

M11

[personal profile] winged_moon 2010-07-09 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Recent memory was a hazy uncertainty, with no real awareness of just how he'd managed to get from the front room to his room, or even how much time had passed since then. Two things remained foremost in his mind, pulsing reminders with each heartbeat and overwhelming all other conscious thought.

Clow Reed was alive.

Clow Reed did not acknowledge him.

It had been enough, once, to discover that Clow had been reborn as another, with his own life and own guardians to replace those he'd discarded in the long past. There had been enough time for Yue to begin to reconcile himself with it, to accept if not understand, and to bury himself in life and duties with his new mistress. This, however, ripped the wound open anew, leaving it overwhelmingly raw and painful. Once he'd had the oblivion of the sleep that came with being sealed within the Clow Book, but now that was denied him; he could not so much as return to a dormant state within the mind of his false form, for the changes that had been made (at Clow's request or instigation?) made that impossible.

The sound of that voice on the intercom broke through Yue's thoughts briefly, enough to give him a vague awareness of his surroundings and how he'd ended up there (his roommate was there and he had his pride, could not show weakness even in front of the sleeping man; the only source of privacy there was the closet, so in he'd gone without noticing or caring about the cramped quarters or the items already scattered on the bottom) just as the night began. As the lights went out his wings appeared, rising from his back with an incandescent glow before solidifying-- and leaving the closet suddenly more cramped than before. Still, it hardly seemed to matter; what was a little physical discomfort when the foundation of his world had shattered?

Though he was distantly aware of the fact that Sakura was still there, still his duty and responsibility (and more important than mere duty, his conscience reminded him) he couldn't muster the energy required to go find her. To remind himself that he did still need to exist, had a purpose and a reason even if his creator no longer felt the same.

Yue shifted slightly, starting to pull his wings about himself with the vague idea of changing to his false form, but lost interest only part of the way through the movement. Still, it bumped the closet door open a little farther, his wings overflowing out the edge though he neither realized nor cared about it. The guardian merely curled up a little tighter, forehead against his knees amidst the feathered tangle of his wings, lost in his own thoughts, awash in renewed grief and loss.

Re: M11

[identity profile] guardiancomplex.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
The uneasy feeling that Touya had experienced at the beginning of dinner had only intensified as the night grew closer and closer. Remy's sleeping and being unable to talk to anyone to distract him from what was clearly a feeling that was so overwhelming it was bypassing the fact that he didn't have any ability yet had worn on his nerves until they were practically raw. And it hadn't helped that neither of them had responded to his note on the bulletin. That was the papercut that had started his painful process of 'what if's.

He rifled through his drawer while the doctor was talking, not paying very much attention to what he was saying, and found the item: a silver ring with a red stone in it.

The door opened, he closed his fist around the ring, and ran. Ran for Yue. Because if it wasn't him, he'd be able to tell Touya were Sakura was.

Touya stopped in front of the familiar door, looking it up and down, deciding if he should knock or just go in. The two options met in the middle--he pounded on the door, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than he'd intended.

"Yue!"

He paused. Nothing. Not even a sound. What if he was...?

Touya could almost feel his heart seizing as he pushed the door open. Sleeping roommate, two dinner trays... signs that Yue had been there and yet--

He spotted Yue's wing spilling out of the closet, and Touya thought that he would never in his life see something as heart-wrenching and pitiful as that single image. And what was worse: whatever waited for him behind the door wasn't likely to be much kinder to him.

He slowly moved around the closet, half afraid of what he would find. If anything, he knew he would find a Yue that he'd never seen before. A side of the guardian that was scared and vulnerable. Yue had never failed to answer a note, and Touya was sure he wasn't the type to hide in a closet on a regular basis. Something was gravely wrong, and Touya was afraid of what that would mean.

When he got around the door of the closet and pushed it open slightly, he stopped breathing. The wing poking out of the doors had given him some idea of what to expect, but in the end he didn't think anything would have prepared him. The images of Yue tangled among his feathers and Yue flying above Tomoeda knocked against one another, trying to make some sort of picture that made sense. Nothing.

Touya looked away from Yue, to the sleeping man, then back. They needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere that was private. He knelt down, close to Yue's wing.

"Yue...?" he said softly. "Can you stand?"
winged_moon: (yue close up)

Re: M11

[personal profile] winged_moon 2010-07-10 07:35 am (UTC)(link)
The voice, the presence, both were familiar and yet faint and distant, as though remnants of a dream now fading with the dawn. It was so easy to ignore them both and curl in on himself, drawing farther inward until there was nothing left to see or hear or feel, but of course that couldn't happen. Something like fondness, an affectionate familiarity, flickered through his mind: no, of course Touya couldn't allow that.

The presence grew stronger with the sound of a door opening, footsteps against the floor, and almost Yue found the will to move and rise and pretend that nothing was wrong. To not allow Touya, of anyone, to see him like this, but then he wondered why. What reason was there, for any of it? Sakura hadn't moved; she was safe. Safer by far than she would be in the care of a wing-clipped and crippled guardian. Would a time come when she, too, would abandon those who cared for her, leaving them in a forced existence they never wanted? Better to die with his master than live without him, except... Clow wasn't dead. He was here.

At the sound of his name, spoken in a tone of soft concern, the guardian's thoughts shattered and scattered, and almost reflexively he lifted his head, turning toward the source. Instead of his usual impassive mask there was simply... nothing. Emptiness that reflected his heart, his pupils narrowed to slits so thin they nearly drowned in the pale blue of his irises, and no sign of comprehension. Stand? He had no need to stand. He had no reason to exist, except that he did, except that he... didn't want to.

Re: M11

[identity profile] guardiancomplex.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 07:58 am (UTC)(link)
For a moment, Touya thought Yue was angry with him, his face was so... blank. But a few seconds passed in silence, Touya waiting for an answer and getting none. He realized with no small amount of concern that he wasn't getting through to Yue. The look he was getting was a reflex to being talked to, but the message wasn't getting through.

Touya looked back at the sleeping roommate again, then to Yue. "We're going to go back to my room. I'm going to carry you."

He probably still wasn't reaching Yue, but he couldn't just pick the guardian up without warning. Gently, he laced his hand under Yue's knees and an arm around his shoulders, and lifted. He wasn't any heavier than Yuki was.

Yue would hate him in the morning for making such a display in the hallways, but Touya didn't have a choice. He couldn't cover Yue's wings, and he didn't think that anything he could do with Yue's roommate present would get Yue talking and functioning. If only he knew what had happened...

"Okay, here we go," Touya said softly. He toed the door open and toed it shut once he'd maneuvered them through. "No one's here, you're alright."

God, what if something had happened to Sakura?

Re: M11

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M17

[identity profile] its-the-mileage.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
Indy wasn't feeling very talkative at dinner after that last shift; he ate his steak with mechanical efficiency and kept to himself. When he finished, he pushed back his tray and changed into his usual adventuring clothes. This time, though, he loaded himself up--whip over his right shoulder, machete in one hand and flashlight in the other, scalpel, pen and journal in the jacket pockets. He thought about bringing the metal pole or the half burnt-out torch, but he was out of ways to carry them without sacrificing a lot of mobility. He'd just have to hope anyone who showed up had weapons of his own.

Arsenal assembled, he sat back down at the desk to wait. Even Landel's announcement didn't do much for his grim mood, since he opened his desk drawer to find it didn't contain anything that hadn't been in there the last time he went through it. He wondered whether Dent or the kid had gotten the ring. If it was Dent, it might be of some use to them--being able to go right back to where you'd been the night before could save them a lot of time in exploring places like the site in the woods or the basement. If it was the kid, he'd probably be safe in assuming he'd never see it again. They hadn't even gotten his name.

When the door unlocked, he hurried out into the hall, sparing only a brief nod for the German across the room. They'd have plenty to discuss one of these nights, but right now, Indy had somewhere to be.

Re: M17

[identity profile] its-the-mileage.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ahead to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/936745.html?thread=70889513#t70889513)]

M17

[identity profile] neuepolitik.livejournal.com 2010-07-10 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
Not unlike his room mate, Ludwig wasn't feeling talkative at all. He'd wanted to discuss things with Dr. Jones, but every time he felt like it, something far more important had consumed his attention. In short... while he wanted to exchange information about what he had learned, the upcoming 'world meeting' was eating into all of his attention. He knew who was going to come in, and that worried him. England, America, and Russia in the same small room... it was going to be a nightmare to pull off. Especially if he wanted to avoid an international incident.

The German had offered only a brief acknowledgment of Dr. Jones as the man left, but inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be chaos, and he'd prefer if no one actually took part in it unless they had to. As nations and as individuals, few of Ludwig's sort actually got along with each other, and those who had been gathered were even more aggressive and self-centered than the norm. Antagonistic to a fault and most certainly not used to working together.

The more Ludwig considered it, the worse his stomach hurt. He had a terrible feeling about this, and yet... there was nothing else for it. He just sat on his bed and waited, trying to fight down the impending feeling of dread.

Re: M17

[identity profile] vodka-jump.livejournal.com 2010-07-11 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/936745.html?thread=70936617#t70936617)]]

It'd taken a few wrong turns, but he finally arrived in front of the door that read M17. It was unusually quiet for a summit type meeting so either no one had arrived yet, or they'd given him the wrong information for the meeting. He'd be very upset if it were the latter. But visiting Germany in the past had been fun, lively to say the least.

No one was waiting outside to greet him, so he turned the doorknob, only to find Germany sitting on his bed, the rest of the room empty. The smile he offered had all the makings of a real and proper smile, but as usual, there was an odd sort of soulless quality to it that was difficult to describe.

"Good evening Germany. None of the others are here yet? That's too bad."

Re: M17

[identity profile] neuepolitik.livejournal.com 2010-07-11 10:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah... it had to be Russia first. Needless to say, the two nations didn't have a very friendly relationship through their long history. Germany had been raised with a healthy fear of the powerful Eastern power, and in more recent days, Ivan had proven to be both an implacable foe and an eternal threat. Sometimes acting almost friendly, sometimes with tension along the border, but never predictable. The question that Ludwig found himself asking now was whether Russia could be trusted or not. They were in the same boat now- all of them mortal, all of them with a common enemy. But would even that be enough?

Ludwig stood up and walked over to the other man, offering his right hand for a handshake. At the very least, he knew that Russia was one of the strongest among them. Perhaps the most dangerous, but certainly a strong force. If that strength could be put into escape, or at the least into breaking the Head Doctor... pragmatically speaking, that would be a strong asset to their side. It'd just depend on whether Ivan could work with them or not.

"Yes, you're the first one here. I'm sure the others will be along shortly, however."

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[identity profile] degozaruyo.livejournal.com 2010-07-12 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Kenshin was already half-dressed by the time that the intercom screeched to life a second time. He stood, tying his hakama, and stared quizzically at the speaker. To say that he was suspicious of the “system” that Landel was talking about would be a vast understatement, but he couldn’t deny that he was curious. The rurouni rooted around in his desk drawer, and was rewarded with a ring, set with a large red jewel. He didn’t put it on. He had a duty to Heiji tonight, and he wasn’t stupid enough to possibly compromise that by playing into their captor’s hands. Instead, he stashed it in the sleeve of his kimono and reached for his sword.

There were other things that had to be done tonight.

[going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/939776.html?thread=70997504#t70997504)]
Edited 2010-07-12 21:50 (UTC)

M14

[identity profile] unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com 2010-07-15 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)
The day had passed in something of a blur. Javert was faintly aware of having slept in; his nurse said something about his being ill, and he vaguely recalled being too tired to move for the better part of the day. No doubt she thought his age was catching up to him, or something similarly idiotic. He'd never been ill a day in his life, and as for the question of age...

He sat up. His dinner was going cold--had gone cold--on his desk, but he ate it anyway. No plans for tonight; no idea if Search and Rescue had been discontinued. It appeared he'd be on his own for the evening. Well, that was all right, as far as he was concerned.
threepwood: (Er...)

[personal profile] threepwood 2010-07-15 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Running from here.]

Had he put much thought into his actions, Guybrush probably wouldn't have run the entire way from his room to the inspector's, racing to beat Elaine to the main hallway or not; however, he didn't put any advanced thought into what he was doing, and so he found himself short-winded and disheveled by the time he reached Javert's door. He smoothed his hair back with his hand, straightening his pants-and-underwear sash with his hook as he pulled the sword from its loop, readying it for returning.

Guybrush gave the door a strong knock, determined to awaken the inspector if he had to. He was not leaving with this sword again. "M... Mister Javert?" he asked as he leaned on the door frame, his voice giving an embarrassing squeak from exhaustion as he wheezed. Running: 1; Guybrush: 0. "It's... me. Guybrush Threep... wood. Mighty pirate. Returning... sword."

[identity profile] unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com 2010-07-16 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
Javert turned abruptly at the sound of a knock, raising an eyebrow in bemusement. He hadn't expected any visitors tonight. Was someone here for his roommate, then? He glanced across the room; the man was still asleep. An 'illness' like the one his nurse claimed had befallen Javert himself, or something more worrying?

No matter. He stood and answered the door, faint surprise registering on his face.

"Threepwood," he said after a moment, his gaze shifting to the sword. Well, that was unexpected. He had mentally berated himself the morning after he'd given the young man the sword; he hadn't expected to actually see it again.

"I suppose thanks are in order." There was faint amusement in his voice now. He reached out and took the sword. "Have you found a weapon of your own, then?"

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