damned_institute | Day 51: Breakfast

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

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"Just wondering," answered Yomi. "It’d be your biggest clue that something was wrong, if you had. I’m sure lots confront the first staff member they meet once they wake up to find themselves here, and once they do, they’d probably realize they can’t harm them." Yomi had, though she was not terribly concerned whether this one had acted similarly or not. That wasn’t the point. He’d wanted information, and she was fine with giving some just to see what came of it.

"Because when you come here, you’re made weak. There’s a dampening effect, even on the non-humans. So even if you were to attack a nurse, they’d either repel or overpower you, then sedate you. In case you were thinking of making violence the answer sometime. That’s one of the place’s deep, dark secrets."

Even as Yomi said as much, she had one eye on the two blondes across the room and the damage Teresa was causing. Her explanation might be punctuated with a live demonstration soon. And Teresa and been worried about Yomi losing control.

It was the term non-humans that stood out and pushed everything else she said to the sidelines. Damon already knew something was wrong, with him and with wherever they were. Last night had proven as much; this morning, not a hell of a lot different.

What he wanted to know now was what she meant by non-humans. She couldn't mean vampires. He hadn't gone looking at everyone's hand for a magic ring (obviously), but it wasn't as if those things were mass-produced in China and sold at your local Wal-Mart. It took some serious wand-waving to produce an object like that.

For the first time since coming here, he went back to the fire. The mayor. He'd been something else, hadn't he? Damon had been too busy trying to not burn alive that he hadn't had time to process that, but—yeah, that would've been something to think about if he were home. Not a vampire, not a witch. That didn't leave too many options, none of which he liked the sound of.

He peered at her, gaze flicking briefly to the same commotion that had attracted her attention before returning. "Define non-human."

Yomi gave a full smile. Now that was a question that… seriously made it clear that this guy was fresh blood.

"That could take all day. There’s what you are, for starters. And what I am, and what they," she angled her head at the milling staff, "could be, and what most of these others are. We’ve got the plain human outnumbered by quite a lot. So you'd have to be specific."

What.

Damon blinked once, slow and careful. Something flickered in his eyes, passing in an instant.

Well. Wasn't this an interesting yet unexpected development. It did explain a few things about her. He could almost hear the pieces click into place.

He let his gaze linger for a moment longer. "Mm."

If she wasn't human, she must've been a witch in order to pin him so quick as a vampire, though he'd never met a witch who classified herself as inhuman. It would've been inaccurate to do so. Fancy spell chanting aside, they bled out like everyone else.

That she knew, though—what did that mean for him? Now there was a question. A mild concern, maybe, he decided. Given the circumstances, he couldn't see this as being a top priority. Especially not when she admitted to her own...peculiarities. Those Founders people had been a special case, anyway, seeing as the average citizen didn't go running for a stake as soon as the word vampire slipped.

What was curious was that the girl hadn't touched him. How had she even sensed it? Not to mention where her lineage traced back to. She obviously wasn't a descendant of the Salem witches. As for those others that she claimed were equally not human—he'd have to see for himself. He couldn't think of any reason she'd have to lie, but there were people who only ever lied for a reason and then there were people who would lied for the hell of it, and if Damon had to place her in just one category, it would be the latter.

Besides, he was hardly one to take a person at their word.

"We could start with you," he said with a lift of his shoulder that wasn't quite a shrug. He wanted to know if she would confirm his suspicions, dodge her way around a proper answer, or throw him something else altogether.

That’s right, Yomi thought, watching him. A little surprising, right?

Animals and humans, synonymous with vulnerability. They were the ones susceptible to domination and pain and helplessness, not the other beings surrounding them, the ones who fed on them and stood over them. But Landel--or whoever stood over Landel--had turned the tables, and to recognize that was to respect his power.

Or respect the incredibly diverse population he’d managed to pull together. 'Non-human' was just an umbrella term for things Yomi didn’t always have a name for.

Less engaging was what could be going through the man’s head as she laid down these crumbs. Just knowing that she was stirring up peace of mind, in however small a way, was enough to get her to do it, but ultimately his reactions would touch her in no great way, even if she were to explain everything about herself in answer to his unspoken question. He was just another prisoner.

Her sense of nonchalance was written in the way she shifted back in her chair. Revealing herself as other didn’t bother her, because there was nothing to really gain or lose by it, making dissembling rather excessive. "Me? I thought you wanted to know about this place, not about me." She could still tease him, though, just a little. He was going to learn eventually, if he stuck around long enough. That they probably weren’t from the same world--literally or merely in the way of interpretation--made an honest answer almost impossible without hours to hash it out. Smiling, Yomi continued by saying, "My situation’s unique enough that I’d need more than a word to describe myself. You could say I did something similar and gave up my humanity for another kind of existence, but I’m not undead in the same way."

Well, now, after the woods and feeling her life draining out onto Kagura, perhaps she could say she was. A heartbeat didn’t make her alive.

Day 51: Breakfast

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