Day 51: Arts & Crafts (4th shift)

[notthistrain.livejournal.com]

There were very few activity shifts, Cloud was sure, that could possibly make him feel more like he was being treated like a child. He took a seat at one of the tables and blankly examined the materials set out before him. A pair of the dullest scissors he'd ever seen were labeled 'ages 3 and up'. It was good to know where the patients stood in this.

He wasn't much of an artist, and he ignored most of the paints and other drawing utensils in favor of a few sheets of colored paper and instructions on how to make origami. That sounded vaguely familiar. Didn't Yuffie have throwing weapons made out of paper at some point? It was something to do anyway, and thus Cloud began the process of crafting what ended up being very elaborate paper wads.

Sadly, his attempts to keep from dwelling on the subject of his missing friend failed when he realized this was something Aerith probably would have enjoyed greatly. Tonight, he and Yuffie would go out and try to accomplish... something. It was depressing to think there really might not be anything they could do, that they might all end up the same as the flower girl eventually.

[for a hopefully more optimistic materia thief]

Comments

[scarefaux]

Despite having once been a construct, the Scarecrow found after only a few minutes of being left alone at a table with colorful string, some sticks, and instructions to make something in order to practice his hand coordination that he wasn't very good at putting things together himself. He drummed his hands on the table idly, not sure what he was supposed to do with either the sticks or the wad of knotted string. Waiting until the nurse had left the room, he pulled a piece of paper from a pile on another table, simultaneously nabbing what seemed to be a thicker version of the pens that came with the patient journals.

Now what was it he was going to draw? The Scarecrow tapped the pen to the paper, thinking a moment before drawing a figure- a girl in a dress, dog in hand. It certainly didn't have much of a likeness to the actual Dorothy, but it would do. He worked on the Tin Man next, putting his axe in his hand, careful to include his oil can in case the drawing should rust like the original. Lion appeared after that, ribbon in his mane, medal affixed to his front as a sign of his new-found bravery. He added himself last, crows flying around his shoulders, his doctorate in Thinkology in his gloved hand.

The Scarecrow sighed, biting his lip. He sure did find himself homesick an awful lot, even with all the wonderful experiences his human body gave him.

Leaning on his hand, he glanced around the room, watching the other tables as people filed in. He had a lot on his mind: the Wizard Landel's deception, Dorothy all alone, people not believing in Oz because of the movie, the man in said movie who shared his face and body, whether or not he enjoyed being human to the point of- no, it was too much to consider at the moment. He could think until he'd thought a hole in the ground, and it wouldn't do him any good without brains. What he needed was a way to get his brains back, or find some that would work temporarily... but where?

[Agatha]

[mistressmadgirl.livejournal.com]

"So I get to play with paper," Agatha was griping, as That Nurse practically pushed her into the room. "What joy!"

"You know, you could have a much more positive attitude. It might do you a lot of good," That Nurse told her.

"Well, no matter what attitude I have, it isn't going to make playing with paper fun. What happened to that sewing stuff they were talking about?" At least that might have some actual useful application.

"Marie, you've been violent. Recently. If you can behave better for a while, then we can see about extending you some privileges..." Agatha tuned her out at that point, not interested beyond the answer apparently being no, and set herself down at the nearest table. It already had a few drawings on it, and they weren't bad. At the very least, they'd been done by someone who had a very clear picture of what they wanted to do.

"Oh, very creative," she said absently.

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

"Y'know, Cloud, if you just screw up a few bits of paper together before liberally applyin' your fist, they come out looking almost as good."

Suddenly, a ninja! A ninja carrying an armful of brightly origami paper, a few pipe-cleaners, two tubs of glitter, and a tube of craft glue. Yuffie grinned, bright as metal in the summer sunshine, and dumped the lot onto the table. She was sorry to see that the tubs didn't explode, since a sparkly, glittering Cloud was the best Cloud of all.

Still, wasn't like she couldn't just glitter him up by herself. She did have good aim, and he was right there. Sedation would be a small price to pay.

Without waiting for an invitation, Yuffie chucked herself unceremoniously into an empty chair. The resulting sprawl of skinny limbs wasn't exactly the comfiest of arrangements, but she gave herself points for ingenuity, originality, and zestful inconsideration. Today had been way too serious, and far, far too tiring. Too full of pessimism and defeat and furrowed eyebrows. The only highlight had been the dude jumping up on his table at lunch, and then he'd gone and delivered the lamest motivational speech she'd ever heard.

[notthistrain.livejournal.com]

"Ha." Cloud tossed one of the wads at the girl before pulling out a set of instructions from underneath a pile of his failures and casually glancing over them again. No one could really be that precise with paper, right? No one with clumsy, sword-wielding hands like his anyway. This was just an exercise in futility.

Much like their nightly excursions? Maybe. It could be a metaphor.

He cast a wary eye on the mound of supplies Yuffie had dragged over. Surely she didn't plan on actually using all of those, and he had a nasty suspicion that he was going to regret not moving the moment she joined him. "If any of that gets on me, you don't touch the materia. Ever." Glitter took so, so long to get out of his hair.

It was nice to see a smiling face, though, even if it ultimately meant a messy doom for anyone within a couple yard radius.

[windstwilight.livejournal.com]

[from here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/959813.html)

Her hair was mostly dry by the time she wheedled her way back into the arts and crafts room. But still. Tying her hair up single-handedly wasn't going to cut it. She sighed, half-annoyed, then wandered the room looking for something else to do. Paper animal war wouldn't cut it this time. Maybe something really hands on?

There were a couple packages of clay that Meche had mentioned once, and that seemed just the thing. She snagged them, shoving them under her arm, then made her way to a table. Getting a package open between fingers and teeth was well and good--making anything that looked like anything was a different story. 'Specially seeing she was down a hand. Nice. The girl rolled her eyes and started making details in the lump. At least her blob could have a face.

[Meche]

[sheisthecause.livejournal.com]

Meche wasn't feeling particularly creative today, but they said art was therapeutic, after all. It had to be better than moping, at least. She wandered around the supplies for a while and finally settled on some sheets of construction paper and a box of thin markers. One of the nurses nodded approvingly at her as she turned away and moved toward the tables. Meche's mouth thinned into a straight, bitter line. Yeah, she was just such a good patient, wasn't she?

She was just about to sit down by herself when she noticed Senna at one of the tables. She was making something out of clay, but apparently having some trouble with it--not surprising, since one of her arms was in a sling. Meche invited herself over and took a seat at the table next to the girl, laying her own supplies out next to the packages of clay. "How's it going?" she asked lightly, not clarifying whether she was referring to the art project, the day, or life in general. She'd just let Senna answer whichever question she wanted.

[bprd-fishman.livejournal.com]

"I don't think I'm really clean yet, can't I just go in for a little while?"

"Mr. Caul, the adult showers are over. You can't have another one."

"I'll just stand in the corner, how's that?"

"No, Mr. Caul."

It had been worth a shot. Abe finally abandoned his attempt to sneak into a shower populated by naked young men and slunk over to the arts and crafts room. Tyrants. Wasn't water therapy a viable form of treatment, he'd read about it somewhere.

He took up a seat with a few sheets of paper and a sharpened pencil. Sketching would be almost as peaceful, though, it would take his mind away from the nonsense perpetuated around this mad place. The pencil-tip hovered as Abe considered what to draw...no. Not her. Something pleasant and peaceful.

Abe ran a hand over his paper and meticulously began work on an anatomically correct sketch of a kitten.

[Free!]

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

So it seemed that things were more or less in place for the night, and Peter was glad for that. While he didn't have a problem with life suddenly changing on him and sending him somewhere completely unexpected (he was a little attached to the idea of fate, but he also didn't think that it was impossible to subvert it), he also liked some structure to his nights. Not much would happen otherwise, and this way he could keep an eye on Claire.

The bulletin post he made hadn't gotten much of a response, but Peter could see why. For one thing, they were all expecting to hear from Hanatarou, not him. It wasn't his fault that the kid was too nervous to make his own posts, but nonetheless, they knew him, not Peter. Most of them he'd only met once and some he hadn't met at all. No wonder they were treating him with what almost felt like suspicion.

The only one he knew particularly well was Kibitoshin, and he hadn't replied. On the other hand, he'd been put in contact with another group and that had given him a lead of sorts, so it wasn't a total loss.

But for now, all he could really do was waste time until the night came, and so he let himself be led into the Arts and Crafts room. One of the first people he saw upon stepping in was Sylar, but he was not in the mood to deal with the man right then. Besides, the killer seemed strangely distracted by making the paper animals, so Peter was glad to leave him to it. The less he had to talk to him, the better; he would just watch him from a distance.

And so Peter searched out the only free patient that he saw, taking a seat and then sending the stranger a smile. "I hope this is all right?" he asked as he shot a glance at the sketch in progress. It was looking pretty good. Way better than he could ever manage, unless he was using Isaac's power -- and that wasn't really possible now, anyway.

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

So, after his talk with Aidou and some coordination over the bulletin, it looked like he'd worked out a plan for tonight. Zack was glad for that; as much as he hated to admit it, Shin-Ra had made him accustomed to mission plans. He was used to going into something with some idea of the main objective and the way to obtain it.

It was a shame that Cloud couldn't come along, but he'd already stolen his friend for the previous night, and it was unfair of him to be too greedy. Besides, with Cloud and Yuffie trying out the ring, at least he would be able to hear the results the following day. And hopefully he'd have some information about the basement for them in return.

Picking up Tifa as their third person was a little unexpected, and Zack could only hope that he wouldn't regret it. He had to assume that she was a good fighter by now, but he still couldn't completely get over the image of her in her cowboy hat back in Nibelheim. She was a good person, though, and she probably wouldn't make a fuss as they worked their way toward the basement, so he was crossing his fingers on that.

So with all of that more or less taken care of, there was only one loose end to tie. It took him a while, but Zack eventually tracked down the nurse who he had spoken to that morning to check with her about Aerith. The look on the woman's face was enough to let him know that the news wasn't good for him. The nurse tried to assure him that she was in a better place now that her mind had healed, but he knew better.

It hadn't been healed; it'd been warped.

Still, the soldier forced a frown off of his face when he walked into the Arts and Crafts room, taking in the new area with only a mild curiosity. They were supposed to be doing some sort of paper folding. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Zack had never tried it himself. He saw that Yuffie and Cloud had already met up and considered joining them, but ultimately decided against it. He'd spoken with the ninja girl this morning and figured that the two might have stuff they wanted to discuss in relative privacy.

So he could give this origami thing a try on his own. Finding an empty table that had the materials and a how-to book laid out, Zack flipped to a page that explained how to make a dog (not a puppy, a dog) and started to fold.

[36-24-35.livejournal.com]

"Rachel, stop picking at your leg. It's going to get infected that way..."

"The skin's already closed..." It was more polite than telling the nurse she wasn't twelve anymore and didn't need to be treated as such. It was her leg, she'd pick at it if she wanted. Actually, it wouldn't surprise her if this woman was the one that sliced her open last night. Now she was worried about her actions.

"Well, not if you keep picking at it..."

It wasn't a fight worth picking, no pun intended. "Alright..." She'd be a good girl. Her limp had disappeared after breakfast once her muscle had gotten warmed up from walking, but now the bandage was itching and pulling at her skin. The ache was there, but negligible and not longer an impediment, and for that she was thankful since she was no longer fermenting really terrible alcohol tonight all by herself.

Brought back into the arts and crafts room, Tifa looked for a certain redhead, but she found other friends instead. Yuffie and Cloud were sitting together, making uhhh whatchamacallits, origami--ah well, Yuffie was. Cloud was making an avant garde pile of trash. She couldn't tell yet if Zack was faring any better.

"Would you like another box of crayons?" The older woman already had a tub picked out. Tifa took it without complaint and took her supplies over to Zack's table, hoping her winning smile would distract the SOLDIER from her healing black eyes and busted nose.

"Have a good night?"

[nobleman]

Seeing Tear again had ultimately been a relief. Guy had spent too long wondering about what she had been doing with herself out in the world beyond this place and beyond Doyleton, and now he realized that he would never know. The memories of what she'd been up to while brainwashed were probably gone forever, and while that was eerie, maybe it was for the best. The point was that he knew that she was better off here, as backwards as that sounded. Tear was not one who took forced control lightly, and she would much prefer to be a help than a commodity. Guy would have felt the same way in her place.

As would have any of his friends, really. Luke, Natalia, Anise, even Jade... Maybe that sort of determination was what had brought them together in the first place. Similarly, it was that that would get them out of here. He had to remind himself of that as much as possible, and seeing more of his friends here did help in the end, as depressing as it was to know that they were all trapped. No one was working from the outside to help them, but that was all right. They had managed well enough on their own in the past.

But he was thinking too much now. As Guy walked into the Arts and Crafts room, he found himself searching for Luke. They had a lot to talk about, and there was still a lingering concern about his memory that he needed to check with his friend. Unfortunately, it didn't look like the redhead was here yet, and so Guy sat himself down and waited.

He took note of the sheets of paper and the instruction books with a mild curiosity. It was hard to believe that the staff was actually listening to their suggestions, but here was proof. Okita had told him some about this origami stuff, and he had to wonder if he was the one who had suggested this in the first place. Guy was sure it was just a ploy to make them feel more comfortable here, but that didn't mean he couldn't exploit it. He was pretty good with his hands; why not give this a shot?

Grabbing a white and pink piece of paper, Guy started to try and make a rabbit by following along with the instructions. Too bad there weren't any rappig or cheagle designs.

[For Luke!]

[oftemptation.livejournal.com]

...paper, colored pencils, and quiet. Those would do, for now. Not that Endrance was sketching anything or anyone in particular, but the bit of quiet was nice. Soothing, in its way.

He wasn't thinking - in fact, he was trying hard not to think, since thinking made his already-clouded head hurt more than it already did. Cursed cold...he hadn't had one since finishing school and had just about forgotten how miserable they made you feel.

Endrance's pencil was still working, even as he tried to focus on the page. The shape of a large tree was becoming clearer. Indieglut Lugh...of course, I would think of that cold, when feeling like this. Of course...

With the scene setting itself, he began to work in blues and greys, shading the background.

[free, but may be slow.]

[mizuhomaiden.livejournal.com]

[slow is good for me]

Sheena had caught a glimpse of Yukari sitting down in the Sun Room, so the ninja made a beeline for the Arts & Crafts room. Yes, she was going to have to talk to the youkai, but right now... she was still playing Avoid the Youkai and decisively not talking to her. It was silly since she knew it had been Special Counseling, but Sheena had been on both ends now, so she knew how much of that was actually in Yukari. And Sheena was only human. She just... wasn't ready yet.

Neck heavily bandaged and a nasty cut on her bottom lip held together by bits of medical tape, the ninja sat down across from Endrance. She hadn't talked to him since her and Haseo had cornered her about Shadow. About her summon and the time when she'd been on Special Counseling and hurt Endrance. Some might call the fact that she chose to sit with him ironic. She just had a question.

"Hey Endrance," she said quietly. "What would you do if your summon attacked you. Tried to break you?

[kingdomless.livejournal.com]

Having just been there, Kairi took her previous seat back at the table, glad to see that the nurses hadn't moved the paper away from the table. She still had the cranes that Uryuu had made for her, and she planned on making some as well as he had.

... At least, she would try.

Taking a dark purple piece of paper, Kairi began folding the sheet, trying her hardest to make the creases perfect.

... However, after a few minutes and only one crane made, she gave up. Standing up, she returned moments later with a piece of paper and a paint brush in hand, as well as a small cup of paint. Sitting back down, she began to simply paint whatever came to mind.

[divinebrushwork.livejournal.com]

[ From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/958801.html?thread=71891281#t71891281) ]

Amaterasu was feeling pretty good from her eventful day and when her nurse offered the option to spend her afternoon painting, she jumped at the chance.
She was amazed with everything she saw in the arts and crafts room. Everyone was working creatively with different projects and it took a great effort for the goddess to not move around the room to study over their shoulders.
Ammy found herself a few sheets of paper, a calligraphy brush and a bottle of black ink from a set of cabinets. With those in hand, she sat down at a nearby table and prepared to work.

Just when she held her paintbrush in hand and was ready to dip it in ink, her gaze shifted to the side and she took notice to the girl sitting next to her. She was very cute, with red hair and the bluest eyes Ammy had ever seen. She was painting a picture, but it was hard to see what shape it would take. Amaterasu placed her paintbrush on the table and took to watching this girl work instead. Eventually, her curiosity got the best of her and she could not help but speak up.

"What is it?" The goddess worried that her question was too rude or that it would break the girl's concentration. She bit her lip as soon as she said it, yet her eyes remained focused on the painting.

[anemptydecapo]

If Venom carried awards, he could most certain give one to Nurse: over the course of five minutes, she had turned herself into a one-woman opera, perpetually reminding him that he hadn't, in fact, eaten anything once again while she accompanied his walk. He was already fully aware of that, if his empty stomach, failing energy, weakened body, and the increased effort in moving one foot ahead of the other joining the aforementioned opera meant anything. The information danced languidly around his head in dully blinking lights, and he neither took stock in her words or kept them for later - he needed to think of the plans for the night and for the future. His health came second to his work.

Edward had agreed to allow Bella to join their mission for the night, meaning Edward's incessant need to be distracted by the thought of the girl on her own would at least be somewhat nullified. It meant an extra body to protect on top of his already injured self, yes, one that may not be fully able to watch for herself, but if it meant work could be done then he was willing to take the hit. She also knew what her fiance happened to be, meaning there would have to be no secrecy around their main goal. They could find what they needed, get their results, and brainstorm on other tests in one night, cutting down on wasted time.

But that couldn't be their only avenue of information for the night. If they were going to chase something down, especially if it could be found anywhere, they could also investigate something else the assassin had a certain curiosity for--

"--try to relax for now, Vincent. I'll come get you when it's time to go," Nurse's voice finally cut in, bringing Venom back out of his thoughts into...

Arts and Crafts. His eyes narrowed on instinct upon seeing the insides of the room, its condescending nature grating his already frayed nerves. Somehow, he had been so lost in himself that he hadn't recognized the location until now, but now that he firmly understood where he was, he wasn't happy.

He was surrounded by glitter.

He sneered to himself under his bangs, pushing away the paper that had been rested in front of him before crossing his arms. He did not like this room, but the time alone would still offer him time to reflect.

[Howlinda, it's time to make the Wicked Witch popular. u__u]

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

Howl enjoyed Arts and Crafts. Sadly, the staff didn't care for his preferred form of art, which was to practice. Even in the absence of his true power, he couldn't get rusty, and it was a nice distraction to mindlessly move through charts and circles and spells. His mind would be wrapped up in the magic, and he could forget what his life had become. Apparently, the nurses had taken note of his tendency towards occupying his time thusly, and he was receiving an earnest lecture about how magic did not exist and he need not allow it to limit him so. This was a new nurse, and she was pretty enough, so Howl put on a face that was the picture of pained conflict. The whole walk over, she held his hand and encouraged him to release himself from these limitations.

She seemed to be under the impression that she had gotten him to promise he'd try. It was suggested he draw his family, or something that expressed how he felt. How he felt was angry and abused, entirely disrespected and insulted, and he figured that creating a new spell for how to tear apart this silly little world by the roots would be a proper expression of his feelings. Then, of course, he wouldn't be unable to use it, and would then feel more depressed and downtrodden than anything else. With solid, undeniable proof that Sophie was here, all of these feelings multiplied. She was too much to deal with, and simultaneously, he was terrified of what she would get herself into. What could happen to her. He wouldn't be her babysitter, but every moment she was left alone was an opportunity for her to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

The nurse gathered him up some paper and a handful of crayons, and ushered him over to a table. Someone was already seated there, but Howl and his nurse seemed equally unconcerned. At least, Howl was unconcerned until he got a good look at the man. He had long, white hair that completely obscured his face. It wasn't simply in his face, but someone seemed to have intentionally styled it so that no one could see even a hint of his features. Howl assumed that there had to be a good reason for hiding them, and winced slightly. It was hardly as if the man was going to see him. Furthermore, there was an odd blue eye printed on it.

"I don't know how you expect to create a masterpiece with that... attitude," Howl commented lightly, and with little attempt at seriousness. His fingers immediately set to recreating the symbol the stranger wore so proudly.

[selfrescuer.livejournal.com]

On the upside, lunch with LeChuck had seemed to feel blessedly short. On the downside, that was only because she felt like she had spent half the shift falling in and out of awareness. Food hadn't really helped much until the end of the shift, when it seemed the activity of people moving onto the next shift brought back some of her attention.

"Not good, not good at all..." Elaine murmured as she rubbed fervently at her eyes in an attempt to force herself back to awareness. There was no question that this kind of drowsiness was not natural. Not only did the bulletin confirm it (http://community.livejournal.com/damned_bulletin/737754.html), but Elaine knew her own body well; it did not get this exhausted with this little reason behind it. The only good news there was that in knowing that, at least, she could make an attempt to resist the feeling. She was not going to let Landel beat her that easily, not when she had gotten herself out of far worse in the past.

For the time being, she sought out something to keep her mind alert. At least in a room like Arts & Crafts, there was no shortage of material to aid such a task. After grabbing some yellow clay, Elaine sat herself down and started sculpting an object she was very familiar with - the Idol of Many Hands. She concentrated on the details of the Idol and the size of it, forcing her mind to shape things as closely as possible to the real thing. Doing this wasn't exactly going to produce anything useful, like her abstract map had, but at least this would be enough to keep her awake, she figured.

[For her Snugglecakes~]

[threepwood]

His conversation with Mr. von Karma having gone as well as could be expected, Guybrush scuttled into his next shift, thankful for the nurse's interruption for a change. "Ah, arts and crafts. Another activity I was probably better at when I had two hands, but I'll bet I've got an advantage in crocheting now."

His usual narration was brief- every pun he'd been considering involving hooks and yarn was tossed aside as his eyes landed on the figure of his (soon-to-be/already) wife. "Elaine! Of all the times for DeLandel to have grabbed her, it was from that one period where she was slightly less capable than normal. Hopefully, she didn't have it too rough last night without me by her side, defending her honor and body with nothing more than a shovel and my undaunted charisma. Okay, time to make sure Morgan and LeChuck haven't made me look like an idiot at any point in the last twenty-four hours."

Guybrush smoothed his hair with his hand, feeling like a lovesick teenager as he took the seat next to his darling Plunderbunny. This was still the same Elaine who would ultimately end up marrying him- she had turned out loving him even when he was younger and far more foolhardy than he was now with his years of piracy experience and fine beard. Why did the thought of conversing with her make his insides melt again?

Oh yeah, it was probably the thought that she might not marry him after all, not like the older, more mature Guybrush Threepwood for some reason and end up with LeChuck or some other man who could swash her buckles. It wasn't going to happen. Everything would be a thousand times easier if she was the Elaine who'd been stuck with him for years and was committed to him rather than the Elaine who still had a chance to change her mind and hadn't yet had him rescue her from her golden transformation.

Guybrush realized he was sitting and staring at her awkwardly- smooth. "Elaine, my beautiful butterfly, I'm glad to see you in one piece. I couldn't find you last night- got interrupted by these monster frogs in the hallway, then the guy I was with started speaking in French and everything got a little weird. I'm thinking you should give me your room number so I can come straight to you next time. And you should probably just stay in your room at night. Not wander around without me."

[darwinism]

Origami, huh?

Sylar peered at the sheets of colorful paper in front of him, nudging the pile with a finger. The last time he'd encountered something Japanese, it'd stabbed him in the stomach with a samurai sword, but he doubted this stuff could do much worse to him than a paper cut – if even that. It felt even flimsier than he remembered from gradeschool, but then again, a lot of things did.

He pulled the nearby instruction book toward him, opening it up and flipping through the pages absentmindedly. On further thought, the samurai sword hadn't really been his last encounter with the Far East: many of the people here seemed to be Japanese for whatever reason, and for all he knew, last shift could've been his last brush with the country. It was hard to tell, with almost everyone here speaking American English, even if that whole... thing last night had proved it all to be some elaborate hoax. Sylar had seen too much in his life to question the whole how of the universal translation, but he did wonder about the why. If the goal of this place was to truly encourage confusion and terror in everyone, then preventing people from understanding each other would be the quickest way to do it. Instead, the nuthouse was going out of its way to make sure that previously mentioned idiots could spill previously mentioned info to previously mentioned strangers, and that just seemed... really goddamn counterintuitive.

Sylar's fingers tightened at the edge of a page. He wanted to tell himself not to question something that benefitted him in the end, but he knew better than that now. Everything had been placed here by their captors for a reason. Every step he took forward was another cue for him to stumble.

His eyes wandered down to the book. He'd stopped on an illustration of a paper boat.

He took a piece of paper, glanced at the diagrams and the descriptions. Over, inwards, outwards, corners in, backwards, pull–

Done. Sylar appraised his work briefly, then put it down and turned to the next page. Dog. Over, over, out, down, in, over...

A few minutes later, a row of delicately folded figures sat in front of him, including a crane, a pencil holder, and a dragonfly. Sylar leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

That had been... easy. Very easy – much easier than he'd expected, or rather, just as easy as he should have expected. He reached forward to close the instruction book, then grabbed another piece of paper, folding it into one of the more intricate patterns he'd tried: the dragonfly. It wasn't long before he finished the new one from memory, and it looked about the same level of quality as the first.

He narrowed his eyes as he set it down next to the others. So... his original power, his ability to see and understand the inner workings of things, was still very much intact. He'd guessed as much from his brief time in the auto shop, but it was one thing to see parts of a whole and another to sit down and try to put them together. He thought back to the equipment he'd grabbed from the upstairs lab storage. Maybe he should try to use them on something tonight. It'd keep his mind off of... things, and it'd be a good test. It'd be a useful test.

More useful than some paper animals, anyway.

Sylar closed his eyes and rubbed gently at the wad of gauze still taped to his forehead. Doing menial tasks wasn't on the same level as studying brains, but for once in his life, he wasn't really in the mood. He'd gotten enough backlash from grey matter in this place to last him a lifetime.

[ For L. ]

[ryuuzaki]

It's ironic, L thought, with an internal sigh, as he allowed the nurse to lead him into the Arts and Crafts Room. I have almost no interest in this room, yet I find myself in it more often than I would like.

Once he was able to choose his own route, he steered away from the direct path of the door, taking a quick, troubled glance at the corner. The week since he had "died" in this room had been a busy, frustrating one, all regimented days and dangerous nights, but it was difficult to forget the taste of your own blood in your mouth, or the way it choked you while you convulsed in shock.

Thoughts of his lunchtime meeting occupied his mind. He wasn't sure whether "Near"'s presence was any more interesting than the presence of any other visitor—certainly more personal to him, and to Mello, but the idea that the Institute's entire purpose was to control and manipulate either of them alone didn't hold up under logical scrutiny. It seemed more probable that Mello had met the previous Near and that Near had been under some kind of mind control. However, without knowing more about how and why they had been abducted, L couldn't say for sure.

Origami would be a good way to look busy while he considered the situation—and there, alone at a table with books and paper, was Zachary. The difference between him and his double was unmistakeable. Is this how Near's visit was accomplished? —But if that is the case, how did they convince the double to play the role? Payment is the simplest explanation. He knew, even as the idea came to him, that it didn't fit. From what Mello had said, the performance of Near's traits had been perfect; his arguments were questionable but his acting was impeccable. What were the chances that a double would be both able and willing to play a part that well?

On a different, more worrying note, there was the matter of the "sleep study." Lunge had been in the Institute as long as L; Mello, a few days less. That meant that experimental subjects were not chosen in order of arrival, or L himself would have been selected before Mello.

It also suggested that his number might come up soon.

L took a seat across the table from Zachary, then took a book and some paper. Whether or not a conversation occurred, he doubted that his time here would be unproductive. He pretended to look up in surprise, as if Zachary had caught his eye and was worthy of further consideration, then narrowed his eyes, as if he was thinking hard.

"I'm sorry to interrupt—" (he wasn't) "—but have we met? It was the other day, wasn't it." He sounded friendly enough, but he didn't accompany his words with a smile—only a sharp, curious gaze.

[should-be-dead.livejournal.com]

Tenzen's lunch had been - aside from the idiot that chose to climb on top of a table and hold what was likely the most ridiculous speech he had ever heard in the over 200 years of his existence - been rather uneventful.

The next time-wasting event would be what they called arts and crafts, and the ninja couldn't help but scowl when the infuriating nurse was somehow assuming that he'd like the childish and nonsensical activities they chose to waste their time with. But the woman insisted he'd do something 'creative' and ushered him towards a table littered with objects Tenzen did not care about. These objects included but were not limited to colorful folding paper likely used for Origami (there were even instruction books on how to do so).

It was mildly surprising to find something of his own home country in this Western place, but it hardly meant the ninja had any interest in partaking in the activity. Though he had heard of it, it was not the sort of thing a man such as Yakushiji Tenzen would indulge in.

[Funtimes von Karma & Gant]

[lawful_perfect]

"Come on, Mr. Fuchs! You've already skipped this once before, and it's essential to your recovery!"

"OBJECTION!" von Karma barked at the damned nurse, clicking his fingers at her. "Explain exactly how wasting time on these frivolous activities will promote mental 'recovery.' What advantage do they have over spending time in the library? Though the literary selection in there is paltry, at least reading is far more productive for keeping one's mind sound than folding scraps of paper into useless shapes or," he shuddered in disgust, "sullying our fingers in the process of tracing them through that inferior excuse for paint to create childish pictures."

The nurse merely smiled at him in that patronizing manner as though she were humoring a gullible child. "Well, if that's how you're going to play, Mr. Fuchs... objection overruled! Dr. Landel specifically prescribed this treatment just for you. You need to exercise more creativity, be less stodgy. Now come on!" The woman's grip on von Karma's wrist was tight as she dragged him into the Arts and Crafts room.

The prosecutor grumbled as he surveyed what awaited him in this room. Well, now he knew how that insolent person managed to make their response to him on the bulletin board from over a week ago all gaudy. That blasted glitter nearly blinded him! But that was nothing compared to the other supplies that he would never even allow his granddaughter to touch. Macaroni? Crayons? Googley eyes?! Right away, these origami lessons offered during this shift sounded far more appealing to him.

He looked around in the room to ensure that a certain chief of police who would no doubt enjoy partaking in such nonsense wasn't here, and instead found another man who seemed just as pleased to be stuck here as he was. von Karma gave the stranger a cursory nod then folded his arms and said, "Hmph. If they're going to coerce us into artistic pursuits, they might as well at least offer adequate supplies for doing so. This flimsy paper isn't suitable for lining trash cans, let alone for creating intricate sculptures! Wouldn't you agree?"

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

Art time!

Well, more like 'Let's see whether the nurse will confiscate the pictures with a queasy look on her face again' time, but it was as close to 'art' as HK was ever going to get!

Unfortunately, he hadn't been in any particularly interesting fights since he was last subjected to this activity, but that just meant he had a chance to go back through some of his best kills for inspiration!

Taking a rather discordant selection of colored markers and a sheet of paper, HK began to faithfully transcribe the result of one of his marks running directly into a high-speed traffic lane. He'd saved that memory, just for the look on the face of the target as he found himself suddenly half as tall as he used to be, and the expression of the speeder driver when he suddenly found that a torso had flipped itself into the passenger seat.

[Hammer! 8D]

[ihaveaslot.livejournal.com]

Ohhh boy, arts and crafts. Hammer was doing his best to hide his excitement, and by that, it meant he was mostly wondering who the hell thought "arts and crafts" would be a fun activity for adults. Little kids, which he had seen a disturbing amount of and more or less confirmed that this really wasn't a prison, maybe? But adults? Come on, unless arts and crafts was a euphemism for a little adult entertainment that he had in mind, then he couldn't really see why his nurse was insisting that he sit down and try to express himself or some shit.

Art therapy was one of those hipster bullshit things Hammer was sorry that he let his company's insurance policy cover.

His nurse seemed to go away faster if he chose someone to sit with willingly, so Hammer tried that first. And lucky him, there was a guy sitting alone right there! The former CEO was quick, all but jumping into that seat and flashing his nurse a smile. With teeth. Once she got the message and went away, the smile dropped faster than bullet casing and Hammer made the mistake of looking at his unlikely companion's paper.

"..." Hammer said nothing to what looked like a depiction of a guy getting cut in half by traffic, instead looking at the paper, then the "artist", then the paper, and then he thought he sort of got it.

"Racing fan?"

[she-is-ruin.livejournal.com]

_{[Here, kitty, kitty, kitty...]}

As per usual, the day was passing slowly and rather uneventfully, and Yomi was obediently moving from place to place, watching the sun move while waiting the peace out. Honestly, though, she wasn’t complaining that she’d had some quiet time to herself throughout her shower and lunch. When she felt that pinch of irritation, it seemed some time was all that was needed for her to reassess her situation. And for the sesshouseki to reaffirm itself. What semblance of calm she had always returned, eventually.

And now her choice of activity was between the Sun Room or… origami. Really, origami? How fluky.

It was a cutesy daytime craft, no more, but Yomi found the coincidence enough to stay her decision to merely do the usual. Since the usual--checking the bulletin board and monitoring other people--could be done doing anything, anywhere, she didn’t lose by occupying herself with trivial stuff. It wasn’t like she had an important date to keep. Just time to pass.

Maybe she’d have a go. The boy, Albedo, he’d wanted his origami wish, after all, and it took more than one or two pieces to get one.

Yomi took a seat at an occupied table near the middle of the room--no, there was no hiding in a corner today--and pulled some paper toward her, leaving the others in the room to their business. She didn’t need an instruction book or people for this. In fact, she didn’t need anything for this--this was easy, mindless activity, and on the outside, Yomi could be exactly what her nurse wanted. An innocent, well-meaning patient. She hadn’t cared to spend time drying it, and so her hair was still damp, hanging down around her like she’d never wear it if she were prepared for a battle as she was at night. She was sure she wouldn’t get any trouble from the staff for a little while now.

[longlivetheking]

[*purrs*]

After lunch, Scar found himself practically dragged to the Arts & Crafts room. The former lion had been content with remaining in the Sun room, but naturally, the nurse didn't quite agree with his plans. For the sake of his so-called recovery, the nurse considered it appropriate for him to try something creative, whatever sort of creativity that may be. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, he glanced around the room for a place to sit so he could pretend to draw shapes on paper in peace. Or folding paper in piece, as it turned out to be. Both activities seemed equally useful.

Near the middle of the room - rather difficult to miss, actually - he noticed a familiar face. Yomi, the girl he had traveled to the file room with. It had been some time since they last met, however. Hnn. She hadn't been bad company, so perhaps it wouldn't hurt to partake in some socializing. At the very least, it would keep the daytime staff out of his mane. And, it would provide an adequate distraction of matters he did not want to think about. No, he much preferred a possibly increasing headache.

"It certainly has been a while, hasn't it Yomi?" Scar said by manner of greeting. "I see you are well."

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

Arts and Crafts might be boring and useless to most of the people here, but Kagura actually truly enjoyed it. This was something she was good at, something familiar, and it made her feel accomplished somehow, to be able to do this much.

She was quick to sort through the needles and thread, finding some spare scraps of fabric and blessedly, some ribbons. She took whatever she could get her hands on, wondering why she hadn't thought of it before. She found an empty table and took up a needle, carefully threading it, then started stitching down the loops of ribbon, forming a very cute little bow.

[Paging Dr. Bad Touch. Dr. Bad Touch?]

[doctorbadtouch.livejournal.com]

The nurse seemed surprised when he agreed to be taken to Arts and Crafts without protest. Mostly, he just didn't want to waste his time coming this way by night, but he didn't mind a varied sampling of everything that was available to him now.

Most of the interesting ones were already occupied with others. What did he need? A friend for Ritsuka maybe? Someone disposable and just as easily controlled would be useful. There was a cute though admittedly plain little girl stitching something by herself so he wondered over, stopping at a polite distance to resting his fingers against the table top. "That's very nice. Are you making a gift for someone?"

[kingside]

After lunch, Lelouch headed straight for the Arts & Crafts room, picking out a table of his own and immediately laying out several sheets of origami paper. In the off chance that the nurses actually allowed him to spend time with his sister this shift, he wanted to be prepared, and if they didn't... well, maybe he would get points for good behavior. At any rate, he would at least seem busy, and if that discouraged people from talking to him that he would rather not, all the better.

Without thinking a great deal about what he was doing, he began folding yet another pink paper crane. Nunnally's message to him on the board was still very much on his mind, and while the future crane would hardly be any sort of talisman against whatever was plaguing her (and him, by extension), he felt somewhat calmer as he formed the first sharp crease. Now, if only the nurses would drop their vendetta against the two of them and let them have a quiet moment alone together, things might actually start looking up.

[Teresa.]

[number1smiley.livejournal.com]

Teresa had caught a glimpse of Lelouch heading into the Arts & Crafts room after lunch and followed him. Now that the sedatives from this morning had worked their way out of her system, she remembered why she needed to talk to him. Left arm hanging almost limply down at her side, she came to a stop standing over him.

"Lelouch. You and I must speak." To the point. Her eyes strayed to the pink cranes and something flickered within them. Pink.

[stellarregions]

Gren was about as interested in arts and crafts today as he had been the first time he'd visited the room. Which was to say, not in the least. It really wasn't his preferred form of artistic expression, after all. But if he was going to be there, he could probably get something done, even if that something wasn't exactly what the staff might have had in mind.

So upon arrival, he grabbed a pencil, a ruler, and several sheets of blank paper. To anyone else observing, it probably looked like he really was a madman, meticulously measuring and drawing lines on the blank paper. Anyone a bit more musically inclined might recognize it for what it was, though. If he was going to be stuck in this place for any length of time, he needed a way to score his music, and the journals they'd been given, while offering a certain amount of convenience, were far from standard staff lines. He wasn't feeling very inspired at the moment, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.

[Free]

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

Art? Funny kinds of activities they got here, it looked like stuff kids would play with. Carter poked around in search of some sort of 'future art' device and found nothing to his satisfaction. There was yarn but even that was rather crude and not really satisfactory for wearing. Odd. Digging further in the box yielded no needles, which was also odd because really the best place to put things for dealing with yarn was right next to the yarn itself. There wasn't really any point in knitting when they gave you all the clothes for free and it wasn't cold enough to need anything more, but Carter found it a soothing activity when he couldn't put his hands to work on wires and explosives.

"Hey, you know where I can get some knitting needles?" he asked the back of someone's head. Peering over their shoulder showed that he was drawing some kind of strange lines all over the paper. Carter wondered why.

[degozaruyo.livejournal.com]

Origami, huh?

Kenshin was familiar with the basics of paper-folding, but that was about it and he was at least a decade out of practice. Still, it was a pleasant (and quiet) enough way to pass the afternoon, and after several failed attempts he had created a passable, if slightly lop-sided, crane. The poor creature had been folded and re-folded so many times that it was covered in odd creases and one wing didn't quite stand up properly, but at least it was vaguely recognizable as a bird. Maybe.

The next attempt was slightly more successful. There were fewer creases and misfolds and the rurouni felt absurdly pleased with himself. Folding paper was a relaxing, semi-mindless task, just like folding clothing.

[for she-who-throws-rurouni-off-of-balconies]

[givemeoblivion.livejournal.com]

Of all the mindless nonsense to put their captives through... And that's what they all were: captives. Callisto would accept none of this 'patient' nonsense. She wasn't, for one thing. (Patient, that is.) And if they were being treated for anything it was their own sanity and not the lack of it. Those that ran this house of nonsense seemed to be making it their goal to do the opposite of what the Institution claimed to be doing in the first place. Perhaps it was lucky for them that the former warlord was already lacking in anything resembling a sound mind.

The blond scowled as she was led into the room. Despite all the supplies laid out for their use, there was really very little she cared to do here. One could only paint blood-spattered stick figures with their fingers so long before it became dull. She needed to look for someone who'd provide for amusing conversation.

Then her eyes fell on a familiar red-haired girly-man and her lips curled upward in a sinister sort of smirk. She'd like to sit with that one, she informed her nurse who was all-too-willing to sit her down and be rid of her.

"Well," she greeted once she was situated and the nurse was walking away, "isn't this a pleasant surprise."

[vodka-jump.livejournal.com]

No matter where he went, there seemed to be so many strange, weak, and often downright stupid people. When the nurse told him that after eating, they would be doing Arts and Crafts, for a moment or two he looked at her blankly. Arts and Crafts?

None of the countries had a typical childhood, at least, not when compared with humans (And perhaps with the exception of America, who'd been coddled and spoiled) so the thought of doing something so completely pointless and recreational was frustrating, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that it did sound just a bit fun. The nurse helped him to a seat and there were an awful lot of things to try. Paint, paper, clay, sewing, and even some things he wasn't quite sure what to do with.

It wasn't long before he was sculpting a small set of matryoshka dolls, fat, round, little pieces (even if they couldn't actually fit inside one aonther) that he lined up in a row. The biggest, of course, was made to look like Russia, and all the small ones would be gobbled up and made part of the biggest.

Ivan picked up a medium sized lump of clay, using the end of a paintbrush to draw a completely ridiculous face, a pair of oversized glasses, and a patch of hair that just never seemed to stay in place. A fitting effigy of the obnoxious nation. Before he could finish, the end of the brush ran right through the clay doll's head and out the other side. Tragic. Actually, it looked a lot better this way. He set it among the slowly growing row of round clay dolls, nodding his head in approval.

[Matt!]

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

For some reason, the damnable nurse had taken it upon herself to grasp him by the shoulders - or his arm, or some other equally intimate body part - and tug him along like a whiny child.

...which he was making a good impression of at that moment, but it was because of all the touching.

Glaring at her as she led him through the Arts and Crafts room, Matt couldn't help hissing at her under his breath about all the different ways he wanted to fuck her shit up right then and there if she didn't let him go-

And then she let him go, gesturing for him to take a seat across from. Some guy. He made a face at her, but she just smiled and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "Marcus, you should make a friend other than Michael. Branch out! Find a new circle! Michael will just get you into trouble."

The brunet sneered as he took his seat, glaring pure death down at the sparkles and rhinestones covering the table. Yeah, that's what Mello brings me all right, he thought as he looked the other man over. A little more gruffly than he normally intended, Matt greeted him with a mumbled "Hey."

He really didn't feel like keeping company right then, but Landel was a maniacal sneak. This was worse than the worst kind of torture.

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

Deep in thought, Mello barely listened as the ever-perky nurse continued to try to sell him on various aspects of this place. "...wonderful chance for the patients to express themselves!" she concluded her latest spiel.

Give me a full clip, and I'll express myself all over the place, he thought, giving her his usual flat look. He hadn't seen the setup for arts and crafts yet, and while he didn't expect to find anything useful, he would've been remiss if he didn't at least look. There wasn't anything useful. The room had the same feel as the rest of the Institute, trying to be cheery but falling short enough to come off depressing instead. Maybe that was just Mello. Some of the other prisoners seemed to be getting on all right.

He took a few sheets of paper and a calligraphy pen, half-intending to pocket it, though there were better weapons to be found at night, grabbed a black magic marker as if in afterthought, and found an empty table. He got two fingernails colored black, the kind of pointless rebellion he'd almost always been too busy to bother with at Wammy's, before the nurse intervened.

"Really, Michael, that's unacceptable. These supplies are for art, not getting yourself dirty right after your shower."

"Jesus, lady, are you for real?" Mello snapped. That was a rhetorical question. He knew she was. "I'm expressing myself."

She took the marker away, and he indulged in a brief but vivid fantasy about finding a third bullet and delivering it to her. He had to do something tonight. Being reduced to kid shit like this (failing at it, too, came the unwanted, silent addendum, right on cue) was unacceptable. He'd find a more destructive outlet for his frustration later.

[for Lunge!]

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

A quiet lunch had followed his morning with Nunnally, providing a short interlude in which Lunge could gather his thoughts together. The slip-up had been unacceptable, of course; a natural outcome of the culmination of three day's worth of carefully aimed attacks, perhaps, but unacceptable nonetheless. Progress demanded strict separation of the personal and professional. How else would he get anywhere if he didn't follow that code?

But anyway. His nurse, seemingly delighted with his 'work' that morning, had decided that another trip to the Arts and Crafts room would do him good. He didn't argue; the majority of the adult patients would be in there while the younger half showered and made use of the Sun Room. Perhaps he could find Jones, or L, especially since they still needed to decide on a plan of action for future basement attempts now that it was clear that they'd either have to only try on nights without special counseling patients around or plan an alternate route- through the courtyard, maybe? But who knew what they might station outside?

Neither of them seemed to be around when he arrived, anyway, but it wasn't long before he spotted a familiar blond man- sitting alone was Morgan, now with one (no, two) of his nails filled in with black. To be honest, Lunge was simply surprised that he hadn't turned his attentions onto his surroundings instead; he'd struck him as the sort to leave his initials scraped into table- and chair-legs as an opportunistic mark of protest.

The last time they'd spoken had been in the wake of both of their 'sessions', in Doyleton. Part of him wanted to ask after Mello's experiences, find out if he had indeed spoken to Javert yet, but he restrained the urge to leap straight in. Without any comment on his handiwork, Lunge headed to the empty seat across from the younger man, nodding briefly- he didn't suppose he'd need permission this time- and sat down. "Morgan. Have you made any progress since we last spoke?" A nice, general conversation starter. He'd let Morgan lead for now.

[shorttank.livejournal.com]

Leela didn't mind the Arts and Crafts room--she'd first met her awesome roommate here. Though she'd been favoring her virtual-reality-in-her-own-actual-time theory lately, people like Elaine were problematic in that one. Why would there be so many people from the twentieth century and earlier in a thirty-first century fake asylum? Even the people from places like Leela's home seemed to be from earlier than she was.

She sat down at a table that had some clay on it, and started idly fashioning some into an oblong shape (http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/3300000/Planet-Express-Ship-futurama-3305283-1024-768.jpg). Hopefully, Betty wasn't going to take enough of a personal interest in her so-called recovery to scold her for making a spaceship. Assuming it came out recognizable enough for Betty to know what it was. Leela wasn't terribly artistic. Once she gave it fins, she would've known it anywhere.

She set the little ship on the table, and studied it with unusual thoughtfulness. With any luck, the real one was on its way to her right now. Who knew what color it would be, how many dings it would have in it, and what shape the gears would be in. Leela laughed softly, and nudged the clay one with a finger, turning it so its nose pointed toward her. Maybe the professor was driving, and that was what was taking those jerkwads so long.

[For Knives Chau, age seventeen! <3]

[knives-throw-u.livejournal.com]

Having been told once again that she didn't need a shower, Knives found herself led to the arts and crafts room by a nurse, who insisted some creativity would help her 'get better'. What a crock.

"I am better," muttered Knives, rubbing her arms and walking deeper into the room. She looked around at the room full of unfamiliar faces, biting her lip. They could have at least let her keep her scarf; she would be more comfortable with something from home. Definitely. But nooo, they took away everything. She already hated the gray uniform she was wearing and the day hadn't even finished yet. How the heck was working with art stuff going to get her out of here?

[OOC: Sob this is so late.]

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

Origami? Now, which one of Earth's crafts was that again?

Kibitoshin had to think hard on it as he was escorted to the Arts and Crafts room. Was it the one that involved knitting needles? ... no, no, that was stupid. The Head Doctor had mentioned paper that morning, and anyway, there was no way they'd ever let any of the patients near something so potentially deadly as knitting needles, right? Anyway, that probably meant it was the paper folding one, which... wasn't good news. At all. He was all fingers and thumbs when it came to that sort of thing- whatever he made would probably just end up looking like a scrunched up paper ball.

That decided, he settled himself down at one of the empty tables and looked around for whatever else they had lying around. There was lots of paper lying around, of course, along with nearly dried-up glue and glitter and some string, but none of it really seemed to go. What the heck was he supposed to do with all of it, anyway, except make a big mess? Well, whatever. In truth, he just wanted something to do with his hands so he could work off the nervous energy in them, something to sidetrack him. Nightshift was just around the corner, and he could feel every second falling around him like lead weights. Any distraction was welcome.

[finalwitch.livejournal.com]

Origami had been one of those that Ange had taken in stride. It was a straightforward activity, and with nothing to transform that over the years, straightforward it had remained. Not to say origami touched on nothing pleasant (paper hats and all), but she was no longer a child. Those memories no longer applied to her, and it was best to keep them as they were. Memories.

This shift, therefore, would strictly be a sit-and-look shift. No need to participate.

With that established, the young woman allowed the nurse to seat her with another stranger, whom Ange regarded with nothing more than a look. There existed aspects in his features that caught her eye, but rather than pointing out the obvious, she focused elsewhere. Like how he appeared rather lost on what to do. A more socially capable person might have offered a suggestion outright; instead, Ange simply watched, as if watching an onlooker was somewhat intriguing.

[noifsandsorbubs.livejournal.com]

Logan didn't see any security cameras, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Landel was laughing his ass off right now, he was pretty sure of that - a bunch of adults sitting around making clumsy origami.

He sat down as far from anybody else as he could get, nurse still hovering irritatingly over his shoulder and explaining that making crafts was fun!, and started to tear little pieces off one of the sheets of paper. He had nothing against origami, but like hell he was going to make cranes while Landel and his buddies cracked jokes about it from their safe little hiding place.

"Now James," his nurse chided, "that's now how we use the paper. Would you like help?"

Logan crumpled the paper up and tossed it at the table. "Lady, what I'd like is for you to quit calling me James and get the hell off my back. I'd also like a beer and a phone call." He shot her a look that apparently wasn't mean enough, because she smiled politely at him.

"I'll be back to see what you've made," she replied, turning away. "Have fun!"

Logan waited until she was gone and tore into another sheet of paper. It still seemed like forever until dinner, and he was going to be bored the whole time. If he was lucky, the damn nurse wouldn't come back and think he was going for paper-mâché.

[gald_digger]

[from the showers]

Though Anise's pigtails were hanging a little flat from the shower, Anise knew they'd go back to being fluffy if she just left them alone for a bit, so without giving them any more thought, she made her way out to the Sun Room, then over to the Art and Crafts Room. Origami had been really fun when she tried it out with Ilia, so she wanted to try some more crafts.

Anise sat down at a table with origami supplies laid out, and started flipping through the books. She found the animal book she had used earlier that day to make a rabbit and a pig, but she set that aside for now. The next one she picked up was titled 'Mythical Creature Origami'. That sounded pretty interesting!

Some of these looked really complicated... There was a multi-headed serpent craft that took more than one sheet of paper, and there were other monsters with so many details that it looked like it'd take a thousand folds to complete them.

... And since when were griffins mythical? Anise tilted her head at the book, finding herself a little bit confused by its contents.

[Tear!]

[ofyulia.livejournal.com]

Despite the efforts she put into gathering information, there were parts Tear couldn't fully understand. She knew the institute's days were controlled by Dr. Landel and his staff, and the activities seen were mere facades. She knew the truth was in the institute's nights, when the building was overrun with monsters, laced with experimentation and brainwashing. Those parts were simple to understand; a young child could easily recite the logic of such a place.

The problem, however, was the why. The motives, the reasons-- They did not make sense like the actions and the people. She could look over the bulletin ten thousand times and overhear countless conversations on the topic, but the soldier could never fully extract the why. Perhaps that was a foolhardy task; no one ever said the reasons led to the end of actions. Furthermore, focusing on the former was bound to lead to trouble with the latter.

Still, it bothered her. Still, Tear didn't know why.

The accompanying nurse noticed her troubled expression. In a matter of good will, she suggested the teenager take a break in the Arts and Crafts room. It was a strange name for a room, but Tear supposed rest could only help her case when night fell. Without protest, she followed the woman into the aforementioned room, fully intent on a distraction-free environment.

What she found instead was the opposite: bright colors, varying shapes, multiple elements that suggested the space was strictly for children. To her surprise, however, most of the participants happened to be adults. Adults who looked equally as perplexed at their presence as Tear was, but the fact stood. Without thinking, she found herself gawking at nowhere in particular.

Her eyes eventually settled on a familiar head of black hair. Anise? That was her, wasn't it? Both Luke and Guy had confirmed her presence in the hospital, and that figure couldn't be anyone else. Tear slid past the tables to the younger, stopping just at her peripheral to offer a greeting. "Hey."

[fixedpointintime]

The arts and crafts room was near the main door leading into the sun room, and Jack just... needed to not make waves for a while. He found a table where he could sit down in a chair with his back to the wall and still see the door - again, not too close and not too far away.

Nothing spread out on the tabletop held much interest for him, but he should be doing something. It would look better. Jack pulled a small stack of perfectly square sheets of paper toward him and took the one on top. Light blue. It figured. On one of the first pages of the provided instructional booklet was a project that seemed simple enough, and Jack got to work folding the paper according to the diagram.

[free, though he probably won't be too talkative]

[mateswithnobody.livejournal.com]

The doctor was avoiding her. Had to be. Because she should have been able to track him down by now. Not that she'd been trying all that hard after meeting Mr. Coco Puff and learned of his grudge against pancakes, but still... how hard was it to find hair like that?!

Sighing, she let the nurse pick where she'd go (on the chance that dumb luck would kick in) and found herself escorted into arts and crafts. Seriously? "Do I look like a five year ol--!" she began, but the nurse had already gone. Huh, so they could learn. Not all that impressed, Donna looked the room over, spotting no Doctor but plenty of glitter, paper and... a really cute guy. Like better than average cute, and she knew average. He wasn't too far off, and was alone. Crafting. So Donna could use that as a good excuse to think that he wasn't waiting for anyone, just in case he was.

"Making anything useful?" she asked, the first thing she could think of when she went over and looked over his shoulder. Like anyone could make something helpful here out of paper and glue. Other than a good laugh for the bulletin.