damned_institute | Night 52: F11-F20 Hallway

Asuka had almost missed the eerie, parting words of the head doctor as she hustled around her room. Everything had been eaten so she would have plenty of energy to burn all night. Her roommate never returned to the room, which was more than fine with Asuka. It gave her free reign to bustle around their compact prison cell, grabbing her baseball bat from the wardrobe against the wall, as well as her red jersey Junpei had given her. She wrinkled her nose every time she saw it, but it was her favorite shade of red. It made her stand out and that was very important. The eva pilot also remembered to take along her radio this time after Okita had stressed how important it was.

Since there had yet to be any regular pattern from the nurses suddenly walking in after dinner was handed out, Asuka was confident her preparation would not be discovered. True, her roommate could walk in any minute along with her resident vulture, but the head doctor's broadcast was already running. It wasn't likely she was here any longer. It was the same superficial yammering as the night before and the night before that, so the redhead didn't bother paying much attention. The institute grew silent and dark soon after as Asuka tugged her jersey on over her regular uniform. It was in her struggle that she heard the strange chuckle and the ominous message thereafter.

Well, it was either for them or for another person in his office. Either way, it seemed this night might get interesting. It was hard to manage, but Asuka successfully grabbed her flashlight, radio, and baseball bat before leaving her room for the main hallway.

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The theory proposed by Edgar, developed on the spot, made good sense. Though she had yet to see one of the institution's night monsters, she had seen their handiwork on the bodies of the patients, or heard of it through their words. It was strange, as Edgar now noted, that Dr. Landel left them artificial security during the day, during slumber, yet did not, yet left them to the mercy of chance and his beasts. To have their shadows attack them would be too obvious -- but --

"Indeed," she said, her enthusiasm of a moment before fading, his dark address contagious. "But what could they do, what will they do, to harm us in another way? To make us see, as Jill said."

Natalia frowned, then shook herself. "Oh! Your shoulder. I suppose with this much clear, only time will answer the rest." And he wasn't yet cured to her satisfaction. The delay between castings had done her some good, though it also made clear just how tiring the first was. Directing her attention from the shadows to his shoulder, she rolled her head on her neck, and focused once more on her fon slots, on the Seventh Fonon.

Again, she spoke the verse. Again, the glow of fonons. It had hardly begun when the static of the intercom resumed.

"But to make us see what?" Edgar mused aloud as Natalia began her incantation. They had both reached the same conclusion: if not to attack, then what was the purpose of the moving shadows? If nothing else, the erratic behavior was admittedly unnerving... which, perhaps, was exactly the point.

The intercom hissed to life, the Head Doctor's voice replacing Jill's for this announcement. Though listening to his every word, trying to determine what he meant through his cryptic clues, Edgar couldn't help that his eyes were drawn to his shadow again- the form now twisted more than ever, bubbling against the floor as molten metal would boil in a crucible. The doctor talked on, his announcement finally coming to a close just as the shadow literally pulled itself away from Edgar's feet, now taking a mind of its own.

Edgar dared not move until Natalia was finished lest he disturb her spell, waiting for the feeling of energy rushing through him to subside, his eyes locked on the dark mass on the floor that had been his shadow. The moment the sensation passed, he grabbed his shovel, holding it as he would a pike- it wasn't a traditional weapon, but it would have to do. "Again, let me remark on how you have impeccable timing," he commented as he stepped between her and the former shadow as it started to stretch and take a shape, prepared to defend against whatever came next.

Once the fonons had been joined by verse, once the spell had begun, Natalia no longer needed to concentrate on it, allowing her to attend to the words overhead. Even so, she struggled to understand the beginning, her head throbbing, spinning. The delay had helped (her fingers remained still, aided by interlacing), but the arte drained her. Natalia closed her eyes, so to steady the room and better hear the loathsome broadcast.

As with the night before, frustration with her weakness seized her, unassisted by that voice. What did he mean by test subject? Analyzing that proved too difficult, especially when he resumed his accusations of hypocrisy, which only served to blacken her mood further. "I would like," she said, crossly, "to introduce him to my bow." Then she opened her eyes.

Both shadows had ceased distorting, now taking shape. She could only nod, speechless, to Edgar's remark as hers gained dimension and color, limbs and fabric branching as the feminine figure straightened, rising from the floor. Natalia felt glad of her seat, though she'd meant to stand, as she recognized the face that now turned a critical, fussy look to its attire; the realization made her knees weak.

"Goodness," her shadow frowned, the very image of Natalia herself, though in shades of gray and wisps of black. With much nice clothes. "I would really rather not be seen looking so dull." The shadow turned to Edgar, with an apologetic curtsy, "I am sorry."

Natalia stared. With stilted, slow movements, she stood, gripping the chair's back for support. "What... what are you?" And her shadow smiled, the expression haughty, pitying, and irritated, all at once. "Why, Meryl, we must be quicker than that. Of course I'm you."

Edited 2010-11-24 03:11 (UTC)

Edgar's expression turned grim as Natalia's shadow began to shift into a recognizable shape: his would undoubtedly be next. Though it looked like her physically, he had to say the attitude was surprising, as well as the name by which it addressed her.

"I can't imagine why she'd apologize for looking so drab," he heard his own voice called as his shadow took its form. Surely enough, it resembled him in every way but apparel, dressed instead in his familiar armor, cape flowing dramatically over his shoulders and sweeping around his feet. It brushed its hair back in habit, giving him a smirk. "We don't look much like royalty ourselves, though we can't be much of a king without a kingdom, can we?"

Edgar let out a single laugh. "Is this Landel's newest way to try to torture us? He's going to have to learn better tricks. Any shadow of mine would have noted the presence of a lady in the room before speaking."

He glanced over his shoulder at Natalia, who seemed far more shaken than he did. He had to remember that while speaking with a being formed from his own shadow was new, he'd faced jeers at the state of his rule before- the realm of politics was full of men almost as insane as Kefka, but far more shrewd. As for her experiences, he could only guess.

At first, the intensity of her reaction had more to do with the lingering effect of the magic than it did this new stage of shadow manipulation. It was disconcerting to gaze into a replica of her face, if one cast in imperfect hues (or the absence of), but also fascinating -- until the moment the shadow called her Meryl. The color drained from her face, pink returning in the next instant to spot her cheeks. That attitude.

"Don't look so upset," the shadow smiled unkindly, "I'll speak however I like to a commoner." Natalia's protest, how dare you--!, died before her lips could part. She glanced at Edgar's and his, unable to help but overhear, concern budding in her breast. What had become of his kingdom? That he could laugh, despite this! Not for the first time, Natalia admired the king's resolve.

"You mustn't be too hard on him," she replied, trying for the same levity, though her voice caught before it could reach a haughty peak. With her shadow giving her that knowing look. "I wouldn't want his attention, anyway."

Her shadow laughed, a short, scornful sound. "Oh, this is surprising! You're leeching off him as well, aren't you? Well, he doesn't have red hair, but they can't all be Luke. Just ask Guy. It's too bad they aren't here, but... he'll do. A king, too, very--"

"Quiet!" Natalia interrupted, not panicked, not hysterical, but firm, her eyes flashing. "I won't permit you to speak of Edgar--nor of the others."

A familiar name was mentioned by Natalia's shadow- either it was a more common moniker in other worlds than he thought, or they had a common ally. He hadn't time to think on it as the rest of the shadow's words weren't lost on him: Natalia's dependence on others seemed to be a major concern for her. His own aimed at his missing kingdom. So was this the game- to play to their insecurities, to cut deeply in the hopes of ruining them? Given Landel's reputation for helping patients with their 'recovery,' it wasn't surprising.

"Let them talk," Edgar said quietly to her, taking steps toward his own shadow as he looked his double up and down. He paced slowly, circling both figures: they no longer resembled shadows in any sense of the word, aside from their muted hues. It truly was as if he had another twin.

"Oh yes, let's," his shadow replied. "Or maybe we should let you do the talking. That worked so well with Celes, didn't it?"

Edgar stopped midway in the circle around his shadow, the darkened figure giving him a confident look over his shoulder. He'd struck a nerve, and he knew it.

Night 52: F11-F20 Hallway

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