damned_institute | Night 52: Main Hallway, 1-East

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Night 52: Main Hallway, 1-East

[From here]

If there was one piece of vital information that Xemnas had already grasped during his short stay here, it was that the second floor's main corridor was usually one that was guarded. As the Sun room, it was a center area that was often traversed by the various patients confined within these walls, making it rather logical to position something that would cause inevitable hindrance to those that would wander within the area.

Tempting fate by using that same route would likely result in unnecessary delay, as observing the very abominations that the head doctor allowed to roam freely in these halls wasn't among his goals tonight. Perhaps his current route would have seemed like a detour to anyone else, but to the Superior who could not feel the fear likely grasping some of those part of an existence, it was merely the most efficient way of reaching his destination. That was, however, not to say that he would not find any inconveniences along the way.

It was without any difficulties that the Nobody reached the Eastern wing of the institute, though it left little reason to rejoice. The darkness was still unmoved, not yet revealing that what lurked within. There was the briefest of pauses in the sound of his own footsteps as he searched for something that may leap from the darkness.

Concluding it to be relatively safe for now, Xemnas headed for the most Eastern staircase.

[To here]

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...Five seconds into this new scenario and it slipped from her again. She was vaguely aware of the shade tightening his grip, but her eyes had moved to focus on Nigredo in the background. The boy reaching behind himself to bring out something similar to what Soma had had nights before.

What was this? Was there a gun sale somewhere that she missed? Man, give her a sword and she was fine--stuff like that seemed way too crazy.

Her eyes darted down to the other when he spoke, but too quickly pulled back to Nigredo, expression shifting to a mix of shock and dismay. "What the hell, Nigredo?" If he was going to have that, he could deal with her swearing. "Where did you get that?"

As sharp as his awareness, his movements were filled with hesitation, and it took moments for the child to open his mouth to speak. He need only tell Senna that the gun was his-- He didn't even understand why she was asking. The last thing in the world she should concern herself with right now was the weapon in his hands.

Unfortunately, he was too slow. His "shadow" spoke first, ruining the explanation built up in the back of Nigredo's mind. "I picked it up," he answered. The tone was far too nonchalant compared to before. "From my brother. He was too busy dying to need it at the time."

What? For such hesitance, the other's response was immediate, bordering a kind of panic. "I didn't--" He didn't what? There existed something so wrong in that explanation that demanded a denial, but nothing surrounding the words were false. Nothing at all.

There was nothing in this that made sense anymore. Shadow clones, guns, and dying siblings, what the fuck was all this? It wasn't all institute at the very least. Right now a lot of this was Nigredo and she had been dragged into it, willingly or not. So at the very least, she could get some answers out of this.

The girl shook her head, clearing the cobwebs, before fixing a stern look at both boys... Boy and thing... Ugh, whatever! Her fingers moved to detach the one at her arm, moving closer to Nigredo in the same motion so she was at a fixed point from both of them. "Okay, one. Put the gun away, seriously. Two--" She raised an eyebrow at the shade. "Don't say weird stuff without explaining what you're talking about. And three, what the hell is going on here?"

...If nothing else, Senna took most things in stride.

Oh, she wanted an explanation. So did Nigredo. The only difference in their wants was the level of consideration. Something this surreal could not possibly warrant a straightforward explanation. If anything, they should be on their guard against him-- Whatever he was.

And that involved the gun being out and ready. Therefore, he all but obeyed. "How should I know?" muttered Nigredo. His eyes darted between the two forms. "And I'm not putting it away."

"Then don't," his mirror retorting, shrugging as though none of this particularly mattered. The gesture might have been humorous at another time, but in this situation, it served only to irritate. Nigredo didn't know why. "If you want explanations, the person you should be asking is him."

Here, he nodded to the child, who seemed almost to flinch. "He knows exactly what I'm talking about."

Her frown deepened at the original. Nothing in her wanted him holding that. "There's no reason for it right now. Just...." Her mouth twisted. Half of her just wanted to slap him and take it. The other part knew not to push him or he'd just deny her completely. "Please."

The shade at least was becoming more clear, pun unintended. Its train of thought was Nigredo and all things concerning him. Any deviation seemed to bring it completely back, and it deigned any response to her question. The intercom hinted obviously enough at something going on. Shadows of people's self? That was sorta... lame, to be honest. Really? What was Landel on? Horror movies 101. Man should try for something original. At least this one seemed content to merely drag facts out into the open. The truthfulness of them was yet to be decided.

Though from the way Nigredo flinched, it was safe to say that things might be close to true. Senna held her tongue, watching Nigredo, and glancing back to his clone at intervals. So far it had technically only spoke to her. Would they talk by themselves?

If the third counterpart to their group had been anyone else, Nigredo would have granted the request. As it stood, this was his duplicate. Copies were not to be trusted, especially one of himself. He--above all others--should understand: as damning as the implications might be, he could not allow any part of himself to act without a weapon in sight.

After all, the last time the institute had caught him unaware, it had left him for dead. Landel was at fault, was he not? Nigredo would not allow him a second chance.

"No." His hold tightened as his posture grew increasingly rigid, appearing less a child and more something off. "I'm not taking any risks." Should anyone attempt to override his decision, they would be fought against; the last thing he wanted was to be caught without in front of his other.

Who happened to sigh in mild exasperation. "So you'll shoot me?" he asked. "Don't you think that is what I want--"

Want, but not enough for a reveal. Not in front of a mere acquaintance. The finger at the trigger shook in anticipation. "Enough," Nigredo demanded quietly. A part sounded uncertain. "Tell me who you are."

Ara, ara--This was going nowhere much too fast. Good drama, sure, but not the kind she necessarily wanted at night with a kid or two with her. Fine, fine. Nigredo wouldn't give the gun up, but conversation with his other seemed to only be destabilizing him faster. Meaning he'd probably use it--if he knew how to use it, and seriously, if he did, they were having a long discussion at a later date.

So again, the girl didn't say anything, only gave a long-suffering shrug, and trod between the two. Hopefully that would dissuade violence. If the other became a threat, sure. But they had no idea what was going on. Hell, if Nigredo killed the shade, it might be tied to him and he might kill himself. Which... If she listened to it, seemed like there was something to that.

But either way she wasn't going to deal with an unsteady trigger finger. She knew enough about that as it was. Nigredo might shoot her if he got too upset but she'd try this for now.

"Don't play dumb, U.R.T.V. #669." The false one folded his arms across his chest, a tinge of arrogance lining the act. Or so went Nigredo's imagination--it was far too dark to claim fact. "I'm you."

You're not me. A trick, an illusion, a Head Doctor's form of entertainment. He could list labels and name names, but the truth remained as solid as the other could never be. This was anything but himself.

"Or would you rather I list the evidence? If I know everything about you, I might as well be you." Silence. "Don't you think?"

Nigredo might have shot him, then. There was nothing that told him he couldn't; the other was a danger, and danger had to go. He might have in the next second, if not for the pesky detail regarding the intangible and bullets. That and a girl stepping in-between. Irritation couldn't quite describe what he felt.

"Senna," Nigredo said, more unkindly than he might have meant, "this doesn't have to be your concern."

The other nodded in agreement. "You're just in the way of me killing myself. You--" He smiled, a picture in innocence. "--wouldn't want to be in my way."

Edited 2010-11-23 04:42 (UTC)

Now, Senna couldn't claim to know everything about everyone--hell, she knew close to nothing about herself, and the little that was known was half because of, you know, being hooked up to a torture device in order to kill her and destroy two worlds. But you get the gist. Point being, Senna wasn't one to assume things about people too much; people always had a tendency to surprise you. Soma being a robot pilot. Alita being a princess. Meche and Hokuto being dead. Reid's eyes. Peter's... Well. His Peterness. Hell, even Roland.

But things start to paint a picture after awhile, even if it isn't a picture you like too much. Initials, a number, the possible self-hatred and the boy's own stoicism--much too much for one his age. The fucking gun, for crying out loud. It spoke of soldiers, was what it said. Not being allowed to have friends... The more she thought, the more his words came back to her.

So she replied automatically, and without thinking. "It is my concern, Nigredo. You're my friend."

To the shade, she had no words. She had a feeling it'd continue no matter what she said.

He couldn't help the hesitation. Those words swirled around in the child's brain like ice water on flesh, and he could not comprehend the points raised. Nigredo had admitted no differently the night before: death was a conclusion, wanted in more ways than even the thought of his father could provoke. He needed to kill the being who happened to share everything but temperament. Maybe even that. This tone touched close to what the child had heard on previous occasions, passed to himself in an attempt for discipline and control.

But why? Why speak of sentiments he already knew? There existed no reason in the repetition, especially in front of a stranger--no, a friend. And she had to echo thoughts, too. It wasn't like he had never heard her the first time.

His arms lowered a fraction of an inch, and the variant chose silence as an answer.

This seemed only to prompt his mirror, who canted a head to one side to better glance at the figures. "Maybe," he murmured, "but she is not yours. You're only tolerating her because she is a little weird. Excuse me, 'unique'." Here, the shadow made a face, scrunching his lips as if withholding laughter. "Once she shows that she can't be trusted--that she is really your enemy--you'll kill her, right? I mean, don't you think they're all the same? Just like Father. And the standards. Citrine and Albedo. Or--"

The barrel tilted sharply upward toward the ceiling, gunfire echoing in the hallway, smoke and powder and debris filling the air. "Don't!" He could not understand the line of logic, but he knew more than enough to want it to stop. "Don't talk about them..." Like that. In front of someone else. Now.

And, of course, she was right. It continued talking, and Senna was surprised when the words stung. Not the basis on her personality--she'd heard worse. But the simple sentence that she wasn't his friend. It was a stupid reaction, especially when the shade seemed to turn words around, but she frowned all the same, eyes casting downward.

Only to dart back up again at the gunfire. The halted sentence which had sped along in a frantic motion. There was a telltale blur in the back of her mind, prompting recollections she didn't have, but she focused on what was happening. On what was right now. She couldn't let even her misbegotten memories overtake her.

The blur worsened to a dull roar and her eyes unfocused briefly. To snap back into acuity a moment later. The solution was simple, right? If it was. The thing was here. So they shouldn't be. Her mind shifted between brief snapshots, memories unclear, and her focus wavered. There was something in this, a familiarity of nights before. And that was?

Helplessness, of course. Being helpless to help the people that Senna cared about. While they got hurt or upset or worse, and she couldn't do anything at all. Nothing.

She stepped closer to Nigredo, leaning down. "Let's go," she said softly. "We don't have to be here. And you don't have to listen to it." She glanced backwards before looking back solemnly. "Nothing is set in stone."

Neither boy responded initially. Both appeared locked in a stalemate, though each conveyed the fact in opposite directions. The first stood confident in his assurance, as though he had alerted his audience of a truth previous unknown. The second held none of the sort. Instead, he seemed stuck on a single point, the aforementioned question of why. What was the purpose?

When Senna spoke, he barely recalled the contents of her sentences. She made as much sense as the query in his head, which he supposed is what came when you found yourself a step away from being lost. Still, likely because she hadn't tried to take the weapon away, Nigredo allowed himself to relent. A bit. He slowly lowered his hands to his side.

Another might have expected Nigredo's shadow to fill in the gaps and mock the decision to listen. To even his surprise, it was the original who opted to speak. "You don't have to be here," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't leave."

There was silence for a moment, and she thought then that maybe Nigredo would agree with her. He lowered the gun, and the shade remained quiet. Nigredo was the one who spoke; the boy in front of her was the one who declined.

It wasn't something she wanted, but it seemed like it was what Nigredo truly believed. This kid. She slid a hand out to reach for his shoulder--nothing like force, just a gesture of contact. Maybe comfort. Senna smiled slightly. "I'm going to be wherever you are tonight, okay? I can show you those ruins some other time. We can just hang out tonight." A beat. "I won't push it. But you can, you know. Leave."

All that she questioned, it seemed, was capability. Otherwise, Senna appeared intent on keeping his company, regardless of the insinuations she might have procured from his mirror. It was foolish to question why; by now, Nigredo understood this individual was, as so eloquently put, "a little weird". She would probably stick close unless the child painted her presence as unwanted, which despite a claim of tolerance and possible shifts, was the opposite of what he truly felt.

Like before--like how it would likely be until everything stopped--the line of thought was derailed by the one standing behind them. "You don't understand, do you?" His tone touched on pleased, probably for the perceived ignorance. Nigredo's grip on the weapon tightened on instinct. "I'm Nigredo. I'm as every bit a part of him as he is of me. You don't just leave yourself."

That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?

"Besides," he continued, "I am the only one he has. Even if he loved you more than anything else in existence, he will still choose me over you. He will reject everything to keep his peace of mind." The 'child' stepped nearer, leaning dangerously close to the older girl. His next words, however, were address to Nigredo himself. "Why don't you tell her? Tell how you killed your father because you didn't want to lose yourself."

Nigredo said nothing, and in the silence, the other spoke. Making up for the breather from a minute ago. And if Nigredo was calm and quiet, this one was the opposite, and Senna had to say--she preferred the normal Nigredo. Because this one’s rants were just…. She had half a mind to just ignore, but when it leaned in, she reached out and flicked it in the forehead. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You gotta learn that some people don’t care what you have to say.”

The girl sighed loudly, leaning a hand on her hip. “Don’t talk to me if you want a reaction. It’s Nigredo’s business how he feels, right? And nothing’s constant anyway.” Which was how Senna lived, and probably the only way she could. If that was not a permanent fact, the girl would not be able to move. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Besides, actions in the past don’t define the future.” True or false to the words, this was accurate. “So who cares what happened? It matters what happens now.”

Senna was talking to the shade the whole time, but she hoped to hell that Nigredo was at least listening. Kid had issues, more than he was willing to say, but even if some of that stuff was true. It wasn’t for her to hold judgments on him--her, of all people. People lived and existed, struggled to maintain themselves in sometimes wretched ways, and Senna knew that. More than anyone. "Keeping your self," she murmured. "Is more important than almost anything."

Because Senna had let go, hadn't she? She had decided to die rather than remain to watch others die. But that... Was neither here or there.

The shadow might have felt the flick against his forehead, but any evidence remained hidden. He returned to proper posture, expression locked in amusement like he didn't even care another had rejected his words. Nigredo had knew as well as he knew the features of his own hand: it was not Senna the shadow wanted a reaction from.

They were working, too, even as nothing was expressed. Though the boy remained silent, the veins inside hardened, blood flowing like ice. He never wanted anyone to know of Yuriev's death, and yet, his own shortcomings brought at least two to the fact. Never had the wish for an end been more fervent until this instant. Maybe it should be his own head Nigredo should aim for, promise and brothers aside.

Then, Senna spoke again. And unlike Albedo, she made no careless affirmation of his actions, no acceptance of a murder without rethinking how the positives might be worse in the end. No, she was letting his business be his without condemnation, and somehow, that mattered enough. Moving against himself suddenly seemed faulty. Being hurt enough to act was more dangerous.

Instead, he took Klavier's advice to heart. He went to examine the why, in a way that betrayed his true age and intent. "Are you," Nigredo began, hesitating once as he realized the intended question was not correctly worded. His gaze flickered over the dark figure behind Senna before returning. "Do you really want to be my friend?"

Edited 2010-11-27 01:00 (UTC)

And here was the truth of everything, wasn't it? Senna could understand in an abstract way. There were certain truths--maybe one's own selfishness or maybe a murder to save yourself. Maybe something else altogether. There were certain truths that shifted the entire world. A belief of being unloved for one's actions, maybe. A need to hide the truth of what they were in fear of being rejected and abandoned.

...Yes. Senna could understand that entirely. More than almost any.

She glanced over to Nigredo, raising her eyebrows lightly, almost amused. But she smiled reassuring, nothing but ease in the expression. “I am your friend, Nigredo. You just have to choose if you want to be mine.” She watched him carefully, serious. “I’ll stand by you, if you let me.” Because no one should have to be alone. Least of all, for her reason. “I’m not going to walk away.”

Nigredo could hear the retort before the response. If anything was to be said of that one, it was that he was quite efficient in conveying doubts. "Why bother?" he asked. "Everyone is the same."

They were. She probably was herself, and the chance was high Senna did not understand the consequences of those words. She, however, had not hesitated. More importantly, she had stood by her statements. So far, at any rate.

A strained silence transpired for a single minute, before the child nodded. Without further prompting, he holstered his gun, speaking quietly in the process. "I'll explain everything he said," began Nigredo, "in the morning. But please--" He inhaled, the breath taken in with difficulty. "--keep this to yourself."

She almost ignored the shadow, but if it was part of Nigredo, it was something to be addressed. So she shrugged loosely, nonchalant. "A lot of people are the same. A lot of people are crappy people who'll leave you in the dust. But you know that's not always true. People have a tendency to surprise you, even people that you wouldn't expect it from. So you can't judge it till you see it."

But past misconceptions could shift behavior. Like a training device, bad experiences could set the bar for everything else. If she took that to be the fact in this case, something that made sense with the conversations that they'd had before, then a lot more fit into place. And she almost hated the understanding, because it wasn't something that the boy had given her. She had gotten the information cheaply, without his approval, and it almost gave her a feeling like she had to make it up. Or, at the very least, prove his darker self wrong.

And as if he knew her thoughts, Nigredo spoke. And instantly Senna shook her head, reaching a hand to his shoulder. "Don't bother if you don't want to, Nigredo. If you want to tell me, I'll listen, but don't feel like you have to explain anything. Your secrets and your emotions are your own, right?" The girl smiled. "I'd rather you tell me when you want to. And I'm not going to say anything, silly."

Acknowledgment and clarification might have appeased the shadow, albeit the end of a continuation remained up in the air. He simply shrugged, sticking to silence.

Nigredo, on the other hand, despite staying as quiet as the other, heard more than necessary. Took in less than perhaps was intended, but it was more than enough. The child could see the effort: Senna was not attempting to dismiss the issues altogether.

As for what they happened to be addressing, he had to be taken care of. "I want to tell you," Nigredo answered, his voice dull. "I don't enjoy misunderstandings, for one. For another--" There was an abrupt silence. Something didn't strike as quite right. "In any case, it's impossible to leave...it. What do we do?"

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Night 52: Main Hallway, 1-East

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