Day 53: Sun Room, Morning

[scarefaux]

With breakfast finished and a new acquaintance made, the Scarecrow's mind turned to his other friends. The disappearance of Depth Charge's friend had brought back memories of how he'd felt when Kaiji went missing: helpless, useless, as though he should have and could have done something more to find him. If only he had his brain, then maybe he could have thought of something!

As much as he didn't like to admit it, it was unlikely his former roommate was still within the Institute's walls at this point, though the Scarecrow wouldn't know for sure unless Kaiji returned to visit him as Dorothy had, encouraging his supposed recovery. There was still the concern that Landel, despite his vile methods, was actually right and he was suffering from the delusion of having been a scarecrow in Oz. After all, that movie had been a pretty elaborate trick. Would he have planted it in town on purpose, knowing the Scarecrow would be taken there the night of the enchanted doors? And how could he guarantee that once he did find it, he'd take it and actually watch it? There was so much guesswork involved- it seemed the Wizard Landel either liked coincidences or he had more power on his side than any of the patients could have guessed.

The Scarecrow stopped by the bulletin board before heading for a seat, considering writing a note to his friends to check on them. He'd heard from Depth Charge, Remy, and Kibitoshin within a day's time, so he figured they were probably fine (as fine as Depth Charge could have been after last night, anyway). He'd seen Mele and Scar the day before. He put a finger to his head, thinking- he'd not heard from Abe or Sangamon in a day or so, but being professionals, they were probably very busy. Perhaps a note would be best for them.

[Kibby]

Comments

[heroesdontshave]

So far so good. Despite his screw up last night, Snow was actually being better about containing his restlessness today. Maybe it was cause he actually got a full night's sleep. Or maybe it was cause he was getting a little more used to this place. Not that he was getting cozy or anything, but there was a definite rhythm to how stuff worked here. It was enough that he could just go with the flow for now. Besides, if he behaved himself more now, the more he can catch people off guard later.

Of course, it was looking like all that wasn't going to last much longer. The nurse-guard was escorting him into that big, bright room in the center of everything. You'd think something like that would be important or have something interesting in it, but so far it was the most boring room in the place. The only thing of interest here was the note-exchange board... or the bulletin board, as some people called it. He'll have to remember to actually look at that thing.

Right now though, he was occupying himself by inspecting the room a little more closely. Bizarre furniture and design aside, there were a bunch of doors scattered throughout the perimeter of the room. He knew one led to the Antique Room and another into a Game Storage Room, but the others were mysteries. They'd been let into those two rooms freely, so there was a chance they might let them see some other rooms, too. Which made him wonder which rooms these people didn't want them nosing around in? And... oh ho. Was that a balcony up there? Sure looked like it! Just what was up there, he wondered.

Apparently, his standing there and looking around the room was setting off some kind of alarm with the nurse-guards, seeing as some of them were pointedly eying him at the moment. Heh. Now he really wondered what was up there.

[Izayaaaa]

[propheteer]

The day was slowly but surely taking a turn for the better. His mood had improved during breakfast, and while he was still planning on avoiding the denizens of Ikebukuro (particularly Shizuo, whom he wished would have choked on his waffles during breakfast and just died), there were plenty of other humans that Izaya didn't mind approaching. One of them was even standing in the Sun Room right now, looking around and craning his neck to look at the balcony above them.

With a smile and without a second thought, Izaya head for Snow Villiers.

He almost had to choke back surprise once he was close. He'd realized earlier that the other man was fairly tall, but... Izaya had underestimated how tall; Snow Villiers had to be just as big as Simon. But with the inital moment of surprise having passed, Izaya wasn't deterred. He may have been much smaller than either Simon or Snow, but size didn't intimidate him; it alone didn't make someone dangerous.

Besides, Snow's obvious interest in looking around was interesting.

"Planning to try something?" he asked casually.

[saviored]

So Stefan wanted to talk to him. Surprise, surprise.

But really, Damon had wanted to talk to Stefan, too. He just never liked acknowledging as such so it was nice of his brother to pave the way instead. An unexpected yet useful outcome of the question he'd posed on the board. And on top of that, he had a tip to follow up on tonight. He wasn't sure who the anonymous helper elf was, or even whether the information was accurate—people, you know (and had it even been a person in the first place? He had to wonder)—but he was getting to the point where he no longer cared as much. He was hungry. Vampires were not made to go hungry.

He was not made to go hungry.

His gaze lingered briefly on the boy across the room. Lunatic from a couple of days ago, wasn't he? So not his usual type, but this was not usual. At the moment, his type was anything with a delicate set of veins he could tear open. He could do it, normally. Devour someone in public and leave before anyone even realize something was wrong.

Now was a different matter. He knew it without even trying. How very inconvenient. Still tempting, though. Hm. Maybe Stefan wasn't entirely wrong, for once. Maybe he should be careful.

He settled onto a couch to wait Stefan out. His brother would show any minute now. He kept as far away as possible from the entrance to the dining hall, where the scent of waffles and syrup lingered. There'd been a reason why he'd slept in this morning; the smell of food alone was starting to turn his stomach. He supposed he was lucky he wasn't physically mummifying the way he should've been—another strange feature of wherever they were, he'd figured. Maybe this whole thing was a game of how slow can you starve a vampire to death.

Or maybe they were waiting for him to snap. The notion didn't sit well with him. Oh, he'd snap, sure, but he liked to do it on his own terms. He didn't appreciate anyone manipulating it out of him.

He propped his feet up on the table and carefully picked up his book, feeling a little like if he moved just a bit too fast, someone might just lose their jugular. He didn't open the book to the beginning, instead going straight to the middle. Dracula, which he'd gotten his lovely nurse to pluck from the library for him. There was an odd lack of Anne Rice (weird; wasn't she usually everywhere?), so this would have to do.

What? No need to judge. Humans read about humans all the time. He saw no reason why vampires couldn't read about vampires. It was all a matter of indulgence, anyway. And he liked to indulge.

[come say hi, baby bro. :) ]

[sainted]

Once again, the nurses insisted that Elena (or "Samantha," as they called her) was fine, and playfully chided Stefan about how sometimes women needed their beauty sleep, although he didn't miss how she looked over his shoulder to a pair of orderlies standing by the door of the Sun Room. Once again, he was certain he could've fought past them, even killed them, weakened or not. For a whole three seconds, the temptation to kill rose high (—if he was fast enough, he could snap her neck, then drag her away from—) but he couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't become that person again. Stefan had all but fled from the exit, and circled around the room a few times before finally realizing that there was no getting away from people here. He settled into a vacant chair instead, and buried his head in his hands.

What was wrong with him? His control was better than this, at least it had been before he'd been captured by the tomb vampires. And he'd gone this long before without drinking a drop of blood, usually when he was at his most self-pitying, wanting to die. It could be that his recent binge on human blood had broken something in him — as much as Stefan had come very close to returning to normal by Founder's Day, he'd known deep inside that he was never again going to be (as Lexi had once called him) the Miss Universe of vampire self-control. Perhaps he'd been fooling himself in thinking he'd even been that much.

No, it wasn't just that. Hunger, he might have been able to cope with, if it was a matter of hunger alone. Even hunger plus compelling and attacking an innocent girl, that had been surmountable. But hunger, plus hurting Elena? Hurting Elena and having no idea if she was truly alright, or if...

He had to control himself. He knew how to control himself. The main pitfall of being a vampire was that ultimately everything came back to blood — love, desire, anger, despair, all those human emotions spiralling into hunger. That was what he was feeling right now. He was stronger than that. He had to be, for Elena's sake.

And anyway, if he was feeling on edge, then what about Damon? His brother had to be here somewhere, from their brief conversation on the bulletin board. Stefan checked that first, seeing how someone (likely Damon) had taken down a few notes in another bulletin conversation about blood... and a new note, with familiar feminine handwriting...

He turned from the board to search for her again, and found instead Damon in the far corner of the room, sprawled on a couch with a book in his hands and seemingly not a care in the world. Stefan might have envied him for his apparent ease, if he didn't know all too well how his brother functioned. And was he reading...? For a second, Stefan stared at the cover of Dracula, trying to figure out where this featured on the incomprehensible map of Damon humour, but it wasn't worth it. Neither were polite greetings. "What happened to you last night?"

[ninelivesonce]

There had been no reply to her note.  Strange -- was von Karma ill, or was he merely ignoring her?  Surely things hadn't gone that badly?  Had they?  At the very least, wouldn't he want his metal?  He'd have to reply for that.  She could make her case then.  Apologize -- or better yet, look him in the eye and explain.  Yes, that would be better.  Sitting down, so that he wouldn't have so far to look up.  Plan squared away, and awaiting only the proper opportunity, she began looking through the rest of the messages.

There was nothing yet from the History Club, yet -- had something more gone awry there?  The group's luck had been poor, as far as she'd seen, in both missions and leadership, but they were exactly the sort of group suited to her talents.  One more chance, she'd promise.  After that, her nighttimes would be her own again.  Not that they weren't now, albeit indirectly; she hadn't been coerced into joining the group.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  How many mission reports had she seen that on?  She'd only been foolish enough to use it once, herself.  The look on her superiors face had been enough, and she remembered it now only to try to emulate it.  

As she thought, she paced, sweeping past the bulletin every five minutes or so.  The medtech assigned to her had tried to keep up, jogging along, but had finally abandoned her to the watchful eye of the border patrol. Since she made no move to abandon a set circuit, contained to this one room, they seemed content to allow her this.  Good.  She wasn't above working out her frustrations with a little more direct action, if they made it necessary.  Three was plenty of time for sedatives to burn off before nightfall, even ignoring the fact that she had no plans as of yet.

[Leela]    

[shorttank.livejournal.com]

Leela wondered if Miss von Karma had issues beyond the readily apparent ones that made her so prickly, and she aksed Betty about her, but Betty, of course, gave her the old I can't discuss other patients line. Maybe Franziska just needed a friend, Leela decided, a fellow driven... sort of driven, more driven than her co-workers... career woman.

She liked the Sun Room, as much as she could like any part of a definitely-insane, certainly-fake, probably-lying-about-its-time-period mental hospital. It wasn't the kitties' fault they lived in an evil place.

She spotted the tall woman pacing as soon as she came in, and recognized her as Taura, for whom Leela's liking wasn't conditional at all. She fell into step with her (she had to jog a bit to keep up with her long legs, too), smiling. "Hey. Waiting for an important message?"

[fourstonewalls]

That had been...nothing at all like the meeting she'd envisioned, when she'd agreed to meet her mysterious accuser on the bulletin.  First off, he hadn't know what she'd done (or he was a much better liar than she'd estimated), even when she'd laid out details like breadcrumbs.  He really hadn't heard about the scandal, though its existence hadn't surprised him.  That alone said perhaps things weren't as solved as he'd like to claim, but again, she hadn't picked up any great inconsistency in his story.  

Her own sister could corroborate it, given a time machine, and that rang truest of all, as much as that quarter raised more questions than it had answered.  Given that Landel hadn't volunteered his, she would just have to accept it.

Hmm.  Maybe a little cross-checking wouldn't be uncalled for.  She jotted a quick note, made one small emendation, and tacked it to the board.  Then she turned to survey the room.  People were still trickling out; neither Ema nor Damon Gant had left the cafeteria.  She'd spotted them both -- Ema had been talking to an animated young man who was completely unfamiliar, while Damon had cornered Harvey, or vice versa, she wasn't sure which.  Well, if her veiled hints -- and nearly-naked accusations -- hadn't been enough to put him on his guard, he deserved whatever happened.

She had a lot of things to think about, chief among them what to do now  She hadn't had to worry about that for two years -- she felt nearly weightless, her feet drifting across the floor.  Something had to be done about Doctor Landel, even if she hadn't the faintest idea what.     She found a free chair and table, and spread her growing file of notes out on the expanse, looking for a pattern in a dozen accounts she would normally pass off as insanity or poor lies, but here were just another valid testimony.

[free]

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

Mihai had felt little desire to get out of bed that morning, yet his nurse had been insistent. Somehow the woman had developed the idea that waffles were to serve as the miracle cure for every nightmare that could possibly haunt the man in his sleep, never mind that Mihai doubted even the youngest of patients would hold such an idea to be true. In every sense then, breakfast had been a waste, from the sugary foods on his plate, to the thoughts that had occupied Mihai's mind while he ignored the meal.

But letting himself be consumed by thought would accomplish nothing. Mihai was tired, more than he cared to admit even to himself, pushed far too close to the point of breaking by the constant mental trials. Checking the bulletin did little to alleviate the accumulation, instead giving Mihai the new role of "bad news bearer" before his nurse carted off to make a new friend.

First waffles, and now playing polite for the masses. With such tried and true methods of therapy, Mihai wondered how anyone could even doubt the good intentions of the Institute.

Possessing discipline enough to keep from rolling his eyes at his own thoughts served to his benefit; Mihai didn't exactly care to explain just what was occupying him to this stranger. Another woman, young--maybe Kiri's age, maybe less. Mihai nodded to 'Shirley' in greeting, but didn't bother to speak before the nurse left. Putting up with the nurse's corrections didn't spark his interest either.

"Mihai Mihaeroff. Miss...?" Ah well. A bad mood wasn't much of an excuse to be impolite, and this woman was hardly to blame for his predicament.

[mugenreppa.livejournal.com]

Lucky they were interrupted before she'd had to answer Morgan's inquiry. She was going to delay dealing with it for as long as possible because it wasn't a problem she could just punch/kick/tongue lash away, and if she waited, it wouldn't seem so soul-crushingly bad. It wasn't like the other thing where she'd nearly had a breakdown into an emotional mess. Yeah.

As she entered the Sun Room and took a seat, arms protectively crossed, she glanced disinterestedly at the schedule above the bulletin (speaking of, where was the blonde kid? Still finishing breakfast?), then sighed and tilted her head back. Unfortunately, that brought her gaze up to the balcony, and looking there just pissed her off. Looking down just gave her a nice view of her feet. Sighing heavily, Mele decided to just stare at a wall, cupping her chin in her palm. At least her shadow wasn't being cast on the wall or anything.

Now she needed something to think about, to avoid thinking about that other thing. Well...Morgan had seemed to have a plan of action, even if it was only kind of an idea. She hadn't had a chance to ask him if there was an actual plan behind the idea. But when she thought about it, Landel had had to tinker with the lights to get the shadow things out, so maybe Morgan was right to target stuff like that. But it wasn't like any of them knew where Landel's base was. Which he was apparently cleaning. Probably scrubbing off the blood—someone had managed to get there, but no one Mele recognized. Be more useful next time, she thought to the assumed ally. Hmph!

[longlivetheking]

After entering the Sun room, Scar spared the bulletin board a rather brief look. As usual, there wasn't anything interesting to be found among these silly scribbles. He had to wonder why he still bothered to look. In case there was something useful, obviously. Even that may be up to debate; he had been longer than the majority of the people here, yet the progress he had made was barely noticeable. The former lion was skeptical that anything he didn't already know would appear among all the notes. Even the notes about last night revealed little news, though he hardly needed any more reasons to think about it.

He turned, green eyes glancing at the people already gathered here. Noticing a familiar face among them, he walked over.

"It's been a while, Mele," he said by manner of greeting.

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

Breakfast left matters a bit clearer. He was in some kind of loony bin, which explained why no one believed he was Tyrell Badd and why the nurses didn't listen to a single thing he said. If one of the random patients had claimed to be, say, Phoenix Wright, Badd wouldn't have believed him either. At some point he'd find an opportunity to get to a phone and call Gumshoe, security around here wasn't particularly tight, but that wasn't as important as figuring out what was going on.

Badd took up a relaxed position on one of the couches. With 'where' answered, what was left behind were the questions of how and why. It was still a gigantic slip-up to send a perfectly sane criminal to a psychiatric institute rather than just putting him back where he came from. As stupid as the pencilpushers could be, they couldn't fail this badly. Someone had done this intentionally.

...was the ring really powerful enough to put him here? And if so, what were they hoping to accomplish?

[Gant]

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Gant checked the bulletin as soon as the shift changed, but nothing had been left for him, as usual. Well, he didn't blame anyone for not checking up on him. He was quite capable of keeping himself out of trouble... most of the time. Or at least keeping others from knowing the trouble he had created. But anyway, he was glad to see Lana was posting messages again, at least. That left him without doubt that she truly was okay. Not that he didn't take Harvey's word for it, but every night offered its own dangers. He would just rather she not be one to succumb to them here. She was more useful to him alive than dead, after all.

Gant strolled the room and scanned for something or someone entertaining. Really, this place kept him cooped up in the Sun Room at least once every day. He was going to go stir-crazy at this rate. Then maybe he might actually fit in here.

He passed one patient already cozy on one of the couches, but was forced to do a double-take. Was that really... Baddo? Well, wasn't this a surprise! First the daughter of the prosecutor Badd had been partnered with so many years ago, and now the detective himself! Who was next? Mike Meekins? Now that would definitely be overkill.

Smiling cheerfully, Gant took the seat next to the hard-boiled detective and clasped his hands. "Baddo! Is that really you, or am I just seeing things?"

[vstheworld]

Scott leaned next to the bulletin board, pulling the crumpled note out of his pocket for the fifty-millionth time. He still hadn't seen any sign of the old lardbutt anywhere. That should have been a really, really, really good thing, too, and for the most part, Scott actually was glad.  No more room fires, no more diving behind couches during shifts, no more threats to Knives... Still, he had been happier about less evil people bursting into coins and such. Was he really just going to miss the bulletin feud that much? Really? Seriously? Or was it just because he was a character Scott knew from his childhood, evil or no? Whatever it was, the prospect of Porky actually being dead sat weirdly with him. That was just what he needed on top of his Fourth Wall and Brain-Breaking Nightshift Sundae: a possible death he didn't know what to feel about.

Thinking of Knives, where was she anyway? He hadn't seen her in about as long as he hadn't seen Keman. Had those two gone off to elope or something? Scott put a hand to his head, trying to picture it, then shook the idea out of his brain. Nope, Elfboy and Scottaholic wasn't doing it for him as a pairing. Hopefully they were just in their rooms or something, he thought. That was where Remy had been, right? 

Maybe Peter knew something, Scott thought as he stuffed Porky's fond farewell back in his pocket and wrote a quick note for Keman. He had a few reasons to talk to that kid now. He needed to check up on him, for one thing; Peter hadn't sounded so good the previous day. There was the next basement run and whether he would be going along or not. There was the ever-popular "Ohmygod guys it's Spider-man! I'm friends with Spider-man guys ohmygod!" And leading off of that was the big thing Scott wanted to talk to him about. It was one thing talking to Guybrush; that guy had lived and been comfortable with that kind of knowledge from day 1. It would be another to talk to someone who had found out in the Institute, the same way Scott had. Hopefully, talking with someone who had gone through the same realization would help him to deal with his own confused feelings. 

Scott suddenly realized how much that thought made it sound like he was coming out of the closet. Arglgblaggfb. 

[Peter and eventually Peter's heterosexual life partner, Brainy]

[tightsofmight]

Still no conclusive opinion on the Doctor, then. By all knowledge, he was a decent person and a good friend of Brainy's. A little eccentric, maybe (there was something in his gestures and tone, Peter thought), but otherwise perfectly harmless. And yet some deep, terrible part of Peter still wanted him to go away.

Augh, he was the crappiest person on the planet. Seriously. Brainy could and should hang out with whomever he pleased, because he needed friends. Everybody needed friends. Just because Peter wasn't his only special snowflake buddy in the whole wide world didn't mean Brainy was going to think less of him. Right?

Peter's steps were touched with a hint of shamefuls as he pitter-patted his way into the Sun Room. Luckily for him, there was the perfect distraction from his most embarrassing of quandaries - one Scott Pilgrim. They had a fair bit to catch up on, didn't they?

He waved with his good hand and strolled on over to the next available seat near the Canadian, careful not to jostle his shoulder as he sat. (Was he ever itching to rip this sling off. Sitting around waiting for crap to heal never stopped feeling like a waste of time.)

"Hey!" he said brightly. "So - who's this Porky Minch creep and what the hell happened there?"

[osakapwnzu.livejournal.com]

Feeeeeeehhh.

So he'd told a tiny, tiny lie to Kaito, but it was for his own good--Heiji plead the preservation of life. Shinichi had come up to talk to him the day before he'd been attacked, Kaito shouldn't be next. Not at least until he'd had a chance to talk to Okita and get some kind of angle on the situation. Figure out what to do before it happened again.

And yet he wasn't seeing Okita until lunchtime and Kaito was on the lookout for Heiji. And he didn't have anywhere to hide. His nurse was refusing to take him back to his room ("You've spent too much time in there lately, Harley! Interaction is the key to happiness~"), and he didn't have an Arts and Crafts room to hide in either. So what would keep Kaito away from him?

Heiji rushed over to one of the armchairs in the corner and lay down in it as though he were sleeping. Catching up on stuff: like sleeping.

[For Kaito~]

[flashyaudacity]

Between the situation with Yukari and Hattori dodging questions on the bulletin (first today was bad to meet up, then it wasn't bad but he was just busy?), Kaito's mood had already deteriorated from the cheery place it had been when he'd headed to breakfast. He was pretty sure his nurse was going to comment on that, too, the next time he saw her.

He spotted Hattori spread across a couch and frowned. "'Catching up on stuff'," he grumbled under his breath. "Right."

If the detective was planning on sleeping right now, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Kaito headed straight for the couch his friend was draped across, coming to a stop by him and crossing his arms. Confident that Hattori wasn't actually asleep (yet), he demanded, "What's your problem, Hattori? You check up on me on the board, but then can't spare some time to talk?"

With his dodging on the bulletin and the way he'd reacted in the showers the other day, Kaito felt it was a perfectly valid question. He was sure now that Hattori was avoiding him (or trying to), but the question was why.

"This doesn't have something to do with Kudou's accusations, does it?"

[guardiancomplex.livejournal.com]

Well, that was interesting, but not very productive.

So the ring was like some kind of teleportation ring--that took the wearer and their group to the last place they were when the stone was broken. But when Touya had awoken and found the ring still on his finger, there was no stone to break. It had to be replaced with something... Maybe Yue remembered, because Touya hadn't been paying attention until after he'd found the ring.

He knew it was dangerous, at the very least. Anything that Landel gave them was dangerous. But now that Touya knew what it did, he decided that it was useful and needed someone to use it. He couldn't possibly expose Sakura or Yuki to that sort of danger, but Yue might want to take it on. Which meant Touya would have to make it obnoxiously clear that he was going to carry it.

He sighed. That would be difficult to do without breaking what they had already built. How to do it without suggesting Yue couldn't protect him?

After being deposited in the Sun Room, Touya removed the ring from his pocket furtively, and turned it over in his fingers. The repetitive motion allowed him to focus, to think.

[Fai! ♥]

[not-rly-fai.livejournal.com]

Breakfast was left untouched, but Yuuhi was left with more than enough food for thought. The nurse escorted him from the table, clicking her tongue at the uneaten food. His smile was brighter though, and the nurse didn't even seem to notice how empty it seemed. She led him to the Sun Room, which was already starting to get crowded.

"I know you're not feeling so well Robin, but it won't do you any good to hide in your room," she explained, eying the crowd for anyone she'd seen the patient with lately. "Look, there's Thomas and he doesn't have anyone to play with. You're friends, aren't you? Why don't you go say hello?"

"Oh- well- that's alright really. I had plans to go see my-" he started, glancing around for any stranger without a friend or playmate. Too slow, of course, as the nurse grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the proper direction. Before he could protest, she was already making introductions.

"Thomas, would you like to play with Robin today? He's not feeling very well and I think a friend would do him some good. Keep an eye on him and don't let him get into any arguments with Aiden," she said primly before turning on her heel, leaving Yuuhi to spend the shift with Touya.

"Morning," he greeted the other with a wave, taking note of, but saying nothing of the ring. Seemed several patients had one now, but it didn't look like Touya's had a jewel in it any longer. Not his business, he decided.

"How've you been?"

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

That was an interesting night, to say the least.

Not only had he found two more people who didn't think it was a terribly big deal that he was blue and furry, but right after they had finished introductions and the like, the night was over! Nights were starting to feel shorter and shorter for Kurt, and he wondered if this was one of those 'Bad Signs' he'd heard about on the bulletin.

He consumed a stack of waffles as though nothing was wrong, then left a quick message for Sakura and Ranulf on the bulletin--as Nightcrawler, of course. There were only four people he had ever felt comfortable revealing his identity to: Kon, Terry, Peter, and Minako. They seemed to know and understand what Kurt was up against, and how nervous he was about it. They'd promised to keep it a secret--and sadly Kurt only had to worry about two people inadvertently telling someone.

Comfortably full, he curled up in an armchair and decided he wanted to look out the window for a bit. Maybe later he'd ask a nurse for something to read. Meanwhile, he was thinking about how best he could overcome this short-night thing.

[RAIL TRACERRRRR. D8]

[train-tracer.livejournal.com]

Claire had discovered the bulletin board. What a day of discoveries! First, he'd woken up and discovered himself in a mental institute where he was not supposed to be. Then he had discovered waffles. And now, he had discovered the fun of bulletin boards! It was a novel thing to him, communicating through slips of paper on a community board like this. Everything was public, but that made things many times more interesting, he decided. He'd already had fun looking around all the other posts and replying where he felt the need to. Or rather, replying when he felt like it.

His nurse was a short distance away, still trying to catch her breath from chasing down her patient. Claire frowned at her, disapproving that she seemed to be both incredibly moody and incredibly short-of-stamina. If they were going to assign someone to chaperon him, at least pick one that can keep up with him!

His nurse has caught her breath now and is waving a hand frantically at him, ushering him away from the the board. Oh well, he'd been here for a while now, reading replies. He could come back to it later! His note (http://community.livejournal.com/damned_bulletin/776547.html) was sure to get attention here when it was smack in the middle of the board!

Satisfied, he stepped away from the board, scanning this new room he had arrived yet. It was a big place, he saw, with plenty of room. There were already many other patients around. He noticed the pink-hair of his newest friend, Sakura, but saw that she was talking to someone. Oh well, it was good to meet new people!

Hmm, someone to talk to... there! There was a guy just curled up in an armchair near a window somewhere. Claire made his way over. Hey, there was even another armchair to sit in a little ways away! He plopped himself down in it, scooting the chair closer so he could talk to this guy.

“Hey there!”

[autophoenix.livejournal.com]

For all of the apologizing that he had deemed necessary for his strangeness, Claire really owed Stefan some serious thanks for the information she'd gotten over lunch. Her unanswered questions about the night before had been, for the most part, set to rest, and it had helped her to feel better that she hadn't been the only one to, at some point during her stay in the institute, be haunted by her own fractured reflection.

Landel had some serious issues if he was really that obsessed with making the patients look at themselves and face their worse qualities in that way, sure, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it for now. Just preparation for what they had to face -- which, apparently, would frequently be themselves. Knowing how guilty she'd felt about getting Bella involved in the scuffle with her mirror image helped her commiserate with Stefan, sympathize with how he must have felt facing down his own shadow, and she could only hope that unlike her, he hadn't had a friend -- or, rather, a one time friend -- there to see it.

Even though the day was only a few hours in, she'd been able to answer most of what she was hoping to learn from Stefan's open and honest explanation alone. His experience, as regrettable as it was, gave her something to report back to Peter so she could ideally sate his curiosity as well. With that in mind, as soon as the nurse brought her into the sun room and she couldn't find Peter with her initial sweep of the room, she set about finding a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down a note (http://community.livejournal.com/damned_bulletin/772879.html) to try and get his attention.

A part of her couldn't help wanting to hammer in the 'I told you so,' but she convinced herself to keep it brief. It took her a moment, but as an afterthought she added a (1) to the end of his name, remembering that he'd done the same when contacting her. After all, distinguishing them as young Peter and uncle Peter was probably only okay in her mind.

As she pinned it to the bulletin board, she cast a cursory glance up over her shoulder at the balcony above them, catching the eyes of one of the nurses that peered down from above to keep an eye on them. Still creepy. Partially out of apprehension about getting jumped if she took a seat on the couch again, and partially because she wanted to get a good look at the room, she hovered by the bulletin board for a moment longer, scoping things out.

It hadn't occurred to her at breakfast, but now that she took a look around the room, she realized just how long it had been since she'd seen Sylar hanging around. A small part of her prayed it meant he'd been killed or gone home, but the more irrational part of her knew it wasn't the case -- that he was just lying in wait or something equally devious. Looking altogether paranoid and shifty, she crossed her arms over her chest, shoulders hunching as she walked over to where the couches were, grabbing herself a free seat before she missed her chance.

[ for tim drake! ]

[hiddenbadass]

[From here.]

"You know," the woman spoke after a few moments of walking, "most new patients usually have more questions for us."

So he was 'new', then. Good. He could get intel and not seem out of place.

"Like what?"

"Like where they are, who I am; things like that," she replied helpfully, almost seeming cheerful that he was engaging her.

"You're my nurse," Mike answered the obvious, and that's all he needed to know. "What is this place?"

"Landel's Institute," she stated cheerfully. "You're here to get better!"

"Better from being nuts, you mean," Mike grunted.

Her step faltered, "Er, well...."

Mike waved her off; that's all he needed to know. "It's okay. Just take me to this Sun Room."

"Of course," she replied, still a bit hesitant. "Right this way, Michael."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, which was fine by Mike. He kept himself busy by memorizing the halls and corridors they were traveling through. His nurse had interrupted his search of the room, and he might have to go back to complete it later. There were other rooms in that same area that would possibly have things that he could use.

But for now, they were entering the "Sun Room". There were already plenty of other 'patients' here, some standing around while others sat on couches. Too many patients to keep an eye on each; he'd have to react to any attacks instead of predicting them beforehand. And then there was the noise. Everyone, or mostly everyone, were talking at conversation levels. Noises like that could mask someone sneaking up behind him to take him unawares.

A look up showed that the room was named after its ceiling. There were other members of the staff watching them from up above as well. He frowned slightly; a sun room where the walls were made of glass would have been easier to escape from. The only way to escape was through the ceiling, and he didn't know how far this new body he was in could jump. Not to mention, he'd have to get through everyone in the balcony too.

Something brushed up against his ankle just then, and he almost kicked out at it reflexively. The only thing that stopped him was that he realized it wasn't a threat at the last second. It wasn't a threat because it was a cat.

Mike looked down at the feline still rubbing against his leg. The cat was fluffy and orange, maybe a couple of years old at most. The former turtle swallowed softly, then slowly sank down onto a knee and held out his hand to the cat. It sniffed at his hand, then rubbed up against it. Mike scratched it behind the ears, then slowly stroked down its body all the way to the end of its--no, her--tail. She began to purr.

His nurse was watching him, smiling softly, and he ignored her until she spoke up, "I know the first day is a bit overwhelming, but please try to make some friends. You'll have a much better stay here if you do, and being around others will help you get better."

The former turtle nodded, not seeing any particular reason to speak, and was mildly relieved when his nurse left with a "See you later!"

Which left him and the cat that wasn't his alone in a room filled with too many people making too much noise.

[Closed to Niikura Shou!]

[oneman-onekill.livejournal.com]

Niikura always imagined that meeting a fictional character in reality would be so much more...dramatic and caps lock filled as the universe slowly collapsed following the fall of the fourth wall. Yet, none of that had happened; in fact, this breakfast had been his most somber one yet, even with his standard one or two off-color comments.

Really, with Tomoe, could he have expected anything less...?

Oh well. Such was life. He sauntered away from his nurse as soon as he got in the Sun Room, waving her off with a grin and a promise to behave himself and find a new friend, (How could she expect anything less?) and got down to business with his usual energy. Someone new, someone--oh hey, a cat. Adorable orange fellow that looked pretty familiar, currently taken by--oh hey, someone new. Niikura smiled lightly to himself as he stood a short, respectable distance away, taking in the odd pair. Not everyday he saw a tough guy with his left arm missing petting a cat.

Walking up casually, he looked down at the cat. "Hey, two days and ya forgot me already? That hurts, y'know." Never mind that he hadn't been too pleased about this guy interrupting his nap back then; that was in the past.

He glanced up at One Hand-san, and allowed a flicker of hesitance to cross his face - just enough to seem normal; he was supposed to be a regular kid, after all. "Cats. Gotta love 'em." Slow, easy, awkward teenage smile. Habitual smoothing of hair. "Don't know why they keep so many of 'em in here. You'd think someone would've complained 'bout allergies or somethin'."

[cannotlogout.livejournal.com]

Tsukasa almost didn't want to look when he opened his eyes. After last night, with the grime and filth and stains that he didn't want to think about too closely, he really didn't want to get a close look at what the bedrooms could become. The thought made him feel slightly ill and he'd never considered himself a squeamish person before. He rolled over though, and the light filtered through his eyelids. It... probably was daytime then. He opened one eye a crack, relieved to see white paint and linoleum and hating himself, just a little, for being relieved.

The nurse was there as normal too, giving him a gentle scolding for sleeping through breakfast and telling him that he'd just have to wait until lunch now. That suited him just fine. If the hallways had been like that, then he didn't want to even contemplate what the kitchens must have been like. Gross.

The Sun Room was as bright and airy as ever, the Institution cats wandering around, curling up in whatever patches of brightness they could find. The days were getting shorter though. Winter approaching fast. Tsukasa found himself a free seat easily enough, scooping a little tabby kitten into his lap. It yowled in protest before sniffing him and deciding that he made a comfortable enough perch. He wondered idly if it had a proper name. Seemed terribly sad for it to just be called whatever someone felt like calling it on any given day.

[Free!]

[feartehreaper.livejournal.com]

Don't be ridiculous...

Haseo went from asleep to sitting up immediately, these words ringing in his head and absolutely confused. His hands clenched around swords that were no longer there, tongue biting back retorts he hadn't had a chance to use. He'd been ready to fight Kibitoshin's shadowy copy, and yet... for some reason, that hadn't happened. The last thing he remembered was the man himself insisting he not go at it alone, and then everything abruptly going black. And before that...

Needless to say, today promised to be particularly bad, mood-wise. The next five minutes were spent with his face in his hands, angry at... well, everything. It was obvious, too- his nurse actually found reason to pause when she came in to fetch him, whatever chiding she'd been preparing for his missing breakfast going mostly left aside.

However, as bad as it was, he wasn't going to just lie around in bed all day. As much as the place tried to knock him down, he refused to stay there, basically lying down in wait to just die. That didn't mean he had to be pleasant though- hate continued to fill every tiny interaction he made with the staff, and he thought that the loss of breakfast was just as well, because he definitely wasn't hungry. He also didn't think he could stand being cornered by another patient while trying to eat anyway. At least not without outright snapping.

The Adept Rogue ignored everyone at first in favor of checking the bulletin, but it didn't take long for him to decide that it just wasn't worth it. It also didn't take him long to notice someone of interest soon afterward, and weaving through the others he paused a short distance away from Tsukasa, notably silent as he watched the other teen with the kitten, slowly crossing his arms.

[monkeyboy]

Goku had enjoyed talking with Kairi and, of course, eating, so when his nurse came to take him into the Sun Room, he was less than pleased. He glowered at her approach and all but grabbed onto the table for dear life so she couldn't take him away. It hadn't worked; the table was too wide for his small hands and far too slippery.

As gently as she could, the woman wrapped a hand around his wrist and dragged him, as per usual, to the spacious and plush room. As long as he didn't bite, the nurse simply ignored his growling.

"You're a little high strung today, Billy, so why don't you sit here and calm down," The young boy had eaten three waffles and a pile of fruit. The nurse knew that his sugar levels were probably off the charts, so she needed to find him something soothing and interactive for him that way he wouldn't distract the rest of the patients.

Letting Billy find a seat, the nurse found the solution in the form of a quiet cat. The rambunctious boy had told her on several occasions he enjoyed the outdoors, so the nurse could only assume he was an animal person as well. "Here, Billy. Be real gentle with him, okay?"

"Okay!" Goku's bad mood was completely erased when he saw the big tabby in his nurse's arms. He held out his stubby hands for it. "Hee hee..." The monkey boy cradled it gently despite his usual carelessness. "Hi! I'm Goku!" He greeted, though he obviously didn't expect a response from the cat, Goku was just being courteous. Since living alone in the wilderness for years, he regarded the local animal population as part of his family.

"You're really fat, haha!" Goku laughed as he rubbed the tabby's belly.

[Come forth jungle momma!]

[savagesolitude.livejournal.com]

Claire had been allowed to briefly go back to her room after breakfast. To 'grab her diary', she'd told the nurse. While the journal was clutched in her hands now, it wasn't the whole reason for the trip. That would be the candy bars tucked into her pockets, the bulk of which was well hidden by the edge of loose cotton shirt just a size too large. She had spent the whole time in the cafeteria weeping onto Bella and talking in hushed tones, so the waffles had gone to waste. Not to mention she still wasn't sure if she could risk poisoning.

Yet she couldn't stand another minute without food. If there was one good thing about the miserable time in that town last night, it was the chance to grab some snacks. Candy was terrible for you, she knew, but it was better than nothing. At least it would be a nice treat after eating nothing but papayas and fish.

She drifted somberly into the Sun Room, her mood having not improved much in the last hour. But there was something good in here. She spotted a familiar head of unruly hair, a childish laugh from behind the arm of a sofa.

A silly notion tugged at her lips. The corners tilted into a smile.

Subtly, her eyes flicked between the nurses stationed around the room. They weren't checking on her. Neither were the ones on the balcony, at least not yet. She could risk it if she angled herself properly.

Claire approached silently from behind, one hand dipping into her pocket. She waited until she was right up close to the sofa, then leaned over Goku's head with a smile. While the rest of the room saw only her back, she deftly pulled out a yellow-clad candy bar and dangled it in front of the boy.

"I found you a present."

[thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com]

All in all, Ruby could say without a doubt that she was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Even if you put aside all the discomfort she was feeling from being crammed in her vessel with no exit strategy in a psychiatric hospital that would probably just cry self-loathing issues if they knew she called herself a demon, there was still all the messy death, the missing memories and the seriously skewed timeline issues to deal with that Sam had graciously dumped on her over breakfast.

To say her death vexed her would be the world's greatest understatement, and while, all in all, it may not have been Hell, it wasn't really ranking top 10 best days either. Not even close to the best way to start her day. On the way out of the cafeteria, the nurse attempted what she probably thought was comforting guidance by way of putting her hands on Ruby's arm to lead her toward the Sun Room, leading the demon to just forcibly jerk her limb away from the bitch and shoot a dismissive glare.

Right. No violence. It was hard to keep reminding herself of that when all she wanted to do was tear the bitch's head off and kill her way out. Harder still when she realized that they were moving into some fucking sitting room where they were supposed to sit and socialize like their lives weren't being bent and twisted to be what the good doctor decided they should be.

At least she'd gotten the run down on the monsters. Sam's notes had helped, even if his words had put her in a weird spot emotionally -- Christ, how pathetic was she? Weird spot emotionally wasn't even a phrase she wanted to introduce into her vocabulary.

So, instead of letting herself slide by with that explanation, she settled on just being frustrated as all Hell, adapting the most antisocial look she could manage. The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about her feelings or mingle and make friends with the other inmates. She wanted to get out of there, hop in her car and drive until she got sufficient space to stop and thinking and reevaluate where she stood. She needed time and isolation, but here, she couldn't get either. There was no getting to her car, no smoking out and taking a vacation south of the border. Just her and a dozen other unhappy customers.

With this heavy in her mind, ever present thanks to that pressure in her chest that the bodylock had made impossible to ignore, she headed up to check out the bulletin board. Most of Sam's notes, it appeared, had come from discussion that took place there, and it seemed like a good place to start. It wasn't exactly an open road and an empty motel room or a whiskey sour but it was the closest to quiet and isolated as she was going to get. There was at least a fifty percent less chance of being bugged to all Hell by some moron if she was busy looking generally unapproachable and reading instead of paying attention to them.

[ for the littlest nobody ]

[rischiarare.livejournal.com]

Getting out of a bed was a struggle for the Nobody when daylight cracked its way into his room and roughly shook him by the shoulders - which ached. It then lit his legs - also aching - and briefly slipped over his arms before the fake florescence of the overhead lights bled the sun out. Unsurprisingly, they hurt too.

Whatever Scott's shadow had been, it was a lot tougher than a Shadow... or Roxas was a lot weaker. The latter was more a fact than anything else if he considered how he couldn't move like he used to, or summon a ball of light in his hands that would bleed and squirm like a live thing, or even just summon the Keyblade when he needed it. No, now it came when it felt like it, like the weapon had a mind of its own and only came when absolutely necessary. Still, the shadow, the way it had spoken, all of it had unnerved Roxas. The Heartless were monsters, sure, but they still had that small little light inside of them. It could be unearthed. And he knew Heartless; he knew how they moved and how they could be defeated. But whatever the other-Scott had been, it had not light inside of it. It didn't hide a Heart.

Whatever it had been, he hoped to not have to see one again. If the Keyblade couldn't hurt it, he wasn't exactly sure how to fight it. It was hard enough just to get out of bed now, even after using it such a short amount of time - the first time he sat up, he immediately flopped back down. After some rolling about, absorbing the pain of his fatigued muscles and bruised shoulders, Roxas did eventually roll out of bed only to nearly fall onto the floor. He shuffled about slowly (not like a zombie) to hide the pipe underneath his mattress again and follow his suddenly-appearing nurse to the Sun Room. He realized he'd missed breakfast again, and his stomach growled unappreciatively as he passed close enough to the cafeteria to smell the remainders of food.

At least he had the chance to check up on the bulletin, spotting the note to the Arts and Crafts Club from Sora almost immediately. Or, at least, he could see some of it, the other part somewhat blocked by a woman also reading the board.

Picking up a pen, he announced himself with a well-spoken "Um," before following up with "could you move just a bit to the left? Sorry, I need to see the rest of this."

[kindalikedit]

So Dean hadn’t got a chance to crash Sam’s party yet.

That didn’t mean Operation: Kill Sam Winchester In His Sleep still wasn’t on table.

‘Course his brother would see him coming. No doubt Sam had figured out that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t cool between them. Maybe he’d try to change the subject or try to turn this back into being about The Job, like Dean would be willing to turn a blind eye to this again just ‘cause it gave him a sick feeling to think Sam was less than human. Sam kept doing that at him; this time Dean wasn't going to roll over. He wasn’t sure exactly what old Yellow-Eyes did to the kid when he’d been in Lawrence. Wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. But none of that changed the fact that Sam was plain different than he was and it kinda freaked him out. Humans simply weren’t supposed to be able to light people on fire with the power of their minds, dammit. Sam wasn’t supposed to be rocking black eyes, either. The kid used to be normal.

So yeah. Dean wanted answers ‘cause it was either that or he stew in all these questions. He was done with trying to give Sam his space, Cold Oak or not.

He didn’t think he’d be so over seeing one place as he was with the Sun Room. Day in, day out. Same room, same people. No wonder people got nuts showing up at 9 to 5’s. He would’ve killed himself outta cabin fever if he’d been in a civilian’s place.

The Sun Room wasn’t entirely full but he wasn’t the first one there. Some folks beat him here, doing the whole sitting around and chatting it up thing. Ruby was here, looking hot as usual, checking out the bulletin board. He wasn’t too surprised to see some new faces he didn’t recognize. Most of them he did, which was surprising – he expected this place with all the freaks and spirits running around to have a way higher death toll. Monsters didn’t generally hold back, not unless they were trying to use you as bait to bring the rest of the lemmings running to them. This wasn’t working the way it was supposed to. Still, some of the patients had gone missing – or “released” or whatever they wanted to call it – and he figured the Head Doctor wanted a constant stream of fresh meat. Wasn’t a nice thought, especially with that chick getting tortured last night, and now that throwaway line about cleaning up his office this morning. One of these days, someone was going to shank Martin Landel.

If Dean had it his way, he’d get first dibs. And this time it wouldn’t be one of these iffy things about killing humans; what Landel did was already classifying him as a borderline monster in his book. The guy was fair game.

Dean settled back against the couch, slouching slightly and letting his head rest back. His finger tapped idly on the crook of his elbow as he kept an eye out for Sam, or anything weird going on around him. So far they hadn’t gotten attacked during day light hours, but he’d rather not get surprised just ‘cause he got lazy. With Sam being a no show, Dean kept an eye on Ruby, watching what she did. Dean didn't think she'd give him a lot of clues about what Sam had been talking to her about but still. Call it professional curiosity. She was a hunter and he wanted to see how she operated.

She also had a pretty nice ass from over here.

[For Sherlock]

[sociopathology.livejournal.com]

The act of following people from room to room was already becoming tiresome. Conformity at its best, with strict time sheets, similar clothes and nurses moving the day along whenever they got their say so; Sherlock hated it all, but he especially hated his nurse. She chattered mindlessly as she lead him through the corridors, a constant wail of conversation that Sherlock simply couldn't care less about. He barely even responded to her, having discovered that she refused to answer the questions he deemed useful, and would instead move it onto more small talk. When the opportunity presented itself, Sherlock broke away from her and left her talking to herself, ducking through crowds of people until he could finally see the room everyone was beginning to gather themselves into.

He took a small, sweeping glance of the place; sickly coloured and bright, with the quiet sound of whispered conversations floating around the room. Still no sign of John, which was a thought registered with the slightest of frowns. Was he even here? It was almost like looking for a needle in a haystack. He could, at least, tell that he wasn't the only one to be newly admitted; several people wore confused expressions and spoke with a certain nervousness. It didn't make him feel better. But then, things rarely did.

He strolled across the room, picking up snippets of bland conversation as he went, and he idly viewed the notice board with a vague sort of fascination. It was full of vague hints and tricks, with the occasional cryptic notes. It must be how everyone kept in touch; how he missed his phone. Or better yet, John's phone. What he'd give to text out a simple message. His thumbs feel idle with no technology to type onto and no way of gathering snippets of information. After a long few minutes of simply taking his surroundings in, he chose a seat a quiet way's away, dragging his feet up and holding his knees against his chest. He took this moment to eye someone close enough to observe; he was quiet and thoughtful, gaze pointedly settled upon a woman a short distance from where they sat. She was, Sherlock supposed, aesthetically pleasing in her own way, though women were admittedly a completely different field from which he studied in. They were strange creatures who obsessed about their looks, with emotions that ran faster than Sherlock's thought process. He hadn't met a woman that could prove her own intelligence, and whilst he was sure they existed somewhere, he didn't have any particular reason to go out of his way to finally work on understanding them. It would take more years than he'd be willing to give up.

Minutes passed, and Sherlock was still being silent. He had no reason to speak, and he was completely unaware of the awkward silence that would likely follow his arrival - the only way he'd notice it were if Dean were to pull an uncomfortable facial expression, or perhaps shift his body in a way that spoke volumes about his finding the situation off-putting. As it stood, Sherlock kept his thoughts to himself and simply watched Dean with a very weighted sort of concentration, his hands settled comfortably over the caps of his knees and his chin resting upon linked fingers.

Even geniuses need to practice to keep their talents fresh, and without John to watch, this stranger would have to do.

_{[I'm so sorry that this took so long. :(]}

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

Ridiculous.

Living shadows? Reflections of themselves? It was ridiculous. There obviously had to be some trick to it all, executed using the advanced technology at Landel's dispense. Rita wasn't about to throw away her common sense so easily, no matter what illusions he threw at her.

Still, there was something that bothered her about all this. That sniffling, sobbing, pathetic parody of herself didn't act anything like her, but it had somehow known her innermost fears. Did Landel have some method of spying without being detected, or to even probe one's memories? It was difficult to theorize about technology as advanced as what he had, which made it hard to imagine how he could have acquired such personal information.

In any case, Rita felt relieved to finally have some time to herself, after spending a long night with what had to be the most obnoxious, delusional, long-winded idiot she had ever met - and Rita knew a lot of idiots, so that said a lot.

Breakfast was spent alone with her notes, and when the shift changed, she simply moved to a couch in the Sun Room and continued her process of reading, writing, and revising notes in there. In them, she wrote her experiences, her theories about the previous night, and as usual, her magic formulas. In the end, her blastia wasn't in the Patient Possessions Room, and so Rita was going to have to rely heavily on what little magic she could manage without it, which meant experimenting a bit with the formulas.

[witchoftruth]

Her morning conversation with Sync did little to refresh Erika's mood, despite their agreement to never speak of the revelations they learned about each other last night. Probably because the detective was burning with the desire to find out exactly what transpired last night and smash it apart, so show Landel that he was wrong. That spark of hate was enough to motivate Erika to finally begin her normal morning routine, and this included checking the bulletin board.

Sure enough, Erika could find many notes about the events of last night, suggesting that it wasn't just them. So, that meant there were numerous people she could talk to regarding this matter... And the one Erika decided to approach was a girl who appeared busy. It wasn't like Erika was deliberately trying to ruin someone's morning, but this girl looked like she was writing notes and hopefully was working on something important. With Momo gone, it was time for her to look for more leads.

"Excuse me," Erika stood across from the girl, giving her a brief glance of acknowledgement before continuing. "I'd like to speak to someone regarding the events of last night. Were you someone who experienced them?" Despite her tone, which sounded very much like someone talking about the weather, Erika looked serious as she waited for an answer. Even if this girl was an idiot, she could still probably get a clue about the shadows, how they acted with the patient populace at general - something that the detective could use.

[thecamellia.livejournal.com]

_[free]

Suddenly waking up back in bed solved the problem of navigating Doyleton, but it also meant that somewhere Fai was doing the same, the nurses ready to go about their business like nothing outwardly had happened. "And when you wake up in the morning, you’ll be able to neatly pack it away again and stash it where your allies and enemies aren’t able to see. Unless, of course… they have already seen it."

But Tsubaki wasn’t really worried about herself or what Fai had "heard" about herself. That could wait, could be unpacked calmly later. She wasn’t worried about what she had heard regarding Fai, either, because according to her, she hadn’t heard anything. At least nothing that affected her opinion. She trusted--had to trust--that people would feel the same. Fai’s condition and what he thought of her having been witness to his shadow was what concerned her the most.

But running off in search of him was the wrong thing to do, Tsubaki felt. The next best thing was to leave a note, which she did.

She was going to be leaving a lot of notes today. The shadows didn’t stop hospital life from moving on, and she had Mori on her mind, as well as her other friends. Though the Sun Room was likely going to be a crowded spot that day, she didn’t see anyone she could approach, and with nothing more to do, Tsubaki took a seat, keeping an eye on the door. It wasn’t long the nurse who escorted her in came back, however, this time with something in her arms.

It was the first time they’d ever tried to seriously give her a kitten to watch over, and Tsubaki was caught off guard when the woman held out a little black and white kitten. "Oh, but I--"

"Here, just take her and see how it goes for a little while. These guys need some attention now and again."

She’d never thought of playing with one of the cats when there were other prisoners around, and she was a bit bemused to find one in her lap while the nurse turned around and went on her way again. The kitten mewed, batting its paw, and Tsubaki stroked the underside of its chin without thought. It wasn’t like she couldn’t do what the nurse had said. The Head Doctor had doubtlessly meant to hurt her like anyone else, but she had no reason to withdraw and dwell on what the shadow had said to her, about her. Her time with her brother hadn’t ended well, but they had… she had… done what she’d done without doubt.

In fact, if there was one thing that stood out to her, it was that Landel clearly wasn’t going to spare his "investigators" from any obstacles. Which reminded her of Kurogane. What had happened to him while she and Fai had been together?

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

Sai awoke to find he'd missed out on breakfast. He didn't mind this so much, as he doubted he would have been up to eating anything just yet anyway. Still, he didn't like losing track of any period of time, no matter how inconsequential. He followed his nurse to the sun room silently, mulling over the events from the night before.

While he and Naruto had managed to get further than they had for a good many nights before that, what they'd found had left mixed feelings in his mind at best. Now that they knew where that location was, they might be able to return there in the future. It certainly had a few things that might be useful to them. The creatures that had taken on shadowy visages of themselves, however, were something he would gladly avoid in the future if possible. And it was embarrassing, not that he should ever feel embarrassed, but that failure was part of the reason the creature had been able to get at him, wasn't it?

He was in the sun room before he realized it and he frowned at the crowd already there. Was it just him, or were there fewer patients than normal? And was this a good thing or a bad thing? He headed toward one of them at random, a girl already occupied with one of the sun room kittens. He didn't want to talk so much as he wanted to think, and if he was sitting with someone else the nurses weren't likely to bother him further.

"Good morning," he greeted without a smile, taking a seat beside her.

[windsome.livejournal.com]

Breakfast had been...

It had been something all right, something truly beyond her own comprehension. Just what happened there? If it hadn't been so incredibly jarring Yukari would have called it surreal, so much that she didn't know what to make of it.

If anything, however, Yukari just wanted to stop thinking. It would have been nice, but her train of thought was scrambling around in incoherent circles, and it felt like nothing she could do would make it stop.

This place was too much. She wanted to go home already. There had already been enough completely crazy happenings in her life, so why couldn't things have stayed normal for a change! She was very nearly there, right? There was moving into that new dorm soon, and looking forward to her third year, but before that she was attending cram school, and that was the worst she needed to worry about-- so what the hell happened? Why this?

Yukari wasn't feeling so good, and the nurse that plucked her away from the breakfast table took notice in this.

"Are you okay?" she had asked, but if there was anyone Yukari wasn't admitting her problems to, it was the very people that were holding her here. The response was a very half-hearted nod, and a lie if she ever told one; the nurse seemed to pick up on this, too, but fortunately and for once, hadn't pressed the issue. Much.

"You didn't eat a whole lot at all. Are you sure--?"

"I'm fine."

This went back and forth a round or two more before the nurse either gave up on trying or decided it was for the better not to prod too much, and fortunately left Yukari to her own devices in the sun room. This time it was a little more familiar than before, so instead of glancing around in some sort of curious awe the girl went straight for the nearest vacant sofa and collapsed into it with a very lifeless flop. Man, sleep sounded really nice, too. There were more people around, but that didn't stop her from wrapping her arms around the biggest pillow nearby and sinking as far back into the cushion as she could.

Yukari knew she should have been doing much better things than this (such as finding out more, getting into the groove of this absolutely insane place), but the temptation of comfy sofas overrode that line of logic.

[for minato!]

[foolishmessiah.livejournal.com]

He had slept in. His nurse had tsked and looked him over, but allowed him to head to breakfast just a little late; she was concerned about him coming down with the cold again so soon after recovering, and he said nothing to alleviate her worries. It was all the same to him, after all; cold or no cold, he was going to eat his share of the breakfast buffet and breeze through the rest of the day.

Despite that mindset, Minato paused on his way to the Sun Room as he heard the intercom. "Dr. Weaver is gone?" he murmured, glancing back at his nurse in askance.

"Oh dear... This inconsistency isn't going to help your treatment at all." He didn't react as his nurse patted his shoulder comfortingly, his thoughts already turning inward. His second assigned doctor in two weeks had left. Even for a mental institute, the quick turnaround of doctors was strange -- and also worrying. If Dr. Stein and Dr. Weaver had stumbled upon something in the institute, they could have been disposed of...

He wouldn't put it past the Head Doctor.

"You already had your scheduled therapy session, Christian, so you won't have to worry about that for awhile. I'll be sure to find out who your new doctor is." The nurse once again patted his shoulder and smiled comfortingly at him, as if it would someone make the situation better.

His roommate had been 'released.' He would be assigned to another doctor for the same invasive introductory session. He still needed to get in contact with Aigis and Mitsuru -- and Junpei, too.

No, a pat on the shoulder was definitely not going to make the situation any better. Right now, all he wanted to do was find a sofa and zone out for awhile. His thoughts always managed to organize themselves when he did that.

[ai-no-minako.livejournal.com]

Seriously, just how many people could end up thinking they were countries? It didn't seem like a very common sort of crazy talk, though Minako had to admit she wasn't exactly wise in the ways of the insane. Some people might think she was insane if she tried to talk about exactly what she did back at home, too, so she was trying to be charitable and assume the whole "country" business was a figurative description, like a representative at the UN or something along those lines. Or maybe they called each other by country names for the same reason the senshi referred to each other by planet names? Who knew.

Still, though, she was interested to see that Alfred and Arthur and Ivan had other friends... even one who claimed to be Japan. That was kind of amusing and interesting at the same time, and left her interested in meeting the guy just to see what he'd be like. Hopefully not as annoying as Alfred or creepy as Ivan (and they were dating?). Arthur was nice, if a little cranky. So she'd have to hope for that.

Minako frowned at the bulletin thoughtfully, reading over all the other various notes with varying degrees of interest. At first she'd been kind of surprised at how many seemed to be simply inquiring after other people, but then she'd discovered just how difficult it could be to keep track of people here. It didn't make much sense, but it really was... sometimes it was like she'd just arrived yesterday, but other times just dragged. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and worried at it absently as she considered, sorting through all the notes in search of familiar names. Well, hopefully she wouldn't be here long enough for it to start making sense.

[Neku]

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

Neku wasn't feeling a whole lot better, but at least his stomach was full. There was a lot to be said for that, he supposed. He adjusted the volume on his headphones, intent on checking the bulletin, then taking up residence on one of the couches. Anything more strenuous than a nap seemed like a bad idea with how sore he felt and the injuries to his torso and shoulder.

Unfortunately, there was someone familiar already flipping through the papers. It wasn't that Minako was particularly obnoxious or anything. They'd actually had a reasonable amount in common, even if he would never understand the need for a hair ribbon to be that big.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting before flipping through some of the notes himself. Hard to believe that someone had died right here in front of this bulletin board just last night. There was no trace of blood or a body. Porky Minch was gone. At least it seemed like he was more or less a bad guy. People got taken in by the institute and brainwashed all the time, but Porky was the first one who seemed like he was well and truly enjoying himself during the fight.

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

The first thing McCoy did when he woke up was check to see if he still had his shadow. To his relief, it was there, very much not living and as steady as it always was. After last night, he'd nearly expected to wake up with it standing over him, and frankly, waking up unconsciously preparing to get the tar scared out of you wasn't any way to start a day.

He felt ridiculous even having to check in the first place. Checking for your own shadow? A living shadow that could vanish out from under you? Talk back? It sounded like some story an sibling might tell you before you went to sleep. It did wonders for putting some fear in you when you were younger, but now? McCoy didn't believe in monsters. He didn't believe in magic either.

What he did believe in was science, what new technology and new life forms could look like when first encountered, and here, a lack of any morals on the part of the facility. Those weren't monsters they faced. He was certain there was a perfectly good explanation for it, something science could explain given time and equipment. Whether it was an actual species or an experiment was up in the air.

What he needed was to put his head together with the others and compare notes. It might be easier to work out what had happened last night if he had more information. It'd also help when he didn't have to look at his own shadow acting like that out of the corner of his eye.

The doctor reached under his arm, taking out the notebook he'd brought along. He began to jot down a few notes.

[vodka-jump.livejournal.com]

Breakfast had actually put him in much better spirits. Still, he drew his coat about him as the nurse led him to the Sun Room next. There was a lot to consider. If they went on another expedition to find his scarf, he should make it fun if they were going to go with a group of friends. Usually, just the company of the other nations was enough to keep him entertained, but it wasn't often he entertained for others. What could be expected?

Maybe he should ask the bulletin board. There were always so many interesting opinions, not to mention people there. He couldn't be sure he'd get the right one, but they would be fun to read either way.

He also needed to find more friends to come along. He still didn't know so many outside of the other nations, so he should probably get to know some new patients too. Sure enough, there were plenty of smaller, weaker looking people. He decided to approach one, a smile on his lips. Didn't seem to be a country, at least not one worth recognizing.

"Good morning friend!"

[heraldric.livejournal.com]

Giving the news to someone that another patient was no longer around was definitely not an easy thing to do. It was undeniable now, though. Keman, the boy who'd been his roommate since he'd arrived, was no longer present in the Institute.

Leon had slept through breakfast, but he didn't feel any more energized when he was led into the sun room. This would be a good time to pin up a note about his next assignment, but he wasn't feeling up to doing that just yet. He would when he was certain he could write up something professional enough and not sound too upset. He'd become so numb to when people vanished here, it seemed, but it still hurt when it was someone particularly close to him. Even if he and Keman only got to talk during dinner most of the time, he'd really liked the boy. He could only hope he was safe, wherever he was.

The young mage found a spot on one of the sofas and curled up. Despite having already slept through the first shift, he didn't think a little more rest could hurt. He'd throw up the reminder before he was dragged off to lunch.

[Free]

[angeritself.livejournal.com]

In his condition and especially after yesterday, Shizuo was to be accompanied to the Sun Room. His nurse approached as he scowled at the last of the announcement, and supervised his awkward stand -- he refused her hand, and also her help as he situated himself with the single crutch. Even if he hadn't had ample experience with worse (believe it) injuries, and couldn't work a crutch, he wouldn't have wanted her help. In that situation, he may not have had a choice.

As if he did now. Though he hobbled along with ease, the woman persisted on staying at his side. Her mouth had set in a worried line: in this shift, there was no alternative, Mr. Takahashi and Mr. Peace would be in the same room. She searched the room for evidence of the other patient, and at not yet finding him, sought an appropriate place to put Ivan--one where he might have a limited view of the rest of the room. Unfortunately, the layout didn't lend to that. She'd also brought a little something, in the hopes of distracting him.

Finally, the nurse settled on the sofa occupied in part by young Daniel--surely, surely he would behave in front of a boy?--and Shizuo, still sedative shy and as such willing to go along, followed her. On realizing where she intended to put him, Shizuo stopped, about a foot from the couch.

"The kid's sleeping," he said, frowning.

"Then you'll have to be quiet, won't you? We don't have that many seats, Mr. Peace."

Then too focused on his grinding teeth and not snapping over that damn name, Shizuo stopped arguing. Though he struggled with it, having only one hand to set aside the crutch, he managed to sink into the other seat. After, the nurse handed him a book; she'd been carrying it under her arm.

"I noticed you didn't finish it yesterday," she began, voice sugary, "and I thought you might like to today."

Shizuo stared at the title. Green Eggs and Ham. He couldn't remember why, but somehow, it pissed him off.

[prodigalson]

Good. That was... a surprising, hardly used adjective, coming from Edward. But it was how he would have described his breakfast, having had nothing to do with waffles and syrup and various other piles of food that made him glad - as monstrous as it was or not - that he had a half-filled bottle of blood tucked between his mattresses. But with Venom, he felt as if he was actually getting something done when they combined their information together. Compiling it all into one source was the most constructive idea they'd had in a while, and it would definitely prove worthwhile as Landel kept explicating on his secrets with his self-obsessed, megalomaniac ramblings. Maybe the man was just waiting for someone to figure it all out - why leave the note?

Because, even if someone else - the third man, the one without a name - had given a clue to the memo, the fact remained that Martin had to have let it lie there for a reason. He controlled an entire staff; why couldn't one of them had heard the message and gone looking for the memo? Was it because of Next-Wave? Could he not control them while they became something else directly? He certainly seemed to have some control, considering he hadn't been slaughtered by a rogue creature at any time.

It was all clearly radical thinking, imagining a human with all of this power. How could have one developed this technology? How could the Volturi miss something as devastating as this?

Edward hugged his journal close to his chest, settling down in the middle of an empty couch and pouring over the handwritten fragments again. There were many missing pieces, but any work on the clues at all felt like something was finally getting accomplished. Looking back at his work, he added a final side note: V.: Blood untainted.

[For Peeta!]

[frostingboy.livejournal.com]

Breakfast had accomplished only one thing for Peeta: it had convinced him that the waffle was real. Of course, the cynical voice inside his head that had sustained him since the Capitol got hold of him those months ago had to point out that he didn't really know if the waffle had been real. The man who said it was obviously hadn't been real; he hadn't known who Katniss was, after all. But he needed to believe that the waffle had been real, because otherwise nothing was. Having established that he'd eaten real food, he could consider whether what he'd heard from the intercom was real. Something about patients and doctors. Could that mean...the war was over, and he'd been put in an institution in District 13? If that was the case, then maybe Katniss was still alive--

But every time he considered that prospect, his definition of reality did somersaults, and he couldn't hold on. He certainly couldn't hold on if she was dead, either, but at least then he knew he couldn't hold on. Somewhere in his mind, it made as much sense as anything else.

As it happened, he was too busy determining what made sense and what didn't to protest as a nurse guided him to the Sun Room and gently settled him on a couch. "Now, why don't you talk with Christopher, here? He could use a friend, too."

Peeta glanced blankly to the side. Another person who wasn't real? The other guy was writing something. Peeta couldn't make out most of it, it was being held too close and out of sight, but he caught a glimpse of two words. Blood untainted.

"You're right," he burst out. "Nothing's shiny. If they've drugged us," (and there he was, assuming this "Christopher" was real, but he hated to write people off, to dismiss them instead of reaching out to them), "it's with something different than last time."

[lighthearted]

After wishing Woody luck on both adjusting to his new body and finding Buzz, Sora was led into the Sun Room, which was already starting to get packed with people. It was hard to keep track of just how many patients were around; sometimes it seemed like there were less, sometimes more. It always fluctuated and he could never quite be sure of what to expect. Since everyone except those few who had been sent to therapy were now in this room, though, he had to fight just to get an open seat.

It seemed like most of the people in the club had done a decent job last night -- some had gotten farther than others, but most people had at least gathered supplies. It didn't sound like Kairi and Riku's group had gotten so far, but that was because of the whole mess with the shadows.

He didn't even want to imagine what Riku had had to hear last night, but he hoped that his friend was okay. Sora was glad that so many people were willing to sign up again for tonight, but he was worried that they would eventually lose interest. But if he kept them well-supplied and continued to give them tasks to do, then it would probably be okay, right?

Having found an open couch, Sora got comfortable on it and kept an eye out for one of his friends. He'd like to talk to at least one of them about everything that had happened. While Woody had been a good distraction, now that the boy was on his own again all he could do was worry.

[For Kairi.]

[kingdomless.livejournal.com]

Honestly, Kairi was grateful for her meeting with Goku that morning. She had been looking for something to take her mind off of what happened last night, and he had certainly been a good distraction. However, now it was a different shift, and she knew who she had to look for.

That was why she instantly chose to go to the Sun Room. Kairi knew that Sora would be patrolling the bulletin board, so it only made sense. He was running a club now, after all! He had to be alert, in case anyone else wanted to help them with whatever they were doing that night.

Needless to say, seconds after entering the room, Kairi instantly spotted a familiar head of spiky hair, and she smiled. His back was to her at that moment, so she took the opportunity to sneak up behind him. Standing behind him for a second, she finally bent over the couch and placed her hands over his eyes. "Guess who!" she chirped happily, pulling away before he could answer. Moving around the house, the princess looked to her friend with a smile. "Good morning, Sora. Want some company?"

[nobleman]

The conversation he'd had with Claude had been necessary, but that didn't make it any less draining. As Guy was led from the cafeteria out into the Sun Room, he couldn't help wishing that he could just go back to his room to get some rest. Claude had been extremely understanding about everything, but there was still a lot that they needed to get through. He still had to consider his friend's offer to just spend the coming night sorting through all of it. Part of him thought it was a waste of time, but if they let this stew for too long, who knew what would happen.

However, as much as he wanted to just go and hide away in his room for a while, Guy knew that that wasn't an option. He had people to talk to, information to gather and also to give out. Natalia was at the front of his mind, since he'd left her hanging on the bulletin board and he already felt guilty enough about that. But it was the sort of thing that he wanted to tell her in person, even if he was pretty sure she'd already figured out what had happened.

Maybe not the full extent of it, though -- that both Luke and Asch were likely gone, if she'd even gotten to see Asch in the first place. To find out he'd been here and she'd missed her chance to talk to him again would probably crush her.

Upon stepping into the room, however, Guy didn't see any sign of the princess. He let out a sigh and allowed a nurse to steer him to an empty spot, where he bodily fell onto the couch cushion and leaned against the armrest. Resting his chin in his hand, he watched the door from the cafeteria, keeping an eye out for Natalia and doing his best not to appear as tired as he felt.

He couldn't help wondering if she'd had to face a shadow of herself, and if so, what it had said to her.

[For Natalia.]

[nobleobliged.livejournal.com]

Breakfast had remained, overall, a grim affair. Natalia's appetite, reduced, had barely stomached half a waffle and the fruit; she'd mostly nursed her juice and wished she was better able to lift both their spirits. Not that it had not been good to spend time with Anise, even under such solemn circumstances. When the intercom announced the closure of the meal and the move to another room, Natalia bid the girl a reluctant good-bye.

As she walked the short distance to the Sun Room, Natalia thought back to her posting. Within the room, she stopped at the Bulletin Board and looked over the replies, lingering on Guy's. A few disappearances -- and a promise to speak later. Anise had neither spoken to nor seen Guy the night before, thus he could only mean Luke or Asch, and for him to say a few cast a definitive cloud of foreboding.

Perhaps now was the later to which he'd referred. Turning from the board, her eyes swept the room, seeking the former servant. Her enthusiasm, her desire to meet again with Guy was tempered not only by the topic, but by the dregs of her shadow's words. Keeping them at bay (leech, burden, unable to--), Natalia found him seated on a couch, the seat beside him not yet taken. A remarkable thing, given the speed at which the room had filled. A beat of hesitation, her hand curling at her chest, before Natalia forced herself into a quick stride forward. Once standing over him, she attempted to smile, though staring her shadow's hauteur in its identical face put a damper on her own in this moment. The words issued weak and halting.

"Goodness, Guy, you look almost bored. Shall I entertain you?"