Day 52: Lunch

[purgatio]

[from here]

It was a race. A fight against patience and a Song's call. Still, the sedation's dredges churned through him. Two close at hand had a potent effect--much like the night that they were left in that town, and the morning after. Rubedo had came then. Came for them like something out of place, and wasn't that so ironic afterwards--when Albedo knew what he knew now? How many times would a twin appear to abandon him to harshly? How many times would Rubedo make promises only to break them--tear them to pieces like he did Albedo--in the perfectly precise way of those who knew how to break you down because they knew you so perfectly.

Was that how Rubedo had killed him? Or had Albedo forced him to it? His twin wouldn't say before, and asking now was too much like dead blood rotting in veins--he no longer cared, no longer needed to know how easily it was for his twin to rip him asunder. How joyous Rubedo must have been. If that night was any hint, his twin hated him with a passion to rival man's hatred toward god. And wasn't it the same. This. In ways it was the same. An existence meted out, for what it's worth, and then you were simply trapped in it. Trapped in it and stuck stagnant where you were, bound by that other, unless you forced your hatred forward to strike down the other.

To kill god? It seemed too quaint to entertain.

Be it that he woke as the last shift was ending, Albedo had been escorted to the cafeteria early. He took what was offered without a word, sat in the back without a sound, and sipped at the water put in front of him politely; a hand curled around the cup lightly, fingers loose. Eyes burned into the entrance--for Nigredo or Rubedo, either would suffice. The doubt that his twin would come to him was faulty--to ignore them for a week and then vanish as if they were nothing spoke of only distain, whatever Nigredo chose to believe. The eldest of them hated them both. This was truth. The only truth that Rubedo had shown Albedo, in thought, word, action, and deed, in the two weeks that they had shared here.

So Rubedo was to kill him. Well. Never say Albedo accepted his destiny. Yes, he would die by his twin's hand. But first he would rip Rubedo's throat out, claw out his eyes and press them into his beloved's mouth--see the lies you spew--lift his tenderly beating heart for all to see and then crush it.

This, Rubedo, is what you've done to me.

[...for the twin.]

Comments

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Time to draw, Yuffie thought.

Time to draw a great big skeletal horse, a brute, and a pack of the fugliest dogs this side of ever.

Putting pencil to paper (plain; she'd convinced her nurse that, no, really, letting her go back to her room to rummage was a great idea! She'd even walk, not cartwheel, okay? Okay!), Yuffie started sketching. And sketching. And sketching. Man, how boring… She'd rather be back in the sun room, playing 'anything you can do I can do better' with Kaito.

… No!

She was behind already; this was supposed to be done for tonight. And she still had some translation work to do, too. Her notebook sat open in front of her, opened to a double-page spread of Wutaian writing (and totally unrelated doodles)—she was halfway through it already, and she could only hope that the rest wouldn't take too long. She'd been the one to write it in the first place, after all.

At last, the huntsman and his entourage began to take shape. It didn't need to be anything more than the basics, with details and quick, labelled notes where necessary. Yuffie wasn't the best artist around, but she was good enough. Handy, when she didn't have a camera and when words alone didn't quite cut it.

Just as soon as she'd finished this, she'd have a bite to eat. The burrito-thing looked weird, but she'd hadn't had anything for breakfast (again); no way was she passing over another meal.

[For Sam and Dean~]

[kindalikedit]

"Man, you could totally sell that."

Dean rounded the table from where he'd come up behind Yuffie and while he wasn't exactly Michelangelo himself, he could at least tell the difference between a crappy stick figure and a decent drawing. That right there was a pretty decent sketch of some kind of freaky looking horse thing, and it wasn't one of those freaky looks like she just couldn't draw. Whatever she was drawing, the thing was an ugly mother in the first place. He would've said it was a kelpie, except kelpies didn't have their own riders like that - would've been hard to lure in another dumb schmuck for a ride if that seat was already taken, for starters, and two, somehow he doubted have some ugly sonuvabitch there was going to make someone suddenly want to jump on.

That and the whole bone horse thing was throwing him for a loop. Kelpies didn't exactly look that run-down.

Dean tipped his chin toward the drawing as he sat down across from Yuffie. He set down his tray of tacos. "That something from around here or you got an active imagination?"

It was probably too much to ask for it to be an active imagination, he was willing to bet. He wasn't in much of a mood to deal with a friggen undead kelpie on top of everything else, much less a freak one with a rider that already looked like a monster and were those dogs? As if it wasn't enough that there was a bog undead rider running around, he just had to have dogs.

Talk about overkill.

[girlsandgadgets]

Though the nurse cut Edgar's conversation short, he was less irritated about the interruption than he normally would have been: if he was getting to the cafeteria before most of the other prisoners, he had a better chance at spotting Locke as he entered the room. It was unfortunate that the thief was so skilled in his craft- it made finding him difficult, and there was a lot they needed to discuss. He'd not replied to the note on the bulletin board, either.

Edgar sighed as he grabbed some food for his plate, deciding the day wasn't entirely lost. Locke was probably just getting acclimated to the institute. It would serve him well to discover the sharp contrast in the building from night to day first-hand.

Edgar took an empty seat (he must have been very early, as there were so few patients in the room), pulling his journal from his sling. Even without finding Locke, the day had been surprisingly productive so far: he'd acquired a map and managed to speak with someone who wasn't afraid to take a stand against Landel; however, not all of it was good business. Raphael was truly gone, and the patient population was as stubborn as ever to share information regarding the basement, whether on the bulletin board or in a face-to-face conversation. He could understand secrecy and unwillingness to trust just anyone- he had a lot of experience in those areas- it seemed so backward that the patients wouldn't share information regarding the institute with one another. They all had a common enemy, after all.

Well, it couldn't be helped. For now, he could continue working on his plans. With any luck, he'd have a new tool finished within the week.

[Oliver Queen]

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

Lunge had come to that morning in a sulphurous breath of nausea, head clouded with the pain he fuzzily located to his arm- the hand he'd been holding his knife in. For a moment the hazy smell of burning and smoke lingered in the back of his throat but the louder part of his mind insisted it was psychosomatic, who knew how much time had passed since that near miss, it was completely illogical to... it hadn't mattered, and he had tried to forget about it. Instead, he'd focused on taking stock: his chest ached and he'd been bandaged all along his right arm to his hand, partly for the ripped skin and partly for the the tender swelling around his wrist that he assumed signified a sprain. The knife was now in his desk draw, coated in thick, black blood. There had been a pole- no, a snooker cue, he had noticed that by the light of the day- at the end of his bed, which he'd placed in his cupboard for safekeeping until Venom came to retrieve it. And, most importantly, his memory was in perfect condition.

Lydia Thayer should be considered extremely dangerous. He still hadn't had the opportunity to fully consider the full implications of that note, but the knowledge that it was still safe in his mind came as an almost breathless relief. After what they'd done to him, after all of their tricks, he'd almost been afraid (not afraid, Inspector, never afraid, never) that it would be damaged by the fight, but it looked as though he'd been spared.

Only after he'd reassured himself did he let his mind wander to the other members of their party: Venom, Bella, Sechs and the man with the gun. A brief check of the bulletin board revealed that three of them were alive at least (although whether or not the third note was Venom or the other man he couldn't say), but it was Bella's note that got any sort of reaction out of him- any sort of relief. The feeling had taken him by surprise, and then it had taken two hours of his morning to explain itself.

The answer was, he'd realised, horribly simple. She reminded him, inexplicably of his daughter. Or, perhaps more to the point, what could happen to his daughter. What might happen. What that doctor had said would happen.

Stupid, of course.

And that wasn't the only thing he'd seen- the name Ryuuzaki had caught his eye, then the words I'm sorry, and the implication had hit him with full force. He should have seen it coming, of course- but he'd been busy, hadn't he? Busy with notes and radios and monsters, chasing ghosts while L was strapped down. Very busy. He even had his note to show for himself, to hold aloft for absolution. They could discuss it. The fact that the aftermath stung a little was only natural (try as you might, you're only human, Heinrich), but he had his priorities. L would have done the same.

So Lunge sat in the cafeteria alone, sketching out a copy of the note he'd recorded, swallowing it all down with mouthfuls of water while he waited for the man to finally put in an appearance eventually. He'd appear when he was ready. If sure of anything at all, the Inspector was sure of that.

[ryuuzaki]

Getting from the library to the cafeteria was much like getting from his room to the library had been: a slow journey assisted by the nurse. L thought that his motor control was improving. His feet still shuffled, but he could move faster. He had been able to attend to messages on the bulletin board to his satisfaction, although the messages themselves had been indiscreet enough to qualify as problematic. His back hurt, but the pain had receded. He had checked the book out of the library on the grounds that pretending to read it might help him look busy, and he was able to carry it with no trouble.

This is only one day, he thought. Only one setback. I'm still alive, still whole... or I will be again soon. Have to be. Still, they didn't have the right to— Today, it was more difficult to force his anger down. He could recognize the irony without appreciating it: the one time he was furious enough to consider acting on his emotions, it was a physical impossibility for him to do so.

His stomach rumbled and flipped with hunger at the smell of the food: he had slept through breakfast. The nurse helped him carry his tray when it became obvious that he couldn't manage it on his own. A taco was out of the question—it wasn't to his taste, and it would have been too difficult for him to eat it—but he allowed her to make a small burrito for him, then asked for a large plate of fruit salad. He felt a twinge of gratitude for her assistance, and was able to push aside most of the rush of irritation that followed it, or at least play it off as a product of his discomfort. Her kindness and solicitousness seemed genuine, and he doubted that she could have had anything to do with his ordeal the previous night. It was obvious to him that she was doing her job, and that she took pleasure in doing it well, with unstinting commitment to her charges.

As she scooped the mixture of cut fruit onto a plate for him, he scanned the cafeteria, looking for—there. There was Lunge, with an empty seat across from him. L suspected that Lunge knew what had happened to him: no one who had left a message about it on the board had been as discreet as he would have liked. He would talk to Abe at dinner, and try to find a time to talk to Howell about their missed meeting, but a conversation with Lunge stood the greatest chance of being productive in both the short term and the long term.

"I'd like to have lunch with my friend Otto," he said, and the nurse nodded, looking pleased that Daniel Laurier had found a friend at all. They made their way across the room. She set the tray down on the table in front of him while he collapsed into the chair with his feet flat on the floor; he didn't feel any more equipped to perch on his haunches than he had in the library. He set the book down, then put his left elbow on the table and supported his chin with his hand. As soon as the nurse bustled off, he sighed.

He suspected that, even without the messages, Lunge would have been able to tell what had happened to him just by looking at him. The bandage around his head was like a signal flag, and it was far from the only evidence of recent trauma: a stop in the bathroom had shown that his colour was bad, all bloodless lips and heavy shadows around his eyes, even more than usual. He moved slowly, too, but that was mostly caused by the pain from the spinal tap.

"Before you ask," he said, his voice subdued, "the answer is yes."

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

Now that he was sure Sechs was still definitely in one piece (if still as reckless as ever), Kibitoshin could actually stomach something without feeling as though he'd been put through a spin cycle in a dryer. Yes, he hadn't worried at breakfast, but he certainly hadn't managed to eat anything- that would have been too much to ask, really. Now that just about everyone was likely to be more or less okay, it was probably fairly important that he took the opportunity to stock up again after last night's amble; it hadn't exactly been strenuous, but even so they'd gone unusually far, considering his usual experiences with the nightshift. Most of the time he was lucky to make it out of his room.

Now that was something that had to change, he decided as he placed a full plate of food onto his tray. After all, from the looks of things there weren't all that many healers here, so his hanging around his room all night was just putting a useful skill to waste. At the same time, though, it was becoming fairly clear to him that his usual approach of wandering around until he bumped into a) someone he knew, b) someone who needed help, or c) a monster, probably wasn't very sensible. Still, it had only taken a whole week to realise that much, and without prompting- he was doing well!

Taking a seat by himself for once (he'd introduced himself to one nice new person today, so hoping for a second was probably wishful thinking), he set about demolishing his meal while he considered his options. Really, the best thing to do was probably to contact the paramedics again. He hadn't heard from them in a while, and the one time he'd joined them, he'd- he'd actually helped. Really, truly helped. And if that wasn't a reason to go back, what was?

[freewill]

[Bit part god, meet bit part angel?]

One thing this place had made Castiel realize was that humans certainly needed to eat a lot. It wasn't something he'd considered much before, mainly because the Winchesters had had strange eating habits, only grabbing food when they had the chance. It was true that Dean had a tendency to snack almost constantly throughout the day if he was given the opportunity to do so, but Castiel had assumed that was just Dean being Dean. He was a rather unique human, after all.

Then again, the people he had met in this place so far also fit that criteria. From the strange silver-haired boy yesterday, to Renamon, the "digital monster," and finally the woman in the library who was apparently from a thousand years in the future -- as of now, Orihara was the most normal person he'd met. Even then, that young man was able to pick locks, which he didn't think was common for someone his age to know how to do.

Maybe all of the abnormality pointed to something. Castiel just wasn't sure what that was. What reason was there to collect interesting people (and non-people, as the case might be)? Most of them didn't seem to have any connection the Apocalypse, so...

Castiel had considered leaving up a note for Sam and Dean, but in the end he'd decided against it. They didn't trust him yet, which meant that he was going to need to prove himself to them. Without any palpable angelic power at his disposal at the moment, the only way he could do that was by gathering information and delivering it to them. Tonight, he would travel to that chapel and see what he could find.

As one of the nurses led him into the cafeteria, she also forced him to go get some food. It appeared that his reluctance to eat breakfast had been noticed, and so he went ahead and got a taco (one of Dean's favorites), making certain to get a lot of red meat in it. It wasn't the same as a hamburger, but it would have to do.

"Now, Michael," the nurse said -- and his jaw still clenched at the name -- "why don't you go ahead and sit with someone? You can't always be keeping to yourself, you know. Here, I'm sure Immanuel will be happy to talk to you."

Immanuel. A Biblical name. God is with us. That made Castiel predisposed to being suspicious of the young man, whose strange appearance was also striking. Nonetheless, he had no choice, and so he sat down with his plate of food and watched the stranger closely. "Is that your true name?" he asked, first and foremost.

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Being one of the older patients in the institute never meant for a lack of appetite for Gant! Well, yesterday hadn't been so good for him, but today he was making up in spades! And good, old-fashioned Tex-Mex was the way to do it!

Or so he would have thought. Truth of the matter was, it just wasn't the same as home. Even with the nice variety of fillings, tacos and burritos weren't real food unless prepared like his favorite restaurant back home. How he missed L.A. and the authenticity of its Tex-Mex! Well, he'd just deal with it for now. He could at least pretend it wasn't all that bad. He needed to eat, anyway, and maybe he could survive it working on pure hunger.

Grabbing a few tacos and a burrito, the man sat at one of the tables and started in on his lunch. Really, it wasn't that bad. But it made him wonder just exactly where they were if the Tex-Mex wasn't spectacular. Not in Texas. And not in California.

[iwhipthefool.livejournal.com]

Augh, look at this plebeian fare. Mexican food was not high on Franziska's list of things she preferred to eat. She preferred much more refined foods, something from her native country or the neighboring France. Still, this was all she was being offered so she took the horchata, a single burrito, and a salad and headed off to the tables.

There wasn't much space to be honest since she was a bit late to the cafeteria. She could see others she recognized sitting about, but had no inclination to sit with them. At least she could see that Scruffy was still around and gathering small children like usual. He and Phoenix Wright both had that peculiar skill, or perhaps it was something Scruffy had picked up from Wright. Unfortunate.

Moving through the cafeteria, Franziska still couldn't find a seat. After a few moments, she paused by a table and stood with one hand on her hip, the other balancing her tray on its palm. She scanned the cafeteria, but just couldn't find anywhere open with anyone she knew well enough to sit beside.

[Mind calling her over? I'm not sure if she'd know Gant at first glance.]

[avengingfists.livejournal.com]

The conversation she had shared with Guy and Claude in the library had really given Ilia some food for thought, but now was the time for actual food and she welcomed it readily. She found herself wishing for a beer again this lunch period, something bitter that would help wash down the tangy spice of the tacos. But she knew it would be futile to ask. This was an institute, not a restaurant.

Filling up her plate with tacos and grabbing some tea--Decaffeinated? Why?--she found herself a seat and dug into her food. If Anise or Leela had been there, she may have moved to sit with them. As it was, she was content just to be alone for now and eat. Maybe now she could think back on the conversation from the library and sort things out.

Strangely enough, the thoughts that came to her head revolved less about the conversation as a whole and more on Claude. There was just something about him that struck her as familiar. And the way he had been speaking was rather odd. Hmm...

[heroesdontshave]

Apparently, Snow had made a huge mistake. See, he and Zevran had agreed the thing they'd been served for breakfast wasn't anything close to edible, so they would just hold off on eating for a bit. But that just meant that, come lunch time, Snow was pretty much starving. He was almost to the point where he didn't care what it was they were serving so long as he got to eat something. And whatever it was had to be better than the soggy meat in bread thing from this morning.

But it looked like the longer he stayed here, the more bizarre the food became. What they were serving this time was something like... It was like a big yellow, edible cup full of things. Meat and sauces of different colors. He recognized one thing though. That white stuff was definitely a cream of some sort. So whatever the food was had to be sweet. Well, whatever. He was hungry and, as weird as the stuff was, this didn't look as completely inedible as breakfast had.

So Snow took his tray of food and took the first available seat he saw. He could continue checking the place out later. Food for now. He just had to figure out how to actually eat this, since it didn't look like you could bite it without it exploding everywhere. ...It's a cup right, so maybe you just pour the contents into your mouth? That didn't sound much better.

[Sis! ; also, please assume there will be spoilers this whole thread]

[thestormishere]

[ YES, S-S-S-SPOILAHS START HERE. Also, TL;DR apparently. ]

Fortunately, by the time those in charge had decided her time in the window-lit room was over, the drugs running through Lightning's system had finally diminished in their effects' overall strength. Not so fortunately, the more their hold over her weakened, the more furious she became about it. Needless to say, the 'calm' that had taken her over since being overpowered and sedated in the hallway had come to a rather non-ceremonious end while she sat brooding and by herself.

Lightning now knew that even before she'd been forcefully subdued, here there was something else that had been very wrong with her. Many people-- most people, actually, may not have noticed when their physical abilities had taken a sudden, inexplicable blow. But unlike the majority of Cocoon's citizens, Lightning was trained to fight... and she soon realized that she had been far too slow in her attempt in getting away from those men in the hall. It wasn't even a matter of being defeated- that was something that could be accepted as simply being outmatched, if she had just fallen short while giving her best effort.

No, there was something wrong, and that meant they had to have done something to her. She'd come across a number of things that were able to instill similar effects before, of course, but this time it was different. She hadn't felt anything before suddenly being taken down, and all there was now was the left-overs of what she assumed to be drugs of some kind, administered to her outside that bedroom door.

So was there something at work here actually suppressing her abilities as a l'Cie? It was a weird thought, because even though she and the others had started off toward Gran Pulse in search of something like that anyway, it was still somewhat unsettling. A 'cure' wouldn't do any good if it did nothing to halt the progress toward turning Cie'th... and if she continued to be trapped here away from Cocoon.

Another matter was the absence of her friends... and just where this was supposed to be. When the woman who she'd shoved out of her way earlier had come to move her back to the cafeteria, Lightning had stared at her with fire in her eyes, wishing she'd been able to hurt her more... but she was also careful. She held back even as she wanted desperately to attack, simply asking what was going on in her most blunt, serious tone.

But the answer she received was unsatisfactory- something about a 'mental health facility' that made no sense. Therefore, Lightning swallowed her anger and repeated the questions about her friends and where she was on Gran Pulse. Again the latter was just blown off, but as they walked into the cafeteria and the 'nurse' pointed someone out to her....

It was almost possible not to identify him at first, out of his normal heavy coat and dressed in the same strange, simple clothing as everyone else. However, with his height and pale hair, it was also hard not to recognize him too, regardless of the bizarre name the woman supplied.

Without hesitation, Lightning immediately set off in the man's direction, ignoring what sounded suspiciously like a quiet but indignant exclamation of protest from her 'nurse.' Within seconds she had weaved through the crowd, and once by his side, bent to put a hand on the table, cautiously leaning into his field of vision.

"Snow?" she asked, just barely frowning. It occurred to her the moment she was close that she might not be the only one who had been forcibly subdued, and despite her history with the man, had to worry at least a little about his well-being.

[rocksthecourt]

Today was proving to be a definite improvement, even through the grogginess of the pain medications. As much as he hated wasting time, maybe that was all he had needed. Time. Time to think, time to rest. It was astonishing how something so simple could be so beneficial.

As she seemed to like doing lately, his nurse followed alongside him, carrying his lunch tray for him and attempting small talk as she gathered food for him. He even managed to smile when they started arguing over whether a salad was a suitable substitute for her initial suggestion of tacos. Eventually, she got tired he won and took his tray from her, ignoring her protests in favor of searching for a seat.

As much as he might like to find a corner to keep to himself and work on organizing his notes for the next shift, he thought better of it. Being reclusive was only going to make things worse. He was only human, after all. He needed to speak with people and enjoy himself outside work every now and then. And if these people weren't going to allow him music, then interaction was the next best thing.

[baby brother bonding time with Nigredo]

[falseblack]

He knew pending disaster like he knew the palm of his hand, and this begged for a confrontation ending in blood. Blood of the literal sort, which honestly frightened Nigredo more than allegories could say. Unfortunately, the actions he could take were dwindling to nothing; the daytime restricted enough factors to render the youngest useless. He was, once again, a bystander to his brothers' warring.

There thankfully was a catch: the same restrictions could perhaps force one or the other to civility. If a fight broke out in the cafeteria, the nurses were sure to respond. Nigredo technically didn't have to do a thing-- Said thing would take care of itself in time, even if Albedo hated the sedatives and Rubedo took the hard way of understanding.

And Nigredo still didn't know. Which of his siblings was in the wrong? Everything about that question masked itself in obscurity.

Thus, when the U.R.T.V. entered the cafeteria and saw the two eldest together, he went elsewhere. In fact, he went to the last person the child expected to reach, especially given their parting the night before. Klavier was probably exasperated with him; it was the second time in a week Nigredo had thought fit to leave his presence prematurely. He felt a terrible guilt about the act, but still, he approached the man without question.

Nigredo was without a tray so his good hand went to twist the hem of his shirt. "Klavier..."

[itneverwas.livejournal.com]

The conversation with Erika had been an interesting one. In her eagerness to share what she had managed to unravel, the girl was a useful tool. Useful enough that Xemnas had no qualms about keeping the young detective around for the time being, to fuel her ambition of unraveling the institute's secrets while she was led on by her heart. With so many things still shrouded in darkness, without the familiar power so readily available at his command, it was only natural to require the assistance of those defined by an existence. But it did not matter; all what mattered were the results, to eventually take hold of the goal, to acquire completion. The prospect of having to do so in a rather indirect way was only the smallest hindrance in a way forward.

Accomplishments were acquired slowly, it seemed, but the Nobody was a patient man. Taking into account the invisible presence that had sought to hinder them - he knew last night could have been worse. The anti climatic end had been a shame indeed, but he believed the opportunity to walk the unknown paths beneath the institute would present itself. He now knew of the trapdoor that was currently not too far away, but during the illusion of this fragile charade it was still beyond reach. His gaze strayed to the door of the kitchen for the briefest moments as Xemnas acquired his nutrition before selecting one of the many vacant seats.

Among the small crowd of patients already present, he located Gant. Though their conversation this morning had been... interesting, he had no interest in speaking with the man for now. Instead, he would allow another the initiative. In the mean time, he began on his lunch.

[For that kid with the giant key.]

[lighthearted]

Speaking with Riku always managed to put Sora in a better mood. Considering his mood hadn't been that bad to begin with, that meant that Sora was particularly sunny as he stepped into the cafeteria. They had worked out a game plan, at least for the time being, and Sora had finally put up his big announcement about taking over the club, along with an explanation for any interested parties and a call for all those who were still sticking with him. He hoped the results were good.

He also had to leave a note about Hanatarou's disappearance (which was definitely something that took a chunk out of that good mood), and finally one about the radio clue the night before. He had never been quite this active on the bulletin before, but it felt good -- to be so involved, to feel like he was really doing something. Not that he hadn't been trying hard before, but he was really taking charge now. It was kind of nerve wracking, but it was nice.

With all of his responsibilities filled for the moment (he was going to have to keep his eye on that bulletin post, though), Sora entered the cafeteria and took in the aroma of fresh food with a smile. He went through the food line and had one of the workers make him a taco with beef, beans, cheese, and onions, taking it with some chips before turning to search the cafeteria.

It wasn't too full yet (and he still didn't see Kairi anywhere -- she was okay, right?), which also meant that Sora was given an unblocked view of another silver-haired person who he knew. But unlike Riku, this one was not likely to improve his mood.

Xemnas. Sora had been vaguely aware of the Nobody's presence here, but he'd subconsciously (and maybe a little consciously) been avoiding him up until this point. The man hadn't been making a nuisance of himself as far as Sora had been able to tell. He hadn't seen any worrisome notes from him on the bulletin, nor had he heard any rumors about him doing anything out of hand. For that reason, Sora had just wanted to leave it alone for as long as he could, but... he wasn't sure he could get away with that forever.

He needed to make sure that Xemnas didn't have any plans to sabotage the other patients. Sora wasn't sure why he would -- and he was probably pretty powerless now, with no control over the Heartless -- but he needed to check anyway. And so with tray in hand, the boy slowly approached the table where Xemnas was sitting, watching the man with every step that he took closer.

[longlivetheking]

At least the conversation with the thus far nameless male had been a civil one. But the library shift came to its end, allowing Scar the pleasure of trying to eat human meals again. Though today's had been familiar from previous lunch times, the former lion couldn't quite say he knew what to make of it; random supposedly edible ingredients thrown together into some sort of supposedly edible container...what sort of mind thought of such things?

A few bites into his lunch after acquiring a seat were enough for Scar to decide that he wasn't hungry enough for this pathetic excuse for food, instead idly taking sips of what was the only good thing on the menu of these humans; milk.

With little to distract him, it was perhaps to be expected that he would begin thinking of things he'd rather forget. His thoughts led him to the question plaguing him all day, one that he was attempting to avoid but failing horribly at it.

Would it happen again? What if it would happen again?

He frowned at the barely touched food in front of him.

[The Scarecrow~]

[scarefaux]

[Sorry this is late!]

After a shift spent attempting to confer with one of the cats usually roaming about the Sun Room (and still being surprised that none of them seemed to be able to talk- he was going to have to get used to that), the Scarecrow couldn't get to the Cafeteria fast enough- he'd spotted Scar heading from the Library toward the end of the shift, and was bound and determined to make sure he was all right. With one more brief look at the bulletin board and a farewell nod to the cat, he followed his nurse to lunch.

The Scarecrow grabbed one of everything in the usual manner, his mind far too distracted for picking anything based on smell or appearance or what it could possibly taste like. Food collected, he made a beeline for where Scar was sitting all by his lonesome, nearly tripping into the seat across from the former lion.

"Scar! Thank goodness you're all right!" he exclaimed, returning the food that had slid across his tray to his plate. "You are all right, aren't ya?"

The Scarecrow leaned left and right, trying to get a better look at Scar's eyes. They didn't look any different than they had the night before, but he'd seemed all right walking through the Sun Room- surely he was better. If he'd refused to budge from the chair in Dr. Venkman's office, there was no way he'd wander through the Sun Room so casually.

[nobleman]

While Claude and Ilia had seemed to get along really well when all was said and done, Guy still left that conversation feeling perplexed. There was obviously something that was being hidden on Claude's end, but what exactly that was remained to be seen. Guy was almost positive it had something to do with Ronixis, but his friend had specifically avoided mentioning the man. Then again, that could have something to do with the fact that his father was currently missing.

Just for the sake of it, Guy took a look around the cafeteria as he entered to see if Ronixis was anywhere to be found. But as he'd guessed, there was nothing. He saw a few other people he knew, like the girl who'd attacked them while brainwashed in the Sun Room that one night, not to mention Edgar -- but Guy chose to leave both of them alone. The person he really needed to talk to right now was Luke, and lunch might be the last chance to find him. With therapy coming up again in the fourth shift, there was no telling where his friend might end up.

Therefore, once Guy had gotten his food (he'd picked out a taco and only filled it with some meat, lettuce, and cheese), he found an empty spot near the entrance from the Sun Room and watched the door while eating. Luckily, Luke wasn't too hard to spot. Which was good, because there were a number of things he needed to tell his friend about, from plans for the night (tentative as they were) to the fact that he had a sword to the memory problem that he still hadn't cleared up and had been trying his best to ignore as of late.

C'mon, Luke, Guy thought to himself. He wasn't one to get impatient, but he'd been trying to track his friend down for the past day or so now. He'd had to deal with the redhead disappearing a few too many times for comfort.

[Luuuuuuuuuuuuke.]

[replicatedorder.livejournal.com]

Truthfully, the meeting with Asch hadn't killed his spirits too much, but Luke found himself dawdling and uncertain as to where he wanted to go after he abandoned the other red head. At first, he entered the Sun Room, but eventually, he ended up in the library. He considered approaching Anise and striking up a conversation, but he avoided her instead, in favor of a book and a spot in the corner. The book itself was long, an epic in length and confusing; he didn't understand who this Odysseus guy was supposed to be. Why was it supposed to make some kind of sense?

Eventually, he abandoned trying to make sense of it, and flipped through the pages absently until the announcements for lunch came. Sure, great—just what he didn't want to eat. Didn't they ever try to have good food here? Or was it really that hard?

He breathed an annoyed sigh as he started back on his way to the cafeteria. At least this might look better than the disgusting fare they offered earlier. His stomach still seemed to disagree with the few pieces of breaded pork that he stuck in his mouth. Then again, maybe that was because things like that had no place on Auldrant. For good reason, he figured.

Not wanting to be stubborn—or rather, seeing no point in having a nurse remind him that he needed to eat up—Luke took a full tray of food and looked around. It didn't take long to spot Guy. From the way he was sitting, it looked like he was looking for someone. He didn't want to assume, but given Guy's statements before, he had a feeling it might just be him.

He didn't waste his time going to join him. They had a lot to cover, and with his near disappearance the day before, he couldn't help but think his friend was worried. He hadn't even been able to tell him about Tear yet, which led Luke to wondering if his friend had seen her yet. Luke realized that getting caught up in finding Asch had made it difficult for him to keep an eye out for her. Maybe there would be time later that day.

"It's been a while." His voice sounded somewhat guilty as he settled in before his friend. "I slept a lot, but I'm still here." As if to confirm that he hadn't left and come back at some point.

[propheteer]

First Shizuo, then Celty... Izaya almost had to wonder who would show their face next. Shinra? Namie? Simon? Or maybe more of the prominent pieces from the developing game of Dollars vs Saika vs the Yellow Scarves... He hoped it would be the latter; if the conflict he'd been working so hard to set up was continuing to unfold back at home without him, it would be tragic!

Lunch presented a unique problem, however: if everyone in the hospital was eating at the same time, he was going to be in relatively close quarters with Shizuo again. If the drugs had already worn off of that guy, it could be a problem—the nurses would just drug him again (or maybe take more drastic measures), which was fine, but it was the time before they might get there that Izaya was concerned about. He could hold his own against Shizuo back home, but if the nurses thought that he was part of the problem instead of simply an unfortunate victim of Shizuo's violence... He didn't want to be sedated along with Shizuo.

After getting a tray of food—a burrito that seemed more interesting than the meals he'd had here so far, along with the 'daily special' drink—he proceeded to the most remote corner of the room, settling in a spot where he could easily keep an eye on the door while (hopefully) remaining unseen to Shizuo unless he turned around.

[For Niikura]

[oneman-onekill.livejournal.com]

It'd been cool, talking to Laura. She was the first genuinely 'new' person that he'd ever encountered, and he'd rather enjoyed his first time being the harbinger of life-changing news. Kind of a bland girl, though. But maybe that was just some sort of coping mechanism.

Wandering through the cafeteria armed with a burrito fit to burst, Niikura finally decided on eating on the edge, mostly for the view. Every conversation he saw made him wonder: what were they planning? People got a hold of information so slowly, and yet they all talked every single day. So what held their interest for so long? There had to be something.

He sat down in the second most remote seat in the whole room and looked at the person next to him. "Hey, hope ya don't mind. Am I blockin' yer view?"

[fourstonewalls]

Lana strode to the bulletin board, her mouth set in a grim line. More contradictions -- and a reply. Tomorrow morning, then, and -- good grief. High Prosecutor Faraday's daughter here and attempting to restart the same illicit investigation that had gotten him killed? The girl couldn't be much older than Ema -- younger, if there was no discrepancy in time.

She should leave it alone. It was better left in the past. Any investigation now would just cause pain. Open old wounds. Except...she meant it. She meant to do the same thing Lana had done; put away a murder no-one had caught before tragedy had struck too close to home. She wrote a quick note and pressed it to the board before she could think twice, and marched forward. There was absolutely no turning back now.

She was, to her surprise, hungry. Maybe there was something to be said for making the decision. She grabbed a couple of tacos that would make a certain officer weep at the fact that someone would claim them as such, confused the cafeteria lady by asking if they had any other aguas frescas -- or possibly the bounds on which the Institute would allow her to attemp another language, as she did get a glass of ice water -- and found a table with two spaces free.

[Harvey Dent]

[dualistic]

Caught between wanting to grab that idiot by his collar and shake him until he started making sense and just being curious about the idea of a different version of him in general, Harvey was led back into the cafeteria in a bit of a daze. He wanted to just track the man down again to get more answers out of him (as impossible as that seemed without a proper way to threaten him), but he'd already made an appointment with someone.

As distracted and annoyed as he was, he didn't skip appointments.

First, though, he was fed through the lunch line by the nurse, handed his shake (and he only barely stopped himself from asking one of the lunch ladies if they could maybe trying to flavor it differently next time), and then left alone to find a place to sit. Lana had beat him to the punch, but at least that made things simple.

He walked over to her, setting the drink down as he sighed and settled into the seat. The conversation he'd just had had nothing to do with the one he was about to have, and so he tried to put it out of his mind, at least for the moment. "I met a man named Gant. He claimed to know you. Said you weren't doing well." Which didn't really concern him, and yet, he had to ask.

"How are you?" It was said gruffly without necessarily being insincere.

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

Normally, libraries were supposed to house a wealth of information. As far as that went, Rita ended up leaving with nothing more than chump change. She'd taken a few notes from the books she looked through, but whether there was any value in that information remained to be seen. At this point, Rita didn't exactly have high hopes.

Speaking of things she didn't have high hopes for, now seemed like a good time to check again to see if anyone else from her world was at the institute. Rita couldn't really be the only one, could she? Other people seemed to find others from their worlds just fine. Perhaps Rita just wasn't looking hard enough. As she passed through the Sun Room, she stopped by the bulletin and left a brief note, just as she had before. Maybe it was useless, but it was better than doing nothing.

With that finished, she continued on to the Cafeteria. The 'tacos' that were being served today didn't look terribly impressive, but they were edible, and that was all that really mattered to Rita. She slapped a few on a plate and sat down in the first available seat she found. Showing interest in neither the food nor the people around her, she set her notebook in front of her and looked over some of the notes she had collected in recent days.

[tightsofmight]

By the time lunch had rolled around, Peter was seriously considering taking Logan's advice and just asking after Grell on the bulletin board. He had yet to see hide or hair of the man, and Grell was a difficult person to miss. Even as the meek Geoffrey on Brainwash Tuesday, you wouldn't have had a hard time picking him out of a crowd. Not many people had hair as long or as vibrantly red as his. And glasses were a pretty rare thing around here.

The issue was...okay, it was more like issues. But anyway, his biggest problem with that was that Peter was downright terrified. Calling him out would mean a definitive answer. The only thing he knew for certain was that Grell had passed out after they'd broken into the second hall. And there was blood. Lots and lots of blood, spilling from where Peter had bitten him on the neck.

So was Grell dead? Had he bled out on the floor after falling down? Did Peter, in spite of any finicky details about hallucinations or symbiotes or whatever, actually kill him last night?

His lips curled into his teeth at the thought and he reconsidered picking up any food, standing awkwardly in line staring at the mess of enchilada stuffers. He was too nervous to eat. Too confused. Even so, he nodded at the lunch lady and pointed to the ground beef, allowing her to fill up his tray as she pleased. He knew he was hungry, and he should not be letting his nerves get in the way of that.

Peter drifted over to an empty table and gingerly slid his tray onto the surface, already frustrated with doing things one handed. But he'd deserved what he'd gotten. Yes, he did. If he'd approached Grell on his own and in his right mind and started a fight that way? He'd be feeling a lot less disgusted with himself. As it was, whatever had taken a hold of him last night had prompted him to try to eat the man, and he had every right to stab him for that.

Grell had been screaming. He'd been terrified. Some of the small time crooks back home had been like that when he'd swung by, but that was different. He hadn't been trying to kill them.

And there was a part of him that he didn't want to listen to. The part that knew that everyone would be better off if Grell wasn't around at all.

His jaw tensed so hard it was impossible to open his teeth. It was that thought that disturbed him the most. He wasn't a murderer. He didn't want to be a murderer.

Not even for someone as revolting as Grell.

[For Grell. What a coincidence!]

[deadlyjuliet.livejournal.com]

Waking up had been a chore and the very fact that he could open his eyes was a surprise to him. He'd really thought that thing was going to eat him and after hitting the floor, he'd lost consciousness. He could barely remember anything about the previous night, most of the evening turning to a fear-clouded haze of adrenaline and frenetic images that made no sense. Even as he stared up at the blurry ceiling, he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

He wasn't dead, but he felt like it.

"Geoffrey?" Grell turned his head toward the sound and found his nurse looking down at him with a frown of concern. She handed him his round glasses and some water along with a few pills - for the pain, she said. After he was able to sit up, she brushed his hair and pulled it back into a low ponytail. Once that was done and they checked over the bandages adorning his neck, the nurses explained that he'd had an episode last night and apparently...done this to himself? What stupidity was that?! But no amount of pleading or explaining seemed to change their story.

An orderly came and helped him out of bed, then followed (carried? manhandled?) him straight into the cafeteria. They said food would help and gave him a good helping of whatever it was they were serving, but Grell's head was still spinning slightly and he could barely understand what they were saying beyond 'eat something' and 'don't hurt yourself.'

Ugh, all he wanted to do was sleep today. Why did they have to wake him up? Was it so terrible to let a god lie? They were leading him around, slowly, one hand on his uninjured side and then he felt them stop, slide out a seat, and move him into it. The actual act of sitting jarred his injury and he grimaced, putting a hand over his eyes to help settle the nausea the movements kicked up. It was a moment later when he was able to look up and realize just who he was sitting across from.

It took less than a second for Grell to begin reacting.

He screamed.

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Zack's time in the library had been pleasant enough, and had also been a lot more comfortable than his breakfast. ZEX was perfectly nice and all, but there was clearly a cultural miscommunication going on. Maybe the VUX didn't have issues with openly propositioning each other, but humans usually didn't take to it so readily. Granted, Zack had certainly talked up his fair share of women, but at least they were the same species!

It was true that ZEX was human now, but that didn't stop the guy from daydreaming about what he could do to him in his own body.

Either way, the soldier found himself entering the cafeteria again while keeping one eye out for the man. He'd agreed to meet up with him again, but he'd rather it didn't happen so soon. Granted, most people didn't bother meeting twice in one day. There wasn't enough time for that sort of thing, especially when connecting to other people was one of the most important things to do in this place.

As a matter of fact, what he did first upon entering the mess hall was look for people he knew. As it turned out, the only person he recognized was Yuffie, and she seemed to be in the middle of writing or drawing something; Zack doubted she'd take well to her bothering him. And so he was forced to take a seat on his own as he eyed the door for Cloud, Tifa, Aidou, or even Sasuke.

But Zack was quickly distracted by the plate of food he'd been given. The cuisine wasn't something he was used to, but that didn't stop it from looking delicious, and so it wasn't long before he was digging in.

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

[hope you don't mind!]

So far it had been a fairly quiet day, which was in stark contrast to all the drama that had gone down yesterday and had culminated in that strange fight he'd found himself in last night. Kratos was looking forward to a lunch spent much the same way.

He had no idea what a 'burrito' or a 'taco' was, but both looked edible, so he chose the option that happened to pop up first: tacos. It was going to be a little difficult eating with mostly one hand, but, as he'd told himself over the past few days, there was no use complaining. And if he had to ask for help, he would do so.

Kratos sat down in the first open seat he saw and glanced out of the corner of his eye at the young man sitting next to him. How was he eating these things...?

[ninelivesonce]

Homura was gone. Alliances were shifting, sliding, but no-one was making a power grab. Yet. Maybe it was because above the vacuum was a black hole of Martin Landel, but it wasn't just that. No, Okita was taking control, but without any sort of show. The move suited him.

Maybe we'll get something done, yeah? That was probably unfair -- it wasn't Homura's fault that the woman in the sun room had been able to create jump points in thin air. But finding out what was shaking down from above would have to wait. First, she had a favor to do for a friend. It might not get them all closer to escape, but it meant a better chance they'd do it together. And that was the only kind of escape that mattered.

Oh. That's right. There'd been something in her closet along with the throwing disc; something that felt like more than just a pretty piece. (And if it had been just a token, it belonged with the giftee; or the gifter, to be given again when they'd made it out.) She explained what she needed to the 'tech following her; after a quick consultation a green marker was approved, after enough assurances that she knew it was just a story, but that she wasn't the one making it up. She hated lying, but they'd started it. Human is as human does.

Business concluded, she followed her nose into the kitchen. Whatever was in those glasses smelled amazing -- it was to milk what real milk was to the powdered kind.

[for the not-so-little Admiral ZEX]

[wantsyourzex.livejournal.com]

Lunchtime again, although ZEX rarely looked forward to mealtime here. Everything was always so complicated, and even if he could convince a kindly human to help him, he never seemed to have enough time to fully appreciate them. As usual, he got a little bit of everything and looked to see if he could find a human he could get a little too close to while he asked for help.

Looking at his tray reminded him of his Captain... this hard-shelled thing... hadn't his Captain taught him how to eat it once?

ZEX sighed and tried not to think about him. He was gone, and that was all there was to it. It was no good dwelling on him, or what they had. He had to keep moving forward.

While looking for someone to share his lunch with, he spotted a very large human sitting by themselves. Long hair, as well... with a build like that, they could be useful later, if he could convince them to help him. Like Teisel, wherever he had gone...

He sat down beside her without asking, noticing for the first time that she was female, and smiled at her as best he could. "Greetings. I don't believe we've met, have we?"

[kingdomless.livejournal.com]

After speaking with Neku for a while, Kairi had returned to her room for a nap; even though she had slept the entire night. Still, she had no qualms ... it just meant she'd be ready once night fell, that was all.

Entering the cafeteria, the princess instantly spotted a familiar head of brown hair, and she smiled, meaning to move towards him - but was instantly stopped in her tracks when she saw who the he was speaking with.

Xemnas.

Without thinking, Kairi ducked into the food line and grabbed a tray of food before slinking of and hiding at a table.

Truthfully, she wasn't afraid of Xemnas. She was afraid of what he could do to Sora; while the institute had taken away all of the powers of the patients, there was still a chance Xemnas could try and do something. What if he tried to kidnap her again and use her as bait for god knows what against him? She didn't want to be used again to get Sora into trouble.

Sighing to herself, Kairi brushed her bangs out of her eyes and looked down at her plate of food, suddenly not feeling very hungry.

[inherited]

Just as Kairi noticed it, Riku did the same. His body stiffened at the sight of his best friend moving to join his adversary, as if it was the wisest conclusion he ever had. His hands curled into fists, and he fought off the urge to join him. For all the days Sora spent here, it wasn't too long ago that they teamed up and fought Xemnas. But Riku's own insecurities held him back. At the end of that fight, it was Sora who stood easily, not him. He could barely move. Even with the limitations of this place, he had to keep that in mind. They might be weaker here, but he still had no doubt that Sora could hold his own a lot better than Riku could.

Even together, it would still mean Riku wouldn't come out in good shape.

He lingered long enough to almost catch a nurse's attention. This one was different, male, with a broad jaw and a weird glint in his eye. His happiness mixed with his concern and it made Riku sick to his stomach. Like he was about to deal with that.

So he shuffled toward the food and looked for familiar faces. Familiarity would do better than someone he barely knew. As if he had a sense when it came to his friends, he spotted Kairi mere seconds later. Alone—seeing her that way, with her head bowed, it made him uneasy. He didn't like it.

But he knew he couldn't exactly approach her and cheer her up. Tray in hand, with food he barely paid any attention to, he joined her. "I'm keeping an eye on him," he greeted. No point in acting as if they weren't noticing the same thing.

[willing-sheath.livejournal.com]

Apparently the nurse who had been assigned to 'Arisugawa Miyuki' had received some harsh criticism for setting her charge loose in the cafeteria that morning without ensuring the patient had gotten some semblance of breakfast--because the plump woman who kept swinging between being overly cheerful to passingly tolerant had lead Tomoe through the line, choosing a variety of strange foods to pile onto a tray despite Tomoe's blunt statements of "I'm not hungy." Especially not for this strange-smelling food. At the very least it didn't seem to carry the same nauseating scent that had filled the room that morning.

"Oh that's nonsense," the nurse--Anna was her name--replied, "Of course you're hungry, you didn't eat anything this morning." And thus, Tomoe made her way stiffly behind the nurse, arguing with her seemed an utter waste of energy--especially when she already felt exhausted if only from the weight of her own thoughts. She had outwardly calmed since she initially woke to the impossibility of setting and more her living presence there... and to the presence of her husband... who was no longer her husband. Oh she had outwardly calmed, set the stone walls she had been existing behind for a decade in place, but inside her mind was just as turbulent as it had been initially, if not more so.

Nurse Anna lead her out into the cafeteria, setting the tray down at a table toward the middle of the room, waiting for Tomoe to sit. "There now, I'll be back to check on you in a bit," she said in that same over-cheerful manner before bustling off in the other direction again. Tomoe watched the woman's back as she moved away again before her eyes fell back to the tray in front of her. The plate of foreign food held her gaze for a long minute, though she wasn't so much paying mind to the contents. After another few seconds she raised a hand and deftly pushed the tray forward and across the table. She had absolutely no plans of eating any of it, after all.

She continued to stare blankly at the table top, her hands folded in her lap, her right thumb brushing slowly, nervously, across the back of her opposite hand. There had been a journal in the room she'd woken in. Now that she thought back on it, it had been sitting near the Western bed. How she wished that she had taken it up now... writing had been her only outlet for years--she certainly wasn't showing the turmoil she was feeling, not anymore. And she was determined not to. To do so now would only be a show of weakness...

(for Hokuto sorry... she 'calmed down' faster than I thought she would, I hope this still works >>;)

[akarusa.livejournal.com]

Maybe I should go back to bed... for about a week. Hokuto wasn't at her best at the moment; she'd just been through way too much lately. Still, she did have an appetite at the moment, so when encouraged to she made her way to the cafeteria again.

After putting together a chicken salad (hey, it was almost like being able to make her own meals again!) she looked around for someone to sit with and noticed new faces; so, it was that time of the week again. She never could remember if those days were consistent; Tuesday and Friday, maybe? If she was even right in thinking today was Tuesday.

A woman probably only a little older than her was caught her eye; being Hokuto, her first thought was I love her hair. She paused, frowning slightly as something occurred to her. When was that style popular? I think I saw it in a Kabuki play a couple years ago... Wow. Someone else from the Meiji era, maybe? I still SO have to see if I can meet any Shinsengumi members.

Most importantly, though, the woman looked so carefully blank that she had to be lost. Willing to risk getting her head bitten off for it, Hokuto came over and sat down across from her, giving a friendly smile. "Hi. Are you new here? It takes a lot of getting used to."

[vitale.livejournal.com]

By the time lunch rolled around, Bella was worried.

No, not just worried; terrified.

She had heard no word from Edward at all, and had not even seen him about. What had happened after she had been struck by that creature? She had heard the shotgun go off, and then she tried to find him through the darkness ... and then everything went black. What had happened to her fiancé?

Bella didn't know what she would do if something terrible happened to him. Honestly, her mind couldn't even fathom the possibility.

"Now, Kate," her nurse said, and the teenager jumped as if she had forgotten the woman had been there. "You're looking quite pale and skinny ... let's get some food into you, shall we?"

"I'm fine," Bella replied curtly to the nurse, earning a glare followed by a sigh.

"You need to watch that attitude, Ms. Irving," the nurse told her sternly. "Or else."

Bella didn't have the heart to argue. She didn't have the heart to do anything other than look for Edward and try to force her mind to not completely break at the thought of him severely injured.

After being led over to a table by her nurse, she watched as the woman walked off, keeping a stern eye for a moment before leaving. Bella watched her walk off for a moment before instantly keeping an eye out for a familiar head of dark copper hair.

[prodigalson]

Edward hadn't been worried once he had walked - or rather, rolled - into the cafeteria at the beginning of the day. Of course his mind had been on her; it was why he had done what he had done last night, after all. His awakening, his slow dressing with the aid of the nurse's hands, calloused and cruel after the hands he was used to; the slow drive through the hallways to the crowded and loud room; all of it had been to the rhythm of the mantra "Where is she?" once he had awoken to painful, painful consciousness. Claire had been a distraction as his head had wandered the room, blearily looking over unfamiliar and half-remembered faces for the one he remembered the clearest.

And there she had been. Unharmed. Seemingly unaffected. Talking to another girl.

So he hadn't worried. Not for her sake, at least. But he had avoided the shameful movement towards her, one where he couldn't even approach her of his own strength alone. He needed time to acquire the ability in his charred fingers to push the wheels himself. He wouldn't approach his fianceé with the aid of one of the people who had helped put him into this chair.

After a shift full of resting alone in his bed, unbothered by his roommate, he had attained the necessary movements in his fingers to do the deed. The layers of bandages covering nearly half of his body helped to dull the pain against the outside world, including the rough texture of the wheelchair's wheels - he had accepted by this point that the pills pushed down his throat were affecting his biology as well - but they still burned underneath the gauze.

He couldn't avoid her forever, however. And he certainly didn't want to.

Edward made sure her head was turned against him whilst he rolled up to her side, pushing one of the chairs next to her away so he could be closer. He sighed and smiled, straightening his spine so he could look down at her with some sense of ease, though his hands remained on the armrests of the chair. "Don't freak out," he said, echoing her words from a previous morning.

He knew it wouldn't work, but it was worth trying.

[emotionl4arobot.livejournal.com]

Brainiac 5 thought he'd been doing reasonably well so far. The nurses had supplied him with some pain medication, which was helpful if not as effective as the treatments from his own time, and he'd been left on his own so far. He hadn't really paid much attention to the excuses the nurses made for the bandages and the signs of last nights surgery. He knew they'd have something else to explain it all away, or claim the treatment was something he'd needed, and it wouldn't change anything in the end.

So instead he kept mostly to himself, avoiding the eyes of his few friends when he spotted them across the room, though he didn't imagine that would last for very long. It was hard to hide the signs of what had happened, and Peter would undoubtedly want to keep an eye on him now.

He wasn't sure what to make of the slight thrill of happiness he got with that idea.

But for now it was another shift he would most likely spend alone. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but the nurses insisted he had to keep his strength up and directed him to a place to sit, bringing over a tray with a salad and some fruit as well as a couple of familiar pills and a glass of water.

Brainiac 5 accepted it without a word and carefully lifted the drink and the first of the tables, doing his best to work around how painful his wrists were. He slipped the first tablet into his mouth and diligently washed it down with a mouthful of water before setting the glass back down and reaching for the second pill.

[for Muraki]

[doctorbadtouch.livejournal.com]

From the looks of things, if he wanted to, he could write of Raphael. The nurses made the same excuses for death as they did injuries: it was an accident, he was released. They'd take care of everything for him. The one man who might have recognized the corpse wasn't going to mention anything publicly or he would have done it by now. It was all done, more or less... and really sort of boring. An anticlimactic aftermath if he had ever seen one. He'd gone to the trouble of stabbing the boy with his own sword and not even a whisper of murder to be found anywhere. It was like a drop of blood in a slaughterhouse. He'd come across over a dozen notes looking for persons missing or dead and what was one more, really?

What was the point of a safe and random murder? If he had thought it was reckless at the time, it was only because the novelty. Now things were starting to fall into place. He had a rough sketch of the layout, the limitations and lacktherof, and a few mice to chase around the maze at his leisure. A simpler man would have been content. Muraki wasn't.

He saw neither the demon nor the shinigami as he entered the cafeteria for lunch. Even Ritsuka hadn't arrived yet as far as he could tell. In that case, now came the tedious work of building connections.

After scanning the room once again, he settled on a slight young blond. He had been meaning to look for someone older this time but there weren't very many options in that department and an injured patient gave him an opening. Many of them had been injured, but not so badly that they were provided painkillers during the meal.

He smiled politely as he reached the table, taking in the odd birthmark and the obviously painful moments at a glance. "You look like you've had a difficult night. Would you mind some company?"

[feartehreaper.livejournal.com]

Coming out of a place like the library, it was easy for Haseo to go and focus back on the things he'd managed to read here and there on the internet and elsewhere. For example, he'd seen on numerous instances that eating a larger meal in the morning and a smaller one at night was supposed to be better for you... and therefore, ever since he'd moved out on his own at sixteen, he had generally tried keeping to that. Even when he barely had the time in between being rushed through his normal daily obligations.

Here, though? That was much, much harder.

This fact hit him extremely hard as he took his place in the line for securing another meal, his face almost alarmingly blank as he stared at the tacos and similar being served once again. Then, without a word or change in his demeanor, he went right past it all to the 'alternative' options instead. Usually, the teenager would have despised the thought of turning to salad, but this time he'd just... finally had enough. If this is what it took to keep the desperately-needed calories coming in without feeling like he was going to be sick from all the constantly-served, heavily-Americanized food, then so be it.

That overly tense sense of apathy remained as he wandered out and picked an empty seat for himself, sitting down with the intention of eating every single thing he'd brought to the table with him regardless of how it tasted. At that point, he didn't even care if the nurse decided to try and introduce him to someone new again. If that happened and they were that annoying, then... he'd just ignore them. Whatever.

[ Free! ]

[idkmybfframen.livejournal.com]

Naruto was seriously glad to be out of the library. Okay, so he'd made a friend. It wasn't a total waste. But still! Libraries just were not his thing. He'd have preferred arts and crafts or something else. Anything else, really.

Naruto wasn't sure he wanted whatever they were sticking on his plate. It was like a whole meal on a piece of bread or something! He liked whole meals in bowls much better. Oh well. He'd probably eat it. It didn't smell bad, and Sakura seemed to think the food was never drugged. He trusted her, so what the hell.

He took his burrito - or was it a taco? what was the difference? - to a table. The table was occupied by only one other person, and boy did he look grouchy.

Good thing Naruto was practically an expert on grouchy. He'd been on a team with Sasuke after all, and he was probably the grouchiest kid on the whole planet.

"Hey! Bad day?" Naruto asked, cheerfully, picking up his burrito and taking an experimental bite.

[ttly-not-a-rat.livejournal.com]

And once more Ratigan was thrust into the feeding pen with the rest of the commoners. While it did help somewhat knowing that some of the patients here were as intelligent as Ms. Lana Skye and a few were as skilled and possibly as gullible as Carter, there was no doubt in Ratigan's mind that the vast majority of the patients here were still dullards and fools. Ah, well. At least he wasn't going to be swarmed with all of them at once. It appeared that the patients would normally pair up for meals, so Ratigan hoped that he would only have to deal with one imbecile as opposed to multiple ones.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He hoped he wouldn't have to deal with any dotards, but it seemed to be a sad fact of life here that meals would not be spent alone. Very well. It was just another trial that he would have to overcome in order to triumph against this damned place.

Ratigan had never even heard of the food being served for lunch today, so he was forced once more to instead choose out a selection of fruits to eat. At the very least it looked as if he wouldn't be catching scurvy any time soon. Hrm. There was one benefit to being here.

[Hey, diddle diddle, give me a riddle, Eddie!]

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Needless to say, he was soaked with disturbance. His encounter with Harvey had provided stark incongruities -- variables that didn't quite iterate sense -- and yet there was no doubt this man was a Gothamite. The accent was a dead giveaway, after all. But the facial reconstruction, how arbitrary it seemed. Not that Harvey hadn't indulged in such therapy before, but this show made Eddie so uneasy.

The theory of the multiverse entertained his mind. It wouldn't be the first time worlds had bled through into others, but the theory typically involved some severe catalyst. There were no Alexander Luthors here, no Monitors or their antithesis. The equation was unfinished, incomplete, it wasn't sound. He had already discarded the concept of an elaborate hoax; as a reformed man, Eddie possessed significantly fewer enemies. And those who still maintained their illogical grudges lacked the capacity for such an illusion. There was deep reason behind why he never offended magical types, after all.

Eddie's bare fingers gripped at his tray, his eyes scanning the room. Norman Osborn wasn't to be seen, which was just as well. Eddie didn't want to supply the staff with a noticeable pattern. As he strolled along the masses, he found a suitable opening, a spot where a fellow was already occupied.

"Hello," he said somewhat brusquely, as he assumed a seat across from Ratigan. "I take it you're not conventionally insane, either."

The other's mannerisms and posture was enough of a hint. Eddie wasn't dealing with a Jervis Tetch.

[no-dont-go.livejournal.com]

Aigis had never dreamed before. Machines did not possess subconscious minds, data did not read like thoughts. Therefore, before her time here she had never experienced true sleep, and even after her arrival sleep had never truly occurred. Waking up day after day, when the night was full of plans, rushing around and protecting others, it was amazing her body had never shut down before now. But today she had slept, and woken with strange images playing through her head.

She dreamed of Minato, of course. And he was dancing with Koromaru. And then Heat and Junpei and Ryoji joined the mix, arguing about... fish? Demon fish. Then Utena had somehow gotten into the mix. Two cats, one made of plush and another composed of flesh and bone sat side by side. Had Yukari been there? She did remember a brief glimpse of Mitsuru and Akihiko running away. But then Fuuka had turned around and suddenly looked a great deal like Cissnei. There had been others too--people she had met, people she had only glimpsed, and even perhaps some people she didn't recognize. Athena had stood by her the entire time, watching the parade of faces and events. There had been a reason behind everything, some pressing matter to attend to, but if they ever achieved their goals it didn't much matter. One moment led to another without any rhyme or reason, until the moment Aigis finally opened her eyes.

Morning. No, it wasn't morning. She sat up in bed, and something beside her tumbled to the ground. Looking down, she saw the plush toy cat, Schrodinger, sprawled on the ground. That's right, Heat had given him to her. Just before they left to test...

Aigis jumped out of bed, fully awake now and rushed to her desk, throwing in all necessary materials she had gotten in the night. She hid the Evoker, cradling the precious object in her hands for a moment before tossing it along the other objects. Reaching into her pocket once more, she found an interesting thing, a pair of claw-like apparatuses that she had never seen before. Not thinking much of it, she added them to the pile and locked the desk drawer. She also placed her baseball bat in the closet, just in time for her nurse to come in. Cathy was as chatty as ever, which was a godsend.

Aigis changed her clothing and delicately placed Schrodinger on her desk. When Cathy asked about it, all Aigis replied was that it had been a present from a friend. Her nurse seemed content enough with that.

Although she knew she had somewhat slept in past the normal waking period, she did not expect it to already be lunch. It was quite surprising, but maybe she had needed that rest after summoning her Persona as she had last night. That... had been quite the draining experience. It translated differently in this human body than it had when she had been a machine.

Taking her tray of food, Aigis took a moment to scan the cafeteria for some familiar face. Heat wasn't present yet, it seemed. Neither was Utena. That was a pity. She had grown used to seeing the two of them at some point during the day and, given the time restraints the institute placed on them, she would only have this period and the next to guarantee a visit from both. Neither was Junpei or Minato present. For now, it seemed she would have to do without their usual good company.

She took to an empty table and sat down, then systematically started in on a burrito. She wasn't sure what this food was, but she was eager to satisfy her rumbling belly. Her appetite had not been so great the day before. She had to keep up her energy. At least now that the shock of having lost Yukari would not weigh on her mind so much, now that she knew at least her loss would not go in vain.

[hasnomeaning]

She could not yet compress the night before into a perfect little box. Facts filed away--thought, word, and deed placed nicely into sense and order when there was anything but. What was known was the truth; what was denied was the same. It was a purely emotional response. Thinking logically would find the answer in front of her. But she denied it with her being. Denied the similarities between the Fifth and herself. Between the Angel in human form. And herself.

So silent, was her form that morning. A perfect replica of humanity, ironies aside. Ayanami didn't bother responding to the nurse, didn't care enough to nod in agreement at anything said. She followed the woman, took the tray, and moved off to a table without an idle thought. Her feet would carry her to a random location--but for her eyes catching familiarity. She blinked once, head tilting fractionally, and shifted directions to come from behind and around the other girl, sitting near to Aigis. She nodded, added, "Hello," then settled to eat the food allotted. It was important to consume what would sustain you. And despite the supposed ignoring for favor of nutrients, the fact of Rei saying hello said enough. She considered Aigis something different from the others.

[catstreetblues.livejournal.com]

It had been nice to see Alvin again. The kid was dreary was always, but at least he was still around and kicking, which was...more than Sanae could say about the other friends he'd had around here. But really, that perpetual rain cloud needed to go some day.

He hadn't exactly been a frequent customer of the lone Mexican place in Shibuya, but Sanae at least knew his way around the selections for today, which had to be more than some people could say. He got a burrito and a glass of the horchata (His food horizons were about to be expanded.) and went to go sit down, noticing that there weren't too many people in the cafeteria yet. That was fine.

As he sat down, though, Sanae had a horrible flashback. The last time he'd had a burrito (that he could remember), the Composer had been sitting across from him. They'd been so eager then, ready to take on Landel's and make this place their own. Funny how things could turn out sometimes. He almost wished...

Geez, he was starting to sound like Alvin. Grumbling to himself, Sanae dug in and prayed for something to distract him.

[for Neku, I think]

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

The only books he was all that interested in reading were manga, so napping in the Sun Room with his music turned almost all the way up had been a pretty good way of keeping other people from bugging him. At least breakfast with Kairi had been okay, but it kind of sucked that no one he really wanted to talk to from home was around.

The more he thought about it though, he really hadn't seen much of anyone, even the ones he was sure were still around. Minamimoto wasn't the type to just blend into the crowd, so maybe the major failure of a mathematician had finally gotten what was coming to him.

He picked up some tacos and tried not to miss Mexican Dog, which was usually as close as he got to any kind of foreign food. It smelled okay though, so he was pretty sure he could stomach it. Not too surprising, as he glanced around for a place to sit, he caught sight of Mr. H, all by himself. Leave it to Hanekoma to keep himself out of trouble and show up just when he was needed. That seemed to be his lot. Their last conversation had been... interesting, to say the least, but he'd had some time to mentally digest it all and for the time being, it didn't change anything. They were both still stuck and they both had to get out or end up like Josh.

"Hey," he said as he set his tray down. Not much of an opening maybe, but just because he'd beat their game, it wasn't going to make him into a social butterfly overnight. "Been a while."

[gah sorry for taking so long!!]