By the end of lunch, Alaric was still hungry and still stuck on the middle of a perfectly balanced scale, the only difference with the scale having a new, possibly unrelated third option: it was either some sort of conspiracy (obviously of the supernatural sort), he was actually crazy, or he’d just had the very bad luck of being kidnapped by radicals. Radical what hadn’t been decided yet, but considering the two years of his life, he was really gunning for the last option. He had already invested in his own insanity, anyway – it was either him or the world that was crazy. The only problem was that the world hadn’t forced him to try to drug a werewolf in order to help the vampire who’d killed him.

Well. C’est la vie.

Except the part where there might not be a lot of life from Jules if that whole “mark” thing turned into what he assumed it was. What could he do now, though? For better or worse, he’d been kidnapped and put into a mental asylum that was trolled by armed guards who thought using tear gas on children was a good idea. The least they could have done was worried about heightened insurance costs or something. The least he could say was that this kind of topped the luck he’d had for a while.

At least he wasn’t the only one getting screwed, if that new intercom message was any indication. Considering he’d only heard two messages from this man – one slightly threatening and now this - it was left up for debate if he was merely incompetent or the world was against him. Maybe someone like Anise was used to this sort of thing, but a newbie just found the words confusing and basically meaningless. From all Alaric could tell it was just another guy getting crap from his boss. Any potential sympathy he could have felt had been nixed by… well, by everything right now. Especially while he was currently stuck in a hotbox.

The weather from the journey from building to greenhouse had been chilly, but the greenhouse itself was hot and humid. Alaric wasn’t new to the idea of humidity since he’d lived most of his life in North Carolina and Virginia, but it wasn’t usually so saturated. Whatever uplifted mood they were hoping for was lost on him; green thumbs didn’t run in his family. Mowing the lawn was kind of the end of the line for him, and even some weekends that hadn’t gotten done back when he’d had a lawn to mow.

Lack of green thumb or not, he was still conscious of the situation. Despite clearly not wanting to be there, he had taken to carefully investigating each plant already cultivated, searching out a particular purple flower that could be pressed and dried – not that he thought vervain would actually be around, but it was a hopeful thought.

[For his convenient alliance partner.]

((From here.))

This corridor was empty as well, which was not surprising when one took into account the lack of activity in the previous area. They passed a door to their left, one that lacked a clear label on the maps Spock had seen. While there were several possibilities of what it entailed, Spock knew he would need to make some inquiries from patients who had been here longer than himself. He certainly could have attempted to open it now, but it was better to start further north and work their way down. There would be less time wasted backtracking through previously explored territory that way.

"If the maps are correct," and so far that appeared to be the case, "then we should find a morgue and two autopsy rooms in at the end of the hall ahead."

After a few moments of walking, though, they reached a closed door. Spock adjusted his items long enough to free one of his hands. Grasping onto the knob, he only need to try opening it once to realize it was locked. However, the door did not feel particularly strong, not unlike the one that led into the pharmacy.

Spock leaned down and propped some of his possessions against the wall. "It seems we will have to force our way through."

[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.]

How one's body could maintain a waking schedule when sleep came unnaturally and in a room without windows, must surely be a mystery. Yet, as if working on cue, Natalia stirred well before her nurse arrived. That was normal. Less so, the weight that sought to press her eyelids closed again, the heaviness of her limbs that made lifting her hands to her face an effort. She put her wrist to her forehead with a frown, then attempted a jolt of energy – to swiftly dig her hands into the mattress and shove herself into a seated position, and from there, to her feet.

Not to overexert herself once again, but to refuse that it could be possible after sleeping. Happily, though all still felt leaden, her head did not swim. Encouraged, Natalia put on her slippers, rearranged the bedding, and waited. There came the announcement (reminding her, suddenly, of what she had last heard, and the guilt that had twisted in her gut, Jill--), and her face wrinkled with disgust at the hacking sound. Therapy and breakfast. Food would surely help.

Natalia did not wait long before her nurse opened the door, and after exchanging cursory “Good Morning”s (with rather more enthusiasm on the other woman's part), they began the walk to the Cafeteria. With, of course, the essential rest room stop, where water was splashed and scrubbed over her face, and her hair toyed with to no great satisfaction. At least the shower had renewed its body.

Separating in the Cafeteria, Natalia took her place in line and loaded her plate: eggs, fruit salad, fried “tater tots” (potatoes?), and curious meat wrapped in cooked dough. Some of everything, with juice and water. She thanked her servers, collected utensils and napkins, and found a seat at an empty table. It was early yet.

Sparing a brief look around to be sure no one she recognized had arrived – though she remained eager to greet every patient, at the moment she chose to focus on the possible strength gained from the meal – Natalia began to cut up the items and eat with a refined gusto. Entirely possible!

[Claude!]

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

[From here, with much AUGH]

Of all the things Recluse was expecting when he walked through the door, immediately falling into a lake was not one of them. He began to sink immediately from the weight of his weapons, swimming back up to the surface, spitting out a mouthful of water that he'd nearly swallowed in surprise.

Hopefully, Agatha knew how to swim. Recluse wasn't quite sure he was in the mood by this point to do something so charitable as save her if she couldn't.

Although the trip was longer than usual on account of the rain and wind, the buses did eventually – and safely – reach Landel's Institute. No strange happenings yet; the patients were escorted off the buses according to the usual protocol and made to go to their rooms and change back into their normal uniforms while the nurses temporarily left them to retrieve their dinners and, in some cases, new roommates.

It wasn't long before the Head Doctor made one of his usual announcements:

"Welcome back, everyone! I regret I was unable to join you on your foray today, but you'll soon find that we had some new guests to attend to in your absence! And now, for your dinner: lamb curry, spicy, but served with naan and mildly seasoned steamed vegetables for anyone who might have a sensitive tongue! For dessert, we'll be serving each patient a slice of banana cream pie, and our usual drinks and dietary alternatives are available.

"I'm hoping you all didn't get too wet, and hopefully the hot dinner will warm you up in no time. Nurses, please escort our newer patients to their new rooms, and everybody, I'll speak to you again soon!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. Find new room assignments here. ]

[From here]

The little eva pilot was quick to enter behind this asshole, her common sense and caution left on the back burners so she could avenge her wounded pride. Bending under what was left of the crude plywood boards, Asuka's foot didn't catch the difference in elevation from the ground and the floor of the building and a proper recovery was made before the dark-haired man could see her slip up again.

It was a disorienting adjustment at first, but soon the man came back into view as her eyes dilated. What light got past the boarded up door streaked across the obnoxious yellow of his rain coat. Of course he hadn't even turned around to listen to her. What an arrogant ass, as if her words meant nothing.

"Listen here..." Asuka spoke up again, unwilling to let this guy have the last word in this battle, as she thrust her finger at his back. "... I don't need you to--"

((From here.))

As he approached the unusual building, Spock noted the manner in which the doors and windows were boarded up, presumably to keep trespassers from entering. He circled around onto South Street while glancing over the old structure. Oddly enough, some of the boards had been removed. Slowing his pace, the half-Vulcan science officer silently drew closer to the abandoned building. The wood was rather damp from the precipitation, but what was of most interest to Spock was the fact that there appeared to have been recent activity in the area, if the moved boards were an indicator.

Curious, Spock considered looking inside. There appeared to be little staff presence here, perhaps because the lack of businesses provided ample shelter from the rain. It would be best to take advantage of it while he had the opportunity.

He stepped toward the front door, where enough boards had been removed to make a small entrance. All he would need to to was stoop down enough to peer inside...

The transition was too disquieting. She remained where she was, staring at the ceiling. Appearing in one place after being in another wasn't entirely new. Blacking out in Unit 00 led her to open her eyes in the hospital ward more times than she cared about. This, though. Rei would say that this wasn't the same, if only for the lack of injuries. The strange events of the night had added to that--echoes of memories flashing in a hall too real to be only that. And a boy in an unlocked room resting in something that seemed strange in this place.

All of that, really. The other, the entry plug, the cool metal that remained in her hand. Almost hesitantly, Rei slid it under her mattress, some sort of instinct hiding what she should not have. Like glasses that were no longer near. When the nurse came in with a change of clothes, Rei acquiesced quietly, sliding the dress and jacket on efficiently. A passing whim thought to question the woman, but after the name argument from the day prior simply had the girl walking forward. Ikari's words and last night slid distrust in place of neutrality. There was something strange about the place she found herself in.

She quietly seated herself on the bus, staring out the window blandly.

[for Sai]

Shinji was worried. He'd been waiting for a while - Kaworu still hadn't arrived. He didn't know why and as always his insecurities had begun to flare up. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he didn't really want to see Shinji. Maybe he'd simply been hallucinating the whole thing. Shinji glanced down the darkened hallway, flashlight dangling from his hand. He didn't paticularly want to go out - what if he and Kaworu missed each other? On the other hand, what if something had happened to Kaworu?

He could not fathom the idea that Kaworu would simply turn away from him, despite his own insecurities. He'd been too focused on Shinji, too intent, too sincere for even Shinji's doubts to chase away. Shinji gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, internal debate raging. Should he go looking for him? Should he stay? Reluctantly and with a huge effort of will, he tugged away from the wall next to his door and clicked on his flashlight. He had to find Kaworu. He couldn't just spend the night wondering and worrying. If something had happened to him and Shinji did nothing, he'd never forgive himself. Not after Toji. Not after everything.

He set off into the darkness, still hoping that Kaworu would turn the corner at any minute.

_{[To here.]}

[From here]

There were no lighted guard towers out here and no heavily-armed patrols, and Prussia again felt insulted by the lack of security. It was almost as if they wanted him to escape! Until now, hardly a day had gone by without the control council making its presence—and his position—known. The sudden change in tune disturbed him more than he cared to admit, and he couldn't help but wonder if he were walking straight into some kind of trap. But they'd already taken everything away from him— the feel of land beneath his feet was good, but it would have been better if it had been his land and felt in his very bones—so what else could they possibly do? He refused to die, and he'd refuse to let them kill him, no matter what they tried next.

Prussia finally decided to use the torch, clicking it on to survey the area. It was a field of some sort (for football, perhaps), with a shed at one corner and a wall surrounding its entirety. He took a few steps forward along the nearest wall before turning towards it and starting to scale it.

Once he was high enough to see over, Prussia propped himself up with his arms and shone the torch into the next area. It didn't look like a way away from the hospital's grounds—it was just a walled courtyard and more of the hospital—so he carefully dropped back to the ground.

He'd have to try his luck with the other two walls, and their corner seemed like the best option. He started across the field, heading in the direction of the shed.

There was something invigorating about getting back onto a proper work schedule. That weekend had just been far too long, especially when he'd had to spend it in the sort of town where everyone knew everyone and therefore didn't have much of interest to talk about. There was something that was just too Pleasantville about the whole thing, and while Wilson knew that was judgmental and even snobby of him to think, he couldn't help it.

Work, on the other hand, at least took his mind off of the fact that he'd been ditched in this job without even a way to get into contact with his colleagues, let alone his boss. He almost felt like he'd been exiled, and it was starting to wear on him. At this point, his biggest reprieve was in knowing that he had a small chance of really helping the patients here.

Though even that was an obstacle, considering the attitudes that most of them had, but it was at least an obstacle he was used to dealing with. Difficult patients were part of the package no matter what kind of doctor you were, oncology included. If anything, cancer patients were particularly tricky to handle -- their lives were falling apart and they were emotionally unstable, depressed, and angry. Sometimes at him. Often at him.

That was one of the only reasons why he felt like he had any experience in working with the patients here at Landel's. It was far more severe here, but at least it wasn't completely foreign to him.

Wilson entered his office, dropped his suitcase, and started to arrange his files. He had one follow-up session and a new patient this morning, so it looked like he'd have his hands full.

It had all been going so well!

Seeing Cloud and Aerith(!) again had brought a now unfamiliar lightness to her shoulders. Work would be harder from here on out, but she wasn't on her own anymore. She was getting a second chance she'd never thought was possible. And then, then they'd trekked outside, totally ready to face the fog and the unknown (privately, the ninja had been a little worried; it couldn't happen again, it just couldn't, but what if it did?)—only to wake up. In their beds. As usual. Gaaaaaawd—!

"I just want you to know," Yuffie informed her nurse, grabbing her journal from the desk on her way out, "that your hair looks spectacularly god-awful today. What did you do, stick your tongue in a socket? I'm not exactly hip on fashion, too busy badass for that fluffy stuff, but—"

Plucky looked ready to plant her face in her hands. Or to plant her hands somewhere else. To her credit, and much to Yuffie's eternal disappointment, she did—tried to do—neither. "One of those days, is it?" the nurse sighed, disapproval incarnate. "Well. You're just going to have to behave; the new batches of patients are due today. We don't want to make a bad impression."

"I am feeling so completely convinced of my wrongdoing," Yuffie confided. They stepped into the cafeteria, practically empty as of yet. The chocolate cake last night had worked a treat, whetting her appetite. Honestly, she was getting sick of pecking at scraps like a runt Chocobo in the snow plains—but not literally, of course. Ew. She got more than enough of that on those damn buses once a week. Now that AVALANCHE really was dropping onto her lap—and remind her to get the hell out of dodge if Barret ever took his turn—she couldn't afford not to keep her strength up. For one, she'd be a liability. For two, she'd get her spine chewed out.

"Fruit," said Plucky, hovering as her charge picked out her choices for the day. Rolling her eyes, Yuffie grabbed an apple, slinging it onto the tray alongside an 'English' sandwich. "That'll do. I'll leave you to your breakfast, now." Somehow, that sounded about as comforting as 'My name is Don Corneo and I am raiding through your panty draw', and Yuffie was stopping that thought right there. Oh, god. Eurk. Bad, bad, bad! Bad, brain. Bad. That—yeah, no. Just, no. 'Sides, the guy was as dead as a doornail, splatted across Da Chao's feet. Dirtying them, really, but somehow Yuffie couldn't bring herself to be sorry about that.

(And it wasn't like the creep'd ever end up here, right? Right!)

She took to a seat, dropping her tray and her journal both onto the table. The book fell pages-down; Yuffie flipped it over, thumbing through to the middle as she worked through her apple. An almost finished map of Gaia stared back at her, neat as she could ever manage. Dots for major locations, squiggles for mountains. Stars for the materia caves, Chocobos for the tracks. All labelled in Wutaian. It was just a little piece of the home she absolutely had to get back to, 'cuz Leviathan knew what kind of trouble they'd be up to their necks in without her.

[For Donna]

[From here.]

After finally breaking into the room, L peeked around the door, using his flashlight to do a quick scan of the space, looking for danger.

The fact that any number of things might be in the refrigerator or pantry could be problematic. Weapons were his primary goal in this room; a kitchen knife had obvious advantages over scalpels and autopsy shears. His instinct was to clear the refrigerator and pantry before spending any time in the kitchen, but as ill-armed as he was, he felt it would be better not to kick the hornets' nest -- to try to get in and out as quickly as possible without attracting much attention. The locked door meant that it was unlikely that any other patients had been in the room, and while sweets might have been pleasant to find, they weren't worth risking an attack unless he was equipped and willing to handle it.

Although, coffee -- they might keep coffee for the staff -- With a sigh, and some reluctance, he discarded the thought.

Apart from that, the room looked clear, and he realized that was the strange thing about it: other parts of the Institute that he'd seen at night had an air of general neglect and decay, but this room was spotless. He wouldn't have second thoughts about eating a meal that he knew had been prepared in it. Why is it like this?

Howell was behind him. "This one is also all right, but please keep an eye on those two doors."

He pulled open two drawers at once and began to rifle through their contents before continuing to speak. "What did you think of what I told you, Howell? Why might I have been dodgy about it?" There was no emotion in his voice.

[From here.]

L opened the door to the small room where, he supposed, the staff's food was served to them. It didn't take long to sweep the visible area with the beam of his flashlight, up and down and side to side, until he was assured that nothing was waiting.

"It appears to be safe, for the moment," he said to Howell, and stepped into the room.

[From here.]

Cautious, L pushed open the door, peeking around it, scanning the patio and sweeping the beam of his flashlight across it, even glancing above his head.

He didn't see anything, but he knew it was no guarantee that nothing was waiting in the dark. Two nights earlier, in the Entry Room, he hadn't seen the clockwork assassin in spite of having performed the same kind of visual examination; it was as if the man had materialized from thin air. L continued to wonder if his survey had been too cursory. He might always wonder.

He had thought that his own instinct for physical danger was decent, that he was wary and that it served him well. His sense wasn't infallible, and it was far from the only security he relied on. Even so, it had always been useful as both a first line of defense and a last resort.

In this place, it had failed him over and over. There was no sense in paying much attention to a prickle at the nape of his neck and the sensation of being watched when they were both constant companions. Only the escalation of inexplicable dread might be useful, and then, he could not afford to make the mistake of assuming that such an escalation would happen when he needed it.

The next room that he and Howell needed to pass through was the food counter, a short distance to their left and through another door. The sooner they could accomplish it, the better; he only hoped that nothing would be waiting for them inside.

Uneasy, but unwilling to retreat, he stepped onto the patio.

[From here]

Tyki headed through the double doors into the next hallway, still not seeing anything or anyone around this place. The area was still as empty and boring as ever. He'd almost wish for the head doctor to switch around the lay-out of the place a bit, if only it weren't for the fact that figuring out what was where would be a real pain. Especially on the rare occasion he would need to be somewhere, and considering the guy's excellent sense of timing...

[To here]

[from here]

Junpei found himself a spot not too far from the door leading out to the hallway. Seriously, if Yukari waned the damn Evoker, she needed to run her mini-skirted ass down here to get it since he wasn't going much farther. It was only fair since he'd trucked down to her block last night.

Setting the bag of stuff on the floor, he leaned against the wall after adjusting the Evoker in the waistband of his jeans. He was not happy with having lost the t-shirt he'd had last night, forced to wear the smiley one again, even if it was turned inside out. He sighed and looked down at the square bandage on his arm. Vampire. He'd been bitten by a vampire.

Just to make sure, the junior checked his teeth. No fangs. Good. He probably would have freaked out if he'd found any. Still... curiosity got the better of him and he peeled half the bandage off to look at the bite. Twin puncture wounds with some redness about them. He poked it.

"Ow." Poking it was not a good idea.

[Hey, Yuka-tan... got any garlic?]

...apparently being vampired made the zombie go away. Junpei wasn't sure what to make of this development. yes, he was quite happy that he no longer wanted to go gnaw on someone's arm, but... vampire. He'd seriously swallowed vampire flesh (complete with vampire blood) and then that same vampire drank his blood. That was a bad combination, according to movies, books and other folklore. Not that Junpei could really remember a whole ton of vampire lore that would be useful in determining if he'd been properly vampirized. As it was, Evangeline didn't exactly come across as a typical vampire, so anything he he knew may very well be useless. That didn't make him feel any better. He supposed he'd find out if he started wanting to suck on people's necks in a non-sexual manner.

As it was, the teen was terrified he'd feel some kind of mystical pull dragging him to Evangeline to do her menial work, like carrying her shit and laying down over a puddle of mud so she could walk across him or something equally as lame and humiliating for a servant to do. Seriously, he did not want to find himself calling her Master and holding her purse at the mall while she tried on a bunch of dresses and shit.

...what if she made him do, like, evil things? Now he really wished he hadn't told her about Persona and let her see him burninate that unholy drain clog. She could do all sorts of things, make him do them, and he might be vampirically driven to do them. Evangeline would be a cruel master. Gods, she terrified him.

It was a good thing he was giving Yukari the Evoker that night. He set out to meet her once he decided that he wasn't getting called to be Evangeline's bitch that night. His armor, baseball bat, jersey and the closet rod were all in the mesh bag slung over his shoulder.

...his arm itched. Stupid vampire.

[to here]