[ from kansas ]

Pulling open the door that had shut behind Vantas-kun, Uryuu moved back out and grit his teeth against the jolting, an inexcusable effort needed to keep from swaying on his feet, his vision blurring as bile roiled in his gut and throat. He swallowed, resisting the telling impulse to steady himself with a hand on the wall or door frame, and blinked a few times, eyes clearing on a dark... bedroom?

He stared across at two beds, one made and one with what looked in the dark like white sheets disturbed, half torn from it. The air felt -- not stagnant, but enclosed, and moderately cool, befitting what looked like stone walls. Tall walls, he noted, stepping further in and then to the side, again lifting his hand to press it to a wall, to feel the texture. Stone, of a different sort from that which lay in large tiles underfoot. A lack of windows wasn't necessarily a sign of being underground -- it had been in Hueco Mundo, but wasn't in the institute's rooms, obviously -- but Uryuu suspected they were regardless.

They weren't in the institute. The extreme difference in decor suggested it, but more than that, this made him absolutely certain: the concentration of spirit particles in the air had thickened, and they felt different. The door had opened here, so he could hardly think of them as having escaped.

Mason-san had spoken of something like this, too. Only, this absolutely wasn't Tokyo. It might not even be Earth, with the reishi so odd.

"I don't suppose any of you recognize this place?"

[ from here! ]

"I intend to--" talking as he walked through the doorframe, Uryuu's voice stopped along with his movements. The first sign of something off had been the abrupt sense of disorientation, a dizzying nausea that did little to ameliorate his already augmenting aching, slight but pervasive discomfort in his skin, and the ceasless headache. The ground felt as if it rocked beneath his feet, as if his vestibular system had been tampered with, and he grimaced as he attempted to orient himself.

The next sign: the ground beneath his feet, the smooth hardness (not carpet) that met the soles of his boots as he stepped forward, and the slight echo, that which carried his words. His eyes adjusted onto tile, and he fumbled to retrieve his flashlight, which he shone over the room that smelled of moisture, soap, and mildew.

As he passed the beam of his flashlight over the showerheads, dispensers, stacked stools, and red and white tiles, Uryuu realized that not only was this a showerroom, but having seen that the men's showers had blue tiling, it was a women's showerroom. Blood shot up his neck and swamped his cheeks, and he would have pivoted hard and attempted to march right out of there, except for the blocked doorway behind him, and the obviously more pressing issue of how the door to the entry room had led here.

"This, uh," he tried, using the flashlight to try and push up his glasses, "...isn't right."

A lame finish.

[From here.]

They'd already neared the Sun Room and the door that led to the building's exit, but Castiel wasn't aiming for either one tonight. It was still quiet on this side of the building, which seemed strange to him. He was using crutches, after all... He would have expected that plenty of other patients would have beaten him and Lust to this point.

It didn't matter. If their path wasn't littered with obstacles, that would make it easier to reach the greenhouse. As for Lust's question...

"There is one person I know who I believe is still ill," he explained. "Her name is Aigis. She used to be an android, though she's been made human here." Just like him, and perhaps just like Lust. Though she was a created human, so he had no idea if she could ever be the real thing. Did she even have a soul? There was no way he would be able to feel for it in this place; he didn't have that kind of power at the moment.

"We have a few things in common, but she hasn't been taking her illness very seriously." Which frustrated him, especially since she had struck him as the goal-oriented type. Did she really have that little concern for her own well-being?

After that miserable breakfast, Kratos was truly ready to go hide himself away in some dark corner of a room and refuse to speak to anyone for the rest of the day. It was utterly pathetic that he was actually giving that kind of behavior serious thought, but somehow, in the wake of Sora's death, everything, from company to even eating, seemed too loud or too exhaustive; his energy seemed to slip away the instant he gained it.

Ironically, this behavior was not previously unknown to him; it was just that the last time he'd fallen into this kind of slump, his circumstances were such that engaging in extreme antisocial behavior and refusing to eat did not carry severe consequences like they--that was also pathetic, that he'd just entertained the idea that the days following Anna's death could have been more bearable than now. Could he possibly frustrate himself even more? The paradoxical part was that he enjoyed doing it in a strange, perverse way.

He wrote out a few listless, largely formulaic responses over the board to some notes he'd pinned up right before breakfast, and then wandered over to a nearby couch, where he sat down, stared at the coffee table for a moment, and then slumped back against the couch, one hand draped across his eyes, with a sigh. For a few seconds, he stayed that way, letting the wave of emotion wash over him--it was simply too much; he had reached the point where he was willing to give up and acknowledge that--and then, as if a switch had been flicked, Kratos straightened up, everything once again carefully masked. He exhaled, slow and steady, and looked down just in time to see a cat pass by, meowing for his attention.

He wasn't particularly fond of animals, as he'd once told Lloyd, but right now, all he wanted was something to distract him, and a cat was much preferred to a person; after all, the cat didn't talk, nor did it require him to talk. Kratos reached down to scratch it between the ears and then paused as it leaped onto the couch to curl up next to him. It was a stretch to think that he might be able to spend an entire shift petting a cat (also pathetic, but in a different way), but he would do it for however long it held his attention, or vice versa.

[Flora!]

For the first time since Kyousuke arrived, waking up didn't feel the slightest bit strange or out of place. It was still like night had suddenly stopped, with nothing in-between then and now, but instead of being disorienting, or like there was something missing, it was like waking up from a nightmare. His breaths came heavy and anxious, everything flooding back to him, but unlike last night, he had more mental clarity, and he actually understood what it meant.

Sora... was dead.

After a moment, his breathing seemed to ease up, and he sat up slowly, and simply stared down at his blanket. The motion hurt quite a bit, a lot worse than it had yesterday morning, but he seemed to be in decent shape, all considered. Sore, battered, a little faint, but compared to worst of it...

He wondered if he should feel upset right now, or want to yell, or cry, but the truth was, he didn't. If anything, he was just numb. Tired and listless. He wasn't sure what to think or feel about anything, but somehow it seemed distant and disconnected, like something that hadn't actually happened. Yet, if he lingered on it too long, the lifelessness grew into something nauseating, heavy and constricting in his chest, and he didn't even notice until he realized he was gripping his bedding unnecessarily hard. So he forced himself to relax, and not focus on it too much. ... He preferred the cold sort of nothingness.

When the nurse arrived, she wasn't empty-handed, unfolding a wheelchair by his bedside and looking at him expectantly, as if she wanted him to settle himself into it. Looking at it was strange and uncomfortable, and he found himself refusing automatically.

"... I can walk fine. I don't need—"

"What you don't need," the nurse said sternly, "is to be overexerting yourself. You got to walk around yesterday, and what do you do? You go and reopen your injuries! Honestly, Mr. Taylor, you might be young, but you need to take better care of yourself! Today, you're resting, and if you're good about it, we'll see about maybe taking the chair away tomorrow."

That was bad enough, but then she wouldn't even let him wheel himself, and pushed him along from behind. This was totally unnecessary... But though it made him feel helpless, Kyousuke didn't have the energy to argue, so he let her do what she wanted. She asked if he wanted to make a quick trip the bulletin, first, but... Would the news be there? There were people who deserved to know, but there would be reactions to it, questions he didn't want to answer, and feeling his stomach give a lurch, he decided he didn't want to deal with it. Any of it.

Once in the cafeteria, the nurse asked him about breakfast, but Kyousuke insisted he wasn't hungry. ... He wasn't. Sensing he wanted to be left alone, she wheeled him off to an easily overlooked portion of the cafeteria, but quickly returned, setting food and some juice in front of him, "just in case." She set a small paper cup with a couple of painkillers on the tray, and after that, she left, leaving the boy to stare down the meal he didn't really want.

[ Kratos! ]

[ from here. ]

There were footsteps now.

Soft ones, loud ones, some that creaked and others that seemed to slide on smooth like the sound of shadows spilling along the walls. If anything, she could tell by the attempts at quiet that there was nothing of immediate concern in the area, or else there would be more alarm, more panicked voices rising to the occasion. No danger yet, but there were likely people, and Orihime wondered how everyone was coping with the fact that some of their friends held monsters beneath their skin. Wondering if they were flooded with the same fearsome doubt that she once had when she first saw--

Inside of her sneakers, her toes wiggled. The hallway seemed clear enough, and so there was nothing to fear, but every time her shoes hit the floor, she worried over her clumsy steps, her shoelaces – perhaps they’d reach up around her ankles and yank when she was least expecting it.

The hallway was exceptionally wider, perhaps colder, but she tried not to think about how small her light seemed as she scanned it across the floor in front of her, focusing instead on her instructions, on the little pieces of information she had gathered during the day. The door over there possibly led to there, the hallway on this end led over there…

Maybe she should have drawn herself a map before she left the room, but memory and necessity served well enough for her purposes. Paranoia, too. Battery life, her mind reminded her, and she shut off her flashlight as she neared the opposite wall, pressing a hand against it as she blindly groped around in the darkness.

You’re a cat. An owl! Kangaroo, Bat M-

Regardless of how much she attempted to imagine herself as a creature of the night (vampire? No, no, best not to cause any unnecessary panic in the off-chance her acting skills were too much for anyone else to handle), adjusting was much more difficult than she’d initially thought. Even as she heard others passing on by, she stubbornly persisted, biting the inside of her cheek as she avoided looking at the occasional beam of light coming from a stranger. Her eyes needed to get accustomed to the night anyway.

Anything else would’ve been cheating.

[ to here. ]

[from here, skipping a few halls]

Here it was. Skulduggery wasn't around yet, but Rita expected he would show up soon. He'd been punctual up until now.

If what she'd been hearing was right, she was going to need to look out for both monsters and patients tonight. Seemed simple enough. Rita stood with her back against the wall opposite to the Sun Room doors, and waited.

[ from here. ]

Learning process: she knew the monsters were there now, lurking behind every corner, within the shadows her flashlight cast whenever she redirected the beam. Last night had been a blur of confusion and apprehension, and this night was quickly turning out to be the same.

Or perhaps it was even more pronounced in all of its unknowns. A sharp blur of anxiety and fear that crept up on and crippled her more than the supposed limits imposed upon her powers, than her legs that felt like jelly beneath her with every successive step until she worried that they would trip her up as they had done the night before. It took a considerable amount of effort to tell herself that the monsters didn’t frighten her. A Hollow, Dracula, a Godzilla-sized Kon could pop out at her at any moment, but she knew – she was not afraid.

No, the monsters did not frighten her, but her imagination did worse. As Orihime made her way down the corridor, she attempted to instill some confidence in herself, to talk and try to start a conversation in hushed, whispered tones. “Ayame, Shun’o… You two are okay, right?” How apt, she thought, that if this asylum held any credibility to it, then perhaps she really was talking to the voices in her head, to the fairies that lived in her hairpins that allowed her to heal the wounded.

Putting it into perspective like that, she quickly realized she did not like the aforementioned perspective very much.

Learning process: she bypassed the door to the women’s restroom and made it to the door leading out to the bigger hallway she was led down earlier in the day. At the very least, she thought, it was progress.

[ to here. ]

[ F2 ]

True enough, the intercom sounded off like clockwork. The doctor spoke, all pretenses were shed, and Orihime sat in her bed feeling simultaneously refreshed and nauseated by it, by the fact that they were little more than caged animals scrutinized beneath an indifferent eye. After spending the better part of the day distrusting strangers (the nurse that had followed her, the infamous head doctor), it was both a relief and a dread to witness the reality of it for herself – to understand, with an uncharacteristic yet self-aware sort of bitterness, that she had more than enough reason to dislike these people straight off the bat.

Orihime listened, fingers pressing indents into her mattress and trembling as she kept her composure, as she refused to let the careless message (if you don’t die) get to her. It was, still is, a learning process: she learned how to worry without so much of the weeping and the unnecessary bemoaning wails, the prying when she figured that her presence would be more of a hindrance than a help. And so it occurred to her that she should say something, to try to reassure Flora-san before she headed out (a high-five, perhaps? thumbs up?), but there wasn’t very much she could – can – do.

There wasn’t very much to say, was the thing. How horrible and what a heartless person were on the tip of her tongue, but she had no confidence that her voice wouldn’t shake (stammerwhisperbreak) if it committed to such loaded statements. Instead, she jumped out of bed the moment the door unlocked, grabbing her flashlight from underneath her pillow and pulling open her closet for a pair of sneakers, swallowing down the uneasiness that had clumped in the middle of her throat. The cold sweat was unavoidable though, even as her sweatshirt served as some form of comfort, even as she pretended that it was OK to let herself get away with it – with the sense of new hero empowerment that came with the responsibility she had assigned herself for the night. Pretending she didn’t know better.

“I’m sorry I can’t stick around. There are some people waiting on me,” she said, keeping her tone perfectly neutral even as she wondered to herself when exactly she’d picked up such a nifty trick. “But we’ll meet back here later, right, Flora-san? We will, and then we’ll-“ We’ll have a slumber party, we’ll have a pillow fight, I’ll teach you the secret of playing Monopoly.

Because we’ll be alive and okay.

She smiled, facing her new roommate. “We’ll get to know each other even more.”

With her flashlight in hand and her pins tucked along the right side of her hair, she ventured forth, opening the door and heading out into the hallway without a faltered step, a hesitant look back, even as the darkness swallowed her whole.

[ to here. ]

[From here.]

That hadn't taken long. So much so that it looked like he was the first person to make it this far. Harvey took a moment to scan the hall with his flashlight, including near the stairs, but he didn't see (or hear) much of anything. It was the sort of thing that set him on edge.

Since he couldn't do much else, he leaned himself against the wall by the stairs and then grabbed for his gun, holding it near his side as he waited. Normally he didn't take the weapon out unless he planned to shoot it, but when there was a possibility that some transformed patient might come barreling down the halls in the next few seconds, he wanted to take precaution.

Hopefully Scott and Sangamon would haul ass over here before all hell started to break loose. If things got too hairy, Harvey was ready to make a run for it on his own. That was the logical thing to do.

[Waiting for S.T.]

[From here.]

This was a trip that had gotten old ages ago, and so Harvey tried to make it as short as possible by falling into a brisk walk. He didn't go so far as to jog, since he didn't need to tire himself out before the action even started, but it was a good idea to save time where he could.

All of that was made very easy by the fact that there weren't any other patients around. He didn't know if it was because they were busy going through a painful transformation into some deadly monster, but if that was it, then he also wanted to get to a more open area sooner rather than later.

Harvey reached the end of the hall and rounded the corner into the main hall.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Harvey stepped out of the block and then took the usual right down the hall, pondering over the coming challenge as he went. While he, Sangamon, and Scott had successfully passed that trial last night, it hadn't led to anything. Had they made a misstep somewhere? Or was there more that they had to do? They were going to have to try and get answers out of that damn skeleton again.

Speaking of which, the toll would be going to Sangamon tonight. Harvey wondered what he'd end up choosing. He figured it was between touch and voice, but it wasn't really his problem.

On one hand, Harvey was getting sick of going down into that dank cavern every night. On the other, it was good to always know what he was doing when the doors unlocked. He just hoped that all of this effort actually led somewhere.

[To here.]

[From here.]

By now, Guy had become so used to waiting for Claude out here that he had a spot picked out on the wall where he always leaned. But he couldn't do so very casually these days. Some of his anxiety had been quelled now that he knew Lloyd would be able to take action if Claude started to change, but he still dreaded what it would mean if Claude didn't make his way out here in the next few minutes.

At this point, Guy didn't know what they were doing with their night. They'd tossed around the idea of looking by the river for some sort of plant that could help with the healing process, but Guy didn't know if either of his friends were up for such a long journey.

He would leave it up to their judgment, but none of that would matter if they didn't show up. While Claude was the more immediate concern since he was just down the hall, Guy realized that if Anise changed, he didn't have any back-up plan for her. She might just tear through the halls trying to hurt people, and he wouldn't even know.

He let out a sigh and shifted his weight. This waiting was enough to shave a few years off his life, but he tried to stay calm.

[Waiting for Claude.]

[In M44]

Lloyd had been somewhat dreading the coming of the night, not so much because of the danger it presented, but because of the conversation he'd had with Guy, and the promise he'd made to try to subdue Claude if his roommate showed signs that he was becoming a monster. It was hard not to keep darting glances at the blond to make sure that he was all right. When the doors unlocked, though, he barely even noticed the Doctor's sinister words. He was too busy breathing a sigh of relief. Claude still seemed to be okay. Maybe that wouldn't stay the case, but they couldn't live in fear of the worst. Hoping for the best, he'd wished his roommate luck before the other set off.

Unlike the night before, though, Lloyd didn't immediately set out himself. He and Inoue had agreed to meet tonight so she could try to heal him, which meant he needed to wait.

Ugh, he hated waiting.

Feeling restless, he got up and started poking around around his side of the room. He found pens and a journal on his desk, and a weird device he wasn't sure about. It was in his closet that he found the biggest surprise. His clothes were there, hanging on hangers as though recently cleaned - black pants and a black undershirt, his red jacket and gloves, the red boots he favored, even his belts and suspenders. There wasn't any sign of his swords, but the dagger Claude had given him was there, which lifted his spirits a little. He thought he'd lost the weapon last night after the fight with the tailypo. A quick search of his pockets revealed that there wasn't anything else, but that didn't really surprise him. It was still amazing that he'd been given his clothes at all.

Figuring he had time before Inoue was likely to show up, Lloyd quickly changed out of the drab gray clothes the Institute had given him and into his normal clothes. Well, as quickly as he could with his still-injured arm and ribs protesting his every move. He had to grit his teeth when it came to taking off his shirt and replacing it with his black undershirt. He opted not to put his jacket on just yet. He had no idea how Inoue's healing ability worked and didn't know if she'd need to see his injuries before she could do anything. With the rest of his clothes on, though, his dagger hanging from the loop one of his swords normally would have gone through, there really was nothing else to do but wait.

Maybe he'll just doodle in that book.

As the sun began to inch closer to the horizon, dark clouds gathered overhead. Even so, the Head Doctor didn't let that damper his enthusiasm.

"Good evening, everyone! I hope you've all had an enjoyable day, particularly our newcomers. Here at Landel's Institute, we're eager to welcome you into our big, warm family, so make yourselves right at home!

"For dinner, we're serving teriyaki & tempura, with our usual assortment drinks, including water, milk, and several kinds of juices. Enjoy your meals!"

As the nurses escorted patients to their assigned rooms, thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sound of rain tapping against the outside of the building echoed through the halls. Some of the staff would comment about the sudden change in weather, but no one let it interfere with their duties.

((Respond to this post with your character's room number in the subject line. New room assignments are listed here. If you have any questions, let us know!))

The game room, huh... In normal, everyday life, it wouldn't have sounded too terrible, but as things were, it seemed like more of an annoyance. Games were fine, but priorities.... On the other hand, Kyousuke seemed to have hit a block in figuring out the clues to the the illness, and just thinking without getting anywhere wasn't very productive, either. At this point, it may have been best to push it aside and come back to it fresh. He had his reservations about it, especially since the end of the day was rapidly approaching, but... Frustration wasn't going to get him any closer.

He poked around what games were there with resignation, still half wondering what he was even doing and trying not feel guilty for needing a break. After a while he came across an electronic device marked "Game Boy Color" and picked it up out of curiosity. He'd heard of those before... If he was right, this thing was older than he was, by quite a bit. Flicking it on confirmed his suspicions; the sound and graphics from it spoke for themselves.

Shrugging, he took it a random seat, wincing at the pain in his ribs as he sat down. He guessed it wouldn't kill him to mess around with this thing for a little while.

[Lloyd!]

When the shift changed, Gabriel didn't hesitate to take his leave, and Castiel couldn't blame him for that. He likely had other people he wanted to talk to, and as a newer patient, he might even be curious about some of the other areas. Castiel had seen it all multiple times by now, so when his nurse asked him if he wanted to move elsewhere, he declined.

It seemed better to remain in one spot for as long as he could and stay still so that his body wasn't pushed past its limits. His nurse couldn't argue with that, so instead she went to go get him some more painkillers, which he swallowed down instantly.

Relying on human drugs... It seemed ridiculous, though Dean had once given him a whole bottle to take. He wouldn't mind doing so again, but with the way his body was right now, that likely wasn't a good idea. So he'd just have to go along with what the nurses allowed him.

"Though Michael, you should really try to eat," his nurse insisted as she set a brown bag into his lap. "I know you're hurting a lot right now, but you'll feel better if you can get some food down."

Maybe she was right, but when Castiel stared at the bag, it seemed like a trial to even open it. Maybe if he just drank something... Slowly, he lifted his hand to push the bag open and reached inside to see what was there.

"There we go," the nurse encouraged him with a smile. "I'll be close-by in case you need anything."

At that point, she walked off, and he was left alone again. Maybe after he drank something, he could even see about getting some rest. Humans could sleep sitting up, couldn't they?

Link wasn't in the mood for 'rest and relaxation,' as the boss had put it. Daytime here was completely unproductive, and it was frustrating. There was little he could do, other than keep up with recording his map. He supposed he ought to take the chance to get to know the other patients: Who was powerful, who needed help, who knew what... Perhaps some of the people who had been here longer. Link was lucky he had Sora as a friend, who seemed to know a good deal about how things worked.

It was a two-edged sword, though, that the boy had to have been trapped here for quite some time to be as settled as he was.

The Hylian settled into a chair with his journal, tapping the strange sort of writing device he had been given against his chin. It had become evident last night that the building was relatively organized, the second floor being similar in its main layout to the first floor. That was somewhere to start, at least.

[Nina, dearest!]

What Guy had seen on that scan resulted in some mixed feelings. While he had expected to find something in Claude, seeing how he was sick, it hadn't been quite the same as what they'd seen when they had scanned that other ill patient two nights ago. What did that mean? It was possible that the shape of it just looked different because of where it was in Claude's stomach, but Guy couldn't help but feel that there was a deeper meaning to it.

Yet another thing that he didn't understand, then. With a sigh, he got himself up out of bed and went searching immediately for the single leaf that he'd taken from the X-ray room last night. It was stored carefully in his possessions box, which meant that he didn't have to worry too much about that.

While he wanted to quickly sketch the leaf's general shape to post on the bulletin, Guy wasn't given that chance, as his nurse showed up before he could even grab for his journal. He had to relent and let her lead him to the cafeteria for breakfast. While Guy considered stopping by the bulletin to leave a note, that could wait until after he ate. He suspected that Anise or Luke would try to find him as soon as possible to tell him about their findings, so leaving a note for them would be redundant.

He did need to ask about the clue from last night and see if anyone else had further insight on it, but that might be something Claude wanted to do, seeing how he had a better idea of who that baptist was and what it all might signify.

After collecting a small amount of food onto a plate, Guy took a seat near the cafeteria's entrance, keeping an eye out for any of his friends so he could flag them down as they walked in.

[For Anise and Claude.]

[from here]

Lana had pried herself back out of bed before exhaustion could overtake her -- now, she moved through the hallway with purpose. Anyone who knew her might be able to spot that she was moving at perhaps half the speed she usually did, but the hall was empty.

[to here]