Firo was glad to see the end of lunch, if only for the fact that in a few more hours, the day would be over. Night was the only time he had any real freedom of movement, and it was the only time he could do something worth doing, instead of just sitting around
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Comparatively, finger paint and glitter was nothing to object to.
Normally, he'd choose to stay in the Sun Room during times like this, but right now he'd rather avoid being around the population en masse. He wanted a little time to think without worrying about keeping his eyes open on absolutely everyone around him. There would be less people in the Art Room, and there was less of a chance he'd be bothered. And it would be easier to keep his back to a wall.
...Speaking of which, he couldn't help but notice the woman who was doing precisely the opposite. That was what caught his attention first. Then upon closer inspection, he realized it was someone he knew. It was... Yomi. Yes, that was her name. The last time he had spoken to her was after that unfortunate brainwashing incident. Honestly, just looking at her somewhat reminded him of it all over again. But he quickly tried to push that out of his mind.
Instead, he tried to focus on the here and now. And on his need for a distraction. He couldn't really see her face from where he was, but he had an inkling she could probably use one as well.
He walked over to stand alongside her, only briefly catching the look on her face before speaking. "...Not exactly the ideal way of spending the afternoon, but it could always be worse, I suppose." That was just to catch her attention. So when she looked at him, he could deliver a perfectly timed, bright smile. "Long time no see, ja? I do hope you have been well."
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The fact was, her day already was worse. And having this man come up to her only made it more so.
Opening her eyes, she turned her head to give him a discouraging look, lips pressed into a line. On principle, he was someone to avoid when it came down to forced cheerfulness. She didn't want or need flashy personalities, and the upbeat smiles were a pain. Didn't he know his happy veneer was tissue paper thin? To their credit, neither Albedo or Damon had gone so far.
"I'm not," she replied curtly, cutting the greeting off before it could go further. "Don't talk to me right now."
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He didn't back away, nor did he continue to push for contagious smiles. Instead, his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise and the smile faded into a vaguely concerned expression. Honestly, he could have left her be. Klavier fully understood the pressures and emotions that could arise in this place. That was what worried him. If she chose to walk away, he probably wouldn't pursue her. But he couldn't, in good conscience, turn his back and leave her himself. Not when considering what might have caused such a sharp shift.
"What's wrong?" he asked simply. "Did... something happen?" Did these people do something to her again?
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She dug her fingertips into the counter top before squeezing them into fists. Don't look at me like that!
"It's nothing I didn't do to myself." She forced a breath through her nose. "I went to the med wing and tried my luck. That's all. Now go."
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"I... apologize, Fräulein. I'm not quite sure what you mean by that." He glanced only momentarily to her hands, which had balled into fists, before looking back to her face. "Why don't you tell me about it? It's alright if I just listen. ...But stewing alone doesn't help matters at all. Please do trust me on that."
She'd already told him to leave twice. That was already sign enough to leave her be, but he was offering her another chance to talk to him. To talk to someone. He knew what this place could do to you. And he knew how damaging it was to let it fester without anyone there to understand. He would rather pursue it a little more than just leave, take a seat somewhere, and watch her do that to herself from across the room.
Then another thought occurred to him. Balled fists and insisting that he left in that sort of curt manner... Pride? Was she... injured maybe? "How about we have a seat?"
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Fittingly, it was the one person who didn't know what was going on who approached her.
"The mystery substances, don't you know? In the Medical Wing Aguilar unlocked last night. Test them on yourself for a prize. That was the nightly challenge," she told him, almost flippantly so. "The bad side effects are all over the bulletin. That's what happened."
No, she wasn't stewing. (Not on purpose, not because she wanted to.) And no, she didn't want to sit down! (No more concerned faces.)
Just walk away.
Doubtful he would scoot off the way he had come so soon, but now that he knew, at least he could stop looking at her like she was a girl in need. Aguilar was right about one thing--she had chosen this. No one could pity her for what she had done that day, and no one could pity her for what she had done now.
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He could feel himself freeze for a moment... before a sudden anger spiked up into his chest for a moment. ...You had to be kidding him. Test the drugs on yourself? Voluntarily take a substance that you couldn't even identify to get "a prize?" As if there was any "prize" worth that!! As if there were anything the institute could offer that any of them would care to want!! Unless it was the return of some of those they'd "released" or an offer to let people go, Klavier couldn't even fathom participation in such a thing. And even then, like he would ever trust the staff to keep their word!! But Yomi... and other people in this place... Oh... Mein Gott.
The people here. Were. Idiots.
And the sad thing was that the ones in charge absolutely knew that. Why else would they announce an offer that no one with half a brain would even consider for a second? Because they knew there were people stupid or naive enough to actually do it! Even Klavier, upon hearing this, knew there were plenty of morons in this place who would participate in something like that. Oh God, why...? How many people...? What had they done...?
To his credit, Klavier at least had enough propriety to hide his anger. That, at least, he could keep bottled. Because as stupid as he thought it was, any anger he had was quickly overpowered by concern over the main issue at hand. But he couldn't keep the shock off his face. He almost gaped at her, incredulous.
"Y... Are you kidding? And you went and did it? What would even possess you to do such a thing to yourself?!" Now the mild concern he'd displayed earlier was replaced by full blown worried. He almost looked scared. Which would be accurate because he was kind of scared. What had she done? Dear God, Fräulein, what have you done? "Are you hurt? Are you in pain?"
He had no idea what he could possibly do to help her, honestly. His knowledge of medicine was basic and mostly superficial. He didn't know anyone else more knowledgeable and he most certainly didn't trust the staff to help. Supplies were limited to them, and it would would take a miracle to find what was needed to help even if they managed to find out what could be done. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to at least try to do something to help. There had to be something that could be done.
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A smirk pulled at her mouth, her eyes darkened to the color of a bruise. "You look pale," she observed.
If he passed out from the shock of it, that would be quite funny. His reaction to something she couldn't even bring herself to feel aggrieved about merely highlighted the huge gap between someone like him and someone like her. He was waiting to die. (She at least tried.)
The horror was an emotion Yomi had seen before, and she showed him her profile again, releasing a sigh. "You're overreacting. Surely you've stopped being surprised at the offensive things you'll find here. It's done now."
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And that was probably obvious. Klavier's outer display of shock proved to be only momentary and he just frowned as soon as she was finished speaking.
"Overreacting?" he repeated. She must have been joking. He was overreacting? Really? That was the second time today he'd heard that word. And he was just as boggled by its use now as he had been earlier. "Aren't you aware you could have killed yourself? Or hurt yourself beyond recovery? Don't you care about what could have happened?"
Was it him? Someone tell him, please. Was he the crazy one here? Had he somehow been thrown into some parallel dimension where things like assault, attempted murder, threats, torture, and doing stupid things to hurt yourself were all perfectly excusable and forgettable offenses? Because it was really starting to feel that way. Like everyone around him had been brainwashed into this strange mindset and he had been left as the odd man out. There was no other reasonable explanation.
"I'm not overreacting. You're the one who doesn't seem to care enough. Even though you are the one affected." He shook his head. "So what exactly is it you are trying to say? That because people get hurt and tormented here every day, I should just accept it as something normal? I shouldn't care anymore when it happens? ...And that's why neither of us should care about what you did to yourself?"
...Maybe that was it. Perhaps she was acclimating. But... even that didn't seem to make sense. Unless she had been there years, he couldn't see someone just accepting that things like this were just a part of every day life. The day he went "Oh well" to the news of despicable deeds was the day he renounced the law, his name, and everything he ever stood for.
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No, it was this man who wanted answers from her. She had seen him live through the memory displacement that night they'd got into the basement just the same as he'd seen her, so honestly, why the surprise? Was he afraid of death or pain even after having his identity shredded at the Institute's whim? Or had he come to accept the Institute's potential to reach inside his mind and could rationalize it away? If it was the latter, she envied him.
Yomi exhaled deeply when his questions for her started turning into statements about her, the only sign that she hadn't turned into a living statue where she stood. Did he expect her to answer to any of it? The time for explaining herself was long past. The moment she had stabbed into her cousin's soft body, sliced and hacked until the pleas for mercy stopped coming, people had stopped listening to explanations. And she had stopped giving them.
"That's right," she said, "I did it. It was a decision I made, a simple one. You seem to be forgetting that sort of thing's my business, not yours." Finally, she looked at him again, just a silver of a glance from the edge of her eye. "You can be upset about the others if you want, but don't get on my case like a chiding father. Do you think I haven't been on the brink of death before? Been injured beyond repair?" The strain in her shoulders added a new sizzle of pain, delicious and raw. "Death would have been easy. This is just a nuisance."
What could have happened? Who cared about what could have happened? It was what had happened that mattered. What had locked her onto this path until she was taken off of it.
And what could anyone, least of all him, do to change that?
"Nothing," she murmured to herself, and once she realized she had spoken aloud, she put on a brittle smile and said more loudly to the wall, "I'm saying you should do nothing because that's all you can do. You can't stop people from risking themselves. And why should you want to? Have you ever considered that doing as much might mean something for them?"
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