It wasn't often that Renji felt less like punching people in general as his day wore on. This was a new experience for him. A not unwelcome one, if he was being honest. And the fact that he felt less like punching Fai? Kind of mind-blowing. The sort of thing Zen masters would probably use as a kouan to reach an all-new level of non-punching
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Castiel was holding his journal in the crook of his arm as he entered the Music Room. The humans here were showing different levels of talent, though all of them had capabilities beyond his own. Angels did not spend time learning how to create music, although their voices could be known to be melodic at times.
Their singing, if it could be called that, was far different from anything produced on Earth, though Castiel knew a few hymns. Now was hardly the time for that, though. If anything, he would prefer to find someone else who would be interested in reading his account of what he had witnessed. Thus far, there was no one here who he recognized, and he wasn't certain that he wanted to walk up to someone at random and assume that they would be trustworthy.
For that reason he turned back toward the door, keeping an eye out for anyone he knew, even if they'd only spoken once. It would be just as well if Sam or Dean walked through, of course.
[For Renamon.]
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So it was that she caught the appearance of the angel--or man, possibly. Renamon had half-thought if Castiel believed he was Michael, then he would be gone the next day--seeing him here, then, made her wonder which persona he was currently using. She approached him to discern this, stopped in front of him to bow her head. Her normal greeting consisted of the person's name, but as she couldn't know which he was using she would have to speak otherwise. "Afternoon," she said quietly, watching him. "How are you doing?"
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Unsurprisingly, she started right for him. He wasn't certain if she'd seen his message on the bulletin board yesterday, seeing how she hadn't replied, but he was willing to explain himself. Other than Stefan, she was the last one who he needed to clear things up with. With any luck, he would see his roommate at dinner tonight and then he would finally be able to rid himself of the events of that day.
The memories were still stewing in his mind, though. Those he couldn't dispel so easily.
"Hello," he said by way of greeting, and he suspected that she would know merely from his tone that he was back to himself. "You may not have seen, but that affliction only lasted for a day. I apologize for the confusion."
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Something she would not say easily, if at all.
"It was like the time before, then," she gave in understanding. "There was a day when some woke up as their false personas. I wondered if your shift was attributed to the same." Renamon watched him a moment, then added, "I'm glad that it was only a day." More-- She was glad that he remained.
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"It's likely due to the drugs that I sampled the night before." Castiel still didn't understand why the change had only come in the morning, after the whole event with the coliseum, but he also didn't know much about how human medicine worked. It was possible that a delay could be built into it. In any case, that was the only explanation he had that made sense.
Instead of asking any questions, Renamon simply admitted that she was relieved that he hadn't spent longer than a day thinking he was someone else. Castiel could agree with that sentiment, though he was more struck by the fact that she was accepting it all so easily. That was likely due to the fact that she had seen it once before.
"The feeling is mutual. If it was the drugs, I'll make sure to refrain from exposing myself to any in the future." The last thing he wanted was a repeat of that event.
That was enough of that subject, though. He moved on quickly, letting his journal drop into his hands as he flipped it open. "I have something to show you," he said, extending the book to her with it opened to the proper page.
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...It was disturbing, something adverse to her nature.
She look at him solemnly. "I'll be doing the same, if the risks are that high," she gave quietly. The conversation shifted at that, and it was almost comfortable. A slip into professionalism came almost lightly, attention touching the page, and then becoming intent, bright eyes narrowing in focus. This was.... She glanced up sharply. "Lydia?" A confirmation in guise of a question. For what Renamon knew of that woman, despite both male radio personas' mentions, was a husk of a person in monotone. It was true, and she understood as well; one could be harnessed to another's will almost entirely, but it had to be questioned. If only but once.
Her hand moved towards the pen in her pocket, before she remembered Nigredo had her notebook. She grimaced lightly. "...Could I possibly have a page from your book?"
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As she read his note, he watched as her interest grew and only nodded in response to her question. The name apparently had more significance for her than it had for him, which only made sense, considering the amount of time that she'd been captured here. Castiel wanted to ask for details about the woman in question, but that would have to wait.
Unlike Kratos, Renamon did ask him if she could use a page out of his book. He carefully took the journal from her and ripped out a page from the back. "Let's sit." She wouldn't be able to write very well if they remained standing, after all. Ignoring the music that was still surrounding them from what seemed to be all sides, Castiel found an empty table and went to sit at it, setting out the sheet of paper and the notebook so that she could transcribe his note.
This made two in one day. While he could have done better, he also could have done worse.
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This did confirm that, if it was to be trusted. But Renamon didn't doubt Castiel. He wasn't the type to result to meaningless subterfuge. "If she infiltrated earlier...." Again, she briefly regretted not having her notebook on her. "I have some transcripts of the radio and intercom announcements from when Alec Doyle was still alive. A few nights before I came there was mention of a friend...." She frowned in effort of memory. "It wasn't clear but the mention of that friend--and Lydia's announcement earlier that night--made Doyle murderous." And despite that intention.... "And yet he was dead the next night."
The Digimon paused on writing a sentence, pen tapping once against the table. "If she was the friend mentioned, a few things become more clear. I'm impressed that she was able to regain herself--if she truly did, and wasn't planted."
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While Lydia had implied as much, Castiel hadn't realized that she had been the head nurse, nor that she had been under Landel's influence for so long. He wondered what means that man had used to control her so utterly, but that was only one mystery to add to a long list that he'd already formed.
"Who exactly is Alec Doyle? And assuming she was the friend mentioned, what's become clear?" Renamon had the benefit of having been present for much of this, whereas Castiel was working with only half of the facts, if that. If they were able to combine what they knew, they would hopefully be able to make more sense of all of this.
The real question was, where would it get them? Castiel still didn't know if familiarizing himself with the history of the people in charge would actually help with escape, but it seemed to be the only leads that they were coming across. More than that, he could only assume that this information would be of use to Sam and Dean. He would prove that he was far more useful than that demon.
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"Those that I spoke to that had known him spoke of him as a hero, someone to be grateful to. It certainly seems like that was the case, though it's also true that Doyle worked with Landel in the beginning before breaking away to become the head doctor's antagonist. And like I said, he was killed a couple of days before I arrived." The other question asked was a bit more difficult. More abstract than wholly clear.
"After Doyle died, a girl was on the radios. Jill. Half of the time her riddles panned out--the other half of the time, they were possibly more accurately viewed as traps. When she first appeared on the airwaves, there was a voice that said not to trust her. Valid advice, given some outcomes." The Digimon tapped a finger on the table idly once. "The point being that it was said that Jill was Lydia, and with that in mind, along with the control... It's easier to accept some of what was done. As well as the reasoning of why Landel 'taught Jill a lesson' at one point. It's possible that she was coming to her senses, with the added freedom, and was starting to move on her own. All conjectures," she added. "But things make a bit more sense that way."
Though as it was, it left a few questions. She glanced at the page. "Do the two work with Marc?"
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All the better, then. Castiel knew a few things about resisting one's fate, and he was happy to help someone else do the same.
It was interesting that people had come to see Alec as a hero despite the fact that he had once been on Landel's side, but humans had this remarkable ability to forgive someone if that person acknowledged their own faults. It might have something to do with that, then.
Renamon's description of Jill was mainly a refresher, although Castiel considered her theories as well. Based on what they knew, what she was saying made perfect sense. "Conjectures, maybe, but they seem solid. Either that, or Landel wanted her to at least give the illusion of being a help, so that the traps would be unexpected."
As for Marc, Castiel could only speak from what they had implied, but that was probably good enough for the moment. "They seemed to be on his side. They defended him, at the least."
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And which, then, would be the one in charge of that group? A month ago, the Digimon would have defaulted to Doyle, though, in that, she wouldn't have thought a group at all, but a battle one on one. It seemed more personal a vendetta than something to be attributed to a cause. Were there more than the three known? There suddenly existed a mass of possibilities that she was unable to narrow down. She frowned lightly in thought. It was likely that the remaining query would result the same but it had to be asked.
"The last part..." she said, tapping the second to the last line. "We could assume that's the purpose of the institute, especially with the military leanings. To 'train us,' or something of the sort." She paused for a moment. "Though one would think they would attempt to keep people and beings longer than they do." Not offer so many risks to mortality, or vanish them away on whims or purposes unknown. "Though it doesn't explain the amount of actual normal humans...." Again, she frowned in thought, then looked up at Castiel. "Did they tell you anything about what was attacking?"
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But then there was someone like Orihara, who despite his odd behavior, didn't seem to have much experience in the field of battle. Renamon had noticed this as well. Castiel glanced over at her next question and shook his head. "What I wrote is as much as she said. I would have asked for further details, but they didn't give us the chance."
He leaned back in his seat, holding back a sigh. Even with all of this, they didn't have the full picture. Still, he understood far more now than he had when he'd first woken, which was something. "It's possible that they don't simply need people with physical prowess," he pointed out. "Different strengths are required when fighting a war."
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"Agreed," she responded without hesitation. "I've known more than a few without any abilities whatsoever; who are, for all intents and purposes, completely normal humans." Not the majority, but enough--she could count back over the days and list them. Though even some with abilities or powers seemed more civilian than not-- Orihime, as an example, Renamon would not want anywhere near combat. Of Nigredo, she would have said the same until last night. Watching the creatures explode from the energy he used gave her confidence enough he could take care of himself. "There's a multitude of things that people could offer. Knowledges, perspectives, certain abilities inherent to them and no other-- Different ways minds work against the same setting."
...Although.
"Although," she considered, echoing her thought somewhat quietly. "There is another option." Again, her finger moved to the page, hovering under a sentence. Apparently, our captors have gone to these lengths in order to be prepared if such a thing happens again. "To be prepared," she read. "Other than the military, we're not being cajoled or coerced into siding with them to defend their world. To that.... When I first came, I discussed with a few the methods they used to move between other worlds. Most, actually, held to a general pattern, in which I assumed was similar here. It takes energy. Life, will, emotion. I theorized at one point that since the majority of patients are taken at a moment of high stress, that the emotions actually fuel the doorway between." She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "It has no backing, but a possibility is that the preparing they are doing is a storage of energy from the combined group here. To do with as they will."
She was silent a beat, and then shifted her shoulders in something like a shrug. Honestly, it was all conjectures at this point. Whether training for a war or stealing power and energy. There was no way to know for certain without learning more. And for that, they needed to come across people who knew this world firsthand. Sadly, there was only a few.
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However, Renamon had another theory: that the people in charge were somehow feeding off of their energy through the very act of them being brought here. Castiel's first instinct was to reject that, as he wasn't one with strong emotions (so what would they have had to gain from him?), but he couldn't help recalling the circumstances under which he'd arrived. He'd let out a startling amount of energy at that point, had put his all into taking out the angels that had been hunting him down. If all of that Grace had been collected by those here...
It would also explain why they were weakened now, if all of their power was still being siphoned off of them here. His expression darkened as he thought it all over. "It's a solid theory," he admitted, "though once again, with no proof..."
Having these ideas in mind would make it easier for them to determine when they had come across an actual clue, however. It was good to discuss it, particularly because there was little else that they could do during the day.
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...Well. She supposed she would find at least that answer out in time.
"I'll ask around and share this with a few," she added, moving to fold the paper in half and half again. "If I find out anything of import, I'll contact you." She paused there, then bowed her head to him. "Thank you for sharing this. Truly."
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