Night 52: Main Hallway, 1-Center

[itneverwas]

[From here]The amount of thin lights and hushed voices thinned greatly as Xemnas made his way further down the corridor, cloaking the area in a silent and deserted darkness. Silence was what drifted even from beyond the doors leading to the Sun room, a silence that may have been eerie to those who had the essence to be gripped by such a primal

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[spandexorgtfo]

...oh. Of course he should have made the distinction; he'd operated under the assumption that Ishida had been this way before and thus understood the general layout of the hall. "My apologies. It should be the one in the middle--ah, that one." As Ishida's flashlight passed over the correct door, Kratos stopped to point it out. "This is--"

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the sound of static, and as if on cue, Kratos fell silent as the Head Doctor began to speak. He had not been privy to all of the drama currently revolving around the Head Doctor and the woman called "Jill", but he had heard some of it last night, and this night's episode was no less disturbing. What could he possibly mean by "I have all your numbers?" It was obvious that he was speaking to the patients, but what did he mean? What did he have in store? Why even make this internal power struggle public? The institute made it very clear who was in charge on a regular basis, that they were all ants squirming under a magnifying glass...

And then came a brief, blinding flare of light as the broadcast ended, and Kratos threw up an arm to shield his eyes as he heard the tinkle of glass not far away: one of the lights had exploded nearby. Something "special" was happening tonight...the thought sent a chill down his spine, and without thinking, he searched out of the corner of his eye for the flickering ins-and-outs of doors that were not supposed to exist--but no, there was only his shadow. That it was in a position different from the one he was holding at the moment didn't register at all; he was too busy thinking of the last time he had been wandering around during such a thing.

The last time, he had died. The idea of having a repeat experience personally terrified him. But he couldn't afford to show any fear, not when they had a mission to fulfill. Not in front of Ishida, either: Kratos had his pride.

He waited for the lights to grow steady (or as close as they would come to it) before speaking again. "...as if things couldn't possibly get any better." Kratos walked up to the door to the entry room and turned the knob. Swinging the door open, he looked at Ishida. "Shall we?"

[repelling]

It had been a foolish question. The assumption wasn't wrong: after all, in order to get to most of the rooms used during the day, one had to pass those very doors. Which one served as leading into the Entry Room was fairly obvious. The layout hadn't changed by nightfall. Uryuu shook his head, disgusted with how moronic the question had been. Though the door to the field had been open, he'd simply expected that the front doors would be locked. Which didn't make his complete lapse of sense any more reasonable: once they'd continued in the main hallway, Kratos-san's intent must have been obvious. Before he could address his idiocy, the man spoke again, then was interrupted.

If any small virtue could be gleaned from the words that followed, it was that Uryuu's feeling of stupidity had been erased, replaced completely by a storm of emotion. He'd have preferred to feel stupid. Attending to every syllable with care, his eyes widened, breath catching at the sounds of pain coming from the woman. His indignation on her behalf, and compulsion to dash off and attempt some idiotic rescue, almost deafened him to the rest of it. Wherein his eyes narrowed. The self-righteous speech of a hypocrite himself, pot and kettle, how old, how uninspired.

Uryuu had little interest in having someone else's morality spoon fed to him. What he was, why he fought, even his understanding of the outside world; it was his business. He might have dismissed it, had those last words not echoed, had the lights not swelled, forcing his own arm up. As his vision recovered, speckled with red, he saw it--

just out of the corners of his eyes, his shadow holding the pose of arm lifted after he'd dropped his. But when he looked directly, head moving sharply, it was in place. A stabilizing breath; as the lights calmed, he composed himself.

"Theatrics," he said, as if unimpressed. It didn't mean he was disregarding it; quite the opposite. At the question, Uryuu nodded, and moved through the door.

[repelling]

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