Rita awakened in a cold sweat that morning. What the hell was that all about!? It had to be a trick, like the moving shadows from the other night... It just couldn't be real
( Read more... )
[Assuming some things from NS - currently being backthreaded, sorry for any inconsistencies. D:]
When Phoenix's eyes opened to the sound of the voice coming from the intercom, all he saw was a blank, boring ceiling - not the frightening darkness, not the shrieking of the bats and whatever the heck had attacked both himself and his companions' ankles, not the endless corridors, not the horrifying look he'd gotten from the blonde teenager he'd accidentally thwacked with his flashlight - and if he was going to be honest, he was completely confused.
That...wasn't a dream, was it? Phoenix couldn't help but to ask himself, as he let the sound of the intercom filter through his ears, the words barely drifting to his thoughts through the muddle of memories that were clamoring for his attention
( ... )
Moments later, just as Phoenix had put his feet on the floor, a man opened the door, causing him to jump practically out of his skin. Staring uncomprehendingly, Phoenix tried to get his brain to absorb the fact that the man was dressed up like a nurse, the cogs in the center of it trying their best to fit the puzzle piece somewhere that it made sense.
"Dress. I'll return when you finish," the man had said brusquely, and he'd thrown a bag of what felt like soft clothes at Phoenix. Catching it, Phoenix glanced at it for a split-second - only to look up and realize that the unknown person had left the room, shutting the door behind himself.
No questions allowed, I guess, Phoenix thought to himself sardonically, as he sighed and began to woodenly undo the shoelaces of his boots, tossing them onto the floor with a thump once he was finished. There was too much to worry about, however, and Phoenix couldn't bring himself to wonder about the man's presence too much as he dressed - nor to speak to him much when he returned
( ... )
So, the medical wing was "coming soon". The doors had been locked tight, and it was almost as if no one had come in and out of there in a long time. Kairi, of course, knew this couldn't possibly be true, considering her nurse had said when she had woken up that she had been in there for quite some time ... so what was going on? What was really behind the doors that led into the Medical Ward? Or, better yet, was was really going on behind those locked doors?
She had to know. If she didn't find out, it was going to plague her every thought. What did they do to me back there, if they did anything at all?Needless to say, Kairi was in a somewhat dour mood as she walked through the hallways of the institute and out towards the bus area. Her eyes were locked to the floor, her head kept down. Her escort, for what it was worth that morning, had been rather kind; asking her if she was okay and whatnot, and her only response was a weak nod of her head and an even weaker smile in his direction. Why were they being so kind? She knew other
( ... )
When Kairi had approached the seat, Phoenix had been busy looking out the window at the snowiness outside, a light frown on his lips. When he had lost consciousness, everything around himself had sung of spring - and now, all he could see was deadened landscape and cold snow, an ironic contrast to the sunny sky of Los Angeles.
Realizing that someone was speaking to him took Phoenix a moment, as his mind was entirely preoccupied - but as Kairi continued to speak, he snapped out of it, blinking a bit in disorientation as he turned his head to look at her.
The first impression that Phoenix came to was that Kairi looked incredibly young, from the roundness of her face and eyes to the length of her limbs. Or maybe I'm just getting old - like Maya says, Phoenix thought to himself in amusement, as a slight smile tugged at his lips both in response to the welcoming expression on Kairi's face and to his own thoughts
( ... )
The intercom had interrupted L's conversation with Lunge, and he had no connected memory of what had happened after Aguilar spoke. When he woke up, all the notes they had been studying were gone, along with Lunge himself, and the room was tidy. If all but the most basic of their belongings were being taken away while they slept and stored in the metal containers, and a consistent pattern was established based on yesterday's events, everything would be returned at dinner. However, the way his acquisitions were held made him understand that Aguilar might be aware that he was in possession of a lot of information about the Institute... something to keep in mind when planning any future moves
( ... )
He occupied himself with that minor conundrum as he munched at his breakfast. The apple in the paper sack wasn't as glossy and sweet as last week's, but after yesterday's gruel, it was still a treat; the bagel was also an improvement.
It would only be a matter of time before someone else was forced to sit beside him, interrupting his apparent reverie.
[From here!]The trip to the bus was largely a blur of details to the prosecutor - seemingly endless lines of individuals dressed in clothing just as outrageous as his own, slews of nurses, plain looking sack lunches that Edgeworth refused to investigate even after he had received his own - and the thin jacket that he had been given did little to warm him from the bite of winter air assaulting him from the moment he stepped outside until he arrived at the bus. Impatient as he felt to continue on, the slow moving line of people seating themselves afforded him a moment to breathe, even beyond the slight claustrophobia that came with clumsy elbows and overly stretched out legs that occasionally blocked his path. The seats were filling up fast, and Edgeworth didn't even dream of the privilege of having a seat to himself - mostly definitely not in this sea of people
( ... )
The bus was filling fast. It wasn't just military efficiency; the real nurses had done about as well for speed a week earlier. L wondered, again, what had become of most of them. If they're gone, where have they gone to? Do they still change at night, or if they are no longer within the confines of the Institute, does that mean it doesn't happen anymore? It doesn't seem likely that Aguilar let them go home, or that they even necessarily have homes to go to.
A youngish man was close enough to get his attention, hovering; L was aware of his presence, distracted by it, before the inevitable question came. He shot a sidelong glance at the man, whose height and coloring--dark hair, grey eyes--were similar to his own. "Available...." He considered the question with his head tilted, and shifted in his seat, in the heavy coat he wore. "Yes."
Why doesn't he know that we don't get much choice? I've seen him before, but--
Surprisingly, it didn’t take that long for Matthew to awaken to the noises this time, despite the cold that had clogged up his respiratory system. He sniffed as he opened his eyes, wiping his nose lightly with his finger as he contemplated sinking deeper into his blankets and falling back to sleep, only partially listening to the voice on the overhead. ’A trip of some kind…? I...really don’t feel up to this.’ Running around in the snow after having a shower hadn’t been such a good idea for him…since shortly after he had begun to feel stuffy and tired. Combined with an already depressed mood (partly self-inflicted with his criticisms of himself, but he wouldn’t admit that), and he had collapsed into his bed rapidly, lacking the energy or motivation to even poke at the pink goop called “dinner” before dozing to sleep. In a way, falling asleep so quickly had been disappointing; he’d wanted to give a good impression to his new roommate. However, he supposed he could start on that in the morning right…right
( ... )
Blankly accepting the cards and breakfast package from the soldier in the front of the lineup, Matthew stepped onto the bus, finding one of the back empty seats before resting his cheek on the cool window. He let out a shuttering sigh, thinking over his situation. It was better off he was alone right now; he felt miserable, and he truly didn’t want to drag down anybody else with his own depression.
Still…what was he suppost to do?! How could he change anything here? He was on his 5th day…and he’d succeeded at nothing except stand around as another Canadian was nearly killed, mindlessly lose his memory, and watch as two of roommates were taken away. He was trying so hard…but he’d done nothing except act as a helpless bystander! And the more he tried to investigate things…the more confused he became. So how could he help anyone when he was just so helpless himself
( ... )
Thanks for posting first! I've been so behind in school work lately, I can't focus! ;;avengingfistsMay 1 2011, 21:22:55 UTC
A field trip was the last thing Ilia expected when morning dawned. So far, Landel's institute had been full of a great deal of surprises. Most of them were of a horrific and fantastical nature. But a trip into town seemed so... mundane for this place, especially considering the changing of hands that had occurred recently. From the sound of it, this wasn't a new experiment though Ilia had to wonder how often the patients were taken out of the institute and when the tradition began. Perhaps this was something better answered by a veteran member of the institute, like Anise or Claude
( ... )
Lmao, it's no problem at all!flou_canadianMay 3 2011, 20:11:00 UTC
Matthew straightened his back as he heard the voice nearby, looking up nervously to watch as a young woman began to sit beside him. “H-Hello!” He really didn't want anybody to speak to him at that moment, but...there was no way he could just ask her to leave. Shifting to the side of the seat so she had more space, the youth-like nation quickly began to piece together a politely happy mask, only to have it quickly cracked at her question. Well…so much for hiding all of this. Was it really that obvious? He was truly beginning to experience moments where he really missed his invisibility
( ... )
Predictably enough, Depth Charge woke up feeling like he'd offlined and been put back together with totalled car parts.
He gave a groan and let his head flop back onto the pillow and a tangle of hair- apparently he'd been tossing and turning, and no wonder. He'd been pretty well bandaged yesterday, arms and legs stiff with white gauze, but today beat that record flat. Every inch of him seemed to be wrapped up tightly: his shoulder all the way down to his wrist on one side of his body, his forearm on the other, then around his stomach and all the way down the length of his legs. And every last damaged part seemed to be screaming at him, Depth Charge, you slagging idiot, why did you have to drag me into your stupid raptor vanity fight? If you think I'm going to walk/ hold/ work in any capacity for you today, you've got another thing coming.His army escort was surprisingly chipper when he camed to pry the Maximal out from between the sheets, considering they'd probably used half of their month's supply of bandages on dressing his
( ... )
Another night over with very little to show for it. And another uniform, of sorts, handed to him by one of the orderlies with barely an explanation, along with a small paper sack containing food and what Soren assumed to be the money that had been mentioned. What he didn’t get from her, however, he could gather from the lieutenant’s message. It appeared they would be taken to the nearby town - interesting enough, given that taking them to more neutral ground took away some of the institute’s advantage. But then, S.T. had warned him that monsters lurked there at night as well, which hinted that perhaps it wasn’t so far from the institute’s control after all. Even so, it was a scheduled trip. That meant it wasn’t a punishment for anything that any of the patients had done in the night
( ... )
He'd done his best to ignore the dark-haired kid who'd apparently been shepherded into the seat next to him, staring pointedly out of the window as the Institute rolled out of sight past the bland, white wasteland of rocky terrain and snow. When they finally started moving, Depth Charge was still hoping they could do this quietly. But Soren, it seemed, didn't have the luxury of a window view to pretend to be enraptured by- and this time the Maximal couldn't just walk away like he had the time before, unless he wanted a needle rammed between his bandages.
At first he made a point of saying nothing, letting the silence between them widen to a gulf as he met the younger patient's eyes- and then he turned back to the window. Oh, look. Another rock. And another one. Sorry, kid, but this is riveting stuff. Like he was going to let him blow him off one day and then try and make nice like nothing had happened the next. He was gonna have to earn his conversation
( ... )
"Evidently not, else I would be." Soren shot him a look. "In case you hadn't noticed, I was made to sit here. However stupid you think me, I'm not about to argue with armed soldiers
( ... )
Well, he wasn't wearing a smiley face t-shirt anymore. There was that.
Of course, that was the only marked improvement of Aguilar's new regime; as much as he'd disliked finding himself here in the first place, the past two days without that Landel's way of running things had been far more to his distaste. Which was putting it mildly, what with the amount of aggravation that had built up inside him over just a day. At least the staff then had answered the few times he'd asked them something, bothered to look his way, and while he'd initially preferred the lack of sugar-coating that the soldiers provided with their words and actions, Cloud's perspective had changed for the bitter. The new orderlies following the morning's announcement hadn't helped.
"Your actions tonight will determine ours in the coming days..."Yeah, well, all he'd done last night had been attempt to find a familiar face or two (unsuccessfully) and stay alive and well while he was at it (far more successfully). Cloud's lip twisted slightly in disgust, part of it
( ... )
If Lightning had needed any more confirmation that those running Landel's Institute truly hated her, then without a doubt, this morning accomplished handing it to her. Safe to say she was now wearing the worst shirt she'd ever had the misfortune of seeing in her life... a fact she was not happy about. Actually, the only thing that kept her from snapping and punching the teeth out of every mouth she could reach before someone finally shot her in the head this morning... was the fact that once again she refused to let them know that she was that bothered by their antics.
At least there was a coat as well- something that must have once been black, but had since faded out to a dark grey instead. Its real saving grace was the fact that it was a bit more form-fitting than the sweater, though, and was almost long enough to cover the unnecessarily-bright, strangely-ruffled skirt too. Definitely not what she'd meant when she'd wished for a skirt, that was for sure... but she would live
( ... )
He was so caught up in his thoughts of what Aguilar's intentions might be that he didn't notice anyone approaching until the echo of the footsteps was right next to his seat and a hand was gripping the one in front. Cloud looked away from the cheerless day outside with a fleeting surprise that gave way to recognition as Lightning took the spot beside him, and anything he'd been about to say in response to this died halfway to his lips at her words. His eyes widened a little.
Zack had been looking for him last night. Meaning, then, that he hadn't... hadn't imagined their meeting, as he'd been starting to believe after seeing neither hide nor hair of any of them, staring at the white, cold walls of his room before sunrise. Hadn't imagined him. A moment as this sank in completely, his stomach doing a strange flip in what was half-hope and half-something else, and then he blinked into their shared gaze
( ... )
"Somehow," Lightning repeated, her voice low as she glanced away towards the front of the vehicle instead. Turned out that when the man returned the look, for an outwardly imperceptible moment she'd been caught off guard- she hadn't forgotten the way he'd acted the first time they'd met, nor the vision she'd seen when Zack had touched her the night before last. Not at all. There was no blood and rain and apparent trauma right now, but....
"No, Tifa stayed behind last night," she answered, deliberately steady, then let out a breath as she set the paper bag she'd had practically thrown at her on the seat. "But I found him waiting outside one of the blocks; you should tell him your room number, next time."
Then she just bent slightly, pulling one foot's heel onto the seat, then the other, to brush the quickly-melting iciness off her shoes with brisk efficiency. They obviously weren't actually adapted to this weather at all, even if... they were the one thing about this whole outfit she didn't completely hate right on sight. The action
( ... )
Comments 187
When Phoenix's eyes opened to the sound of the voice coming from the intercom, all he saw was a blank, boring ceiling - not the frightening darkness, not the shrieking of the bats and whatever the heck had attacked both himself and his companions' ankles, not the endless corridors, not the horrifying look he'd gotten from the blonde teenager he'd accidentally thwacked with his flashlight - and if he was going to be honest, he was completely confused.
That...wasn't a dream, was it? Phoenix couldn't help but to ask himself, as he let the sound of the intercom filter through his ears, the words barely drifting to his thoughts through the muddle of memories that were clamoring for his attention ( ... )
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"Dress. I'll return when you finish," the man had said brusquely, and he'd thrown a bag of what felt like soft clothes at Phoenix. Catching it, Phoenix glanced at it for a split-second - only to look up and realize that the unknown person had left the room, shutting the door behind himself.
No questions allowed, I guess, Phoenix thought to himself sardonically, as he sighed and began to woodenly undo the shoelaces of his boots, tossing them onto the floor with a thump once he was finished. There was too much to worry about, however, and Phoenix couldn't bring himself to wonder about the man's presence too much as he dressed - nor to speak to him much when he returned ( ... )
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She had to know. If she didn't find out, it was going to plague her every thought. What did they do to me back there, if they did anything at all?Needless to say, Kairi was in a somewhat dour mood as she walked through the hallways of the institute and out towards the bus area. Her eyes were locked to the floor, her head kept down. Her escort, for what it was worth that morning, had been rather kind; asking her if she was okay and whatnot, and her only response was a weak nod of her head and an even weaker smile in his direction. Why were they being so kind? She knew other ( ... )
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Realizing that someone was speaking to him took Phoenix a moment, as his mind was entirely preoccupied - but as Kairi continued to speak, he snapped out of it, blinking a bit in disorientation as he turned his head to look at her.
The first impression that Phoenix came to was that Kairi looked incredibly young, from the roundness of her face and eyes to the length of her limbs. Or maybe I'm just getting old - like Maya says, Phoenix thought to himself in amusement, as a slight smile tugged at his lips both in response to the welcoming expression on Kairi's face and to his own thoughts ( ... )
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It would only be a matter of time before someone else was forced to sit beside him, interrupting his apparent reverie.
[Edgeworth!]
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A youngish man was close enough to get his attention, hovering; L was aware of his presence, distracted by it, before the inevitable question came. He shot a sidelong glance at the man, whose height and coloring--dark hair, grey eyes--were similar to his own. "Available...." He considered the question with his head tilted, and shifted in his seat, in the heavy coat he wore. "Yes."
Why doesn't he know that we don't get much choice? I've seen him before, but--
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Surprisingly, it didn’t take that long for Matthew to awaken to the noises this time, despite the cold that had clogged up his respiratory system. He sniffed as he opened his eyes, wiping his nose lightly with his finger as he contemplated sinking deeper into his blankets and falling back to sleep, only partially listening to the voice on the overhead. ’A trip of some kind…? I...really don’t feel up to this.’ Running around in the snow after having a shower hadn’t been such a good idea for him…since shortly after he had begun to feel stuffy and tired. Combined with an already depressed mood (partly self-inflicted with his criticisms of himself, but he wouldn’t admit that), and he had collapsed into his bed rapidly, lacking the energy or motivation to even poke at the pink goop called “dinner” before dozing to sleep. In a way, falling asleep so quickly had been disappointing; he’d wanted to give a good impression to his new roommate. However, he supposed he could start on that in the morning right…right ( ... )
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Still…what was he suppost to do?! How could he change anything here? He was on his 5th day…and he’d succeeded at nothing except stand around as another Canadian was nearly killed, mindlessly lose his memory, and watch as two of roommates were taken away. He was trying so hard…but he’d done nothing except act as a helpless bystander! And the more he tried to investigate things…the more confused he became. So how could he help anyone when he was just so helpless himself ( ... )
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He gave a groan and let his head flop back onto the pillow and a tangle of hair- apparently he'd been tossing and turning, and no wonder. He'd been pretty well bandaged yesterday, arms and legs stiff with white gauze, but today beat that record flat. Every inch of him seemed to be wrapped up tightly: his shoulder all the way down to his wrist on one side of his body, his forearm on the other, then around his stomach and all the way down the length of his legs. And every last damaged part seemed to be screaming at him, Depth Charge, you slagging idiot, why did you have to drag me into your stupid raptor vanity fight? If you think I'm going to walk/ hold/ work in any capacity for you today, you've got another thing coming.His army escort was surprisingly chipper when he camed to pry the Maximal out from between the sheets, considering they'd probably used half of their month's supply of bandages on dressing his ( ... )
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He'd done his best to ignore the dark-haired kid who'd apparently been shepherded into the seat next to him, staring pointedly out of the window as the Institute rolled out of sight past the bland, white wasteland of rocky terrain and snow. When they finally started moving, Depth Charge was still hoping they could do this quietly. But Soren, it seemed, didn't have the luxury of a window view to pretend to be enraptured by- and this time the Maximal couldn't just walk away like he had the time before, unless he wanted a needle rammed between his bandages.
At first he made a point of saying nothing, letting the silence between them widen to a gulf as he met the younger patient's eyes- and then he turned back to the window. Oh, look. Another rock. And another one. Sorry, kid, but this is riveting stuff. Like he was going to let him blow him off one day and then try and make nice like nothing had happened the next. He was gonna have to earn his conversation ( ... )
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Of course, that was the only marked improvement of Aguilar's new regime; as much as he'd disliked finding himself here in the first place, the past two days without that Landel's way of running things had been far more to his distaste. Which was putting it mildly, what with the amount of aggravation that had built up inside him over just a day. At least the staff then had answered the few times he'd asked them something, bothered to look his way, and while he'd initially preferred the lack of sugar-coating that the soldiers provided with their words and actions, Cloud's perspective had changed for the bitter. The new orderlies following the morning's announcement hadn't helped.
"Your actions tonight will determine ours in the coming days..."Yeah, well, all he'd done last night had been attempt to find a familiar face or two (unsuccessfully) and stay alive and well while he was at it (far more successfully). Cloud's lip twisted slightly in disgust, part of it ( ... )
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At least there was a coat as well- something that must have once been black, but had since faded out to a dark grey instead. Its real saving grace was the fact that it was a bit more form-fitting than the sweater, though, and was almost long enough to cover the unnecessarily-bright, strangely-ruffled skirt too. Definitely not what she'd meant when she'd wished for a skirt, that was for sure... but she would live ( ... )
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Zack had been looking for him last night. Meaning, then, that he hadn't... hadn't imagined their meeting, as he'd been starting to believe after seeing neither hide nor hair of any of them, staring at the white, cold walls of his room before sunrise. Hadn't imagined him. A moment as this sank in completely, his stomach doing a strange flip in what was half-hope and half-something else, and then he blinked into their shared gaze ( ... )
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"No, Tifa stayed behind last night," she answered, deliberately steady, then let out a breath as she set the paper bag she'd had practically thrown at her on the seat. "But I found him waiting outside one of the blocks; you should tell him your room number, next time."
Then she just bent slightly, pulling one foot's heel onto the seat, then the other, to brush the quickly-melting iciness off her shoes with brisk efficiency. They obviously weren't actually adapted to this weather at all, even if... they were the one thing about this whole outfit she didn't completely hate right on sight. The action ( ... )
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