[from here and for Utena and Tear!]The Digimon moved into the hall, blades suitably settled around her form and within the black jacket worn. The bladed knuckle shown on her hand, but otherwise the Digimon seemed unharmed--the belt she had procured from the town hidden somewhat under the flaps of the jacket, filled with scalpels, knives and other blades
( ... )
[from here]There was a girl doing a round of first aid on herself in the hallway. No one he knew, but she wasn't moving as well as she was pretending to
( ... )
[From here.]Being mobile with a stack of pens in her garter belt felt ridiculous, and every part of Tear hoped she would procure something more appropriate. The problem, as always, was the actual find. She had several ideas on where to go and what to look in, but those were nothing more than risks. There existed no guarantees. It was almost a pity Aguilar had only offered his drugs the night before
( ... )
...There was a part of the Digimon that wondered if tonight was a bad night to go out. If two random strangers offered advice and aid, perhaps she was worse off than she had thought.
She had barely made any movements when the man approached her, dropped a handful of pills into her hand and gave precise explanations before walking off. She hadn't the time to respond, let alone doubt or second guess the motive, before he had slipped around into a hall. She stared after him a moment, then looked down to her hand. Was it any different, really, than what she might have done at one point? "Don't get yourself killed." She had practically said a variation of that this morning, and before to those she had helped acclimate
( ... )
As soon as Rita stepped out of her room, she became aware of something. It was hard to fathom, but somehow... she knew what was suppressing her magic abilities. Somewhere, there was a machine...
But how did she know that? Rita didn't remember being told or shown anything like that. Maybe it was the drug's effects. Was she suffering from some kind of delusion? There was no way she could trust information that literally had no source. Rita had to keep her wits about her. As long as that drug was in her system, she couldn't trust her own eyes, ears... or even her own mind, it seemed like.
She was a little further away from the large door than where she'd woken the night before, but the distance was negligible. Her thoughts turned inward, striding at an even pace. There were a couple ways she could go. Izaya had mentioned file rooms, with information this institute had on each of them, though he said he knew not where they were. Edgar suspected he knew the locations of two such rooms, but didn't know which belonged to people currently staying here, and which to those who'd been released.
The girl didn't really know much about what releasing was or what it meant -- she still could not remember what the world outside these walls was like, if she had ever set foot outside them, and could not remember a time before she came here.
The halls of Landel's were her entire world, and she needed to know what that meant.
Ema moved slowly down the hallway and into the larger hallway that connected all of the F-A Block. She listened for a familiar voice in the darkness but heard none; there were sounds of movement but no voices for her to recognize. A feeling of dread began to coil in her stomach. In all honesty, she had hoped that she'd run into someone immediately, not wander the halls aimlessly because she couldn't identify people from afar except for by voice.
She continued down the hall and around the bend. Maybe she'd find someone in the bigger hallway.
Her flashlight lit up the floor directly in front of her, though even with the passing figures in the hall with her she never bothered to lift it further than that. No use in blinding anyone trying to get around the same as she was. Though it was also a matter of not wanting to direct enough attention to herself to warrant an interruption. Nope, she'd just keep her head down and watch where she was going through her bangs. All very unapproachable and uninviting. Leave me alone, I'm on a mission. Right.
Only her arm was starting to itch and it was hard to keep the flashlight still while she scratched at it. It was also incredibly annoying that her stupid sleeve was making it itch even worse. With a quiet sigh of frustration she clicked off her light again, tucking it under her arm so she could properly roll up her sleeves. Which was a tiny bit difficult in the dark hallway, but whatever. Noone would be judging the state of her sleeves anytime soon
( ... )
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She had barely made any movements when the man approached her, dropped a handful of pills into her hand and gave precise explanations before walking off. She hadn't the time to respond, let alone doubt or second guess the motive, before he had slipped around into a hall. She stared after him a moment, then looked down to her hand. Was it any different, really, than what she might have done at one point? "Don't get yourself killed." She had practically said a variation of that this morning, and before to those she had helped acclimate ( ... )
Reply
As soon as Rita stepped out of her room, she became aware of something. It was hard to fathom, but somehow... she knew what was suppressing her magic abilities. Somewhere, there was a machine...
But how did she know that? Rita didn't remember being told or shown anything like that. Maybe it was the drug's effects. Was she suffering from some kind of delusion? There was no way she could trust information that literally had no source. Rita had to keep her wits about her. As long as that drug was in her system, she couldn't trust her own eyes, ears... or even her own mind, it seemed like.
Reply
Reply
She was a little further away from the large door than where she'd woken the night before, but the distance was negligible. Her thoughts turned inward, striding at an even pace. There were a couple ways she could go. Izaya had mentioned file rooms, with information this institute had on each of them, though he said he knew not where they were. Edgar suspected he knew the locations of two such rooms, but didn't know which belonged to people currently staying here, and which to those who'd been released.
The girl didn't really know much about what releasing was or what it meant -- she still could not remember what the world outside these walls was like, if she had ever set foot outside them, and could not remember a time before she came here.
The halls of Landel's were her entire world, and she needed to know what that meant.
Reply
Reply
Ema moved slowly down the hallway and into the larger hallway that connected all of the F-A Block. She listened for a familiar voice in the darkness but heard none; there were sounds of movement but no voices for her to recognize. A feeling of dread began to coil in her stomach. In all honesty, she had hoped that she'd run into someone immediately, not wander the halls aimlessly because she couldn't identify people from afar except for by voice.
She continued down the hall and around the bend. Maybe she'd find someone in the bigger hallway.
Reply
Reply
Her flashlight lit up the floor directly in front of her, though even with the passing figures in the hall with her she never bothered to lift it further than that. No use in blinding anyone trying to get around the same as she was. Though it was also a matter of not wanting to direct enough attention to herself to warrant an interruption. Nope, she'd just keep her head down and watch where she was going through her bangs. All very unapproachable and uninviting. Leave me alone, I'm on a mission. Right.
Only her arm was starting to itch and it was hard to keep the flashlight still while she scratched at it. It was also incredibly annoying that her stupid sleeve was making it itch even worse. With a quiet sigh of frustration she clicked off her light again, tucking it under her arm so she could properly roll up her sleeves. Which was a tiny bit difficult in the dark hallway, but whatever. Noone would be judging the state of her sleeves anytime soon ( ... )
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