Day 59: Sun Room

[witchdetective]

Erika stood back to survey her work, and she had no idea why no one seemed to care.

By 'no one', she was referring to the soldiers who were on guard, who should be looking particularly anxious due to the atmosphere of this place. It didn't make sense in her mind. Someone who just took up a large chunk of the middle of the Sun Room to build a

Comments

[vsyourface]

Indy was alive. All was right with the world.

Yyyyyyeeeeeeesss!!

And it was for that reason that Scott was able to react the way he did at the sight that greeted him on his way out of the cafeteria. Sitting in the middle of the Sun Room was a structure the likes of which hadn't been seen there since Guybrush's (non)famous Pilgrim Catapult™. A couch, chairs, blankets, and pillows had come together to form the ramparts of a most mighty fortress. It towered above the villagers of Kittendom (or would have, had they actually been around), shining in a stunning grey patchwork in the sunlight. And returning to the fort from the other end of the Sun Room, the mastermind behind the great structure proved to be none other than Scott's (current) arch-nemesis: Doom Girl.

There was only one natural course of action Scott could take upon bearing witness to this sight. As a man. As a fighter. As six-year-old at heart.

No way was he going to let some stupid girl fort beat the boys

[zombiefree]

Wichita was alive. And everything hurt.

When she woke up that morning (was it still morning? she missed breakfast, she knew, her stomach was grumbling and her man-nurse was more annoyed than usual), it took every last ounce of self-control not to roll around and cry because her left side felt like it was on fire and she couldn't remember how she even got back to her room, let alone when she got patched up. But then, there was probably some part of her that knew that would only make it worse, the flailing and whining, so that was for the best. She moved very slow at first, getting out of bed, wiggling her fingers to make sure everything still worked, trying to decide if it was worth having her arm curled up against her chest in a sling (which, yes, duh, because holy shit as soon as she let her arm move to rest at her side a flare of pain shot through her and she hooked the sling right back up again), until she was being scolded at for dilly-dallying, like she didn't have a bullet wound to wonder about

[vsyourface]

Scott was just dragging an armchair into position to form part of the fort's front parapet by the time Wichita arrived on the scene. He might have batted an eye that her arm was in a sling on any other day, but after seeing the kind of shape Indy was in and remembering what he had seen of Peter, everyone else in the Institute looked like glowing pictures of health and wellness by comparison

[zombiefree]

"Important? Here?" All the wariness in the world in her tone. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how a patient came to be 'important' at Landel's. Not after discovering the guy who shot her was a patient just like the rest of them, even if he was brainwashed. Still, she couldn't really picture Toronto shooting people down, though. Maybe with a NERF gun, but not actual hard artillery. The thought made her smirk a bit.

But then he asked about her shoulder, right after air-fist-bumping Riverside and Glasses

[for_a_song]

Somehow, he'd apparently managed to sleep through breakfast. He wasn't sure if he should have been more disturbed by the fact that the soldiers had apparently felt no need to wake him, or that it had happened at all in the first place. He hadn't slept well in years, and especially here, he always seemed to be up before the announcement chimed in the morning, regardless of what he got up to in the evenings

[composers_proxy]

Neku sunk as low as he could into the couch cushion, wishing not for the first time, that he had his mp3 player and headphones nestled snugly into their usual groove atop his spiky head. Instead, a stupid little beret was bending his spikes in all the wrong directions and making his hair look like a hot mess. He'd given up on it as a lost cause after the third day of this military garbage, but he wasn't going to be happy about it.

Arts and Crafts wasn't open yet, which meant wasting time in the library(they didn't even have manga) or sitting around in the Sun Room. With kittens. He picked up a little black one that looked a hell of a lot more like a cat than Mr. Mew ever did. A lot less likely to knife him in the back of the head too. Though he'd rather see Shiki and that lame pork chop any day than be stuck here in a crazy bin playing with cats.

[Free!]

[stylebythemile]

[Hope this is okay?]

Sonia sat bolt upright and looked around in confusion, pausing for a beat longer when she caught sight of her new body again. Neku! What had happened to him!? The concoction had--

Eyes wide and alert, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and got up, only looking back to grab that awful beret and hesitating briefly when she noticed her medallion had been taken off again, along with the rest of her outfit. The thought that someone had changed her clothes yet again really set her off! Now running on that pang of anger and the urgency to find out what had happened last night, Sonia had to fight the want to hurry past her escort as he silently led her away from the room and through the main halls.

She stopped at the entrance to the Sun Room and managed to give it a quick once-over before she spotted Neku. She gave a quiet gasp and swiftly marched over to him. "Neku!" She halted a few steps in front of him. After last night, she didn't think it'd be a good idea to get too close. "Are you alright?"

[composers_proxy]

[Totally fine! Sorry for my slooooow.]

A familiar voice called his name and Neku set the cat down in his lap. Sonia? It was Sonia, wasn't it? He gave her a nod and glanced toward the floor. Last night was at the bottom of his list for things he wanted to think about right now, but Sonia deserved an explanation, even if he had none.

"Hey," he said noncommittally, "Yeah, it's... Whatever it was, it's gone now." Or mostly gone. Or at least only affecting him at night. One of those.

[stylebythemile]

Sonia moved closer once she was sure he wouldn't try to grab her again, frowning as she looked for signs of rotting. As far as she could tell, his arm and neck were back to normal.

She wasn't here to confront him about what had happened. Luckily, neither of them had been hurt, but even if Neku had managed it, she wouldn't have blamed him for it. It hadn't been his fault; it had been the concoction that had made him do those things.

It seemed like the effects had worn off (or maybe they just weren't active during the day), but she still remained standing, looking at him curiously. The princess had to ask him a few things, or she might never get to the bottom of this.

"Can you remember what happened?" she asked quietly, putting her hands on her hips.

[touchedgod]

Billy was running out of stock reactions. He tried to reach back, to roll away time to a period where he would have known how to engage Castiel, and would have done so passionately. He could remember, almost, but couldn't bring himself to do much about it. He acknowledged, though, that despite the rotting food and the strange behavior, it had been... neat. He'd remember that one time he was locked up and had a maggot-filled breakfast with the angel Castiel. It would become a regular in his cycle of entertaining stories to tell over a round of drinks

[doneinthree]

Kirk's stunned disbelief upon greeting the post-breakfast sight in the Sun Room quickly transformed into a grin. It was nice to see the Institute's kids (and, uh, Scott Pilgrim) get to act like kids for once. Reluctantly tearing his attention away from the organized chaos of blankets and chairs in front of him, Kirk went to check out the bulletin. Spock's incomparably neat script was easy enough to find, along with a few interesting notes about their Rec Field shooter and a mysterious "device." He skimmed these, added his own replies, and ten minutes later, found himself with little to do except twiddle his thumbs.

What did the rest of his crew do with all of their free time? Plan strategies. Analyze data. Have very serious conversations about serious topics. He had no idea. It was moments like these which highlighted how painfully ill-suited he was to being a Starfleet officer. Give him things to shoot at, or an enemy to outpace using wits and determination, or a galaxy-saving mission to accomplish, and he would rise to

[touchedgod]

Billy had been staring, rather without shame, at Kirk. It was one of his childhood heroes, after all. This time not in gold, but he still recognized him from the glossy movie posters. Even standing right there, flesh and blood (maybe), he was distant. Removed. He was Kirk, but not Billy's Kirk. He was removed from him and all his nostalgia, although that didn't mean the whole thing wasn't dripping with it anyway. Even if Castiel wasn't really Castiel, he seemed to believe he was. This man probably believed he was Kirk, and who was Billy Harrow to tell him otherwise? How would it be fair at all to tell them they weren't themselves? Maybe they had lost their minds or this was some joke, but let someone else point it out

[doneinthree]

"It's a blanket fort. What more do you need to know?" It occurred to Kirk that this whole display made them seem suspiciously like the mental patients they were supposed to be, which would be pretty distressing to a newcomer who'd just been kidnapped from his home and called by a different name. Or maybe Billy thought he was part of some... top secret military training exercise or... something. Kirk had no idea what the soldiers told people. Knowing them, probably nothing

[yin_yang_fox]

The events of the night had the Digimon contemplating more than a few things, and despite the tone the conversation had took, she found herself wondering exactly why Landel had bound Marc to secrecy. For one that was supposedly near absolute in power, it seemed strange that he would censor on his own abilities. And his business, if Marc was to be believed. Privacy? It seemed too lacking with that man's personality

[bastard_sadi]

Daemon had been intending to go to the library, but the sight that met his eyes in the Sunroom as he passed had him halting in his tracks and changing his mind. Yes, that was actually a pillow fort taking up the majority of the room. He laughed despite himself. Well. At least someone was making the best of their stay here.

It made him miss River. And Lucivar, who would have been delighted by the sight of it and no doubt would have dove right in. Daemon didn't, however, although his bemused smile remained on his lips as he moved to one of the last few free sofas not dominated by the makeshift structure. There was someone already at one end, a young female, and he paused after he approached, giving her an uncertain-but-game smile.

"Do you mind if I sit here?' he asked, motioning to the other end of the sofa. "We seem to be short on seats in here today."

[yin_yang_fox]

The man that stopped nearby to ask, pulled her attention to what she had been set on subconsciously ignoring. She looked past him for a moment, at the structure set there, before giving a slight smile in lack of comprehension. "I don't mind," she gave in reply. "I don't think there's much of a choice today."

The man wasn't one she recognized on sight, but there was enough of a familiarity that allowed she had seen him before. Not a new patient, then. She wasn't obligated to see if he had enough information to survive his first night. In that, they could do their own thing without needing to interact. Except in this place, that might lead to a lack of information on either side, and after last night, Renamon was reminded of how much she did lack. "I'm Renamon."

[bastard_sadi]

Daemon sank down on the end of the sofa and inclined his head in greeting. "Daemon Sadi," he introduced himself, lounging back against the back of the sofa and crossing one leg over the other, his movement casual and relaxed. "Thank you."

He didn't recognize her, although her name seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps he'd seen her on the board?

"Have you been here long?"