The sight of a brown bag being handed to her at lunch was deeply troubling for Erika when she first saw it. Perhaps she missed real food more then she let on, because it was like the detective was worried she would peek inside to find more of the dreaded pink mush. Thankfully, it seemed like the Institute wanted to give the patients more free reign now that some of them were used to it, and Erika spent the rest of her lunch searching for Sync
( ... )
Though his attempt to strike up a conversation with a new patient had been cut short -- for all her insistence that Sasuke "make new friends", his nurse certainly whisked him away with strict punctuality -- Sasuke had consoled himself by trapping his nurse at the bulletin board and gathering as much as he could from the deliberately obtuse messages. When she had finally grown too confused and annoyed, though, he'd had to take the bagged lunch and returned to another corner of the Sun Room to eat.
He had immediately been accosted by an affectionate cat, which led him to believe that the complaints he'd run into earlier were justified. After spending enough of his lunch protecting his food from fur and finding no other use (no familiar voices, and yet no easy way to navigate to any particularly interesting with this many voices), Sasuke was somewhat more ruffled by the time he made his post-lunch bulletin board trip
( ... )
If Sasuke was looking for a conversation, then he was going to get way more then he bargained for once Erika spotted him stomping around and looking more then a little annoyed at his harpy of a nurse. She noticed that he was checking out the bulletin board before he was shooed away, which had to have been a waste of time. All that she saw was that some people were claiming parts of the Institute in the name of England and Japan. And Prussia. Despite the fact it no longer existed. Well, it wouldn't be an asylum without a few legitimately disturbed people, would it
( ... )
[[;flkasjd;alksdjf SORRY let me know if you want to backthread ;;]]
He hadn't expected an interruption in the flow of prattle from his nurse and for a moment nearly dismissed it as part of another conversation. It was only when it became clear that another patient -- a patient he hadn't spoken to before, clear by the utterly unfamiliar voice -- had decided to cut in on Quality Time With Nurse.
Which, given the quality of that time, Sasuke could accept with goodwill. If not goodwill, then at least it was more welcome than anything his nurse had to say (and her voice had paused, seemingly interested in foisting 'Sean' off on a new 'friend').
The few hours before the intercom burst alive and jolted him awake turned into a painful blur. His legs had fallen asleep from the heavy weight of one ninja resting atop them the entire morning (afternoon? Kch, it was the end of the day and it still felt as if the sun had just risen), leaving the assassin unwilling to move himself off of the couch. He'd faintly become aware that the weight was gone by the time his nurse returned with a sack containing a sandwich. He remembered immediately putting it down the moment he looked inside of it, something the woman in white began and scold and fret over him for ("Mr. Lant, you haven't touched your food since yesterday! You're making yourself sick!"). There had eventually been a compromise where at least half of the meal had been ingested, then
( ... )
if you're not looking for silly I'll kindly gtfoboketaDecember 12 2011, 00:49:44 UTC
Today, Goku noted with little emotional change, had been a good day all things considered. The men with guns were no longer in charge and thus no loner in charge of bossing him around. The white witches that had returned still tried, but they were easier to persuade than the guys in dark clothes who haunted his every step.
Now, he could walk with more freedom. There was still one white gnat that flew around him from time to time, but it wasn't nearly so bothersome. She got him food after all. Good food. The kind he had been missing for so long! He could live with a little hen pecking if he was going to be getting these fudge brownies every day. Chocolate wasn't his favorite, but he enjoyed the rush of energy he felt after scarfing it down. His body was still humming with that good feeling after meal time was over. Frantic little legs carried him past his nurse and into the Sun Room to find someone to talk with or fight or whatever
( ... )
ah, i love silly on top of my morose sundaeanemptydecapoDecember 12 2011, 03:53:20 UTC
"Hm?"
When the assassin's eyes opened, there was a small child in front of him. An incredibly small child in front of him. That couldn't be right. This child was obviously younger than Sora, someone who had already earned the Guild Head's worry for his (perhaps perceived) inexperience. It was true that age had never mattered much to assassins, but in a place like this, without the proper training...
What was this boy doing here? What use could they possibly get out of someone this young?
His voice softened instinctively, as if he were speaking to a skittish bird. "I apologize, but can you please explain what you're referring to?" It was hard to understand just what the what in that statement was in a place like this.
"Your eye," he specified. Goku even pointed to the strange marking, just in case the lady needed a bit of direction herself. She only had one eye after all. "You only have one. What happened to the other one? Did the witches take it?" It may have sounded silly, but his concern was totally serious, despite the eternal hollowness of his slack-jawed expression.
After all the things those white women took from him, the monkey boy wasn't surprised to find a patient, like himself, being tricked out of their own eyes! Really, what was the world coming to when a person couldn't enjoy seeing things properly or whatever? Girls, even if they were really old and their hair was turning all white, deserved to be treated with more courtesy! Even Goku knew that!
Three-day trials at most, often more like two-a-day, plus running a department where the main hiring condition appeared to be a vicious streak of individualism and competitiveness meant Lana was used to a pace that started before dawn and often didn't finish until well after midnight. So the Institute's odd notions about day and night weren't going to tire her out, not today.
Not in the slightest. Stir-crazy was a good word for what she was. Energy, constrained into a small, institutional space, needed an outlet. She was pacing the Sun Room in long, perfect strides. She needed something to do, and she'd shrugged off several offers of musical instruments. That wasn't anything anyone needed; she wasn't musical, and never would be, and while it would give her something to do, she didn't want to inflict the attempt on anyone's ears
( ... )
Claire had taken a lot of energy to handle, leaving her just as stuck thinking about Shinra as she'd been before dealing with the red-haired man. This time though, she couldn't even bring herself to smile or the comfort of the memories because she was too flustered by it all. Maybe because Claire had actually been a bit harder to deal with than the man who was head over heels for her.
Entering the Sun Room, she took a deep breath and tried to relax as she let it out. There was no use in staying stressed during the day, especially with no real outlets to relieve that stress unless she wanted to be sedated. Actually that was... no, a bad idea. She wasn't that desperate. Shaking her head, she looked around for a place where she might be able to have a seat, heading off for a clump of chairs to the side as she muttered, "Is getting a break too much to ask?"
"Apparently." Lana stopped mid-pace, next to a set of chairs. As good of a idea as any she'd had lately, she thought, and set her hands on one of them, though she didn't sit down.
"I'm not sure Doctor Landel knows the meaning of the word, as much as he seems to enjoy his small pleasures." Her tone was neutral; the tone that someone who knew her would know generally preceded the quiet presentation of damning evidence, but here she needed none. Everyone had their own, and while a pain shared laid easier on the shoulders, getting that conversation started was something everyone had to do for themselves.
"When everything seems quiet, that just means it's worse than usual somewhere else."
Celty hadn't expected to really get an answer and was halfway into a seat by the time she got one. A woman was near enough to have apparently have heard her complaints which, while embarrassing Celty some, might not have been a bad thing. There weren't all that many women in the place, and she was convinced that a good deal of the male populace was too exasperating to bother with.
"Didn't he... just take a break though?" she wondered, pointing up at the ceiling after taking her seat fully. And the woman's other words... Celty wasn't so sure she understood. The woman didn't seem to be joking any, but to be so serious about somewhere else being worse was...! Well, it was realistic, but Celty would have rather focused on the difficulties facing her there and not others elsewhere. "I guess so."
The change in schedule today hadn't been bad-but more interesting was that there continued to be no sign of the military whatsoever. Perhaps things would be different come nightfall, but as for now... it certainly seemed that they had cleared out completely. Or perhaps the soldiers' acting had simply gotten better
( ... )
After last shift, Mikado didn't know what to think. It was getting harder to keep the 'reality' that he knew completely straight. With all the things people were telling him, and then that Harrington soldier, and then Tolten last shift.... Mikado was at a loss of what to believe--or, to say it more bluntly, he was at a loss of what to know as fact. There was a fluidity to belief, and the boy could honestly believe all he wished without the knowledge of what was correct
( ... )
Izaya had been contemplating whether he should add some small doodles to the note he was slowly composing in order to make it seem more like it came from a girl (if Kanra's manner of speech wasn't enough)-but he'd glanced up just in time to see Mikado stop a few steps away from his position. His eyes widened in surprise when the boy suddenly held something out towards him. "Oh?"
A card, it seemed. Homemade, it seemed. For him, he'd said.
"Thank you..." he said, reaching out to accept the card. Izaya's lips curled into a smile, not because of Mikado's offering that he was now looking over ('thank you', it read) but because of the fact that Mikado had also asked for his opinion.
He looked away from the card back up to Mikado's face. "Are you troubled about something? If my opinion will help"-or even if it would harm-"then I'll gladly give it."
...The response was easily said, with no hint of resentment at the request. Mikado relaxed slightly, then nodded his head, moving to pull a nearby chair closer to sit. Perhaps he should just ask what he needed without reservation, but he was beginning to think that he was starting to rely on Izaya, and that put them both in positions Mikado was uncomfortable with. Troubling the man every time Mikado was clueless would soon become inane, and the fact remained that Mikado wished to succeed on his own
( ... )
Jesse was still adjusting, to say the least. The voice on the intercom still gave him the absolute creeps, but he'd been able to work out that it didn't signal impending death, at least during the daytime. By now he was calmer and his stomach felt settled enough to eat, at last. After all the nagging she'd done, his nurse had no objections to him taking his bagged meal back into the Sun Room instead of joining the ... music lesson.
Fuck, he didn't need no music lesson. Fallacies.
He plopped down onto one of the couches and stretched out into a more comfortable position, groaning to himself a little as he tried to shake off the stress. Jesse rubbed at his face and reviewed his bizarre life for approximately four seconds before concluding that everything was fuckin' Mr. White's fault. Everything, from the moment they'd "reconnected." The thought filled him with more emotions than he could actually process right now, including the nagging idea that he wasn't being fair, so he tore into his lunch at last and focused on chewing
( ... )
There were little purrbeasts everywhere. Why was that? They hadn't been there before, had they? What if they had been and he just hadn't noticed? He wouldn't put that past himself.
In any case, there was a young teen scampering across the floor after a particularly frightened kitten. When the feline darted under a sofa, Gamzee attempted to follow only to slam his forehead into the base of it. That didn't stop him from swiping his arms underneath and dragging the poor hissing animal out by its back legs. It made several dissatisfied screeches before finally being pulled into his lap, at which point the animal just proceeded to growl lowly in a way that promised physical harm as soon as it could get loose.
The troll, not at all fearful of his imminent demise, scooted back against the front of the sofa Jesse was on but didn't acknowledge his presence.
The grilled cheese was ice cold by this time, especially after hanging around outside. However, Jesse only really got a few bites in before he found himself distracted by a ruckus that was being caused by a kid and a cat. Well, mostly the kid -- cat seemed to be the innocent victim in all this after closer inspection. He watched tussle with his chin in his palm and a wry grin perking at the corner of his mouth.
After a couple of graceless moves, the poor animal ended up captured and the kid ended up leaning back against the sofa, right by where Jesse was sitting. He raised an eyebrow down at the pair.
Not all that young, really, but he looked like he was at least half Jesse's age. "Maybe you should pick a friendlier one," he suggested after a pause where the kitten's growls could be heard loud and clear.
"Don't let it scratch you, kid," he also warned, just a touch concerned.
"Aw, ain't nothin' wrong with this little motherfucker. He just needs to get his chill on in my lap for a bit and he'll calm his tits." This is the assumption, anyway. Gamzee doesn't actually know a single thing about cats. What he DOES know is that if someone pulled him into their lap and gave him pettings he'd calm down in a heartbeat. Not that he ever got angered by much, but that was beside the point.
The kitten continued to growl petulantly even as the troll ran his hand along its back. He didn't mind. The comment about being scratched had him tilting his head back to blink up at the man, though. "Do they all got venom up in their claws? Never heard of a purrbeast what was havin' that." Nepeta would know all about that if she was here. He'd never heard her say anything about poisonous claws before, but it's possible he'd just forgotten it among all her attempts to roleplay with him.
A regular scratch would hardly bother him, otherwise. He had a fairly high tolerance for pain.
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Though his attempt to strike up a conversation with a new patient had been cut short -- for all her insistence that Sasuke "make new friends", his nurse certainly whisked him away with strict punctuality -- Sasuke had consoled himself by trapping his nurse at the bulletin board and gathering as much as he could from the deliberately obtuse messages. When she had finally grown too confused and annoyed, though, he'd had to take the bagged lunch and returned to another corner of the Sun Room to eat.
He had immediately been accosted by an affectionate cat, which led him to believe that the complaints he'd run into earlier were justified. After spending enough of his lunch protecting his food from fur and finding no other use (no familiar voices, and yet no easy way to navigate to any particularly interesting with this many voices), Sasuke was somewhat more ruffled by the time he made his post-lunch bulletin board trip ( ... )
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He hadn't expected an interruption in the flow of prattle from his nurse and for a moment nearly dismissed it as part of another conversation. It was only when it became clear that another patient -- a patient he hadn't spoken to before, clear by the utterly unfamiliar voice -- had decided to cut in on Quality Time With Nurse.
Which, given the quality of that time, Sasuke could accept with goodwill. If not goodwill, then at least it was more welcome than anything his nurse had to say (and her voice had paused, seemingly interested in foisting 'Sean' off on a new 'friend').
Though ... "What is World War Three?"
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The few hours before the intercom burst alive and jolted him awake turned into a painful blur. His legs had fallen asleep from the heavy weight of one ninja resting atop them the entire morning (afternoon? Kch, it was the end of the day and it still felt as if the sun had just risen), leaving the assassin unwilling to move himself off of the couch. He'd faintly become aware that the weight was gone by the time his nurse returned with a sack containing a sandwich. He remembered immediately putting it down the moment he looked inside of it, something the woman in white began and scold and fret over him for ("Mr. Lant, you haven't touched your food since yesterday! You're making yourself sick!"). There had eventually been a compromise where at least half of the meal had been ingested, then ( ... )
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Now, he could walk with more freedom. There was still one white gnat that flew around him from time to time, but it wasn't nearly so bothersome. She got him food after all. Good food. The kind he had been missing for so long! He could live with a little hen pecking if he was going to be getting these fudge brownies every day. Chocolate wasn't his favorite, but he enjoyed the rush of energy he felt after scarfing it down. His body was still humming with that good feeling after meal time was over. Frantic little legs carried him past his nurse and into the Sun Room to find someone to talk with or fight or whatever ( ... )
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When the assassin's eyes opened, there was a small child in front of him. An incredibly small child in front of him. That couldn't be right. This child was obviously younger than Sora, someone who had already earned the Guild Head's worry for his (perhaps perceived) inexperience. It was true that age had never mattered much to assassins, but in a place like this, without the proper training...
What was this boy doing here? What use could they possibly get out of someone this young?
His voice softened instinctively, as if he were speaking to a skittish bird. "I apologize, but can you please explain what you're referring to?" It was hard to understand just what the what in that statement was in a place like this.
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After all the things those white women took from him, the monkey boy wasn't surprised to find a patient, like himself, being tricked out of their own eyes! Really, what was the world coming to when a person couldn't enjoy seeing things properly or whatever? Girls, even if they were really old and their hair was turning all white, deserved to be treated with more courtesy! Even Goku knew that!
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Not in the slightest. Stir-crazy was a good word for what she was. Energy, constrained into a small, institutional space, needed an outlet. She was pacing the Sun Room in long, perfect strides. She needed something to do, and she'd shrugged off several offers of musical instruments. That wasn't anything anyone needed; she wasn't musical, and never would be, and while it would give her something to do, she didn't want to inflict the attempt on anyone's ears ( ... )
Reply
Claire had taken a lot of energy to handle, leaving her just as stuck thinking about Shinra as she'd been before dealing with the red-haired man. This time though, she couldn't even bring herself to smile or the comfort of the memories because she was too flustered by it all. Maybe because Claire had actually been a bit harder to deal with than the man who was head over heels for her.
Entering the Sun Room, she took a deep breath and tried to relax as she let it out. There was no use in staying stressed during the day, especially with no real outlets to relieve that stress unless she wanted to be sedated. Actually that was... no, a bad idea. She wasn't that desperate. Shaking her head, she looked around for a place where she might be able to have a seat, heading off for a clump of chairs to the side as she muttered, "Is getting a break too much to ask?"
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"I'm not sure Doctor Landel knows the meaning of the word, as much as he seems to enjoy his small pleasures." Her tone was neutral; the tone that someone who knew her would know generally preceded the quiet presentation of damning evidence, but here she needed none. Everyone had their own, and while a pain shared laid easier on the shoulders, getting that conversation started was something everyone had to do for themselves.
"When everything seems quiet, that just means it's worse than usual somewhere else."
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"Didn't he... just take a break though?" she wondered, pointing up at the ceiling after taking her seat fully. And the woman's other words... Celty wasn't so sure she understood. The woman didn't seem to be joking any, but to be so serious about somewhere else being worse was...! Well, it was realistic, but Celty would have rather focused on the difficulties facing her there and not others elsewhere. "I guess so."
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A card, it seemed. Homemade, it seemed. For him, he'd said.
"Thank you..." he said, reaching out to accept the card. Izaya's lips curled into a smile, not because of Mikado's offering that he was now looking over ('thank you', it read) but because of the fact that Mikado had also asked for his opinion.
He looked away from the card back up to Mikado's face. "Are you troubled about something? If my opinion will help"-or even if it would harm-"then I'll gladly give it."
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Fuck, he didn't need no music lesson. Fallacies.
He plopped down onto one of the couches and stretched out into a more comfortable position, groaning to himself a little as he tried to shake off the stress. Jesse rubbed at his face and reviewed his bizarre life for approximately four seconds before concluding that everything was fuckin' Mr. White's fault. Everything, from the moment they'd "reconnected." The thought filled him with more emotions than he could actually process right now, including the nagging idea that he wasn't being fair, so he tore into his lunch at last and focused on chewing ( ... )
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In any case, there was a young teen scampering across the floor after a particularly frightened kitten. When the feline darted under a sofa, Gamzee attempted to follow only to slam his forehead into the base of it. That didn't stop him from swiping his arms underneath and dragging the poor hissing animal out by its back legs. It made several dissatisfied screeches before finally being pulled into his lap, at which point the animal just proceeded to growl lowly in a way that promised physical harm as soon as it could get loose.
The troll, not at all fearful of his imminent demise, scooted back against the front of the sofa Jesse was on but didn't acknowledge his presence.
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After a couple of graceless moves, the poor animal ended up captured and the kid ended up leaning back against the sofa, right by where Jesse was sitting. He raised an eyebrow down at the pair.
Not all that young, really, but he looked like he was at least half Jesse's age. "Maybe you should pick a friendlier one," he suggested after a pause where the kitten's growls could be heard loud and clear.
"Don't let it scratch you, kid," he also warned, just a touch concerned.
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The kitten continued to growl petulantly even as the troll ran his hand along its back. He didn't mind. The comment about being scratched had him tilting his head back to blink up at the man, though. "Do they all got venom up in their claws? Never heard of a purrbeast what was havin' that." Nepeta would know all about that if she was here. He'd never heard her say anything about poisonous claws before, but it's possible he'd just forgotten it among all her attempts to roleplay with him.
A regular scratch would hardly bother him, otherwise. He had a fairly high tolerance for pain.
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