The trip to Albedo's room seemed to last an eternity, a prolonged torture in light of injury and weight. Still, he slid through the threshold with practiced movements, taking care not to disturb the occupant within--who, as expected, was fast asleep. Nigredo watched him for a minute with a melancholic smile, before quietly seating himself at the vacant desk.
A soft hiss escaped his lips as the child settled, which was quickly stifled and pushed aside. Instead, he brought up the journal, flipped to the beginning page, and stealthily positioned his flashlight to illuminate only the writing. Satisfaction came after minor adjustments, and soon, Nigredo began to read.
Detail the methods, commit them to memory or murder.
(Cabbages and kings. Why the sea is boiling hot.)
True was defined by how you recalled it, after all.
(And whether pigs have wings.)
And you could love someone so much that you had no choice but to kill them.
This, Albedo knew. This, he knew quite well.
(Shall we be trotting home again?)
The answer came there none.
-
Dreams are your mind's way of filing memories, bits and pieces shifting as you sleep.
The strange voice rings with promise and potential.
“Poor, pathetic child,” the voice calls, lovingly, mockingly. “The day you kill him will be the best and worst moment of your life, I suspect.”
Except that’s not it--Words come as a drone from the source. A kind of survival mechanism in itself, a denial of what cannot be. For the truth remains. As perfect as it always was. As perfect as the day the thought occurred, before it was ever set in motion. A faltering dance of sensation and sound, blood
( ... )
The boy called Albedo had went to sleep soon after he entered the room given to him and another. Albedo, was, by habit, a chronic insomniac, and yet he fell into sleep as if he had no choice left to him. Escaped into the unconscious domain as if it gave all of life meaning. There was nothing wrong with him--he was, by definition, perfectly healthy, moreso even, from eating the past few days. But still, this happened, and this was what transpired.
Albedo dreamed. Nonsense and secrets alike, but dreams are the mind's way of filing memories, bits and pieces shifting as you sleep, and so he slept. And so he dreamed. Dark giving way to light, and then, life flooded where there had been naught, and for the first time in a very long time, longer than the child could recall, he existed in a state that he could define as alive. Not whole, not nearly, but something more than the shambling shadow that he’d defined himself as weeks prior. A flash of pain, a burn like love, and then a heartbeat. Clear and simple and solitary. Only one
( ... )
He hadn't the chance to go very far--that is, not in the way of time. The first page barely filed into the inky black when Nigredo heard light shuffling from the bed, and the blood froze in his veins. He was still, a statue in child form, with his fingertips pressed against the bindings of Renamon's journal and breaths stifled deep into his chest. Reasons for such reactions existed as scarce; he had to remind himself Albedo wouldn't find fault with a necessary intrusion if it came from him. He was, as remembered, wanted, even as his heart pounded within the grips of a possible death. In the passing seconds, the air had changed, too fleeting for comprehension. But his instincts always knew where all else faltered: he knew an approaching end like he knew what lay within his own mind
( ... )
Tonight was not a night to be making side trips. Last night treating time somewhat laxly had been a luxury due to having his full strength back, but that was no longer the case.
Aidou’s appetite raged against wasting time with Aigis, too. Even if she genuinely wanted to discuss his dietary needs, he suspected he was going to have to go hunting afterward, anyway, unless she had conveniently found him fresh human blood. He doubted that. And since he needed something to eat now, Aigis’ and her mediation efforts were just in the way
( ... )
Sakura jogged the last few steps to Sai's room, checking the door number again to be sure before she knocked twice and pushed it open.
"Sai? Are you still here?" she called out. While she didn't anticipate any sort of ambush, with all the ridiculous territory claims on the bulletin today, it was hard to be sure exactly what to expect.
[So late, I'm sorry!! Holidays, LJ changes, and family dramu... but I will be quick from now on. :( ]
He was indeed still there. There was no ambush waiting for her on the other side of the door, just a wounded and shirtless ninja greeting her with a smile. Sai opened the door further to let her in before making his careful way back to the bed where he could sit and await further diagnosis.
"I'm glad you could make it. I apologize for my lack of activity the past couple nights." Even if it wasn't completely his fault, he still felt the need to address that. He didn't like being kept inactive if he could help it, especially here where their time at night was limited, and even though they'd already seemingly exhausted what there was to do in the basement.
Sakura allowed herself a small smile when Sai greeted her at the door. Admittedly, he didn't look much better than he had when she'd seen him earlier, but at least he was still alive and breathing and that was what mattered. She closed the door behind her, then followed him to the edge of the bed as though it was as natural as anything, just another check-up after a difficult mission. Except this was definitely not like any hospital in Konoha.
She knelt to inspect the damage, but since he seemed alright with sitting up, she wouldn't force him to lie down. Though his apology only made her bristle, smile quickly turning to a frown. An apology?! You sure as hell oughta be sorry, but not for some idiotic lack of activity!!"You don't have to apologize for that," she managed, though it was a near thing to keep the rest from spilling out in a huff behind. After removing the bandage quickly and efficiently, Sakura took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes, brow knit in both concentration and an effort to forget her own
( ... )
He leaned back, supporting himself on his arms so that she could get a the injury better, but he didn't lay down. That just made him feel weak, and even though that was a perfectly fair thing to be feeling right now he'd rather remain sitting.
Sai held perfectly still, watching his teammate calmly. There were many things he could say right now, several more apologies to be made, but he kept silent. If he did say he was sorry for what he'd done in the coliseum, the words would be hollow. He wasn't sorry. They'd gotten themselves tricked into that position, and if anyone was going to take the fall for it there, he was the best option - the only option, as far as he was concerned.
The healing process would be draining on Sakura, and he hoped she would keep a good watch on her own energy reserves. He didn't need that much help. The Institute was healing him as it was.
Unlike nights previous, Sasuke was prepared to go well before the doors unlocked. Too much time spent in the hazy grip of the Institute's sleep had taught him not to take consciousness itself for granted; his roommate was sleeping when the doctor's nighttime persona crackled through the building, as if to prove the point. It had been days since they had spoken, less out of deliberate avoidance on Sasuke's part and more from the control Landel had over their very waking hours.
The boy had been here a long time, he'd claimed: perhaps it would prove useful to ask what he had observed, however irritating his attitude.
For tonight, however, Sasuke opened and closed the door, silent out of habit more than consideration. The latch slid home on the noise of Martin Landel's voice gloating and then sulking through names meaningful in presence and absence.
Comments 35
The trip to Albedo's room seemed to last an eternity, a prolonged torture in light of injury and weight. Still, he slid through the threshold with practiced movements, taking care not to disturb the occupant within--who, as expected, was fast asleep. Nigredo watched him for a minute with a melancholic smile, before quietly seating himself at the vacant desk.
A soft hiss escaped his lips as the child settled, which was quickly stifled and pushed aside. Instead, he brought up the journal, flipped to the beginning page, and stealthily positioned his flashlight to illuminate only the writing. Satisfaction came after minor adjustments, and soon, Nigredo began to read.
Reply
(Shoes and ships and sealing wax.)
Detail the methods, commit them to memory or murder.
(Cabbages and kings. Why the sea is boiling hot.)
True was defined by how you recalled it, after all.
(And whether pigs have wings.)
And you could love someone so much that you had no choice but to kill them.
This, Albedo knew. This, he knew quite well.
(Shall we be trotting home again?)
The answer came there none.
-
Dreams are your mind's way of filing memories, bits and pieces shifting as you sleep.
The strange voice rings with promise and potential.
“Poor, pathetic child,” the voice calls, lovingly, mockingly. “The day you kill him will be the best and worst moment of your life, I suspect.”
Except that’s not it--Words come as a drone from the source. A kind of survival mechanism in itself, a denial of what cannot be. For the truth remains. As perfect as it always was. As perfect as the day the thought occurred, before it was ever set in motion. A faltering dance of sensation and sound, blood ( ... )
Reply
Albedo dreamed. Nonsense and secrets alike, but dreams are the mind's way of filing memories, bits and pieces shifting as you sleep, and so he slept. And so he dreamed. Dark giving way to light, and then, life flooded where there had been naught, and for the first time in a very long time, longer than the child could recall, he existed in a state that he could define as alive. Not whole, not nearly, but something more than the shambling shadow that he’d defined himself as weeks prior. A flash of pain, a burn like love, and then a heartbeat. Clear and simple and solitary. Only one ( ... )
Reply
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Aidou’s appetite raged against wasting time with Aigis, too. Even if she genuinely wanted to discuss his dietary needs, he suspected he was going to have to go hunting afterward, anyway, unless she had conveniently found him fresh human blood. He doubted that. And since he needed something to eat now, Aigis’ and her mediation efforts were just in the way ( ... )
Reply
Sakura jogged the last few steps to Sai's room, checking the door number again to be sure before she knocked twice and pushed it open.
"Sai? Are you still here?" she called out. While she didn't anticipate any sort of ambush, with all the ridiculous territory claims on the bulletin today, it was hard to be sure exactly what to expect.
[So late, I'm sorry!! Holidays, LJ changes, and family dramu... but I will be quick from now on. :( ]
Reply
"I'm glad you could make it. I apologize for my lack of activity the past couple nights." Even if it wasn't completely his fault, he still felt the need to address that. He didn't like being kept inactive if he could help it, especially here where their time at night was limited, and even though they'd already seemingly exhausted what there was to do in the basement.
Reply
She knelt to inspect the damage, but since he seemed alright with sitting up, she wouldn't force him to lie down. Though his apology only made her bristle, smile quickly turning to a frown. An apology?! You sure as hell oughta be sorry, but not for some idiotic lack of activity!!"You don't have to apologize for that," she managed, though it was a near thing to keep the rest from spilling out in a huff behind. After removing the bandage quickly and efficiently, Sakura took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes, brow knit in both concentration and an effort to forget her own ( ... )
Reply
Sai held perfectly still, watching his teammate calmly. There were many things he could say right now, several more apologies to be made, but he kept silent. If he did say he was sorry for what he'd done in the coliseum, the words would be hollow. He wasn't sorry. They'd gotten themselves tricked into that position, and if anyone was going to take the fall for it there, he was the best option - the only option, as far as he was concerned.
The healing process would be draining on Sakura, and he hoped she would keep a good watch on her own energy reserves. He didn't need that much help. The Institute was healing him as it was.
Reply
The boy had been here a long time, he'd claimed: perhaps it would prove useful to ask what he had observed, however irritating his attitude.
For tonight, however, Sasuke opened and closed the door, silent out of habit more than consideration. The latch slid home on the noise of Martin Landel's voice gloating and then sulking through names meaningful in presence and absence.
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