Day 36: Courtyard
Scar didn't have to think long about which direction to be escorted in for the third shift. He didn't quite enjoy the human activities these nurses forced them to do, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he soon found himself sitting on the grass in the courtyard
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And for someone who knew the ins and outs of making someone break, Ren was thinking visitors were no better than any other nasty trick of Landel’s.
He hadn’t been ’visited’ yet, and was a little glad and a little curious.
Well, whatever. The doll stepped out into the courtyard, running a hand through his hair. It might have been cooler out, but the fresh air was always nice. He spotted Archer’s head of snowy hair near the pond, watched his conversation with another young man for a moment, before beginning to make a slow circuit of the courtyard.
Cabin fever was a weird feeling. He found himself missing the familiarity of Japan more and more, at that.
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How on earth did whatever that man was experiencing pass itself over to Melissa? She normally only got the taste of a headache someone else was having, but this time, it was full on headache gala, with the flashes of memories and punch to match. And before she even had a chance to ask him what on earth was going on, the shift changed and one of the nurses pulled her away.
She was getting really sick of this place ( ... )
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'Tasteless'? That was supposed to be him? That was an unflattering nickname, though granted, it was pretty benign in comparison to some of the other names he‘d been called over the years. He was more interested in what came after that part; his gaze was drawn to her wounded arm.
The servant wished he didn’t see so many of them around here.
"Didn’t I do that?" he replied with the right amount of obliviousness, unsure, exactly, what he’d left out during the times they’d talked. If she was talking about getting injured at all, Ren distinctly remembered telling her the Institute was dangerous, and thought one generally implied the other. Not that it made much of a difference. Ren liked to think the people trapped her had a right to be ticked off.
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It didn't really matter; she just felt like being angry at someone right now. And since Ren was one of the closest things to not-a-stranger here, and she probably wouldn't have been so bold about trying to go over the wall if he had mentioned the injuries thing, he was the lucky candidate.
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Following that: disorientation.
There were no windows in M12, of course, so he had really no idea what time it was. Assuming it was morning, he pulled himself out of bed (fighting with a headache, a bad one) and steadied himself on his bedside table.
No, he knew his body clock better than this, the swordsman thought, working his hands down to grab his ankles and stretch. The muscles felt atrophied, as if he hadn't worked them in a day or longer.
How long had it really been..? He had something to give Dias this morning. He'd promised to. But - but - why was it so quiet, then? There was no morning bustle, no sounds of doors opening and shutting as the patients were ferried out to the buses.
He was feeling sick to his stomach all of a sudden, and fighting the sudden urge to retch - had he worried Dias, had he worried Claude and Leon and Axel, had they escaped without him, left him here all alone? - and he rushed to the closet to gather his gift for Dias. After he'd ( ... )
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It had actually been the first time he'd been trying to forget.
But, in the end, whether or not he looked didn't matter, because almost immediately upon entering the courtyard, there was a pair of slumped shoulders and a hung head that, even from behind, could only belong to one person in the institute. In the world, regardless of whatever one they happened to be on ( ... )
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But he hadn't been expecting a hug, of all things; the sudden lack of mobility made him jump. But though his breath initially tightened, it gently relaxed, along with what seemed like all Ashton's worries in the world. Dias had such a familiar, comforting smell to Ashton now, like adventuring and forests and.. just plain Dias.
It was fantastic.
Still, there was so much to apologize to him for. Being neglectful, probably being a bad friend, getting sick, worrying Dias enough that he'd get a hug right here in front of everyone. But the apology was sticking in his throat like all those strange and lovely emotions seemed to be right now, frozen solid by the sudden, welcome sense of security. He wrenched his body around to clutch the taller man's form in return ( ... )
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Either way, no apologies were necessary. He'd been worried - honestly, terrified might have been more accurate - that Ashton was gone, but while he'd been considering the possibility that his friend (someday, he would find a more appropriate word) was still around and they just hadn't seen each other, he'd known from the start that there had to be a good reason for that. Ashton would never have missed a meeting with him, never mind worried all of his friends, unless he couldn't possibly help it ( ... )
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