Day 43: Chapel

[constellates]

And just like that, the disorienting feeling of blacking out just to wake up in an unfamiliar bed came again. Alkaid had wondered if it would - everything about last night had been different, all the way from the zombies to the eerie emptiness of the Institute to the strange broadcast at the end of the night. Had the Head Doctor been shot? Damn,

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[roger_hug]

Bridget started awake and felt the dry stiff lines along his cheeks which meant that he'd been crying, probably while still sleeping. Sitting up, he rubbed at his face and waited for the nurse to come pick him up.

He asked to be taken to the chapel. It seemed fitting that he say goodbye where he'd said hello. Ignoring the other person inside, he went to the front and went to his knees, crossing himself and bowing his head, trying not to cry.

Oh, Armand. I'm so sorry...

[poolcuemurder]

[Don't mind a very confused assassin? :D]That hadn't been something he had planned on

[roger_hug]

Bridget started at that voice and looked up,quickly wiping off his face and offering a warm if slightly shaky smile. "Oh! Mr. Venom!" He had read the files on the head of the Assassin's Guild and knew it backwards and forwards. Of course, that didn't mean the white-haired man didn't get the same cheerful manners as everyone else.

He stood up and looked around, before directing to a spot on the edge of the pews. "Let's talk over there, so we don't disturb anyone."

[poolcuemurder]

...that was not the greeting he had been expecting, but it would do (oh, the innocence of youth. It was a terrifying thing. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought the child had completely forgotten that he murdered people for a living). The assassin nodded his head and quietly followed the boy, not all that certain of what to say. Did they really need to move? Everyone else in the chapel seemed completely engrossed in their own issues (although seeing the asylum so full after having walked through startlingly empty hallways...), so would they really disturb them so much that it required them to relocate? He wasn't going to fight the boy on it, though; if he wanted to move, there was little stopping him from doing so

[wing_head]

[Free, no limit]

After having almost settled into a routine here, Steve was very surprised to wake up to a computerized voice over the intercom. Given a choice between the sun room and the chapel, Steve decided to head upstairs. It was a room he'd never been in before and he was curious to see it. After all, it was strange to have a chapel in a mental hospital. Not that the rest of what went on here was exactly normal, but as far as cover went.

It was also a surprisingly generic chapel, without crosses or other symbols decorating the area. Steve took a seat on one of the benches quietly. There were only two people in the room so far, so it seemed he'd been woken relatively early.

[yin_yang_fox]

The statue was not there again. Was this all she had came for? A petty reason, she thought, if that was the reason. Was there something comforting in this place? No, that wasn't it. It was something else

[wing_head]

When the young woman sat near him, Steve waited for a few moments before looking over to say hello. "Good morning," He said, giving her a friendly smile. It didn't seem like she was having a good morning. Not many people here ever did.

That was all the more reason for him to talk to her, though. This place was clearly taking a very strong approach to breaking the will of the people trapped here. If they lost the will to fight back then it was all over. "I'm Steve Rogers," He added, offering his hand to her as he introduced himself.

[yin_yang_fox]

Once seated, Renamon's notebook was opened to the page she had copied before coming here. The contents of the night's intercom stared up at her, and she started to analyze the lines. There wasn't much there, but perhaps....

The man spoke, and she blinked, almond eyes glancing to him. "Good morning," she responded lowly, taking in the smile. Another day, and perhaps she could have found social pleasantries within her. As it was, she slid back into her normal self--composed and calm. The emotionless warrior. Trying to find the answers that were not there. Today was Sunday. Would Rika appear to visit her again? Or something else? A past patient? Orihime? Or--

The slight fracture in her mind was quickly smoothed over and didn't make it to her face. Her eyes blinked once more, and then she cocked her head at the man's outstretched arm. American, then, she reasoned, unless he was from somewhere else altogether. With one forearm in a cast and the other flipping through notes, there was a pause. Renamon was not fond of touch as it was; as a

[theroadsofar]

Okay, so food? For one of the few times in his life, just thinking about eating made his stomach turn all over again. Granted, he didn't have anything to puke up this time, but considering how he felt right now, he didn't want to risk it.

That bitch!

A lot of last night was fuzzy, but he remembered enough to remember that bitch giving the order to sedate him when he didn't friggen need it and then lights out in a big way. After that, it'd been a lot of blurs, sounds he couldn't put together into anything familiar, and this sudden realization Sam was there at his side and holding him over as he hurled. It wasn't the first time Sam had to hold him like that. Still didn't make it any more fun and while Dean hadn't exactly cared at the time if Sam saw him like that, it was just another thing he wished now Sam didn't have to deal with. Hell, the kid just came back from the dead and (barely) survived a demon attack. Having to babysit his older brother like that shouldn't have even been necessary

[theroadsofar]

Dean managed a shameless grin, even as he found himself getting ganged up on by the orderlies, a big dude on each side and towering over him, like he had two hulked out Sams on either shoulder. Dean wasn't sorry he'd had to start crap with "Indy" - it'd been necessary to get lighters - but he could've gone without it spiraling like it did. At least he wasn't getting herded to the cafeteria. He was pretty sure he couldn't hold down breakfast, not yet, at least. If there was anything Dean was proud of - aside from being a crack shot with a crossbow - it was having an iron stomach. He was sure give or take an hour, he'd be able to keep something down.

Even if just walking felt pretty funky. The chapel was upstairs, a part of the Institute that Dean hadn't really explored very much. The chapel itself wasn't weird...until you really took a look at it and realized it wasn't normal at all. Sure, he wasn't religious, and maybe he didn't memorize every weird supernatural fact like his brother, but Dean did know a thing or two about churches

[allroadslead]

Waking up feeling like crap was really becoming the norm, insofar as the norm applied to him in the first place. The first thing Sam registered was that there was something digging into his back. He reached behind him, fingers closing around the familiar grip of a pistol, somehow weirdly comforting after not having a firearm on him for a few days now. He hadn't gone that long without his gun since Stanford. He sat up and heard something clatter to the floor. The lighter.

Sam leaned down to pick it up at the same time quiet footsteps approached the door. He had about two seconds to shove the gun and lighter inside the drawer, and slam it shut.

The nurse poked her head in cheerfully, lectured him on the perils of teasing the dogs (I know it was just a puppy, but nevertheless), and shuffled him off down the hall. What was up with the announcements, too? He wasn't exactly mourning the loss of the grating cheer of the so-called Head Doctor, but under the circumstances, an abrupt break in routine was never a good sign. Point in case: last

[theroadsofar]

Dean stared forward, eyes sweeping the chapel without actually turning his head around like a tourist

[gald_digger]

Anise awakened slowly, feeling too tired to tear herself away from the bed she was in. She reached out to clutch Tokunaga, but instead her fingers brushed thin curls of hair. Hair? The girl opened her eyes to see the porcelain doll from the previous day lying beside her. So it had gotten through the attack without breaking

[forgot_it_all]

He'd done it. He'd almost told Soubi to go after Kio and leave him and Miku and Sousuke behind. He knew in his heart that Kio was important to Soubi because he was actually important, and that Ritsuka was merely his Sacrifice, but that didn't exactly make things any easier to say. Then, just before he could get the words out, the curtain descended and Ritsuka found himself waking up in the Institute again. The sound of dead moaning and the smell of burnt, rotting flesh - all of it was gone

[gald_digger]

There was a lot to think about. The weird intercom conversation people were talking about, the talk about some infection the zombies were spreading, the disappearance of the Commandant... Anise was so wrapped up in it all that she didn't notice when somebody sat next to her

[forgot_it_all]

The girl jumped and Ritsuka tried not to do the same when she whipped around to look at him. Her answer was definitely automatic and insincere, but he figured it was just because she had been startled. The laughter and the smile didn't help any though and Ritsuka didn't return the gesture, merely watching her with his usual detached expression. Spacing out was one thing, but she was definitely thinking on something. He didn't want to pry and he wasn't sure he should anyway, so he let the subject go

[rocksthecourt]

[for Phoenix!]There was a sudden touch on Klavier's shoulder, and he instinctively shot arm out defensively, whirling around to push the assailant away from him. ...Only it seemed he was no longer standing, but was lying on his back. And his would be attacker was an extremely startled-looking nurse who'd narrowly escaped getting slapped in the face. With a face mirroring that of his nurse, Klavier blinked in confusion

[pleading_ngri]

At the change, Phoenix wasn't even sure that he woke, it happened so quickly. One moment he was watching Senna, ready to tell her not to worry, which wasn't an answer at all but at least wouldn't get him chained to a chair. He clenched his fist tighter, told himself he wouldn't move if he didn't let himself, his hand wouldn't reach out and grab Edgeworth's sleeve or Ken's collar, it wouldn't jerk them close in a moment of surprise and no no no his jaws wouldn't open and bite and bury and tear

[rocksthecourt]

Even after feeling the pew shift slightly at the weight of someone sitting nearby, Klavier didn't pull his attention up from the book. Even so, he kept finding himself getting easily distracted from his thoughts and pausing his progress. After it happened about four times, he finally glanced away from the page and up at the room around him.

It was this room... That was what was bothering him. Or more, it was that resounding quiet that only belonged to big empty rooms like this. It was hard to think in places like this, where one was naturally compelled to speak softly. He needed some kind of background noise. Even the distant hum of traffic would have been better than thisHe glanced briefly at the man who'd taken a seat a little further down the pew. Then he paused and glanced at him again, a little longer this time. It only struck him now that the face was familiar, and it took a few moments more to realize exactly why. Despite hearing the man was here several times, he still looked surprised for just moment when he finally

[pleading_ngri]

While he'd never have dreamed of calling himself an artist, Phoenix had enough of an eye for lines and shapes that he could absorb himself studying the stained glass windows, picking out recurring motifs between panels, seeing where they mirrored in the architecture. It was something to keep himself busy with, at least, until the face in the corner of his eye turned toward him and spoke his name. Responding to that was still a little eerie. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the instant familiarity or turns of phrase, but every time it got easier to not falter