Comments | damned: Day 44: Arts and Crafts Room, 4th Shift

quarter_english in damned

Day 44: Arts and Crafts Room, 4th Shift

Sep 30, 2009 17:12

The day had been slow for L so far, slower than he required: the events of the previous night were traumatic, but they did not outweigh his need for information and a useful way in which to apply whatever he might learn ( Read more... )

sechs, meche, tenzen, leonard, asch, zex, suzaku, lunge, teresa, harley, brainiac 5, pied piper, the flash, sho, argilla, alfred, venom, abe sapien, peter petrelli, mele, porky, two-face, allelujah, the scarecrow, faize, tenpou, sylar, rolo, yue, schuldig, edward cullen, tyki, lockdown, howl, l, scar (tlk)

Comments 232

hamelinschild September 30 2009, 23:37:52 UTC

Creative...how creative could you be when you had a timer over you head that counted down toward your death? (--or potential maiming. Some capes thought they were interchangeable.) But regardless of his figurative Doomsday Clock, Hartley still had a promise to keep ( ... )

zeus_incarnate October 2 2009, 01:53:45 UTC

Marcus had managed to get a glimpse of who he assumed to be the Piper he was looking for putting a note on the bulletin board. What sort of villain name was Piper, anyway? After a moment's pause, Marcus made his way over to where the guy was making a sign in arts and crafts as though he were a kid. Given the behavior Marcus had seen so far, he wasn't expecting anyone capable of acting like a sane, mature adult. Especially given that it seemed as though he was talking to himself.

"Piper?" Marcus asked, standing over the table where the Piper was seated. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have right now. It was not going to go well, and he didn't have to be a Fortunata to know that. But this needed to be resolved before things got any sillier or even more out of control. It was also probably best for Piper's safety that this all came to an end.

hamelinschild October 2 2009, 02:03:49 UTC

Had he never met the people in life that he had, Hart would have never stooped to this sort of thing--what with paint all over his hands, threatening to dash the whole thing over with glitter. But truth of the matter was that he had and nothing was going to remove that which they'd given him; the ability to lighten up.

"Pied Piper, Hartley Rathaway, Henry Darrow--what have you. I am he." he replied calmly, affording a small glance over as the other sat down. "--for your sake, I'm assuming we're skipping the hand-shaking. Mine are a bit--" He rubbed thumb and forefinger together, feeling the paint tack up against his skin. "--untidy at the moment."

As much as he ought to bow out and be sweet and meek for the moment, the defenses were on the rise. The snark would be out in no time, and as such would be unwilling to retreat unless physical harm was threatened. This...oh shit.

This would be tricky.

"I believe you wanted to talk?"

zeus_incarnate October 2 2009, 02:12:48 UTC

It was good that Marcus had the right man. He didn't want to try to track someone down in the arts and crafts room of all places. "Yes, we're skipping the hand-shaking," Marcus confirmed ( ... )

Thread 7

otnemememento October 1 2009, 00:11:35 UTC

It's like being in kindergarten again, Leonard thought as he was led into the room by his nurse. Markers, paper, even glitter. Macaroni pictures will be next. What is it they expect us to do here? He felt paper brush against his fingers in his pocket, and fished the scrap out:

MAP OUT YOUR SITUATION. WHO YOU CAN TRUST, WHERE YOU ARE, AND WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW.

Guess I won't be so bored in here after all. He checked his other pocket, shifting his camera strap around his shoulder: Pictures. Hm.

Finding himself a large piece of poster board and a thick marker, he got to work, drawing a rectangular box on the left side of the paper.

[Free]

ruthless_hunter October 1 2009, 00:32:21 UTC

[This okay?]

"Arts and crafts"? What the slag did they mean by that?

Lockdown got his answer as he was led to one of the smaller rooms. His optics darted around the room, scoping it out. One thing was clear. Everything here was very... colorful.

The bounty hunter had never had a real interest in art, Cybertronian or not. Unless you counted HK's "zombie art" from that one night and the picture he'd drawn the next day that illistrated it.

He wanted to just park himself in a corner and sit there, but his nurse made him sit by some ordinary-looking human, saying that he "needed to be more social". Lockdown gave her a nasty look as she left him alone with the man.

Lockdown just glanced at what the fleshie was working on, just drawing on a big piece of paper, before quickly losing interest. Since he knew he was gonna be here a while, the bounty hunter idly took a regular-sized peice of paper and some colorful writing utensils and started to just idly draw little patterns on the paper. Mostly just Cybertronian writing and symbols.

otnemememento October 1 2009, 08:14:38 UTC

[Of course!]

Leonard glanced up from his work, focusing only for a moment on the other man at the table. His eyes trailed to the paper on which he was writing- Guess he's not from around here. Never even seen letters like that.

"What language is that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

ruthless_hunter October 1 2009, 15:00:48 UTC

Once again, Lockdown found himself indulging in question answering. He'd gotten a lot of that ever since waking up in this Pithole. "My language," Lockdown stated, idly drawing another symbol. "Cybertronian."

Idly switching to Decepticon-coded Cybertronian for a moment, Lockdown wrote some symbols which basically translated to the word 'bored'.

Thread 6

number1smiley October 1 2009, 01:00:19 UTC

[free, limit - 2]

The handlers came to the conclusion that the greatest hybrid warrior ever created by the Organization needed to sit in a room with paper, very thin string, beads, glue and a tube of tiny silver metallic bits. Teresa was almost amused when the handler told her to 'be creative' and 'make something for a friend', as her creative skills lay in slaughter on the battlefield and not in whatever the tiny metallic bits were for.

Picking up the tube, Teresa decided to open it only to find the cap came off way too easily, a bit of the metallic bits finding their way into the air and a bunch more on her hand. With the way the light reflected off of it and the apparent glue, she concluded that it was meant for adornment. Shaking her hand, as she assumed that would get the metallic bits off, she turned her attention to the beads.

Methodically, she started sliding beads into the thin string at random. No pattern was present at all in the order she chose her next bead. It was simply something to do that made the handler go

superdynamic October 1 2009, 03:51:09 UTC

Suzaku sighed wearily and allowed himself to be dragged to the Arts and Crafts Room, too drained to protest. He didn't really want to go in there, though; it almost felt like Lelouch's cold, disapproving eyes would be lurking right around the corner. Suzaku couldn't wait to talk to him again, to erase the memories of their previous meeting, because he was sure he could bring Lelouch around if he were given one more chance. That didn't mean -- he still felt a bit nervous about facing him again, not that he was actively avoiding him, because he wasn't. But with all the times he'd misjudged Lelouch. . . He almost felt ashamed, which was the last thing he should feel around the other boy, but -- even so ( ... )

number1smiley October 1 2009, 04:02:35 UTC

Teresa's work was unfinished, though she hadn't intended on doing anything with the beads when she was done. It was a pointless exercise, but maybe she give the thing away instead of tossing it. She remembered Clare's excitement when she'd finally been presented with a new set of clothing, no longer having to wear rags; perhaps Euphy would find a use for it.

Silver eyes shifted from the long string of mismatched beads to the man next to her. "So it seems, though I'm not sure if necklace is the proper word for it," she replied.

superdynamic October 1 2009, 04:18:15 UTC

Suzaku blinked. That was enough to draw him out of his own little world; did she really not know? There were people here from all different times and places, he knew that, but he figured a necklace would be a universal thing. Unless they called it something different where she was from. Which brought up the issue of how they could all be speaking the same language in the first place. . . He definitely did not want to think about that right now, though. Better to talk about a necklace.

"I think. . . it is?" he said hesitantly, still a bit confused. Maybe she was making a joke, or just had no knowledge of jewelry herself. He didn't want to be insensitive, so maybe he should drop the subject after all. "I'm Suzaku, by the way."

Thread 19

jokers_wildcard October 1 2009, 02:01:17 UTC

[for Schuldig, I believe?]

Wow. The room looked so... normal compared to last night. Everything had been cleaned up and put away like nothing had happened at all. Harley found herself staring at the floor where Porky had dropped dead, somewhat amazed. There was nothing there! Not hint or a stain. These people were good. ...Not that she wanted to give any of them a compliment or anything for it, but wow.

She also had to wonder if they had filled in the taken fingerpaint colors, but her nurse directed her away before she could head over there again. It looked like the nurses weren't up for a repeat of yesterday's paint mess and decided it would be better to leave her at a table with a box of crayons instead. It didn't look like any arguing was going to change any of their minds.

Harley sat down and stared, irritated and pouting, at the crayons. She liked them, but they weren't as fun as the paint, and when you knew there was something better, you didn't feel like settling for second best. What, they really thought she was going to ( ... )

k4t4str0ph4l October 2 2009, 07:40:31 UTC

Schuldig honestly didn't have anything he cared to do in arts and crafts; he wasn't even certain why he hadn't made the nurse take him to the sun room instead, except that he scarcely ever came in here. He wasn't the creative type; he was much more the destroy-everything-and-laugh-while-it-burns type. The fun type, not to put too fine a point on it.

Still, while he couldn't really manage any great mischief during the day - or at least, not without getting sedated, which was always unpleasant - there was always the less dramatic kind of trouble to get into. The girl scowling at the crayons, for example; there was someone with rebellious intent. All she needed were some interesting directions.

"Since we lack any heat to melt them all down and make a record-setting adult's crayon," he remarked, sitting down across from her, "you could try gluing a bunch of them together. Or, if you're set on inserting them somewhere, why use your own orifices to begin with? You've got plenty of other people's to choose from."

piggy_king October 1 2009, 02:22:08 UTC

So first there had been the shower. Annoying, but it made sense. After all, they were in a hospital. The nurses needed to make sure everyone was clean and all. Porky could live with that. The part of the equation Porky didn't get, however, was that the nurses had also decided that arts & crafts were a necessary part of a mental patient's rehabilitation. For a kid, Porky could understand. For a 10,000-year-old man? Not so much ( ... )