Day 47: Recreational Field [Second Shift]

[vsyourface]

Scott wasn't really what one would call the sporty type, at least not currently. In the past, maybe. He could have called himself a hockey player at one point - in grade two (it totally counted). And he had been a jock in high school, hadn't he (he had at least played a lot of Track & Field for the NES, anyway)? Regardless of what his athletic

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[sasuke_of_sound]

Sasuke woke late, but he ignored his nurses chirpy morning greeting and lay still for a moment, simply taking his time to catalogue every limb. They were working; his entire body was working. The lack of chakra was something he was accustomed to by now, an endless frustration that had to be ignored in order to keep moving --

But he could keep moving. He had his hands and his feet and the will to see vengeance through to the end

[lostonlifesroad]

The best Kakashi could hope for after his conversation with Artemis was to have offered the boy some temporary distraction; shift changed before he could ask about what had been weighing him down so much, and Kakashi felt a bit guilty afterward. He hadn't meant for the entire conversation to be about him, after all. And what was worse, the nurse refused to let him take his 'calculus' book outside. That was a time for exercise, she admonished, and sent him into the cold with nothing to read

[sasuke_of_sound]

Sasuke was halfway through a pattern when he caught the sound of grass rustling in approaching footsteps. When the person spoke, he realised that he should have expected it, especially after he'd left that note earlier. It wasn't easy to leave detailed explanations on the bulletin board, for more reasons than because Sasuke still wasn't sure how readable his handwriting was -- it made sense that Kakashi would seek him out for clarification

[lostonlifesroad]

Kakashi had to wonder just what Jiraiya had said to inspire such a conclusion. True, the Sannin didn't exactly approve of the elders, and the same could be said of many of the village's upper ranks. Kakashi might even include himself on the list, given what he'd learned just in Landel's. But to go so far to say the village would do nothing while Sasuke took his revenge among the upper ranks

[poolcuemurder]

Venom awoke with a throbbing headache, an ache in his bones that he couldn't explain, and a woman staring down at him. Two of those items were things he were no stranger to - one of them, however, was not like the others.

"You missed breakfast, Vincent," Nurse said, just as distant as yesterday, as she handed him a hairband and a comb. The latter was taken, the former thoroughly ignored (receiving an exasperated groan and subsequent annoyed palm-meeting-face from Nurse), and, had he been paying attention to the woman while working the comb through his hair, he might have heard of her desperate mumble of "Lord, I'm trying."

The field was mostly empty by the time they arrived, which was surprising considering how late he slept, but even then he couldn't blame anyone. It was starting to get cold -what was it, fall? ...hadn't it been winter before he first found himself here? Had he been away from the Guild that long?! - and, while he could handle it, well... It was still cold. He found himself unconsciously rubbing at his arms in the

[scintillatingly]

It seemed like the curse Sora had when it came to the recreational field would never end. He didn't even know how many times he'd been brought out here only to have to sit and watch everyone else have fun because he was busy sporting an injury. While part of him was tempted to push through the pain, he knew he'd only regret it -- a bullet wound was nothing to sneeze at, after all.

And so he resorted to pouting to himself as he walked along the grass, staying out of the way of the people who were exercising. His hand went up under his shirt to scratch at his bandages, partly because the wound itched and partly out of annoyance.

He almost wished he could track down the no-longer-brainwashed patient from last night to give him a piece of his mind. Sora never would have held a grudge if the man had been regretful, but he wasn't. He wasn't even close to it!

The boy sighed to himself, but it was right at that moment that he spotted a familiar face (well, he couldn't really see the man's face, so it was more like familiar hair) nearby.

[poolcuemurder]

Usually, the main focus would be on energy - honing in on that inner power and channeling it to greater lengths. While the thought crossed his mind to continue those exercises (especially when his Magic had been stripped away), that too was ignored in favor of simple relaxation techniques.

Breathe. Don't panic. Don't worry. Breathe.

It was nice. It didn't make him feel happy, it never did (if one wanted to give into their melodramatic thoughts, one could say nothing would ever do that, though he would kindly and effectively tell that person to shove off because he didn't care), but it was still calming. To just sit quietly and feel cold ache melt away, to process and hear the sounds around him, the grass rustling, the idle chatter, the occasional bouts of movement around him, but not having to focus intently on any of it

[scintillatingly]

While Sora had managed to sit still for a few seconds, it wasn't too long before he found himself getting restless. He hadn't expected any different, but the boy was the sort who thought it was always worth it to try something once. He was glad when Venom spoke up, since he hadn't been sure how long he would have been able to stay quiet otherwise.

Opening only one eye, he tried to make eye contact with the man -- only to be cut off by that mask of hair again. "Guess I'm not too good at this," he laughed out, uncurling his legs as he opened the other eye and grinned.

It had been a few days since he and Venom had met, but Sora was glad to see that the man hadn't forgotten him. And hadn't disappeared, for that matter. It would have taken the boy some time to notice, which was a troublesome thought all on its own.

"How've you been?" he asked with a tilt of his head as he leaned back on the palms of his hands and watched the sky. His side was still bugging him, but he tried not to let that show on his face.

[otnemememento]

Leonard let the nurse escort him outside before wandering from her, curious to get a look around. Okay, what am I doing out here? His eyes landed on a kid with a crutch kicking a goal post. Sports. He looked back toward the building and the nurse-lined wall. Odd activity for a hospital, but maybe it helps the healing process. Don't think it's helping that kid any, though.

Only a few people were scattered around the field, and there didn't seem to be an organized activity going on. Content to watch the patients stumble the grounds, he found an empty spot along the wall and had a seat, leaning against it for support.

[Harvey Dent]

[unheroed]

As insufferable as Jason could be sometimes, Harvey usually felt refreshed after talking to him. It had nothing to do with Jason's attitude and everything to do with the fact that they were usually actively working toward something during their chats. It beat the monotony that usually came with the day and gave him something to think over for the rest of the wasted time before dinner came around

[otnemememento]

Just as people were starting to gather in the area, Leonard found himself joined by another man- another blond, and it looked like he might've had some bandages on his face, though Leonard had some trouble telling from where he was sitting. Can't imagine what he could've done to himself here that would've caused his face enough damage for bandages. Maybe he's here for self-mutilation. Maybe I'll find out.

He glanced to his left, quickly giving the other man a friendly nod and waiting for a response.

[unheroed]

A nod wasn't much, but it also wasn't like the guy was ignoring him or giving off the vibe that he didn't want to be bothered. Harvey wasn't really sure how he felt, but in the end he didn't think there was much of a point to sitting in silence. As much as he found the majority of the patient populace to be a bunch of half-sane morons, some of them were worth talking to. Maybe this guy would be an example of that

[cmdr_exposition]

The rec field was certainly different in the daytime. Hayes was inclined to call it an improvement, what with the shortage of obviously homicidal things running around loose. Somehow, though, it wasn't as much improved as one might have thought, because knowing about the other Institute, it just looked fake. It was just different enough to set you on edge... like synthesized food, if synthesizers occasionally produced poison.

He didn't feel much like playing around. He didn't feel much like anything today, but sitting back on the sidelines and looking some more at the sky was a pretty decent option.

Hayes hadn't quite decided whether the change was more comforting or more disturbing, but at the moment he was leaning towards comforting. It meant that whatever world he was in, the planet was not completely in the possession of the enemy. It meant that, whether he personally could get there or not, there was some place somewhere that was free. It didn't mean much in the way of reasonable hope for himself, but if you could think of

[hes_deadjim]

The doctor shielded his eyes against the sun for a moment. It was like a whole 'nother world in the daylight: now that he could see it without the blackness and mist, he could see that the field itself was relatively large, well kept, and empty of this planet's native fauna. McCoy found his eyes drifting back to that place in the field where he'd first encountered the captain. Like the rest of the field, it was pristine, no torn up grass and mud, no shredded cloth, nothing. You could almost forget that a creature had attacked Jim earlier.

He had a set of medical logs and his own eyes saying otherwise. Even if the staff were seemingly devoting all their energies into covering up their own mistreatment and reckless handling of patients, he wasn't going to forget it anytime soon.

A familiar set of shoulders was nearby. It almost looked like Mr. Hayes was somehow basking in the sun.

"You almost look like you're enjoying yourself, Commander," McCoy said.

[cmdr_exposition]

Originally, Hayes had wanted to be alone- okay, he'd been sulking, he could admit that- and he still would have liked to be. Ideally. But McCoy was okay. At least, he wasn't annoying, or disquietingly removed from Earth, or so young as to set Hayes' teeth on edge with the mere fact of his being here. On the whole, if he was going to be bothered, his cellmate might as well be the one to do it.

So he waved McCoy over and kept the near-smile he'd had before. "That sounds about right," he said, "I almost am. I mean, look at it."

Objectively speaking, there wasn't a whole lot to look at; just a few wisps of cloud that didn't particularly look like anything. It might not mean anything to McCoy subjectively, either, but Hayes was in no mood to ponder cultural differences and was just going by the idea that of course blue skies were significant to Earthlings.

[hes_deadjim]

McCoy looked. He saw a blue sky, some clouds, and a gentle breeze. It reminded him of Georgia, except he remembered it being more humid. But, even so, it made all the difference when you had a wide blue sky overhead and solid ground under your feet. Certainly a nice change of pace after being cooped up in a clunking deathtrap.

All right, he was being unfair, McCoy admitted to himself. The Enterprise was a handsome ship, top of the line and with the best crew and captain a man could ask for. As homes went, he could easily do worse. The ship itself couldn't be in better hands than Scotty's. It wasn't at all some clanking garbage scow. He might appreciate living beings more but even he could see she was a beautiful vessel

[scarefaux]

Breakfast ended all too soon for the Scarecrow, but at least a few of his fears had been assuaged: his head injury apparently wasn't as noticeable as he'd thought it would be, and Abe had said the wound looked good and probably would heal well. Human bodies were pretty amazing if they could recover from trauma like he'd faced the previous night. No wonder crows feared them more than they feared a man made of straw.

Though some concerns were momentarily put to rest, he had a new problem: he was sure he'd be feeling better if he could feel anything at all. Stepping outside wasn't nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be: the great smell of the air, the feeling of the grass beneath his bare feet, the sensation of the sun on his skin- all were absent. Oh, if he ever got his hands on that doctor who'd put that clever little thing in his head that robbed him of his senses, he'd string her up to the crows himself

[tiny_chef]

This was the first time Remy had been outside in a few days, which might be a kind of record for him. In the past, his life had been lived intermittently and fluidly indoors and outdoors. Almost all rats found a safe place to shelter -- dry, too, if they were lucky -- and ventured out to look for food as much as possible. He had been indoors much more often since meeting Linguini and spending so much of his time in the kitchen at Gusteau's, but in that situation, he didn't need to scavenge, and he still got fresh air on their daily ride to and from the restaurant. Yeah, he was pretty sure he hadn't spent this much time inside since the last time he was as pink and hairless as this. It was like being a baby again, only with bullets

[scarefaux]

The Scarecrow turned his focus from the grass beneath his hand to Remy, giving him a smile. Something in his expression said he needed a friendly face. Then again, it had been a couple of nights since their first meeting- maybe he'd been to the Horrible Hallway, or met up with a witch elsewhere in the Institute.

"Morning, Remy," he said with a nod, motioning for him to take a seat. He consciously took a breath, in and out. Had he been doing it automatically without thinking? Unable to feel the air moving through his chest, it was hard to tell. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking so much about it in the first place- his sensations would come back in due time. He just had to convince himself of it.

And there he was again, overthinking. "I hope the nights haven't been too rough on you," he said, breaking the momentary silence.

[tiny_chef]

Remy flopped down on the grass, his legs sprawled in front of him, and his weight supported by his arms. It's the first time I've really been on the grass since I got to Paris, he realized. The grass was still a little bit damp with dew.

He hesitated before answering Scarecrow's implied question. "... Last night could have been better. I tried to go to the kitchen to cook something with that guy" -- he indicated Scott -- "the one on crutches. But there was some jerk with a gun in the Sun Room. Meche and I ran to the cafeteria and Scott and two other people stayed to fight. Scott got shot." He paused, staring down at the ground. "I guess I should've listened to everybody. I just thought, how scary could it really be?"