Breakfast had been missed. Not because Celty hadn't been at it - she knew she'd been sitting there, staring at food with something that may've looked like interest - but because she wasn't sure that her mind had caught up with her yet to process everything. Last night. Last night...! Like a horror movie playing out right in front of her and trying to kill her and some other guy and...!
She'd tried more times than she could count the moment she'd woken up. Pinching, shaking her head, smacking it. There was nothing she could have done to make herself believe that it wasn't there, but there was less she could have attempted in terms of trying to wake herself up! Because she had tried nearly everything
( ... )
[potential spoiler warnings: readers beware!]predictatorSeptember 28 2010, 14:22:49 UTC
Seeing Shizuo during breakfast had been unexpected, to say the least, and the whole encounter had put off Izaya's mood. It had ended in his favor (he'd survived it, after all), but the idea that it even could go the way it had was wrong. The strength of the staff was not to be trifled with, and Izaya now knew that even better than before.
What a shame that they hadn't been armed with knives instead of needles.
Nevertheless, he'd come out of breakfast with a bad taste lingering in his mouth, only to spot another surprise on the other side of the sun room: the familiar head of a certain dullahan, only it was attached to a body... And that body was not Harima Mika's.
Celty, then, with her head restored a step further than it should have been? Or another subject of cosmetic surgery to match the looks of that head, the one that should have been stored away safely in his possession. There was only one way to find out, and that was to talk to her.
Izaya headed in her direction, though not straight for her. If it was Celty she'd
( ... )
[/is a walking spoiler, y'know...]sortaheadstrongSeptember 28 2010, 21:24:50 UTC
As she sat, Celty found herself running a finger along the open side of the notebook, carelessly flipping the pages and making them flap. Just sitting wasn't doing anything to confirm or deny or do anything productive in this situation, but at least her hands could be busy with something. She was too nervous to go talk to anyone after what trying had gotten her the night before. Who would want to put someone else she just happened to look up and see in that kind of situation
( ... )
[but you're not spoiling several specific plot points in just a few sentences]predictatorSeptember 29 2010, 05:34:33 UTC
Izaya was careful not to look in the direction of the woman who may or may not have been Celty right away, instead maintaining a bored look as he surveyed the room, but it wasn't long before he grew tired of that and 'noticed' her.
She was staring openly. Did that mean she did recognize him? She hadn't moved from the spot she'd been before, clutching something-a notebook?-in her hands, but she was definitely staring at him. He met her gaze, studying her for a moment before taking it as an invitation, an opening to find out more.
He pointed at her, then at himself before approaching, as if questioning whether she was looking at him or something else. "I'm sorry, did you need something with me?" he asked.
Izaya glanced down at the notebook in her hands, taking a discrete look at the woman's neck in the process. No scar... If this was a case of surgery (be it cosmetic or other), then the goal must not have been to make it look like it wasn't her real head, the way it had for Harima.
The morning had been going so well until Guybrush spotted that note on the bulletin board.
Elaine? Missing? Nuh uh. Noooo way. She was just... washing her hair. Again. She'd gone out last night, so she definitely needed a second shower in the morning, which they'd allowed her to take because...
She made a very convincing argument? She was the Governor of the Tri-Island Area? She'd been swallowed by a beast with breath bad enough to make a ship take a dirt road and needed to wash the stench off?
Whatever the reason, she wasn't gone. It was true that people disappeared all the time- sailed into the Bermuda Triangle, kidnapped as some part of a revenge quest, tied to a golden idol and dropped to the bottom of the sea, etc.- but this was Elaine. She didn't just vanish. And if she did, it was because someone had taken her, kidnapped her from her kidnapper in some kind of a double kidnapping that would ultimately result in her escaping of her own volition when the time was just right. She was a master at it, having done it her
( ... )
The nurse had tried to take him to the library again. He seemed like such an intelligent young man... didn't he want to spend some time reading? He might have actually taken her up on the suggestion, but he had no interest in reading anything as old as what they had there, and it had been very hard not to laugh when she reminded him that they'd acquired some new science fiction books.
But after several polite refusals, she'd finally relented and escorted him to the sun room instead. There were a few other people around, but it didn't seem too busy.
He was slightly put off by the blond staring at the doorway until Gren realized he was probably just waiting for someone to arrive. He blinked. Wait. Did he have a hook for a hand? He'd seen some cut-rate prosthetics before but that took the cake. ...and he may have been staring at it a little. Woops. He covered it up with a friendly smile, and glanced from the man back to the door
( ... )
Guybrush held his attention on the door, breaking only to return Morgan's nod. Maybe she hadn't heard the bad news yet- no wait, there wasn't bad news. Elaine was still around. She'd just moved rooms or was disguising herself. Maybe her roommate had been mistaken, and the person in her bed was actually a decoy Elaine. Yeah, that was it! The old two-monkeys-stacked-one-on-top-of-the-other trick. The nurses were sure to fall for it!
... Now where did she find a pair of monkeys in Landel's? A better question was how she managed to get those clothes on the monkeys in the first place.
Eyes on the door and attention elsewhere, Guybrush hadn't even noticed being approached or stared at until he was addressed. "Sort of. She might still be sleeping. Or making a daring escape. Or she's washing her hair."
Oh, man. Had this guy gotten stood up? That had to suck, especially in a place like this.
"You're probably right. I'm sure something just came up. Maybe she got dragged off to therapy?" He had no idea if anyone got any advanced warning for that, or if the nurses just hauled you off whenever it was your turn. Gren supposed he'd find out sooner or later, when his turn rolled around. "She'll probably turn up."
Unless, of course, she didn't, but saying that wouldn't be very encouraging, now would it? And he wasn't exactly the type to go spreading feelings of gloom and doom if he could at all avoid it.
Morgan hated being idle. (It had nothing to do with the devil's work; idle hands just didn't get filled with more pieces o' eight than they could carry.) Unfortunately there wasn't much she could do right now. She needed to find Rotgut and figure out why her payment hadn't shown up last night--and if that got resolved, she needed to find LeChuck and tell him to back off the old guy. But she hadn't seen either of them so far this morning, and she didn't have anything else interesting planned until nightfall. The closest thing to actual work she could think of to do was watching the Sun Room bulletin board in case either one of the pirates showed up, so that's where she headed
( ... )
Zevran was growing fond of the large atrium room that his uniformed nurse referred to as the Sun Room. It was the place he went in lieu of the mundane activities that they tried so hard to corner him into. He had yet to actually participate in any of them, and planned to keep up this pattern. He was not here for help and kind words and drawing silly pictures. No, he was biding his time, like he imagined many of them were. It was foolish to think that he was the only one pacing like some kind of caged animal, but some were better than others at putting aside their instincts. Some of them were probably even genuinely innocent souls, waiting to be rescued. They'd be disappointed when no one came for them, which was the most likely scenario
( ... )
Morgan was tracking on the guy well before he got close. She'd seen a few people who looked like they might be half-decent fighters here, but most of them seemed...well, straightforward. They'd come at you from the front, they'd rely on their strength or sheer bulk to win fights, and Morgan figured she could wipe the decks with their faces in thirty seconds. This guy was different, though. He was several inches shorter than Morgan and not hugely musclebound, but he moved with a quietness and an easy grace that suggested a lot of fighting practice. Probably plenty of experience sneaking up on people, too.
Interesting. Not to mention dangerous. If the things they seemed to have in common didn't end there, Morgan thought, he'd be a bad guy to get on the wrong side of. So what did he want from her?
"Go ahead," she agreed. Not that she apparently had much choice unless she wanted to make him leave, since he'd already dug in his heels. And she wasn't interested in another unarmed fight against three goons right now. "What's a guy like you
( ... )
Despite having just congratulated himself for being oh so wary and unflappable, her question caught him off guard. Perhaps he had let that line slip from his lips on more than one occasion, but it was inticing to have the tables turned. Her intentions were sadly of a more innocently curious nature than his own might have been, but he wouldn't hold that against her. He would try of course, and if she was the sort of woman that he thought she was... well, actually, there was no telling how she would react. That was the best part, he supposed. Comfort and predictability may have soothed some weary souls, but Zevran's feet itched at the very thought
( ... )
After his meeting with Asuka, Okita was feeling a little brighter about the day. Although little could make up for the sudden losses and his incident last night, being recognized as the new leader and recruiting another person for certain had been a bit of a boost. His fingers didn't ache as badly either, although he couldn't see them beneath the bandages the nurses had wrapped around them. It looked like he'd burnt himself. He suppose he had in a way
( ... )
That wasn't good. Okita had seen that look before and it was a chilling thing to see it on Kenshin's face. While there was no love lost between himself and the former hitokiri, Okita had been forced to set aside his differences for the sake of Homura's group. They were the last of the original members and if one of them broke, the entire group was at peril.
"Of course," Okita replied, motioning to the couch when Kenshin addressed him. He took the opportunity to look the man over closer, noting the weariness around the eyes, the stiffness in his jaw and his movements. Something terrible had happened either last night or this morning. Okita hadn't picked up on anything this severe during the bulletin conversation - although hiding emotion in writing was usually much easier than face-to-face interactions. "...We have many things to discuss, but first - what happened to you?"
As if the man named 'Russia' hadn't annoyed her enough, now Ammy's nurse seemed to be acting strangely. All she had done was ask about Honey. She had done well not to reveal she was out during the night. Rather, the sun goddess had inquired about her friend, the patient in M60. Her nurse looked thoughtful for a few moments, then smiled forgivingly at Amaterasu.
"I'm sorry, Amari. But your friend was released last night. He went home with his family."
Released? What did that mean? It was hard to understand the staff members in the institute. Their words almost held double meanings and it was probably unwise to trust what they told her.
Amaterasu left a hopeful note on the bulletin board, then found a seat in a couch. Just like yesterday, the sun seemed to be shining. The day hadn't started off amazingly well, but she was glad to be in the Sun Room again. So far, she had met some good friends there and nothing was better than soaking up some sunshine.
Canada. Canada? That was who that man at breakfast had been. Japan tried to commit the name to memory, attaching it to the unfamiliar-yet-familiar face, but as soon as he entered the Sun Room, it seemed his memory failed him yet again. He had vague recollections of meeting Canada and now knew he was here, but if asked to pick the man out of a crowd? Japan would have to point and hope he was right. Or perhaps say he was unable to see because he was short
( ... )
Her thoughts were still on the previous night and the words she had left on the bulletin board. Would Honey or Takashi reply? She hoped they were alright . . . Her worrying nearly made her miss the soft voice that suddenly addressed her.
Ammy broke her stare from the windows above and blinked at the man that now stood before her. He was sort of small, with dark hair and similar features to the people of Nippon. His respectful words made her smile. It was always a plus to meet a polite person (especially after her encounter with the emperor union-leader man from breakfast). The goddess scooted over on the couch to give the man room and patted the cushions with enthusiasm.
"Not mind!" she said with a smile. "Sit, please! What is . . . y-your name?"
She smiled at him and Japan managed a small bow of his head again. Something about her was awe-inspiring and he wasn't sure what. It was like being in the presence of someone great, someone immeasurably great. It made Japan queasy. He sat down next to her, keeping an appropriate distance.
"Ah, my name is Japa---Honda. Honda Kiku." He really did need to get used to introducing himself as his other self. Telling people he was a nation right off the bat would do little to help his situation. If he thought about it, he was at the biggest disadvantage. He was missing his biggest allies here. Even if he wasn't the closest with the other Asian nations, at least they weren't like Russia. A Russia who was still as aggressive as he was during the Cold War. Japan was without American protection here, and with Germany busy with his brother who shouldn't logically exist, there were few Japan could rely upon for support should Russia decide to attack some night. "May I ask your name?"
Comments 136
She'd tried more times than she could count the moment she'd woken up. Pinching, shaking her head, smacking it. There was nothing she could have done to make herself believe that it wasn't there, but there was less she could have attempted in terms of trying to wake herself up! Because she had tried nearly everything ( ... )
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What a shame that they hadn't been armed with knives instead of needles.
Nevertheless, he'd come out of breakfast with a bad taste lingering in his mouth, only to spot another surprise on the other side of the sun room: the familiar head of a certain dullahan, only it was attached to a body... And that body was not Harima Mika's.
Celty, then, with her head restored a step further than it should have been? Or another subject of cosmetic surgery to match the looks of that head, the one that should have been stored away safely in his possession. There was only one way to find out, and that was to talk to her.
Izaya headed in her direction, though not straight for her. If it was Celty she'd ( ... )
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She was staring openly. Did that mean she did recognize him? She hadn't moved from the spot she'd been before, clutching something-a notebook?-in her hands, but she was definitely staring at him. He met her gaze, studying her for a moment before taking it as an invitation, an opening to find out more.
He pointed at her, then at himself before approaching, as if questioning whether she was looking at him or something else. "I'm sorry, did you need something with me?" he asked.
Izaya glanced down at the notebook in her hands, taking a discrete look at the woman's neck in the process. No scar... If this was a case of surgery (be it cosmetic or other), then the goal must not have been to make it look like it wasn't her real head, the way it had for Harima.
Reply
Elaine? Missing? Nuh uh. Noooo way. She was just... washing her hair. Again. She'd gone out last night, so she definitely needed a second shower in the morning, which they'd allowed her to take because...
She made a very convincing argument?
She was the Governor of the Tri-Island Area?
She'd been swallowed by a beast with breath bad enough to make a ship take a dirt road and needed to wash the stench off?
Whatever the reason, she wasn't gone. It was true that people disappeared all the time- sailed into the Bermuda Triangle, kidnapped as some part of a revenge quest, tied to a golden idol and dropped to the bottom of the sea, etc.- but this was Elaine. She didn't just vanish. And if she did, it was because someone had taken her, kidnapped her from her kidnapper in some kind of a double kidnapping that would ultimately result in her escaping of her own volition when the time was just right. She was a master at it, having done it her ( ... )
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But after several polite refusals, she'd finally relented and escorted him to the sun room instead. There were a few other people around, but it didn't seem too busy.
He was slightly put off by the blond staring at the doorway until Gren realized he was probably just waiting for someone to arrive. He blinked. Wait. Did he have a hook for a hand? He'd seen some cut-rate prosthetics before but that took the cake. ...and he may have been staring at it a little. Woops. He covered it up with a friendly smile, and glanced from the man back to the door ( ... )
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... Now where did she find a pair of monkeys in Landel's? A better question was how she managed to get those clothes on the monkeys in the first place.
Eyes on the door and attention elsewhere, Guybrush hadn't even noticed being approached or stared at until he was addressed. "Sort of. She might still be sleeping. Or making a daring escape. Or she's washing her hair."
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"You're probably right. I'm sure something just came up. Maybe she got dragged off to therapy?" He had no idea if anyone got any advanced warning for that, or if the nurses just hauled you off whenever it was your turn. Gren supposed he'd find out sooner or later, when his turn rolled around. "She'll probably turn up."
Unless, of course, she didn't, but saying that wouldn't be very encouraging, now would it? And he wasn't exactly the type to go spreading feelings of gloom and doom if he could at all avoid it.
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Interesting. Not to mention dangerous. If the things they seemed to have in common didn't end there, Morgan thought, he'd be a bad guy to get on the wrong side of. So what did he want from her?
"Go ahead," she agreed. Not that she apparently had much choice unless she wanted to make him leave, since he'd already dug in his heels. And she wasn't interested in another unarmed fight against three goons right now. "What's a guy like you ( ... )
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(The comment has been removed)
"Of course," Okita replied, motioning to the couch when Kenshin addressed him. He took the opportunity to look the man over closer, noting the weariness around the eyes, the stiffness in his jaw and his movements. Something terrible had happened either last night or this morning. Okita hadn't picked up on anything this severe during the bulletin conversation - although hiding emotion in writing was usually much easier than face-to-face interactions. "...We have many things to discuss, but first - what happened to you?"
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(The comment has been removed)
Her nurse looked thoughtful for a few moments, then smiled forgivingly at Amaterasu.
"I'm sorry, Amari. But your friend was released last night. He went home with his family."
Released? What did that mean?
It was hard to understand the staff members in the institute. Their words almost held double meanings and it was probably unwise to trust what they told her.
Amaterasu left a hopeful note on the bulletin board, then found a seat in a couch. Just like yesterday, the sun seemed to be shining. The day hadn't started off amazingly well, but she was glad to be in the Sun Room again. So far, she had met some good friends there and nothing was better than soaking up some sunshine.
[For her darling son, Japan!]
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Ammy broke her stare from the windows above and blinked at the man that now stood before her. He was sort of small, with dark hair and similar features to the people of Nippon. His respectful words made her smile. It was always a plus to meet a polite person (especially after her encounter with the emperor union-leader man from breakfast). The goddess scooted over on the couch to give the man room and patted the cushions with enthusiasm.
"Not mind!" she said with a smile. "Sit, please! What is . . . y-your name?"
Reply
"Ah, my name is Japa---Honda. Honda Kiku." He really did need to get used to introducing himself as his other self. Telling people he was a nation right off the bat would do little to help his situation. If he thought about it, he was at the biggest disadvantage. He was missing his biggest allies here. Even if he wasn't the closest with the other Asian nations, at least they weren't like Russia. A Russia who was still as aggressive as he was during the Cold War. Japan was without American protection here, and with Germany busy with his brother who shouldn't logically exist, there were few Japan could rely upon for support should Russia decide to attack some night. "May I ask your name?"
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