DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Day 56: Bus 3
take my love with you
full_score wrote in damned
As the day came to a close, Claude's conversation with Tear weighed heavily on his mind. All the implications hadn't quite sunk in yet, but it unsettled him that she'd been able to feel and experience his time in the basement in such a strong way. Was there some kind of significance behind the fact she'd lived the moment he ran toward Guy in a panic? Maybe it was because Guy was Tear's friend. Or maybe it said something about Claude himself.

He wasn't sure he'd ever move past what happened that night -- not as long as there was a chance it could happen again, and not as long as Guy's memories remained incomplete. He'd never gotten a chance to patch things up with Dias, either, and Claude supposed he'd never get the chance now.

On top of that, he hadn't seen Leon at all today.

As a result, he was in low spirits by the time he made it to the bus. He cooperated with the body search and let the staff take his batteries once the "nurse" explained he'd get his things back later. Once that was done, Claude stepped onto one of the large vehicles and took a seat.

It would have been nice to find Guy and spend the ride back talking with him, but it looked like he picked the wrong bus again. Inwardly sighing, Claude leaned back and gazed out the window.

There was so much snow outside. He still remembered all the golds, reds and oranges of the autumn leaves the first time he came here. That seemed like years ago now. What would his life be like by the time the first sprouts of spring appeared? What would happen to the rest of his friends?

He didn't know, and that scared him on days like these. That didn't mean he could let it consume him, but it was difficult to shrug off like it was nothing. At least the scenery in Doyleton gave him something different to look at...

[Free!]

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Venom had never been a man to drink away his problems. In all honesty, alcohol usually did nothing more than shift his ever-present depression into a vast reserve of rage, and that did little in terms of temporarily forgetting ones issues. On the last occasion he'd taken to drink, even as little as a bottle of wine was enough that destroying an innocent woman's restaurant in a fit of pique, specifically to murder that witch who had been inside, seemed like not only something he should do but was also a very good idea.

Needless to say, the assassin held a firm stance against imbibing those liquids.

After leaving the hotel without any means of finding if his Lord was safe however, being angry was far more desirable than being upset. So he drank as much as he could afford. He took to the billiards table in the bar, more for practice than for the game, to push his mind away from his self-loathing thoughts. He kept his composure and there was no trouble. Nothing went wrong.

But the day could not end in the bar.

The sight of what was happening at the buses was enough to stop the Guild Head in his tracks. What were they...? No. He was not going to allow this, not today. He would follow their damn rules, but no one was going to put their hands on him like that.

When he drew closer to the vehicles, a man stepped forward, obviously to engage their unnecessary search of his person. "Keep your hands off me." The words were as soft as they usually were, but the threat of action hardened their edges. There was no reason for this sort of treatment, even if they were regarded as mere prisoners--as test subjects. In a show of compliance for the rules (the thought of even doing that right now was irritating him), he pulled the pair of sunglasses he'd smuggled in from his pocket and handed them over. There was no need for this. He had no weapons. They had no right to touch him. No one was allowed to touch him.

The orderly, on the other hand, thought otherwise. The man's face was blank as he spoke, unimpressed. "Sir, please hold your arms to the side and stand still."

"No." Disgust began to spiral into his chest and in his throat, a look of hatred burning through his unhidden eyes, and he outwardly recoiled away. "I'd rather not."

The orderly moved forward, closing in the space between them. "Sir, I am going to ask you again. Hold your arms to your side."

If Venom's voice had been quiet before, it had lost that quality now: as rage had replaced pain, volume replaced clarity. He wasn't going to stand for this. Not today. Not after they'd already taken so much from him. They were not allowed to break this rule. He pulled the scarf from his neck and began to wrap its length around his arms, tightening his grip on it. If that bastard got any closer to him, he was going to break his goddamn neck. "I told you to keep your hands to yourself!"

[OH HI, CLAIRE LITTLETON. HI, EDWARD. HI, MILITARY.]

Edited at 2011-05-21 11:06 pm (UTC)

[THERE AIN'T NO PARTY LIKE A YANDERE CLUB PARTY]

She really ought to have expected something like this. Claire clutched the bag with the bear to her chest, watching the soldier turned orderly pat his hands over another patient's body, covering him from head to toe. She had nothing to hide now. Claire hadn't bothered to try to steal supplies - but she wasn't so keen on the idea of being touched all over either.

It only reminded her of how she had woken here, freshly washed with a change of underwear. People had touched her while she slept. And now they were going to do the same in front of everyone? A girl with dark blue hair in pigtails stepped up to the next bus over, and confirmed Claire's worst fears. They pressed their hands down between her breasts, around her waist, over her rear and thighs. Her face was marred with disgust at the sight - the girl couldn't have been more than sixteen.

And they were collecting all the purchases, too. Claire gnawed at her bottom lip. What would they do with Aaron's bear?

The man just a few paces ahead of her was familiar, with his long white hair and brooding countenance. She'd recognized him over top of the shoulders of the people between them. Even so, Claire hadn't made a single move to tap him on the shoulder or strike up conversation. The line was too short, and she was too nervous. It was already his turn. And he sounded angry.

Is he going to fight them?

The false orderly had moved in closer, pressing orders. But the man was having none of it. He shouted at them, and all attention swiveled his way. Claire looked left, and then right. The army was all here, huddled by the buses. There wasn't anyone left in the town anymore. And their bus was on the edge of the congregation. There were mountains in the distance. Woods. Aaron's bear was snuggled so deeply into the chest her jacket she was sure it was vibrating with the beating of her heart.

A figure stepped into her view, clad in a nurse's uniform and garnished with a grim mercenary's frown. "Ma'am? I'm going to ask you to hold your arms to the side."

Claire panicked. Lips tore back to reveal teeth, like the snarl of bears she had caught in her traps. And like the bears, she reared back an arm, swiping it down at the woman's eyes with fingers crooked, jagged nails at the ready.

"NO!!"

Between military mindset and trained hands, the pair couldn't have picked a worse group to make a fuss at.

Fortunately, one proved straightforward in dealing. The woman overseeing Charlotte's inspection grabbed at the swiping hand, nails inches from her face, and twisted the arm behind the younger woman's back. The "nurse" then made to restrain the other hand, hopefully restricting Charlotte's moves to the bare minimum. "Ma'am," she forced out in the strain. "This is your final warning. Please calm down." They were told to avoid sedation at all possible, but if the woman continued to resist, that may be the only option available.

At least for her. Vincent, on the other hand, deserved a bit of fair play. He hadn't yet struck, after all.

Before the "orderly" could respond, another voice answered for him. Unlike most of the staff, this one carried an almost comically done Western drawl. "Why don't you stand down for now?" A man dressed in scrubs and a winter jacket stepped toward the pair, his expression stuck on amusement. "Others are waiting to board."

The orderly understood and moved on, leaving Vincent in the presence of the newcomer. Who then motioned the angry man forward. "Calm down," he said casually. "I ain't gonna to touch you." Unless well-deserved, but that point should be obvious. "So I heard you don't want to go through the inspection. Now why's that?"

"NO!!"

That panicked shout behind him was enough to distract the assassin's attention, if only for a moment. He knew that voice, however briefly he'd heard it, and he knew that messy blonde hair in the corner of his eyes. That frail woman from the other day...?

Watching her being restrained did nothing more than force his shoulders to tense with barely restrained anger. This was a woman who was obviously not in her right mind, one who hardly looked strong enough to hold her own, and they were assaulting her for refusing to be assaulted in the first place? Venom's eyes turned back to man before him, gaze frozen with repulsion, and he took a step back, subtly putting himself closer to the captured woman. He knew he wasn't a good man. He didn't have the right to claim himself superior to these mindless drones--but he wasn't going to stand and watch their actions with a smile.

There was no humor to be found when the newcomer came forward and Venom did not move toward him when beckoned. He instead held his ground, fingers digging into the fabric he'd twisted and tightened around his hands. Was there really a need for manners at this rate? They had shown their intentions days before and had picked this fight themselves. There wasn't a point in pleasantries.

No, Venom. Stay calm. Don't lash out unless provoked. Keep your voice level.

His eyes narrowed, mind focused on any sudden sounds coming from behind himself. "I just prefer my personal space."

Edited at 2011-05-22 02:23 am (UTC)

She almost had her. But while Claire would fight tooth and nail for her freedom, she was still only human. Smaller than most everyone here save the children, with no magic, no formal training. The woman grappling with her was larger, more experienced, and had god knows what kind of supernatural aids up her sleeves.

A holler of pain followed the change of position, facing the buses and the sheep herds of patients instead of wide white mountains and dusted tree tops. If Claire had the mind to think it, she might have considered how symbolic the whole thing was. She'd blown her chance to escape the second she had decided to fight instead of flee.

Struggle as she may, her second arms was caught the same as the first. Aaron's bear fell to the ground. Claire gave a shriek of a sob and battled with the grip like a wild animal, hurling her body this way and that, anything to shake the woman off. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, "You can't take it! It's for my baby, you can't take it!!"

Hysterical, in pain, and desperate to reach the borders of those foreign woods, Claire thrashed about and aimed kicks at anything both in and out of her sight. Namely, the legs of the woman behind her. However, the snow and the cumbersome boots worked against her, and she half slipped, half lunged her way towards the man from before. She yanked at her arms with ferocious tenacity.

"Don't do this to me!!"

Despite her firm hold on the woman, the disguised soldier was a little more than taken aback by Charlotte's outcry. All this fuss over a simple bear was a bit too much in her opinion. Especially since there was no reason for it in the first place. Another orderly ran forward to help steady the crazed woman while the nurse focused on one last attempt at coaxing. The bear was momentarily ignored.

"Listen to me," she said, emphasizing each word. "We're only taking it for now. You will get the bear back at dinner. Do you understand me? Please calm down."

Between Vincent and the commotion a few steps down, the man seemingly had his attention torn. That is, until he spoke. It was obvious then that his focus remained with Vincent. "Don't we all," he muttered, before waving it off with a graceful hand and a pleasant smile. "I gotta say, Mr. Lant, you've put me in a mighty fine position here. Unless you can prove to me without a reasonable doubt that you have nothing stolen on your person, I can't let you on the bus. Orders are orders and all that."

Here, the smile shifted to a smirk, one lacking amusement as much as mirth. It spoke of things to come. "But if you're willing to compromise," the man continued, "I think we might let you on with your personal space intact. How's that?"

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