A Multifandom Asylum RPG

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Day 46: Music Room
moral_liberty wrote in damned
Kaworu immediately gravitated towards the keyboard. It was not a piano, not truly, but it was attractive in all of the same ways. Music freed the mind from conscious thought, and Kaworu was feeling exceptionally weighed down by exactly that. There was a heaviness, as well as a lightness. He did not know where to begin approaching the situation with Shinji. It was a simple task to forget such things when the problem itself was caused by such an enamoring distraction.

Shinji needed to survive, he was supposed to continue, and yet he was here. This place would take his life without needing a reason. A soul so important could simply be put out, and the world would continue as it always had. It seemed wrong, but was it because it was not the way things should be, or simply because Kaworu wished it were so?

And yet, Kaworu could not say he was unhappy. He had done nothing to earn himself more time with Shinji. He had made his decision, and created for himself a fate apart from the Lilim. But as much as many Lilim wished the world to work in those terms, it rarely did. Events would move into place regardless of their actions. It was rare that something happened because an individual deserved it. It was only chance. Kaworu knew that he should not have been glad, but being with Shinji was indescribable.

His long, bony fingers moved across the keys easily, constructing Ode to Joy with each progressive note.

[Reserved for Albedo.]

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Sam had spent lunch thinking about the last thing Scott had said to him, that he thought he might know who was behind all this. Sam wished he'd had more time to talk about that, but if Scott had been at lunch, he hadn't noticed him.

The music room sounded sort of promising. Maybe they had a banjo. Sam hoped so; he needed to relax and sing a horrible song. All this talking to people and... talking to people was wearing him down.

He was disappointed. There was not a stringed instrument in sight. Sam looked at one of the recorders, and said "It's a recorder. I can't play it. I'm a little handicapped in the finger department."

Sam frowned, went over what he'd just said, and held his bald, five fingered hands up to his face. Oh well. He doubted anyone had been listening. The room was nearly empty, by the standards of this place, and it seemed like everyone in here was busy.

He sat, and waited. Surely someone else would come in. Maybe they'd even know something, like Scott had.


[Hope this is okay!]

While scanning the room for someone he didn't know in the hopes of testing out his new name, the Scarecrow spotted someone he recognized, and was pleasantly surprised to see him around. "Sam, hello!" he called as he crossed the room, stopping momentarily as he was shushed by several nurses at once.

After his pause, he continued toward where the other man sat. "It's been a few days. I was starting to think you might not be here anymore."

"Oh, hello!" said Sam when he saw the Scarecrow. He wondered if he'd got to where he'd been going last night. Or whenever.

Then he frowned. "You too? I'm telling you, I don't remember being mysteriously vanished. Are you sure it's been a few days?" That was a stupid question. Scott had seemed pretty sure about it. And when he'd asked a nurse what had happened to the note he'd put on the bulletin board earlier, she'd mentioned that they'd started taking "delusional" notes down yesterday, and that couldn't be right. If his simple question about where all the monsters were hiding had been taken down, then surely that giant list of monsters should have been too.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure," the Scarecrow said with a nod before attempting to count the days on his fingers. "Let's see- I went looking for Mele last night; the night before, Depth Charge and I... " He trailed off as his body got that shaky feeling. Thinking about the Mangled Witch and the Horrible Hallway did strange things to him. He was not going back there anytime soon.

"Well, I was with Depth Charge that night, and I met you the evening before that. It's been nearly three days. This place is pretty big, so I'm not surprised we've not run into each other since."

Sam shook his head. "No, I definitely remember seeing you last night." He peered at the Scarecrow. He looked like the same person he'd met last night, but it had been dark, and he'd never been good with faces. "You are the, uh, Scarecrow of Oz, right? This isn't some kind of sitcom-esque misunderstanding?" There were probably dozens of people here named Sam, he thought. Back home he kept getting mail for the Sam the professional clown who lived downstairs, and Sam the mortician who lived upstairs. Sometimes in the same envelope.

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