DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Day 50: Intercom, Evening
The Intercom
damned_intercom wrote in damned
As expected, after the allotted amount of time had passed, the nurses started to move through the waiting rooms to inform the visitors that it was time for them to leave, whereas in the Sun Room King Kong was turned off and the staff quickly sprung to action to put the equipment away.

Meanwhile, the sound of intercom turning on cut into the hustle and bustle, but it was Lydia's voice which came through. "Mr. Landel is taking a quick nap," was all she said by way of explanation, as she seemed to be beyond making lengthy excuses for the man. "Nurses, once the visitors have said their goodbyes, escort the patients back to their rooms for dinner. Tonight there is steak and fries on the menu, with a slice of cheesecake for dessert and vegetarian options if requested.

"Enjoy your food and have a good sleep." Keeping it short, the intercom then turned off.

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Gren honestly wasn't that interested in dinner. His arm hurt again--playing the piano in the music room had probably been a bad idea--and he didn't have the most robust of appetites even when he wasn't in acute pain. The nurse wasn't going to take no for an answer on that particular topic, so he ended up with a plate of food anyway, which he left on his desk and promptly ignored in favor of grabbing his journal and a pen and stretching out on his bed. They probably meant for him to use as some sort of diary, but while not perfect, it would serve well enough for him to jot down some musical scores. Nothing original, for the moment, but just doing it was enough to take his mind off things for a little while, at least.

Edgar entered the room quietly, tray in one hand, journal resting in the sling around his arm, already planning for the night ahead. His redesigns were finished- it'd set him back a night or so, but he'd be waiting longer if he had to wait for his shoulder to fully heal. He couldn't risk damaging it further, especially when the stakes were high enough already.

He nodded to Gren as he entered, setting the tray on his desk. He sat into the seat heavily, adjusting his shoulder with a gritted teeth. "It looks like you made it through the day," he said as he angled the chair so he could keep an eye on his roommate during the conversation. "I trust you spent some of your free time in the music room?"

Gren set the notebook aide for the time being and nodded. "For awhile, yeah. It's not much to look at, honestly. There isn't even a proper piano." That was still annoying him more than it really should have. "I guess I shouldn't expect much from this place, though." It was easier to be a little cynical of the place now that he'd gotten a little taste of just how much of a sham it was.

"How'd your day go?" He assumed Edgar had been busy... maybe looking for the person they hadn't been able to find the night before or something of the sort.

"I met a couple of interesting people," Edgar said as he pulled his desk drawer open. The miniature sword (it was more like a knife or a dagger with its length) was still there, lying amongst the remains of his radio and the entirety of Luxord's. He took it in hand, examining the details of the hilt in the bright light of the room. It was a curious thing.

"I also spent most of the day trying to deal with this," he said, setting the knife on the desk and giving his shoulder a tentative rub. He hissed through his teeth. "Yeah, still hurts. How is your arm?"

"Yeah, same here." He hadn't learned a whole lot, but he just liked talking to people. Being friendly was just a part of his nature, regardless of the circumstances.

He tapped his pen against his notebook a few times. "Hurts like hell," he replied. "I doubt playing the piano helped. The nurses kept offering me something for it, but I don't trust them." He wasn't going to trust anyone to hand him any medication ever again, especially not in a place like this. He'd learned his lesson the hard way.

"I don't blame you for even a second," Edgar said, resting his injured arm on his desk, his fingers idly running along the handle of the blade. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the strange artifact they'd recovered the previous night. It's appearance after their victory, its beautiful nature contrasting with the darkened asylum- what was its purpose?

He paused a moment, thinking of what he'd learned from the bulletin board. "I found out another of my friends disappeared from this place. I can't help but wonder why it is that certain people are 'released' sooner than others. I imagine the medicines they provide can only make things worse."

"Sorry to hear that." Although that was tricky, wasn't it? Obviously, it would be nice to have friends around, but if leaving here meant going home, they were the lucky ones, right?

"Yeah. I don't know. There could be a pattern, but that would require being here long enough to observe it. Maybe someone else has an idea." They could always ask around. "I don't take anything if I don't know what's in it, anymore. I'd rather be in pain."

Edgar drummed his fingers on the desk a few times before finding his journal, opening it to his page of notes. Gren was right- there had to be a pattern to the disappearances. He took his pen in hand, taking a second to think before putting it to the paper.

"I believe you're right," he said as his pen looped across the page. "Celes- the woman I was looking for last night- seemed to have had her spirit broken, sounding defeated in every way up to the moment of her 'release'... I was the last to see her. Luxord, my former roommate, had reportedly been 'readmitted' at some point- I believe I saw him just before and just after this happened, as he had a strange shift in personality. He disappeared soon after. Though he'd acted strangely, he hadn't shown the defeatist attitude that had overtaken Celes."

There was also Yuna to consider- she had seemed so vibrant as well. His pen moved quickly across the page as he tried to organize his thoughts. His allies were disappearing one by one- not just his, but allies of other people. What was it that connected those who disappeared, and separated them from those who remained? Answering that question would be a strong step in uniting the patients against Landel. It seemed that having a common enemy was not a strong enough bond for some.

"I'll ask around tomorrow and see if I can find more information on the matter," he said, leaning back into the chair. "If it turns out that people are chosen for 'release' from this place at random... that is troubling."

"Any more so than how we all got here in the first place?" If there was a pattern there, he hadn't found it yet. It seemed like people tended to be plucked from the middle of their lives and dropped into the Institute, for the most part, but then there were the people like him who'd been dead, or at least near enough to count.

"Even if there's no pattern... there must be some kind of logic to this place that we can use to our advantage." The one thing that was already clear to him was that this was going to be a fight. A physical one, yes, but a psychological one as well. They obviously wanted the patients to give in, so they had to fight back against that. "Do you have plans for tonight? I was looking at the courtyard earlier. The walls are low enough to get over, but I doubt it's that easy."

Edgar nodded in agreement with Gren. How people were chosen for imprisonment was another puzzle to solve, perhaps one better left to someone who was more suited for them. He sighed quietly, his hand running through his long hair- he was far better with politics than puzzles.

"I've spent the day redesigning a weapon I've been working on," he said, "attempting to accommodate for my shoulder. I don't know how long it will take these wounds to heal, and I'd rather not risk further damage through carelessness."

He leaned back again, looking at the ceiling as he thought. "The walls in the courtyard are probably low enough to climb over- well, I might not be able to make it over them at the moment, but I'm sure you could. I almost wonder if their low height is an invitation: after all, having seen the dangers from within the institution, I can't help but wonder what beasts are living on the outside, if any. Are you going to give it a try?"

"Yeah? What kind of weapon?Not a chainsaw, I hope." He could see the logic in doing a redesign... injuries like Edgar's could be tricky to heal, more so than the lacerations to his arm were going to be, certainly. And it made sense to design something that you didn't have to be perfectly fit to use, anyway. Made it more versatile in the long run. He hadn't been weapon-obsesses in the army, not like some of the guys had been, but he was interested.

He shook his head a little. "I had the same thought. It's so low it's begging for someone to go over it. I'm sure they didn't miss something that obvious. Still, it might be worth it just to see what's there. I'm not going to attempt it until I have more to defend myself with than just a flashlight, though." And probably not until his arm healed more, though he was certain he could get over the wall even with it injured. "Could give us a better idea of what's going on outside this place, anyway." If it didn't look like actual escape was possible, it would be better to know it as soon as possible, so energy could be focused elsewhere.

"No, not a chainsaw," Edgar said with a slight laugh. He was a master when it came to mechanics, but even he was bound by the institute's limitations. He could always dream... and plan for later. "I'm building a cannon powered by a tank of pressurized gas. Ideally, it will fire projectiles from a short range, though I'm still working on some of the finer details. Thus far, I've spent my nights collecting pieces for it. I'm only missing a few specific things."

He stood, making his way toward the closet and pulling the doctor's jacket from it. It didn't offer a great deal of protection, but it did give him more pockets for carrying items. He put his arm through one sleeve, pulling the other side over his injured shoulder and sling.

"I would like to know what's beyond those walls, aside from what was visible from the bus windows. Surely they wouldn't give us the opportunity to climb over those walls if there wasn't something of interest out there. Perhaps we can give it a try once we've recovered and found some proper equipment. There are some bats in the shed in the recreational field. They're not great, but would be useful bludgeoning beasts."

"That sounds like it would be useful." Anything with some range was going to be pretty beneficial, he had a feeling. Having to get up close and personal with whatever you were fighting wasn't idea, and the more distance you could keep between yourself and your target, the better. "Let me know if you want help finding anything for it."

Gren finally pushed himself upright, flipping his notebook closed and walking back to his desk. "That sounds like a plan. I'll probably head out there and take a look around. I think I'm a little tired of hallways." There were disadvantages to being out in the open, of course, but unless the roof was lined with snipers, he figured it might be better than narrow hallways with blind corners and dark rooms. He pulled his desk drawer open and blinked down at it when it made a soft 'clink' noise. "Well, that's strange." He stuck the notebook in and pulled out the odd ring that he'd apparently missed earlier. He held it up so Edgar could see. "What do you think? Secret admirer?"

Now this was a surprise- Edgar crossed the room, taking a close look at the ring in Gren's hand. "Maybe. I know that I've not found a ring among my collection, and I'm certain that wasn't in there when Luxord was still here. I would have seen it when I took his radio." It couldn't have been a new development given to every patient, either- he'd just opened his own drawer and hadn't seen a ring in the clutter of gears and gizmos from the dismantled radio.

He smirked, giving his roommate a wink. "You may have caught the eye of one of the nurses and she's left you a memento. You work fast." Edgar couldn't help but grin, despite his own poor luck with the women of Landel's. Perhaps they simply preferred their men with darker hair. He liked that notion better than the one that said his skills in flattery were rusty.

"Hey, I didn't do anything." He hadn't even been all that nice to the nurses today, which ruled out one of them mistaking his usual friendly chatter as interest in them. "Whoever she is, she's going to be disappointed."

The only other option he could think of was that someone else had lost it, and for some reason, one of the staff had thought it was his. While he did like the color, he definitely wasn't the jewelry wearing type. For the time being, he stuck it in his pocket and reached for the rubber band that had been holding the pens together so he could tie his hair back. Not ideal, but better than having his hair in his way while they were exploring.

Edgar nodded knowingly, still amused at the mental image of a lovesick nurse leaving a trinket behind for Gren. It was strange that she'd leave a piece of jewellery over a note or something less valuable- perhaps she'd left the more precious article in an attempt to show her earnestness. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too offended when he didn't return her affections.

"If you're interested in exploring the courtyard," he said, returning to an earlier topic, "there's a shed out there that I've had my eye on. As the one on the recreational field has sporting goods, I can't help but wonder what's in there."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Might be something better than a baseball bat." He'd take a baseball bat if that was all he could get his hands on, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to have options.

"And it seems like we might run into less trouble out there." Not that he was afraid to fight, but... well. The two of them weren't really in the best of shape for it. Better to spend a night on recon than on fighting while they were still recovering.

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