DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Day 51: Arts & Crafts (4th shift)
i have better things to do
notthistrain wrote in damned
There were very few activity shifts, Cloud was sure, that could possibly make him feel more like he was being treated like a child. He took a seat at one of the tables and blankly examined the materials set out before him. A pair of the dullest scissors he'd ever seen were labeled 'ages 3 and up'. It was good to know where the patients stood in this.

He wasn't much of an artist, and he ignored most of the paints and other drawing utensils in favor of a few sheets of colored paper and instructions on how to make origami. That sounded vaguely familiar. Didn't Yuffie have throwing weapons made out of paper at some point? It was something to do anyway, and thus Cloud began the process of crafting what ended up being very elaborate paper wads.

Sadly, his attempts to keep from dwelling on the subject of his missing friend failed when he realized this was something Aerith probably would have enjoyed greatly. Tonight, he and Yuffie would go out and try to accomplish... something. It was depressing to think there really might not be anything they could do, that they might all end up the same as the flower girl eventually.

[for a hopefully more optimistic materia thief]

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It had started out as such a good day.

But if Boone wasn't really Boone, then...oh god, she didn't even know what to think anymore. What was this place? Monsters? Eyeballs that floated in the air? The walking undead, munching on french fries?

Her head was spinning. Claire knew she needed to focus on what was important. That was getting back to Aaron and getting the hell away from whatever this was. Yet it was impossible to ignore the strangeness of it all. Even with her experiences on the island, this was qualifying as bizarre. She took a steadying breath. She would find Boone again and wrestle the truth out of him. If he wasn't lying and he wasn't Boone after all, then...he wasn't her concern, was he? Just someone to avoid, unless he wanted to be useful.

In the meantime, she was beginning to hate this mental hospital facade they were putting on. Arts and Crafts was for summer camps and kids eight and under. She wasn't interested in origami, or glitter and paints. She'd been quite good at knitting at one point in her life, but a look around the room told her she wouldn't find anything like that here.

Still. The man on the intercom had said good patients would get sewing materials next time this shift came. There was some promise in that. It would be great for stitching herself back up again, but she might be able to make something for Aaron. Claire smiled. A pair of booties, maybe. Or some gloves. He might like that.

She quietly drifted into a seat, drifting off into her folded arms. She couldn't wait to see him again. Her little boy.

[For Elle Bitchop.]

Elle couldn't get over how much she felt her life sucked today. It was still early enough in her stay at Landel's to be in self-pity phase, right?

Everything just seemed to be going wrong. Seeing Peter at breakfast should have made her feel better. It just made her scared and angry and defensive and now she couldn't stop looking over her shoulder because oh god what if Sylar was here? Her tough girl act for Peter was just that. If Sylar killed her here once, what was going to stop him from doing it again? What if once wasn't enough? He was a sick bastard, and nothing was going to change that. Not now. Not anymore.

The thought of seeing him haunted her. It haunted her in the shower, as she couldn't stop looking over her shoulder. It haunted her at lunch, as she glumly picked at her salad. And now it was haunting her in the stupid arts and crafts room. Arts and crafts. It was so fucking patronizing. Even the Company afforded their prisoners more dignity than that.

She froze in her tracks as she spotted her roommate on the other side of the room. Great, that crazy bitch. Just what she needed to make her day that much brighter.

Well, it could be worse, all things considered. Maybe she could protect her from Sylar. Or they could have some kind of weird rabid gerbil death match. The thought was funny enough to make her crack a half-smile.

Cautiously, she approached Claire's table and took a seat next to her. "I think we're supposed to be folding things." Since Claire was sitting with a vacant, far-off expression, she obviously needed to be informed of this, as far as Elle was concerned.

aaaaaaaaaah this took indecently long ;A; *begs for forgiveness*

Thoughts of Aaron flew out the window when she heard that voice. Claire startled and glanced up with a silent prayer that this was not who she thought it was.

Sadly, she was right.

Claire glowered as her nameless roommate invited herself to the table, slipping into the seat next to her and drawling at her with the same condescending crap she'd given her last night. She wasn't being cruel outright, but the intent was hidden in there. There were always sly girls like this. You knew them growing up, in school, in college, at work, wherever you went. They never had anything nice to say. Even when it sounded like something sweet, there was always a sour layer hidden beneath. Her roommate was playing that part to a tee. Until she gave her a reason to think otherwise, Claire was writing her off as a bully.

"What's the point?" Claire rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to pretend like this is summer camp and sit here making stupid crafts. It's a waste of time."

I FORGIVE YOU ;_; so did this tag as you can see

"It is." Her tone changed completely, going from cheerful-perky-helpful Elle to annoyed-and-possibly-bored Elle in five seconds flat. She picked up a piece of paper on the table and started folding it at awkward angles. She had a vague memory of Kaito Nakamura teaching her to fold a crane once-- or maybe she just dreamt it. That seemed more likely. Regardless, anything she learned in that brief and questionably imaginary lesson was gone now, and it showed. Frustrated, Elle crumpled her hard work up into a ball and tossed it across the room. She didn't watch where it landed, choosing to pay attention to Claire instead, but she the vindictive part of her hoped it would hit someone in the general head area.

After that brief, momentary reprieve, she continued talking. "No, it is. It totally is. This is bullshit. So, you know what the solution is, right?" She leaned in close, trying to close the gap between them. Her tone was low, conspiratorial. "We have to find a different way to have fun. You'd like that, right? Or do you just wanna sit in here and stare at the wall until dinner?"

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