A Multifandom Asylum RPG

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M11-M20 Hallway
the texas chainsaw masochist;;
affictitious wrote in damned
As one hundred percent thrilled as he was to find that his recent thirteen year old victim of good ol' traditional slaughter was alive and, unfortunately, not in pieces, Gabriel was significantly more thrilled that he had self-established himself as a guardian angel for the night to one very, very hapless human.

The irony was not lost on him. It was actually about as subtle as he usually was.

Of course, he could have stuck with the vague hope that Michael was intelligent enough - or boring enough, which seemed more accurate - to stay in his room and not venture out into the darkened hallways of a freaking mental asylum. Even if he was brainwashed, Castiel's habit of making sincerely bad decisions was, for all intents and purposes, very likely to continue.

This had better only last one night. Seriously.

Luckily for him, his angelic blade was still only on its second night of transformation so he didn't have to waste twenty minutes curled up on the floor, sucking his thumb. It didn't have near the familiarity of what he had wielded last night. There was a definite pang of disappointment that he was ignoring. What could you expect from a chained-up archangel? Last night had been his night for his peacock ass to fly. And he had. And it was Very Good.

So now it was back to the shitter. C'est la vie.

[To here.]

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In spite of the ominous mention of Code 1-8 prior to dinner, the start of night came with no fanfare. The lack of announcements usually meant there was more to come during the night, even if the project wasn't given a name or number. Just what was to come was anyone's guess. Edgar grabbed his items quickly, leaving with a nod to Gren. "Take care of yourself. I'd rather not lose another ally so soon." With that, he stepped into the hall.

Another sigh left him as he closed the door, his hand automatically readjusting its grip on the shovel. There was a part of him that knew he was doing what needed to be done: that continuing the plans he'd made would be better in the long run, and that Terra would manage on her own for the night in spite of her condition. She had to- she was a survivor. She had such potential locked within her, powers she couldn't yet fully comprehend. He wasn't sure how he could help her realize her abilities; however, he did know that telling her about them himself wouldn't help matters. There were some things best left for experiencing.

On the other hand, Celes' disappearance still sat at the back of his mind. He'd been the last to see her; in a way, he was still seeing her. That thought was not a reassuring one- neither was the part where he remembered he didn't yet have her room number. The chances he'd find her were slim.

He moved through the adjacent hallway quickly, scanning the area for a familiar face- namely Locke's. While he was sure the treasure hunter had other plans for the evening, Edgar thought it was best to keep an eye on him, especially after his first disappearance. After pausing for only a moment to look into the next hall, he kept moving- better not keep Ryuuzaki waiting long. Standing around in the dark never did anyone good.

Gren nodded as Edgar headed out, then finished up his granola bar and started gathering up his gear.

He didn't really have much of a plan for the night. Head towards upstairs and see if he could get a little further than he had the last time he'd set out to try and find records of just what they'd done to him in this place.

After a few moments, he'd gathered the necessary supplies, picked up his shovel from where it had been propped, and headed out the door.

[ Skipping to here.]

Edited at 2011-09-15 03:01 am (UTC)

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