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DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


Night 60: West Hall
[shou] come again?
oneman_onekill wrote in damned
[from here]

The door slammed shut behind them with an audible click, and Niikura looked back and sighed. They were locked in...well, that made things easy. There was only one way to go, now: forward.

He switched off his flashlight as they walked further and further down the hall, staring up at the tapestries covering the walls as he had the ceiling in the ballroom. There was a kind of a weird juxtaposition going on here, what with the modern war scenes clashing with the older tapestry style. Landel had truly eccentric tastes in interior decorating--and who would ever decide to stick these things down in the basement, anyway? Adults. Sometimes, Niikura wondered why anyone bothered living past the age of twenty-one, given the way people could turn out.

"...so. This place sure is, uh...interesting, huh?" It made the institute proper look absolutely normal, really.

Night 60: Activities Shed.
lol your face.
antiheroed wrote in damned
[from here]

The shed gave another noticeable creak as Riku stepped inside. A part of him wondered why everything here had to be mood-setting. It wasn't just the eerie lack of light at night or the way the place managed itself, but things like this, too. The stability of the institute seemed to always fall into question the moment night fell. He wondered if some of the things found in the outskirts were just as unstable in the daylight hours, or if all of this truly was a massive illusion upheld by the powers of Landel. Riku realized anything could be possible. That seemed to be the man's MO, anyway.

Riku flashed his light toward a couple baseball bats and glanced toward Loki. "Take what you want," he said. "Some are heavier than others. If you're too delicate, just take a lighter one." The mocking in his tone didn't cease, and he didn't bother to wipe away the smirk that bloomed soon after. If this guy was going to work with their club, he would probably need a real fighter by his side every night. Hopefully, he would turn out to be just as smart as he presented himself. He had to make up for what he had going—or rather, didn't have going—for him somehow.
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