πππ‘π₯. π, ππππ / / πππΈβππβ πΌππ€π₯ / / βπ ππ₯πππππππ₯ βππππππ£ ππ / / ππππ
He had never realized how loud the sound of a gunshot could be. Movies and TV shows never properly broadcasted the sound that loudly--unnecessary to be so realistic. But here in this cavernous room the sound of rifle fire and pistol shots smashed against his ears with the force of a sledgehammer and Christmas involuntarily cried out in response, ducking down into a crouch and covering his head with his arms, the fear reaching its peak now and squeezing out in tears despite how hard Christmas was keeping his eyes closed. He didn't move even after the sounds faded, his ears still ringing with tinnitus. A sudden yank from someone snapped him out of his cowering terror and he looked up to see a soldier pulling him up by the arm while another placed the new ankle cuff on him, removing the rest of the chain-linked cuffs.
Mechanical. They moved like robots, unfazed by the bodies of students and the one soldier nearby. Christmas scampered away from the spreading blood as much as he was able to in the grip of the guard holding him. His words weren't coming to him, and he just stared wide-eyed at the carnage. This wasn't how things were supposed to--he wasn't even sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. Not this scene of bodies and blood strewn about the room while the Director and her colleagues calmly went about their business. Broken. The world was all wrong. Could he blame Dreamcatcher for it? It would be easy, but Christmas was afraid of being wrong. What would be the end result of misguided resentment when everything turned out to be wrong? And all the while the bodies lay still and he knew he wouldn't be allowed to do anything to help them. He tried anyway, turning to the Director, only to watch her walk away.
"I-I c-c-c--" the trembling was impossible to speak through.
"P-power," he tried again, looking at the guard holding him.
The soldier simply stared back impassively before turning to the commander, who was busy reading through the room assignments. The message was clear. Nothing would be done without the commander's consent, and the commander wasn't bothering with any of the injured students. Were they going to leave them for dead? But Christmas knew. He knew his power implicitly, even if he had never tried to test its limits. His power could help them. But the soldier only dragged him and two others towards the door once the room assignments had been doled out.
"Ah--w-wa--" no chance to talk. The soldier simply pointed a gun at his face and nodded forewards. Move. This time, Christmas stopped protesting, glancing back one last time at the bodies before biting his lip and turning away. A coward to the end. It was shame and some gently writhing emotion under the surface that brought the bite down hard enough to draw a small spot of blood on his lower lip. He wanted to at least say he was sorry, but he couldn't be sure if his apology would be for them or for him.
Before he could get too lost in his self-pity and remorse, the soldier accompanying him pushed him forward through the door and out of the room.
Sander Lorraine
Sander expected conflict. He expected violence, because, really, when you crammed a dozen Aberrations in a room with tension so thick it was smouldering, a peaceful outcome seemed unlikely. What he did not expect, though, was the spilled blood.
The cuffs were supposed to dampen his power. Logically, the same effect should also be applied to its less favourable aspects. Or so he thought. Until the first gun shot sounded. It was immediately followed by several others, and Sander believed that if he had paid attention then, he would have caught the wails of pain from the injured and the dying as well.
But instead, instincts took over and Sander lowered himself, his bounded arms raised halfway to protect his upper body. His muscles were tensed, waiting for the bloom of pain that never came. As the gun shots subsided, he straightened himself again, surveying the grisly scene with tired eyes. Without thinking, he took in a deep breath, a familiar gesture that often helped to loosen his nerves. It was a mistake. The scent of fresh blood permeated their modest breathing space, its bright colour stood out boldly against shades of grey. For all his stellar self-control, Sander almost lost himself there and then. It only took one whiff of that tangy, metallic scent to put his heart in overdrive, and before he knew it, he was already sizing up the nearest guard.
Realization dawned, prompting Sander to quickly turn away from the blood and gore, hands once again curled in fists. His expression still remained relatively neutral, but the set of his jaws betrayed the fraying nerves beneath. He ducked his head, focusing on a random spot at his feet and trying his best to tune the world out. Even then, his hands continued to shake as he held them tightly, as if that simple gesture could help him cling onto whatever control he had left. Minutes passed by, thankfully without further incident, before a guard came over to clasp a new cuff on his ankle. Sander held his breath during the entire procedure, eyes on anywhere but the pooling blood nearby and tongue still thick in his mouth.
His mind was far too occupied to properly process most of what happened afterward, but Sander got the gist. After the Director left, someone began reading out their accommodation assignment. Sander caught his name and his assigned roommatesβ, though not much afterward. Truthfully, despite how much his previous βhandlersβ might have sung about his well-adjusted behaviours, Sander was not keen on sharing breathing spaces with other people. He could, when push came to shove, but he did not enjoy it. And he never had to. Not to mention the fact that many would find his dietary habits quite disturbing. Regardless, he did not protest, as he felt such attempt was futile at this stage. He would just do what he always did. Endure.
Casting one last glance at the unmoving bodies behind him, Sander turned and left, ushered forward by several guards. His eyes hardened.
As soon as he was far enough from the bloody room, his steps slowed, then he stopped in his track. His movements were deliberate, but far from sudden. He learnt from years ago not take a gunman by surprise, and it was not a lesson he could forget. Not when its marks were carved so deeply into the lines of his ribs. He threw his head back and drew in a deep breath, greedily filling his lungs with untainted air. His actions were not without consequences though, as he felt the cold point of a rifle poked at his back.
β
Sorry.β- He half-smiled, holding his hands up. The urge to close said hands over the guard's veiny neck was strong, but he digressed. ββ
I needed that.β
It was the truth. He was still far from calm and comfortable, but at least his thoughts no longer felt like jagged glass hurling themselves against his skull. It was not easy to stomach the cruel treatments and Zhangβs blatant disregard for human lives, but he managed. Barely. At least he had done much to sate his Stigma before coming on this trip, so it was easier to manage the intruding urges. But if this sort of things kept happening, he was not sure how to cope. His slip-ups had been few and far between, but they almost always ended with casualties. Obviously he had not been one of them, but he did not want to push his luck any further.
"Wha- what?" Kusari blinked, her eyes skittering about as her ears throbbed in pain. Her hands slowly fell to her sides as she realized what happened. This wasn't right, why in the hell did that man shoot, weren't these idiots trained properly? She was trying to direct attention to herself, she could take a bullet or fifty if need be, but not the others. Her plan to test the director backfired and she had gotten people killed. She clenched her teeth and gripped the side of her head. It just now struck her what kind of place this was, she felt as if she'd be sick.
Her mind was in a daze until the director's secretary came out to tell them their room assignments. He was the only one of them that reacted like a sane human being upon seeing the bodies in the room, but he was still working for them so of course he too brushed it off in the end. Hearing her room number and roommates, Kusari raised a brow. Was she hearing right, were her roommates both male? She opened her mouth to protest, but sic'd her teeth instead. There was no point in questioning their ridiculous treatment, not when they were so ready to execute them not even minutes ago.
As her and her soon to be roommates were being led away the timid one tried to say something, but the most she could hear was the word 'power.' Was he trying to help? She glanced back to the students on the ground, if they weren't dead already they were close to it. Whatever he wanted to do they weren't having any of it, the commander ignored Christmas and the man escorting him urged the boy to keep moving by sticking a gun in his face. She found his behavior odd. Christmas seemed like a coward, yet he tried to help regardless of what he'd just seen happen, even if he was bumbling like an idiot that wasn't something many could do. If only good intentions meant anything here...
As they were being lead towards their dorm Sander suddenly stopped and took a deep breath. It calmed him down visibly. Kusari wasn't sure if he just needed a moment to compose himself after seeing people die in front of him, or if this was a standard ritual for him. Like Christmas, he was then forced to keep moving quickly afterwards.
πππ‘π₯. π, ππππ / / πππΈβππβ πΌππ€π₯ / / π»π π£π πΉπ¦ππππππ πΈ : ππ¦ππ₯π πππ / / ππππ
The dorms were huge. Christmas's red-rimmed eyes widened this time from awe, and his emotions quickly tired of the mood whiplash, compensating by driving a wall of exhaustion against his consciousness. "Tired" couldn't even begin to describe what he was feeling at the moment, between watching the casual and almost effortless slaughter of people and being moved into this extravagant building. His crying jag had finally abated not three minutes ago and now he was dealing with the the sheer size of the building in question. "Clean" and "modern" would be the two words that immediately sprang to his mind upon seeing the building, and the reflection of the nearby lamps cast a hue of pale yellow across the sheen of strange mist that coated the building. The mist gave him a weird feeling, and he had to resist the urge to look around to check if anyone was watching him. Of course there would be someone watching him in this place, but the feeling was just that visceral.
His shaking hadn't improved since the underground room, and he quivered as he looked around, surveying the glass coffee tables and plush leather sofas in the building's vast lobby before the guards continued prodding him in the direction of the elevators. The other two students he had been grouped with looked just as frightening as the guards to him--one he recognized as the guy he had been chained next to while the other was a wispy-pale girl who reminded him vaguely of the occasional Dreamcatcher sighting. Neither looked pleasant at the moment--but who could in their circumstances?
When the three finally arrived at their destination, Christmas was nothing but a bundle of nerves held together by spit and prayers. Almost absentmindedly, he had been nervously picking at the small cut on his lip from where he had bitten it earlier, unsure if he could still ask someone to take him back to that hellhole of a room. He could help. His thoughts ran aground when he finally saw the stacks of paperwork on the desks and he dropped into a corner of the room the moment the guards left, arms tight around his knees while he breathed deeply to calm down. All that chaos and death, while these neatly stacked papers were due in three days. He couldn't even laugh at how ridiculous everything was.
The moment Sander set foot into his designated dorm, he walked toward the nearest sofa and sank down, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. It was not fatigue, quite the contrary in fact. He was far too tensed. Far too alert. His entire body was taut, the adrenaline still lingered in his system, the craving a dull thud in the back of his mind. He desperately needed the break before he snapped. A few minutes passed before Sander deemed himself suitable for human interactions again. If anything, this dorm smelled pleasant. It was as if someone was brewing up a batch of fresh coffee. The pleasant aroma woke his senses, and suddenly, Sander felt like a drink.
Once left alone with his soon-to-be roommates, Sander finally took the time to examine. He was to share the small unit with two others, a blond boy who had been chained next to him earlier and a pale, gangly girl. They both didnβt look particularly approachable, but then again, he couldnβt blame them. That last encounter had beenβ¦intense, to say the least. But given the fact that both of them carried the white marks, he had no temper around here to watch but his own. At least he had that going for him.
From his spot on the couch, Sander looked over at the girl first. Upon closer inspection, he recognized her as the one who had slipped the cuffs and gave the guards a scare. While he didnβt quite approve of her actions earlier; once again, surprising men with guns was nothing short of foolish, he didnβt think berating her about that would do any good at this stage. It was best to keep his first impressions pleasant, after all.
Just as Sander began to get to his feet, the scent of coffee once again washed over him, but this time, he recognized it for what it was. Blood. Coffee was just the masquerade his twisted brain came up with to coax him into seeking out the crimson liquid. In one swift motion, he was on his feet, eyes wide as he turned to look at the hunched figure in the corner. There was blood on the blond boyβs lips, just a speck, but it was enough to rouse the incessant craving in the back of Sanderβs mind. It did not help that the guy kept picking at it.
Warmth trickled down his chin, every drop of it fire in his veins. His heart beat again, the steady thuds loud in his ears. He had never been more alive. β
Stop that!β-He heard himself snarled before he could bite back the words, and the memory lost its grip.
The dorm was large and extravagant. It pissed her off. Sure she should be glad to live in such a place, but the contrast between how they were being treated made her blood boil. Was this just for show? It was as if it was like this so they could say "At least they're being treated fairly." Kusari looked at the anklet on her leg, and back to the building, which was surrounded by a suspicious mist. All complaints would have to be put on hold for now.
Once inside the room, Kusari let out an annoyed sigh. She really would be sleeping in the same room as two boys, she wasn't that conservative but this was irritating. She would have to be careful about using the bathroom, among other things. Sander sat on a couch to relax, while Christmas went into a corner and proceeded to have a near meltdown. Kusari shrugged her shoulders and looked at the desk given to her, various placement tests for classes, her id card which would also have her account number, and a blue sheet for miscellaneous requests. She couldn't think of anything from home that she wanted, they could burn it for all she cared. As she was about to check the bathroom to see what they had supplied them with she heard Sander yell at Christmas to stop. She turned and looked at the two of them. Christmas had been picking at a cut on his lip, it was gross but it was hardly bad enough to warrant being yelled at.
"Are you sure you can handle being in a room with other people? I assumed you could considering they cleared you." She said in a derisive tone. She wasn't going to deal with his outbursts all year long.
"I don't care whatever stigma you have, put a sock in your mouth if you have to." She said, then turning to Christmas.
"And you." She said, pulling a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. She leaned down and wiped the blood from his mouth in a business like fashion.
"Blood doesn't come out of carpets easily. Square up and get yourself together, or your wimpy behind isn't going to last a week.""Muh?" Christmas managed to say as the unnaturally pale girl wiped at his mouth. He had been instinctively reacting with "Huh?" but the pull of the handkerchief had shoved an "M" noise there instead. His surprise over her helpful actions in stark difference to her biting tone pulled him back into the present moment and Christmas took a few more breaths just to make sure he wasn't going to start trembling the moment he said anything.
"T-thank you...?" So much for not trembling. Only then did his frazzled mind finally process that his other roommate was glaring at him, seemingly on edge about something. He shrank back against the wall in renewed fear.
Kusari rolled her eyes at Christmas as he glanced at Sander and backed into the corner like a traumatized mouse again. She snatched the blood stained handkerchief back and waved the hand holding it at Sander.
"Oh for crying out loud, stand up already, it's not like he's gonna bite you or anything." She said, looking to the tired eyed boy.
"Right?"Christmas continued staring at the pale, brown-haired boy, eyes wide.
Sander blinked slowly, as if waking up from a daze. His eyes flitted between the abrasive girl and the blond boy, expression once again schooled back into a neutral mask. His lips were pressed into a thin line at the girlβs last words though, and he averted his gaze as if she were waving something offensive at him. It was just a speck, but they were treading on thin ice.
β
No, I meanβ¦β-He paused, almost at a loss of words. The girl was being so specific, it was hard to tell if she knew the truth about his power or not. When he finally spoke again, his tone was a far cry from earlier outburst β β
You shouldnβt pick at it, else it will scar. Please, get a bandage.β
β
The blood will be harder to wash off if you let it dry.β-He added tentatively, pointing at Kusari's handkerchief.
β
Anyway,β-Despite his softened tone, Sander kept his distance. He moved to keep the sofa between him and his roommates, gaze still somewhat averted -β
Sander Lorraine.β βHe said, pointing at himself ββ
I suppose we will be roommates.β
Once it seemed like the newly introduced Sander wasn't going to kill him for some perceived offense, Christmas relaxed his aching shoulder blades from how hard he had been pressing them against the wall. Slightly. It took a bit of courage and a severe level of concern about seeming rude before he finally responded to Sander.
"C-Christmas..." he then remembered to add his last name
"Halvost."Kuusari tilted her head at Sander's response, it didn't seem like a hard question. She just assumed he wasn't fully paying attention and his brain was playing catch up.
β
The blood will be harder to wash off if you let it dry.β
"Yeah yeah I know." Kusari tossed the handkerchief into the bathroom sink and let it soak in cold water, when she came back Sander was introducing himself. Christmas gave a fumbled introduction back. They should have caught her name thanks to the Director's secretary, but she decided to formally introduce herself as well.
"My name is Kusari Bloodworth." She said, crossing her arms.
"And I'm going to say it now, if either of you tries anything weird I'm going to cut it off, alright?" Her tone was assertive as usual, but matter of fact.
"Wh-what? Cut?" Now it was Kusari's turn to get the terrified response of Christmas backing up into the wall.
β
You won't have to worry about that.β-Sander merely shrugged. Her hostility was rather justified, so he didn't take any offense.
"Well alright then, we should be able to get along just fine... That is until we're forced to fight Dreamcatcher's abominations." Kusari let out another sigh, this time doing so out of genuine exhaustion. Dying wasn't something to be worried about for her, but that didn't mean coming out of hell all right in the head was a given.
She had enough of being awake for today.
"I'm going to sleep, don't wake me up for anything, even if the dorm catches fire." She said, moving over to what she deemed to be her bed. Only bothering to take off her shoes, she flopped onto the bed, turned towards the wall and closed her eyes.
That left Christmas staring at Sander, who seemed somewhat calmer now, though the way his roommate seemed to keep a literal distance between himself and everyone else in the room didn't reassure Christmas about the potential possibilities for violence here. He kept himself against the wall, the beginnings of sleep finally settling in now that his body was simply too tired to stay awake. Before he realized it, he had nodded off in the corner.
β
Good talk.β-Sander simply mumbled as his two roommates headed to bed. He knew he should go to sleep as well, but given the previous events, he doubted sleep would come easily. So he took a brief look through the stack of paper on his desk and didnβt retreat to bed until it was near dawn.
πππ‘π₯. π, ππππ / / πππΈβππβ πΌππ€π₯ / / π»π π£π πΉπ¦ππππππ πΈ : ππ¦ππ₯π πππ / / ππ ππ
A stiff neck and stiffer body woke Christmas up before everyone else and he had to resist the sudden panic that gripped him when his mind recalled the events earlier that morning. He shivered from the slight chill in the morning air before slowly and painfully getting up, sore from sleeping against the wall all night. Checking to make sure he wasn't disturbing his roommates, terrifying as they were, Christmas shuffled towards the unoccupied bed, figuring they had already determined the correct beds while he had been asleep. A duffel bag at the foot of the bed he presumed to be his poked gently at his curiosity and Christmas hunched down to rummage through it, figuring it would include a change of clothing, among other things.
There was a change of clothes--several, in fact--but none of them his. The sheer amount of hair products crammed into there also astounded him, and he wondered at the straws tied into a neat bundle in a corner of the bag. His adrenaline and fear spiked when he found the gun and several boxes of ammunition and Christmas quickly zipped up the bag, backing away from it and looking towards the desk closest to the bed. The ID on the desk was for a "Sander Lorraine." Gulping, he glanced towards the other bed where Sander lay.
As morning came, Sander woke from his fitful sleep, still slightly drained from the previous night but far more relaxed. Well, as relaxed as one could get in a pseudo school surrounded by surveillance and armed guards, but since he was not going on rampage through the facility grounds, Sander considered today was a good day. Pulling himself to his feet, he stretched a few times to get all the stiffness out of his joints. A figure entered his peripheral vision, so he turned and noticed Christmas Halvost. The blond boy still looked slightly fearful, but at least he wasnβt crying anymore, which was somewhat an improvement. Since they were both awake, Sander figured it wouldnβt hurt to make some conversations.
β
Good morning, Christmas.β-Sander said, reaching for his duffle bag for some waterβ β
How was your sleep?β
The question seemed moot, since last he saw the guy, Christmas was curling against the wall and sobbed. That could not have been a comfortable position. But the casual question rolled off his tongue as a habit, so he let it be.
"Uh--" Christmas looked again at the duffel bag he had just rummaged through before turning back to Sander, "
--how was yours?" He squeaked out some accompanying sound of "Oops" before he remember to answer Sander's question,
"Fine...I think?"β
Couldβve been better.β-Sander said with shrug before closing his hands around the first thing his hand touched in the bag. It did not feel like a bottle of water though. He pulled it out, and was quite surprised to find himself holding a phone that he most definitely did not own. He hadnβt owned one for a while, given the fact that he spent most of his formative years in research facilities.
A quick glance to the nearby desk revealed the rightful owner of said phone, and Sander raised an eyebrow at Christmas.
β
Is this yours?β-He put the phone back where it was, before stalking over to Christmas. The ID on the table nearby indeed had βSander Lorraineβ on it. In his worked up state last night, he must have missed it and just picked a random bed. The look on the blond boyβs face gave Sander a inkling suspicion though.
β
Did youβ¦look through my things?β-His tone was hardly accusing, just merely curious.
Christmas backed up as Sander approached, until his back was pressed against the same wall he had slept against throughout the night. It took him several moments of fearful staring before he finally nodded, steeling himself for his fate.
Kusari groaned as she awoke, and rigidly leaned up from her bed. For a moment she didn't know where she was, but after rubbing her tired eyes and letting out a yawn she remembered. Instead of brooding over the fact that she was basically a prisoner, she swung her legs over her bed and reached for the duffel bag beside it, she stopped when she noticed her roommates. As far as she knew, the bed Christmas was on wasn't his. He was back against the wall cowering. Again. Sander appeared to be looming over him. She could assume many things from this scene, but it was too early to bother deducting anything, so she just went with the first thing that came to mind.
"Having fun in the morning already?" She said, nearly growling. Kusari had never been a morning person, her already low tolerance for nonsense was pushed into the negatives at this stage, even benign things could tick her off.
"Are you gonna cry again Christmas? This is getting old really... fast." She stood from the bed and walked over to the two of them.
"What's the problem, did you get scared in the middle of night and crawl into Sander's bed?"β
You misunderstoodβ- Though Sander looked clearly uncomfortable with his roommateβs aggressive remarks, he did not confront her about them. Instead, he placated her with some explanations β β
Turns out, I picked the wrong bed last night. Just asking Christmas here if these are my stuffs.β
β
Itβs okay. Iβm not angry. Itβs my fault.β- He took a few steps away from the blonde, putting some distance between them. It seemed Christmas was still fairly shaken up, possibly a residual of yesterdayβs stress. Or he couldβve always been this way. Sander wouldnβt know.
β
Sorry if we disturb your sleep.β-Seeing as there wasnβt much else he could do to calm Christmas down, he turned to Kusari β β
You look like you could use a few more hours.β
By now, Christmas was prepared to die the very first morning of his transfer to USARILN East. He slid sideways against the wall, crabwalking away from both Sander and Kusari until his shoulder rubbed against the bathroom's doorframe.
"...Um...bathroom," he mumbled quietly before ducking inside, hoping he could hide in there long enough for the two of them to leave. It only occurred to him afterwards that they probably wanted to use the bathroom, too, and that he'd have to leave for their turns eventually. The thought of them angrily waiting for him outside pushed his slight trembling into quaking and he tottered over to the sink, hand over his nose. The constant stress of the past seven or so hours coupled with his terrible sleeping posture had not worked wonders for his physical reactions and what Christmas had thought was just the beginning of a slight tickle in his nose turned into a dripping nosebleed. He barely managed to move Kusari's handkerchief out of the sink and onto the counter before the first drops of blood splattered onto the white surface. Christmas whimpered to himself as the nosebleed ran its course, and he did his best to avoid swallowing any of the blood that happened to run down his throat instead of out his nose. It took almost 15 minutes of standing there quietly and worrying about an aneurysm before the slow dripping of blood finally stopped and Christmas hurried to clean the sink of the stains, running cold water across the worst of the red splashes and scrubbing hard at the tougher streaks with a few sheets from the perforated paper towel roll nearby. When he had finally determined that the bathroom sink was back in its proper, pristine condition, Christmas shoved the bloody wads of paper into the trashcan sitting by the toilet. He placed Kusari's handkerchief back into the sink to complete the visual that he hadn't horribly made a mess of things while inside and decided that he had been in there far too long to do anything more now.
Pushing the door open gently, he peered out at his roommates, checking to see if they were plotting his imminent doom outside. He had completely forgotten about wiping the two obvious streaks of freshly dried blood that had run down from his nostrils and in the terror of the moment the thought never crossed his mind.
Kusari ignored Sander's claim that she looked like she could get more sleep, she didn't need more sleep, she needed a shower. She went back to the bag by her bed and opened it up, inside were some of her old clothes, a hair brush, and a leather bound sketchbook. The sketchbook caught her attention straight away, causing her languid eyes to widen. She picked it up and simply looked at the cover. Her initials had been pressed into the bottom right.
"That bitch..." Kusari muttered under her breath. Of all the things to be placed inside this bag, the sketchbook she used to draw in before she became a subnatural had to be in here. Her mother was the only one who could have put it inside. How she could have the nerve after handing her only daughter over was beyond her. Was she supposed to forgive her? Was she supposed to try her best to be the normal girl with a genius talent for art she once was?
Kusari stomped over to the window, opened it, and flung the book outside. Her mother and her assumptions could go to hell for all she cared.
By the time she went back to her bag, Christmas had just come out of the bathroom. She didn't hear the shower running, or the toilet flush, so what was he doing all this time? Looking closer, she noticed dried blood from his nose. Kusari's right eye twitched. She wasn't a violent woman, but this boy was pushing it. Did he seriously just have a nosebleed, just how pathetic was he?
"I'm not even going to bother commenting, I just know the bathroom better not be a red mess, or I'm going to clean it up using your head as a mop." She grabbed a change of clothes and stormed into the bathroom. Sure enough, she noticed bloodstained paper towels in the trash bin. She wondered how many days someone like him was going to last here. Shrugging Christmas's annoying face from her mind, she prepared to get out of the shower.
After a few minutes she stepped out, cleaner yet not as refreshed as she thought she would be. Usually she would wrap a towel around herself and wander about her home while she brushed her hair, but that was out of the question with her roommates here. She dried herself off as quickly as she could and put on her change of clothes, which was a plain black shirt and a pair of shorts that were a bit baggy around her skinny legs. She really needed to go shopping.
She stepped out of the bathroom holding her old clothes, she didn't have a laundry basket to put them in so she just threw them on her bed for now. She slipped her ID into a pocket and began brushing her hair.
"I don't know about you two, but I need to get something eat. Later." She said, stepping out of the room as she continued to brush her hair. Where was the cafeteria again?
Since Kusari didnβt seem like the type for small talks, Sander figured he should get back to his own business. Pulling out a bottle of water from his duffle bag, he quickly downed almost half of its content before going through his bag again.
It was then the scent hit him. His brow furrowed as he muttered under his breath-β
Really? Again?β
Soon enough, Christmas came out of the bathroom, nose still dripping red, and it confirmed his suspicion. Truly, had the guy always been like this? It could only go down hill from here. Sander had the most control when he had not drunk any blood. But one of these days, he would have to. And if Christmas found any creative way to bleed during one of those daysβ¦
Hopefully Zhangβs guards were quick enough to respond. Or was this some sort of test against his restrain set up by the dear Director?
That snake. Sander said nothing, only reaching into the duffle bag for the pouch of his personal effects before ducking out of the room.
He would find a public bathroom elsewhere. Then maybe a coffee. Or two.
Christmas had been standing as far out of the way as possible while Sander and Kusari stormed about the room, and he hadn't moved from there even after Sander left just as Kusari entered the bathroom. Only when the pale girl had also left in search of food did Christmas finally let himself relax a little. He needed food, too, he was sure of it--as was his grumbling stomach--but his appetite remained far from convinced.
Before he could dwell on it for too long, his eyes settled on the stacks of paper on his desk. Sifting through them carefully as he sat down, Christmas found the placement exams and set them aside while he looked over a map of the school. It seemed like the registrar's building (labeled with a C) was between Buildings A and B, the three buildings forming a rough semicircle around a large open area in the center. Two corridors drawn on the map looked like they connected both Buildings A and B back to Building C and Christmas took note of the orientation in case he needed to find them in a hurry. Building D on the far side of the large quad had a small "dining hall" label below it, and it seemed situated to be as far as possible from Building C. Beyond that, other large buildings surrounding the main dorms were marked as either Lecture Buildings with corresponding letters of the alphabet or simply "restricted" before the map's borders indicated where the rest of the town began. A second map removed all the designations of the buildings, instead marking down cafes, study lounges, computer lounges, the campus bookstore, and a section in the middle of the quad for "food stalls on Wednesdays."
He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but Christmas tried his best to commit the information to memory. His high school record hadn't been stellar, but he had passed his classes, which had been enough for his family. It wasn't so much that he was stupid--Christmas was vaguely aware he wasn't as dumb as he hoped he was--but more that he spent all his energy playing video games on his Vita instead of studying, and he certainly wasn't one of the lucky few gifted with genius-level intellect to have that kind of leeway.
The blue sheet caught his eye, and Christmas looked it over, wondering if there was anything he really wanted that might not be around here. A convenient pen that had been placed on every desk allowed him to write down "I miss my Squishable manatee. Am I allowed to order another one?"
With that done, he got to work on his placement exams, unable to remember most of the information he needed to answer 90% of the questions, but still doing what he could. He certainly couldn't ask anyone for help here.