Kellan-Leigh's Story

Hayden took a side-step closer to the others whom he stood already close to. He wouldn't be satisfied, in fact, until he stood directly shoulder-to-shoulder with another, feeling some amount of safety contact with another person who wasn't currently poking him and prodding him. He stared quietly, eyeing the fancy, gold-plated name plaque on the mahogany desk in front of the group. "Roger Atwood," the owner of said name plaque, sat in the green-leathered, high-backed chair behind it, seeming pretty damn happy about himself, which only managed to make Hayden angrier.

"You're probably all a bit dazed, hmm?" Dr. Atwood sifted through eight manila folders that sat on his desk. "Motor skills are never functioning at one-hundred-percent this early after harvest, but unfortunately there isn't much we can do about that." The man shifted his weight in the chair as he fanned the folders across his desk. "Anyway, I am the head of the science department. My name is Dr. Roger Atwood, and you all are the ward of my department. Now, this is both fortunate for me, but depending on your willingness, could be most unfortunate for you. Your bodies are property of Heartland Industries, and you'll be used towards our experimentation for a new feature in our product. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."

Dr. Atwood was a thick man, not fat, necessarily, but he looked as though he could hold his own easily. His brown hair, thinning at the crown, was swept to one side neatly, and thin, wire-framed glasses sat on his crooked nose. He wore a suit, looking stuffy and supreme, as if that dark grey, pinstriped suit and dark green tie gave him all the authority in the world. That, and his fancy golden plaque, too. His bony hands made him look older, though they held a good steadiness from a long career of writing things down. His thin lips gave a plain, dry, hint of a smirk, though on the man it seemed very bored. Yet it seemed as though that was the closest thing the man could have ever gotten to a smile in the first place. The man was business, and moving on. Nothing more.

Hayden struggled to process the words coming from the head of the science department, but some of the words seemed foreign to him, and others seemed as if he'd been thrown a sentence out of context. Motor skills? Harvest? What was heartland industries, and what was this product they were talking about? His brain worked furiously to try and place pieces together, but he was still groggy since waking. Waking, yes, that was right, he'd almost forgotten. A flash of the blood on his hands ran through his mind, the crimson-stained spearhead sticking out from his gut. He'd been dead, and now suddenly he wasn't? He belonged to a company called Heartland? It wasn't making any sense.

He looked downward at his hands as he brought them up from his sides, inspecting this body which apparently didn't belong to him. The tattoos were new, for sure; girlish black and red designs of swirls and flowers and keys and pocket watches, coating one arm and spotted on the other. The clothes he sported were equally foreign to him; a loose black tee-shirt with a cluster of cartoon ghosts with "X"s for eyes on the front and Heartland's logo cut out of the back, pastel teal shorts, and black imitation converse all-stars. All the pieces of the outfit bore the same emblem for heartland in some place, much like all the stock clothing which came from the industry. His faint reflection in the wall of windows showed the rose headband which sported small silver spikes in between flowers which sat in the midst of white wavy hair, the silver heart icon which sat embedded in his neck, and especially the face which wasn't his. He almost thought someone else was staring back at him, but no. That was him, there was no doubt about it. Hayden found himself shaking slightly.

Shit, He couldn't help but think. They weren't kidding when they said it wasn't my body. The idea gave him no more comfort than the statement had, really, and he found himself staring and staring, half wanting it to be some kind of hallucination of his still slow mind, until finally, he drew his eyes away, back to the man behind the desk. "Wait," Hayden said, finally speaking up. Even like this, in such a drastic situation, he couldn't stand the idea of fading into the background and skipping out on the opportunity to speak out, draw attention to himself. "I don't understand--"

Dr. Atwood cut him off before he could elaborate. "I'm not going to start over for you, if that's what you want."

Hayden gritted his teeth, aggravated. "You mentioned experimentation, what exactly is the purpose of this and what are you doing with us? I was... I'm not supposed to be...." He bit his lip, frustrated with the idea. Putting it into real words only seemed to make the situation crazier, and he just wanted it to go away. To pretend it wasn't happening.

"Dead," Dr. Atwood stated plainly, as if coming back from death were plain as day. Even in this day and age, however, it really wasn't. "I'm aware. All of you were dead, and that is the purpose of our experimentation with you. We produce the bodies you all occupy, called Dolls, and we're looking into placing souls of the dead in them through our methods based on requests from buyers to have replicas of the dead, and the suggestion of looking into it from our CEO, Mr. Heartland. Unfortunately, as we took little care in the selection process with souls for experimentation, there's little possibility of any of you being released as items sold to the public. The bodies you occupy are good for little more than experimentation, which is quite a shame, really."

Hayden's fist balled up, his arm shaking just that much more with the forced motion, while he watched the man pick up one of the files and open it up. He felt awful, a terrible feeling in the pit of his gut. The confirmation from another party that his situation was real, and the realization that it wasn't just him... paired with what a "shame" it was to be taking up the uses of their stupid dolls? Bullshit! It wasn't his fault to be in this situation, and it wasn't any of the others in the group's fault either. If his body weren't so discombobulated, and had he been a more violent person, he would have stormed over to the man and punched him. Too bad.

"You, for instance," He continued, now that he'd found what he was looking for. "Standard albino model, small-medium size, pastel goth stock style, pansexual, minimal disposition, custom tattoos... Your body was going to be used as an advertiser for six months, to show off the possible options in the company headquarters store-front, and then be sold as a collector's model. A bit of a set-back, choosing it for the experiment, but most of the bodies were selected at random, so there were a lot of little blips like that."

Hayden bit his lip again. This man talking like it was some huge hassle for them. As if it wasn't some kind of terrible distress to be fucking dead and suddenly wake up again. His tenseness, his anger; it suddenly became washed over by a stark feeling of despair. He wasn't even really human, according to this man. He was a doll - something to be bought and sold, used and played with. The information was awful, and he wanted to slip away and cover his face, to go back to being dead. He didn't want to be burdened with his own death and his new "life" at the same time. Instead, because he knew none of those would come to pass, he turned his face and looked to the others in the group. Including him, there were eight. Four girls, four boys, and each of them uniquely beautiful, and each of them in the same exact situation that he was in. Part of him found comfort in that, and the other part was uncomfortable with it, as well. He didn't know who any of them were, and for all he knew, they could have been his worst enemies. He looked down, again, bringing one hand up to his throat and fingering the metallic raised emblem that stuck in his neck, feeling choked and sick.

"Anything else you'd like elaborated upon?" Dr. Atwood asked. Every word that came from his mouth seemed impatient and bored. He clearly wanted this to be over, like he had more important things to be getting on to. He closed Hayden's file and placed it back on the desk, before opening up the cover of each of the other's looking up at another member of the group of dolls as he did so. "What about the rest of you then? Anything still not clicking in your brains? Because if not, it's about time we got you all on the move to where you'll be staying under our observation."

Almost as if on cue, a woman in a lab coat stepped through the door. This woman, standing alone with a clipboard in her hand seemed to pose absolutely no threat, but while the door was in swing, Hayden caught a glimpse of the more burly men in lab coats just beyond it, who would be accompanying her. They, on the contrary, seemed like they could pose all the threat that they wanted. Escorts to the newest location. It was like being a prisoner, and after living as a king, his despair seemed only to further drench him.

Dr. Atwood brought his gaze back to the entire group for another moment. "Remember, though," He said. "Don't go getting any ideas. The emblem in your necks serves more purpose than just identifying you as a doll. Anyone can scan it with their smart phone and know your ownership details. You'll get sent straight back. I hope that's clear at the very least."

"We're going to move them to house three, alright?" The woman said, making her way over to Dr. Atwood so that she could gather the eight files from him.

"Yes, yes," Dr. Atwood responded. "I'll enter it in the database as soon as possible. I'll be meeting with the CEO today, so I'll be checking in tomorrow. You have the file which lists all the necessary checks I want done." The woman nodded once, before beginning to snatch the manila folders up from the desk. Dr. Atwood turned his gaze back to the group one last time. "Anything else before you're gone, then?"

As he slowly looked around the room, things constantly moving in and out of focus, Adrian noticed for the first time since his resurrection that something was missing. Something very important. Almost like... a piece of himself had simply vanished. He was numb, almost. He felt detached from his environment, as if he were observing the world through the eyes of another. He felt oddly cold. As if his blood had stopped pumping through his body. But... this didn't feel like his body. There were too many things wrong with it. It didn't feel right. Nothing on his body felt like it was truly his.

Thinking back, a lifetime ago, he tried to remember the last time he looked in a mirror. It took him a moment, but then, the image of himself popped up in his head. Tall, slim, curly black hair, with narrowed, piercing eyes as blue as ice, pale face twisted into a perpetual scowl. That was how he remembered himself. And that's how he liked himself. That was the image of a ruler, the ruler he used to be. And now... he lowered his head, looking downwards and observing one of his foreign, shaking hands. Like the rest of his surroundings, it too switched constantly from in focus to out of focus. He squinted, in an attempt to get a better look at it. His hand was... smaller than he remembered. Softer, too. He turned it over to scrutinize the back. The nails were not chipped at all. In fact, they were immaculate. He looked at the palm again. No jagged scar where he'd cut his hand open by smashing a wine glass that one time.

But his hands were certainly not the only things that felt and looked much too different for his liking. That was when he noticed an unfamiliar feeling on the back of his neck. It was a feeling of absence. He slowly raised a hand up to his head. Hair, naturally. He felt down the locks with that hand, and when they failed to fall past the nape of his neck, he froze up. His hair! His hair had been cut! The bastards! What was going on? The hair atop his head had lacked the curls that had made it once familiar, too. His hair was straight! Madness! What in the hell was going on? Out of pure irritated curiosity, he pulled a strand from the top of his head. It took him a bit to do so, though; his grip was weaker than he would have preferred. When he looked at the tiny strand, he felt himself run cold with shock.

Red.

His hair was red.

What...?

Before he had any more time to process this, he heard a voice. Adrian looked up sharply, and immediately wished he hadn't done so in that manner. Sudden movements weren't the best of ideas at that particular moment. He felt too fragile, and he sure as hell didn't like it. There was a man that was speaking. His lips moved, noise came out, Adrian heard English, but the words didn't register until a bit after the man was done talking. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he didn't like this man, and Adrian was inclined to believe it. "...Your bodies are property of Heartland Industries, and you'll be used towards our experimentation for a new feature in our product. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated." Property. What the hell was this place? Who was this man, really? Some sort of slaver? Why was he dressed so oddly? Was he from a foreign country? Adrian's eyes widened. Had he been kidnapped? Was he going to be subjected to long and hard years of manual labor? Madness! He was a king, damn it! He wanted to go home, at once!

And that's when he remembered that he had been dead.

What an odd thing to forget, too. One would assume that Adrian of all people would not have forgotten the afterlife, for it was one of the only times in his entire existence in which he did not feel the burning fury that had made him the person he had been in life. His anger, his poisonous rage, the one thing that was his driving force when he had been alive, the one thing that dictated every action, simple or highly strategic. He'd forgotten how good it had felt to hate something, to want to murder everyone he saw, and the pleasure it brought him when he saw his enemies hit the ground screaming and begging. Oh, the anger. How he loved it. Or, at least, how he thought he loved it.

Of course! That was the answer! That was what he had been missing! It all suddenly made sense to Adrian. It had been much, much too long since he'd felt the white-hot fires of anger pulsing through his veins. But, the thing was, he couldn't decide if he'd really missed it or not. He began to remember how it had felt to be dead. It had felt... peaceful, in a way. Quiet. No cause for anger anymore. He'd felt relieved.

The man he did not like continued speaking, until a new voice chimed in. Adrian turned his head to find the source, and for the first time, he fully realized that there were more people. They all looked different, unique. They also appeared to be in the same circumstances that he was. Good.

The two of them went back and forth for a bit, and the next bit of the scene seemed to pass rather quickly; the only thing he caught was that there were apparently emblems in their necks. He reached a hand up to his neck instinctively. This was madness! He was no one's property, and he refused to be treated as an experiment. These people had torn him from the only place he'd ever felt at peace, and he was expected to cooperate?

Oh hell no.

"Anything else before you're gone, then?"

Without even having to think about it, as natural as breathing, Adrian flipped out, welcoming the anger back into his system once more.

"Anything else, huh? ANYTHING ELSE? How about you put me back where I GODDAM CAME FROM, HUH? How the HELL would you like it, PEASANT, if you were RIPPED from the only GODDAM place you were HAPPY IN? YOU TELL ME, MAGGOT." He took a great big breath before going on. "I demand to be sent back. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS? PUT. ME. BACK. RIGHT. NOW."

Mika Taylor

---

His balance was not right. Too heavy in the front. He kept wobbling forward like a stupid little deer. And he couldn't see. Everything was so blurry. Okay, they'd stopped now, and the colors were set in place. A lot of brown. Some flesh tones. A little glimmer of gold. Some green. Where the hell was he? It had been so soft and dark not so long ago, but now things were moving too fast for him to keep a handle of. Where was His Majesty? No, Hayden was dead. Very dead. He'd been dead for a...long time. He was dead too, he realized. He had to be. That painless darkness had to be death. But this couldn't be death. It was too bright. And now there were voices. A man's voice, deep and posh. A wealthy man, likely. Swaying on his feet, Mika tried to blink the fuzziness out of his eyes, only half listening to the words coming from the blurry flesh shape a few metres away from him.

As his vision cleared, a painstakingly slow process, he caught a few words from the speaker. Unpleasant words like 'unfortunate' and 'property'. No, that did not sound pleasant at all. He felt his nails dig into the flesh of his palms as he bunched his fists. When had his nails gotten that long? And his hair. It was ticking his back. Uhg, he was likely extraordinarily unkempt. Although, weren't hair and nails the two things that grew even after a body was dead, before decomposition set in? It made sense, if he was back from the dead.

Once he could see with some clarity, he turned his head to gauge his surroundings. It looked like seven others stood in varying states of expression around him. There was one with abhorrently pink hair, one with redder hair that was still terribly unnatural, four dark haired ones, and a light haired one. The first two were obviously female, as was one of the dark haired ones, but as for the rest, they really seemed to slight to be proper men, though most of them were incredibly tall, seeing as they towered over him, and he was not short lad himself. The snow haired one in particular seemed quite feminine, thought. That white haired one began to speak, and Mika listened in inquisitively, forgetting that he was about to examine himself.

The man behind the desk made a bored sounding explanation to the white haired lad, which jolted a realization through Mika's body. He was not in his own flesh and blood. This was a new body. Which meant, if he was back and alive, that there was a possibility that his Majesty could be here as well, hidden in one of this garish bodies. A sense of choking excitement caught up in his throat, making him tense, looking around as if he could tell which one was Hayden merely with his eyes. This was a second chance. To protect His Majesty from being killed. Slate wiped clean. A do-over, even if in the strangest circumstances. He could seek forgiveness for his transgression. Everything was fixed! He didn't notice as the woman stepped in the room, as he was wrapped up in his nearly gleeful thoughts, but the sound of an enraged shout made him jump back into the present moment.

The creature yelling was a lad about a head or so taller than him, maybe a little less. The sound was enough to put Mika into a defensive stance, his shoulders tensed, ready to defend himself. It was a bit difficult though, since his center of balance wasn't quite right, and his vision was a bit fish eyed. That probably explained why his chest looked so strange in his peripherals. His vision was stretching everything out of shape. That made sense enough. He could examine himself later, anyway. Now he had to discern if this yelling boy was a threat and find Hayden. Two much more important tasks for certain.

The yelling served to be uninteresting, merely a petulant bawl, in Mika's opinion. That one was certainly not his king. But it was no threat in the slightest, unless the lad decided to start throwing things. But there were a few others between him and the lad, so they would likely take the brunt of the lad's anger before he did. No matter, unless one of those proved to be the King. Oh, that wouldn't be good. He should probably go about finding his king posthaste. But how? Perhaps just calling out and taking a chance would be the best course of action.

With complete disregard for everything else going on in the room, Mika spoke. "My Lord?" His voice wasn't particularly loud, but loud enough. It was also at a strange octave. Too high. Well, he hadn't spoken in a long time, so that was probably why. He coughed, trying to readjust his voice, and continued. "Hayden, My Lord, where are you?" There was a slight plaintive note to his voice, but it was hidden under his struggle to drop his voice down two octaves. It sounded so girlish. Too feminine. Strange. But it didn't matter, just as long as he got a reply. He looked around, his vision warping as he moved his head, and listened hard, hoping with all his might for a reply. He'd do anything, anything at all, just to have his King alive again, safe, and to apologize for his mistake. Just to fix everything that had happened.

Kellan-Leigh, commonly Kellan, observed everyone around her curiously. Or at least, tried to observe them. Her eyes would blur a little bit every time, and all her senses felt dimmed.
They were all so inhumanly beautiful. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, feeling slightly insecure. Wait...why were her arms so scrawny? What happened to all her muscle? These were the arms of a noblewoman, not of a working knight like Kellan. She looked down at her arms--they were pale and delicate looking. Her fingers no longer had all those callouses from her constant practice and training.
She looked down at her feet in surprise. The ground was suddenly farther away, although many of the people around her were much taller than her--how had she become taller?
One of her hands automatically reached out to feel her hair. She pulled on it slightly, and was surprised when it gave--she had curls now. She also had bangs, long ones--she felt them, and they were straight. She could just barely see them...they were red? She pulled one of her curls to her sight, but it was a reddish violet. Did she have red and violet hair then? In that obscene, yet beautiful color?
She knew her old hair color had been an inky black, and her hair had been perfectly straight. Without bangs. And her eyes, they had been hazel. She looked at the panels of windows, squinting. Her eyes had looked hazel at first, but now they seemed blue. No, green. She frowned. Seems like she wasn't going to be able to tell what the color of her eyes was now.
The only things she had figured out for sure about her new form were that she was taller, not muscled, had curly hair with straight bangs in bright colors.
She now began to examine her clothing. She was wearing a--someone had called it a shirt earlier when they had been dressing her--a beautiful blue color, one without sleeves, that had rather a lot of ruffles. It was silky and smooth, but she felt exposed in it. It wasn't good for fighting in--it made her seem vulnerable. And it was such an odd design for a shirt. On her bottom half--they had called these shorts--was an odd material that was cut off rather short, and they were white. Her shoes at least were somewhat normal, boots of some kind.
What was going on? Kellan was completely out of her element. She was used to knowing everything, but here she knew almost nothing. She didn't know who these beautiful people around her were, but they were just as out-of-place and uncomfortable as she was. She wasn't even sure what happened to her body.
She tried to think back, to remember, but the last memory she had was of burning, of being so sick she had been delirious. That had been a terrible illness, and she wouldn't rest, trying to finish filing those reports. She had died because of that. She remembered dying--everything cutting off.
Then why was she here? Was this what life after death was like? Because, although she appreciated those few inches she had gained, she would rather have her old body, which she knew. This body was odd, and it felt so weak.
She finally noticed the man sitting behind the desk. She knew his type. Arrogant, full of himself. Condescending. There had been many people at court like that--who believed that a female knight was an abomination, and could not be as good as a male knight, and never better than a male knight.
She listened to the man, feeling her fury igniting as he continued to talk. They had been brought back to life as part of an experiment? They were to be used for experimentation? They were products, they were property, they were its? She looked at the man, her face blank but revulsion in her eyes.
This place was a factory, and the bodies they inhabited were manufactured. They were tests. They were expected to say 'How high?' when these people told them to jump? She started grinding her teeth, trying to curb her anger, and keep it in control. They were dead, and they had been brought back into these bodies as Dolls? They were shameful? They were toys to be bought and sold?
He was so impatient, wanting this to be done, trying to herd them over with his words to where that female was waiting for them, harmless but an irritating sight to Kellan. This woman was just going along with this? With raising the souls of the dead?
Kellan couldn't stand any more of this talk, of this entire situation. She walked forward until she was in front of his table brought her hands down on the desk with as much force as she could muster, smiling grimly with satisfaction as she heard a cracking noise come from it. Her current body may be weak, but it had potential. It was nowhere near as strong as the body she had trained for years, but it was still deceptively strong, and with practice and rigorous training, it might even be stronger than her old body.
She glared at the man, the glare that made hulking giants of men who were outnumbering her tremble. "Curses on your entire family. Curses on all of your descendants. What made you think you could do this?" Kellan asked furiously. She had completely lost her temper by this point. Even she no longer knew exactly what she was doing.
Seeing the man open his mouth, she intensified her glare. "No--don't answer. I don't give a damn. You're a proper bastard." Her voice was ice cold, yet injected with fury.
He smiled at her with that look, that look that meant that he found her antics amusing, and that she had no power to do anything. If it was possible, she became even angrier, shaking from the power of her fury, seeing red. She reached over the desk and grabbed the man by the throat. "We are not your little experiments. You may call us dolls, but we aren't dolls. We're people. We may be in these bodies that you've put us in, but that changes nothing. It was our personalities who made us who we are, and we are still the people who we were before we died."
She squeezed his neck for emphasis, tempted to kill him, but the man was so insignificant in the end. Instead, she made sure her nails dug into the flesh, drawing blood before letting go.
She was still angry. "Let us go. We aren't insignificant dolls, and we certainly aren't slime like you." She looked back at the beautiful people around her, stuck in the same situation.

Slowly, quietly, he felt like he was sinking. His knees knocked, his body shook, though he kept his calm despite it all. The sinking feeling wouldn't cause him to scrunch down, or cry, or moan, or fight. He'd simply sink down in himself, drown in a feeling quite unlike anything else; a strange, painful combination of isolation, memories, and fear. He still wasn't sure if he could trust a single soul in this group, and it was bad enough that a good half of them were completely exploding their shit all over the place. He almost would have hit them, slapped them and told them that their behavior would only further provoke more negative treatment, and that the best idea would be to plan something behind their back. It was too bad that he didn't fucking feel like it. Go ahead, he thought to himself. like shouting and hitting is going to do anything at all. You've got an opportune moment to try and weasel some answers out of him, and yet here we are, thinking irrationally.

Sure, he could in no way deny that he would have hit the guy, too, or possibly yelled, and certainly he was furious, he was confused, he was upset, but with the restraint of the girl who'd gotten physical, he couldn't help but shake his head, knowing it could have been avoided. He sighed, eyeing the girl with the clipboard, who, after fussing over her superior's wounds for a moment, had settled for organizing the files again. She'd be leading them, correct? Perhaps he could fish some information from her, instead, and perhaps she'd be a bit more polite with it. Besides, he had a few word definitions that he would feel more comfortable getting from someone else. The man behind the desk had been arrogant in his explanations from the get-go, and Hayden still was unfamiliar with a massive amount of nouns that were used by the man. Smart phone was one of them. He understood smart; clever, intelligent. But whatever a phone was... well, it seemed to draw in a different usage for the word? Rather than being used to describe the word, it was used more as if "smart" and "phone" comprised one word. How confusing. He found himself barely able to keep up, and had to assume the meanings of some of the more modern words being used.

How long had he been dead, anyway? A few years? Perhaps a hundred? certainly not more than that... The concept of what had happened seemed to be growing less and less obscure to him, which, it itself, was beginning to make him uneasy. At least some of the members of the group were managing to keep their heads, but he couldn't help to think that those who had snapped were going to make things difficult for him. Well, for everybody, certainly, but Hayden wasn't quite sure he cared about them yet.

"My Lord?" Came one of the voices in the group, though at first Hayden tried to dismiss it. He'd hear more than the one from the group utter something about their superior, looking to see if they were in their midst. Despite watching the short-tempered red-haired boy be suddenly consoled by his supposed knight, Hayden still couldn't help but to think that there was hardly a possibility of anyone from his own past to be here. He didn't remember anyone else dying... but that was it, wasn't it? Who could say how much time had passed? In fact, he mused, they were all dead, weren't they? It was a mixture of hopefulness and sorrow, and he almost didn't want to think about it anymore, but the soft voice came again. "Hayden, My Lord, where are you?"

Hayden's eyes widened and his back straightened. That was his name. Whoever it was, they'd called his name. He quickly scanned over the group trying to find the face of someone he knew, but it took less than a second before he recalled that no one would be recognizable. Even he was probably such a sight for anyone else. His old body.... If only he could have had it back. This ghostly, scrawny body, draped in thin, girlish clothing was hardly impressive, and he found himself trying to remember his old reflection. Dark curls and lightly tanned skin. He'd had such a strong face and piercing dark eyes. He'd been fierce and lean. Now.... oh god, he was nothing but a helpless wisp of a boy, now. He almost didn't want to answer his caller, to avoid such a humiliation of showing them what he was now, but it was too late, he'd already scanned the group at the mention of his name. It was quite obvious that he was answering to his own name.

Eventually, his eyes met his caller - a young, decently gorgeous like the rest of them, blonde girl - and he bit his lip trying to think of who it might have been. Mika? His favorite knight? No, that had to be too much to hope for, and besides, it wouldn't have made sense for Mika to have a girl's body. Would it? No, perhaps it was one of his female servants instead, one of the loyal ones, though he couldn't place who it might have been. Oh dear god, he thought to himself, trying his hardest to keep from contorting his expression at the thought. Please don't let it be my wife. That would be worse than not having anyone.

He took a mere moment, biting his lip, and glancing back to the woman with the clipboard. One of the bulkier men had let go of the girl with the deep red hair, allowing just the one to hold her restrained and free himself to help in case any of the others had any ideas. She was standing by the door and holding it open, looking calm and relaxed, despite her obvious position of having to transport violent, raging assholes.

"If you'll come with me, this way, I'll have you situated in one of our 'houses'," she said, and though she herself, with her messy black hair in a bun with a pencil stuck through it and big round-framed glasses pushed up on her nose, gave no look of hostility or harshness, it was her much more burly assistants which would take the job of herding the group through the door and on their way. "It's not very far, and I'm sure most of you need to take a break from all the standing. The first twenty-four hours can be very draining."

Hayden glanced back at the girl who'd called his name, and without thinking any more on the subject, he reached back to her, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her up next to him as he filed out with the others. The grab to her arm quickly shifted, as he simply linked arms with them, almost in a school-girlish fashion, just to keep this new connection to his past a bit closer. It was as if there was some security in that in itself.

"I'm not sure who you are," He said, not turning his head to face her, but simply looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "But honestly, as long as you aren't my wife, I'll be happy to see just about anyone."

Mika Taylor

Despite the chaos all around him, Mika was focused on one thing and one thing only. He needed a reply. From someone. Anyone. The enraged red-head male had been solaced by another, and Mika placed them as king and knight at the back of his mind, storing it for later use. He wasn't really paying attention to them now. He felt detached from the situation almost completely connected by only one strand. The hope that Hayden was here. If his king was not, well, there really wasn't any point in continuing to live, really. He could off himself at the nearest possible opportunity. Better than being a slave to this man behind the desk. But if Hayden was here, He could continue on to protect his Majesty. He remembered his death had occurred not long after his Majesty's, it would almost be blasphemy to continue being alive without his King.

He searched the group through the mess, but he didn't see anyone that stood out, anyone that could possible be his king. And no one was responding. Mika could feel his stomach sinking into his feet as he didn't hear a response. His shoulders slumped slightly, his throat clenching. He began shuffling towards the door as the woman urged them out to their houses or something like that. He could feel his knees starting to go weak and the edges of his being buzz as if they were fizzing out of existence. He blinked slowly. What would be the best way to do it? This body was obviously weak, maybe he could drown it. Or slit its wrists. Funny, he was thinking of his body as a separate entity. he wasn't even supposed to be here, he was just a separated body and an anomaly.

In the midst of his hopeless thoughts someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him over. Mika tensed, on guard. He looked up to see the snow haired boy. He felt the taller male's arm slide around his, linking them by the elbows. A strange gesture. But did that mean that this was Hayden? Mika decided to wait and see. The delicate male spoke, not looking down at him, but Mika's gut soared. Yes, it was Hayden. This was a second chance. While the arm linking was still a bit strange, an oddly intimate gesture, but Mika pushed that off. The other strange thing was the mention of his wife. Why would his Majesty think he could be his wife? Sure they were in different bodies, but that was a bit out there, wasn't it?

"It's Michael, your Majesty." Mika said, a slight, open mouthed smile on his face. This was probably the happiest he'd been since a year before his death. This hope, that he could make things better again, do things right, reconcile his failure. Keep Hayden safe. Mika was lost in his thoughts for a moment before it hit him. The high voice. The height. Hayden's comment about not being his wife. Oh no. Oh no, please no.

Mika pulled himself away from the thin white haired boy, so different from his King but his king nonetheless, and looked down. He was wearing a white, lacy dress with a mahogany-coloured belt. And he had breasts. No, it was just a trick of his eyes. Mika reached up with shaking hands and brought them to his chest. No, his bust was very real. He made a soft, dismayed sound that sounded like a muted scream. But that would mean...he dropped his hand to his groin to find himself very much lacking. There was no doubt about it. He was not in his own body. Not at all. He was in a woman's body. No. No. No no no. This could not be right. This had to be a bad dream.

His hands clenched into fists, and he squinched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. He had to get himself under control. But he could feel the floor dropping out from under him. This was bad. He couldn't protect his King like this. Not in this weak little woman's body. He made another sound, a weak little moan of internal pain, in complete shock. His body was seizing up, it was folding in on itself with disbelief. He was going to end up sucked into a tiny little point of existence, the weight on him was so great at this moment. Either that or he was going to puke. But there was nothing in his stomach to get rid of, so he just gagged a few times, his little body trembling.

After a few seconds he managed to catch himself and pull the shattered pieces of his realization back together, jolting back into motion before one of the men herding them onwards could push him forwards. He stumbled over his feet as he moved towards Hayden, in that white elegant body, and bowed his head. "I am sorry, my Lord, it won't happen again." He apologized for his moment of weakness. He just had to stop thinking about his new body and everything would be fine. Just fine. "How are you feeling, your Majesty?" He asked, focusing back at Hayden as he was supposed to. "Do you require anything?" A silly question, as both of them were in the same helpless situation currently, but it felt good to fall back into old habits.

He could still feel how his body was throwing him off balance, and how his chest hung heavy and his hips swung strangely as he walked, but he pushed those thoughts away, trying to lose awareness for his body. His duty was for his King and he had to push all else away. As a good and dutiful knight should do for his King.

---

The grownups muffled voices had lost her interest twenty minutes ago. The child sat in a large high backed chair, her bare feet dangling in the air. In front of her stood a wall of television screens, each flickering from one part of the building to the next after a five second delay. Samantha's blue hues watched with keen interest one particular screen, and the only trouble was that the image kept jumping from monitor to monitor. Like a sick game of cat and mouse, her orbs darted from screen to screen, not wanting to miss a second.

On the screen, a group of new dolls, 'special' dolls, were just being debriefed. There was something about these new dolls. They didn't seem happy to be there, they seemed almost... scared. Samantha tucked her legs up under her brown cotton dress. Why did they look so unhappy? Suddenly, one of the dolls spoke out and addressed Dr. Attywood (as she calls him). Due to the surveillance settings, she could not hear what they had to say, but she could watch the reactions on their faces.

The doctor seemed overly bored, but Samantha knew that to be a common face on Dr. Attywood. He was all business, that was for sure, and he certainly never wanted to play with her. This made him an overall boring man in Samantha's opinion. "There's a lot riding on this, Jefferson," she heard her father say from behind her. Her father and Mr. Mark Jefferson had been having a heart-to-heart, as her father called it, in the security room for almost an hour. Her father had been livid when he found out Mr. Jeff had completely lost her the other day. It wasn't his fault that she was so good at hiding! Still, as always her father found someone else to deflect his anger upon.

Just then one of the dolls lunged across the desk and grabbed Dr. Attywood. "Daddy, daddy, look," she squealed, leaping from the chair to bounce on the ground and point at the D3 Monitor, "one of the Dolls is going to kill Dr.Attywood!" In her excitement, Samantha did not notice the look of shock on Jefferson's face. "Get this building under control, NOW!" Samantha could only giggle, it was funny when her father got upset. A little angry vein on the left side of his forehead would bulge out as if it were going to explode, and Samantha couldn't help herself. Without another word, Mr. Heartland stormed from the security office. "You did it now," Samantha chirped, watching with mild interest as Jefferson spoke rapidly into a headset and dialed some numbers into a keypad.

Already bored of him, Samantha turned back to the screen to see what was happening. Another one of the dolls must have just gotten done yelling, because he physically appeared to be fairly winded. The dolls began talking among themselves as Dr. Attywood was taken care of and then some dark haired lady with a clipboard was leading them away. No! Where are they going? Alarmed that she would lose sight of them, Samantha crawled back up into the chair to focus more intently on the screens that flickered and jumped in front of her. As the group was led down one particular hallway, Samantha suddenly knew where they were; and had a pretty good idea where they were headed.

A mischievous grin spread across her face as she slowly slipped her toes down onto the floor. "See you later, Jeffjeff!" After tugging with the door for a moment, not quite heavy enough to pull it open as easily as her father could, Samantha was able to slide into the busy highrise hallway. The security office was located just under her father's floor, which was a massive penthouse reserved for just him and her. Samantha tiptoed quietly through the hall to the elevator and slipped in amongst the tall black pant legs of the businessmen. She was going to see these new, 'special' dolls as her father called them. What's so special about them, anyway?

As the elevator made it's way, slowly floor by floor, Little Heartland decided that the best way to get a peek at these new dolls was to go to the observation lab, where she would have control over the monitors of their house. The only trick once she got there, would be to find out which house they had been put into. Luckily, she knew that House Five had recently been cleaned. The elevator set off a quick jingle to signify that the door was opening. Straining her neck to see around the tall shoulders, legs and briefcases, Samantha caught a glimpse of the floor number. B10. Her floor! " 'cuse me!" After shoving her way out of the crowded compartment, she skipped her way to the observation room.

Once there she was greeted by a cheerful looking intern. "Oh! Hello there, little girl, how can I help you? Are you lost?" Samantha offered her best smile, turning on the charm. "You must be new. I'm Samantha Heartland. Your boss's boss's boss's... boss's boss's boss's....boss's.." She stopped to pause a little, letting the confused expression on the woman's face turn to annoyance. "Boss's daughter." A coy smile split across her angelic features. "Well, you can't come in here, I'm sorry. It's for authorized personnel only." At first, Samantha's coy smile remained exactly where it was.. but something behind those startling blue eyes began to turn darker. "Author--," the woman started to take a step back, because the child's face had began to change to a bright red in color. "DR. GOLD!!!!!!!" The scream was so high pitched that the poor intern was forced to cover her ears. At once the observation door burst open, and a panicked looking Mr.Gold came stumbling out.

His white hair, defying gravity and sticking out in bizarre tuffs would have normally made Samantha giggle, but in this particular moment; she was completely oblivious. "For heaven's sake, child, what have you done to the girl?" Mr. Gold rushed to Samantha's side, cooing to her and asking what was wrong. Click. Instantly fat tears streamed down Samantha's face. "I-I-I said I wanted t-to come s-see you, and this mean, mean girl told me I-I wasn't allowed because... because I'm not attorized..." Mr.Gold jerked his head around to the shocked intern. "Get out," he growled. The woman, whose dry-erase name tag would reveal to be Amy, stood in disbelief. "But sir, I-... you said!" "I said, GET OUT! Before you get us both fired, you imbecile! This is the founder's daughter! Get out, GET OUT!"

After the brunette had left, Samantha slowly eased her tears away. "There, there, child. Of course you may come watch with me," the doctor cooed. Pleased, Samantha rewarded him with a smile, and a quick hug around the neck. Following after the elderly man, Samantha made herself comfortable in one of the many black roll chairs. Dr. Gold gave her a quick pat on the head, and then turned to dial into the green phone on the wall. "Yes. Yes, I will need a new intern sent down. DON'T ASK ME WHY, JUST DO IT!" Samantha giggled silently to herself as she flicked on a monitor to house five. Dr.Gold was a yeller. He liked to raise his voice, because he was old, and it made him feel as though he had some sort of power. Samantha would never know what it was like to only have interns as underlings. For her, everyone was inferior.

She turned on the rest of the monitors and to her grave disappointment; a group of ordinary dolls were fumbling about inside the screen. No, that's not them... It took her a few tries, but after toying around with settings and toggles she finally clicked over to House Three. The house was empty, but the lights were on, and fresh fruit was on the kitchen table. If they weren't there yet; she bet they would be soon.

As she was being restrained, Kellan realized immediately that she had made a mistake. A big mistake. She had foolishly let her anger take over, and now they would be suspicious about her. They wouldn't trust her, and it was more imperative now for her to learn the way things worked here, so she could figure out the best way to manipulate all these people. And it seemed like this world had a lot of new technology to offer. Learning about it would certainly be helpful. And then she would plan a way to get out of this place, this Heartland Industries.
She gently flexed an arm, keeping a careful eye on the man restraining her. She would also have to build all her muscles up again and find a way to arm herself. It was probable that weaponry in whatever time and age this was had changed, considering the technology that was available to these humans, and perhaps it would be easier to find something. Decades, perhaps centuries, must have passed since her death, considering the changes in technology, language, and clothing. In the meanwhile, she'd have to strengthen her body so she'd be ready. Kellan narrowed her eyes, wondering where everyone was being taken.
She examined all of the people as best as she could. All of the dolls, now that some had names that were familiar to her. There was King Adrian, whose hair now certainly suited his temper, and his knight Belton, who was as calm as his master was riled up. There was King Hayden, who looked incredibly delicate in his new form, and it seemed to be his knight Mika who he had linked arms with, although the knight had ended up in a dainty woman's body that wasn't suited to him.
That left two women and a man who she didn't know.
The woman with the pink hair was clever. She gave Kellan the feeling that inside that head, grand plans were being drawn up. Whoever that woman was, and Kellan did have a few guesses, she was one to be watched. It was quite possible that she was malevolent and the look in the other woman's eyes made it clear to Kellan--she had to be watched.
The other woman had a vaguely familiar air about her. It was like Kellan had met her somewhere before, but until she named herself or did something that gave her away, Kellan would know nothing.
The man was quiet. He had muttered only a few words that she couldn't discern, besides his apology to the pink-haired woman. He also had a familiar feel to him, but Kellan couldn't place it. She would wait. Eventually, it would all be revealed.
She thought back to the identified four. They were all knights and kings from her time period. She herself was a royal knight, the personal knight of King Jayson, or Jay, as she'd call him privately, when no one was there to hear them. She did love him--during her service as his knight, they had grown close, and she sometimes felt like an older sister to the king.
But Jay...would Jay be here? Just because the odds seemed to indicate it didn't mean that it had to be so. It would be nice to have a familiar figure in her new life, some stability, but Kellan could survive just fine without familiarity as well. All she really needed was her wits and all of her various skills. And her old body would be nice to have, though that wouldn't happen.
The man holding her shoved her through the doorway behind the other dolls. Kellan sighed very lightly before meekly following all the others, still being restrained.
If Jay was here, he needed to be silent at least until she could figure out who everyone was. Just because the people she had met so far were pleasant, ones that her kingdom had not had hostile relations with, there could just as easily be a bad one among them. One like Lyanna. While the woman was exceedingly clever, and while Kellan had to admire the way her mind worked, she had also never gotten along with Jay, and Kellan was nothing if not loyal to her king.
Kellan sighed lightly once again, closing her eyes and walking carefully, wishing that the man restraining her would loosen his grip slightly. Her bones felt weak in this body. She couldn't help but feel that if the man squeezed any harder, the bones would snap.

"It's Michael, your Majesty," The girl replied to him. Hayden's eyes immediately widened, and he immediately turned fully towards the girl who'd claimed to be his knight. He had plenty of reason to be surprised, after all. It hadn't seemed that anyone else had been saddled with the misfortune of the wrong gender of body, as far as Hayden had been able to tell so far. Gosh, they really had chose bodies at random, then.

The girl who'd claimed to be his knight pulled away from him suddenly, and looked down at her body for what must have been the first time. Her - or, rather, his - hands flew to his chest, as if testing whether the feminine bust could possibly be a mirage. As they landed on the soft, round truth, Michael's hand dropped down to his groin, obviously finding himself lacking quite a bit. It was at that point that the poor man trapped within a girl's body began to dry heave, seeming to panic. Hayden wasn't quite so sure what to do with himself, and he found himself simply standing and staring, stopped in the middle of the hallway. He opened his mouth, trying to see if he could speak some words of consolation to his unfortunate knight, but he found none. If only he had shut his mouth then, rather than try to force out words, as the only words which came out were simply the first ones to come into his head.

"Holy breasts," he uttered, and immediately clamped his hand over his mouth. The statement would, in no way, help the current situation. But honestly... oh god. Oh god. He could only imagine what it would be like to have suddenly been placed into a woman's body. It was enough of a shock to have an unfamiliar body, but for it to be that unfamiliar... He suddenly recalled the girlish features he'd seen in the reflection on the window panes; girlish tattoos and roses in his hair, an all-too-thin and un-masculine body. Just in case, he found himself dropping the hand from his mouth and running it over his own chest, and felt more relief than he ever thought he would to be feeling that typical flat chest.

In a moment, Michael was moving again, and Hayden continued the stride as well, knowing that the burly men at the back of the group would be forcing them along if they stood still for any longer. Hayden swallowed, turning his head forward once again with just his eyes following his knight. Michael was uneasy, stumbling, and still seemed shaken up quite a bit, though he tried his very best to grab back composure, to move on from the issue. Hayden couldn't help but give the man some credit for that.

"I am sorry, my Lord, it won't happen again." Mika said, trying to act as if nothing were wrong. "How are you feeling, your Majesty? Do you require anything?"

Give him credit, yes, Hayden could certainly do that. But he didn't liked that he was trying to ignore his own problem. Hayden's situation was hardly so... severe... Yes, he was scrawny, delicate, pale as a ghost, but he was fine. And he knew he was fine. His knight, however, seemed far from fine. Hayden averted his eyes, letting them fall onto the path through the hallways instead.

"Don't be sorry," Hayden responded softly, and after a moment, he turned to face his knight, giving small, solemn smile. "Honestly, look at me; I am fine. Don't belittle your own problem, because that isn't going to make it go away. I'm adjusting, I always do in new situations, so don't worry." He sighed, trying to think while he turned his head away from the petite blonde in which his connection to the past resided. Even keeping such an open mind to the possibility that if these people were able to put Michael into that body, that they could put him into a different one, he had doubts that they actually would. It had already become quite clear that they didn't really care when it came to who ended up in what for a new body.

Hayden bit his lip for a moment, before his eyes drew back over to Michael, looking at him through the corner of his eyes once again.

"Come on," He said finally, grabbing Mika's wrist and beginning to pick up the pace, eyes back to where he was going. "I want to be at the front of the group."

Hayden practically dragged the poor boy-girl, despite knowing that he was still having some trouble with movement. He simply weaved through the others, trying to get ahead of them. But as he brushed past one of the others - too distracted to see who it was - he cringed at the sudden and unexpected contact. He kept moving through his sudden reaction, despite knowing full well that the tenseness that ran through his entire body could be seen both on his face, and probably felt through the grip he had on Mika's wrist. He wasn't aware, however, that a small, audible wince had escaped him as well. That touch... if felt painful. It hadn't been like what he'd been doing earlier, when he'd moved closer to the group, when he'd grabbed his knight to bring him in close. A fire burst through that spot, running deep, and piercing him through the gut. He felt an immense amount of fear in that one small moment, and then he was pushing it down again, letting it simmer through his abdomen and pretending it wasn't there. He made a small mental note to himself that he would not be allowing anyone to touch him without telling him first.

Before long, he'd managed to drag Mika up with him to the front, walking alongside the girl with the clipboard. Her stride didn't slow, or even speed up, and she hardly seemed surprised to have him up there.

"Hello, there," He greeted to her, fighting the remnants of the mental pain that still rung through him, and his hand still gripped his knight's hand, though he gave her a charming smile. Upon examination of the girl one more time, he found what he assumed was her name upon a little plastic card hanging on her coat. "K Randall?" He inquired, tilting his head to one side. Only a few hours had he been awake in this body, and still, he managed to play it's features well.

"That would be me, yes," She replied, giving back a polite, if not somewhat amused smile. "Dr. Katelyn Randall. And you're Hayden."

"King," He emphasized, "Would be my accurate title, just as yours is apparently 'Doctor.'"

"Tell me, then," She continued, "What exactly are you a king of?"

Hayden smiled to himself, though it was a bit solemn. She had a point, as his kingdom was completely gone. In a way, he was nothing but a slave. His high standing was nothing but the past, and there was hardly anything left. "Myself, I suppose," he finally answered.

"Not a bad answer," she replied, giving a slight nod. "Is there something you wanted to discuss, then?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Hayden responded. His face turned forward again, and his eyes went to the corners again, towards Mika. "Aside from most of the big problems, of course."

"Well, anything you'd like to discuss, I'll be around the house most hours of the day. That way if you'd like some more private time to ask questions, you'll have it." Dr. Katelyn said, her final statement, before giving another polite smile at him and moving slightly ahead, opening the door to a large wing of the third floor. That was how the houses' numbers worked, in accordance with the floors they were on. When the group entered, it was full of cleanly, white decor, and the immediate room in which they entered was a large seating area with what would have looked like to them like simply a big flat black rectangle mounted on the wall. The rest of the 'house' sported four rooms, eight full-size beds, two full bathrooms, a simple dining area, a limited kitchen, an authorized-personnel-only examination room, and cameras everywhere they could possibly be.

"I'll let you all get situated for a while, and then I'll be calling in each of you to the examination room to check your vitals and--" she held herself back, realizing she should keep things simple for now. "Just for a small checkup."

Hayden eyed the room quietly for a moment while she spoke, slowly moving back the locked room near the back of the house. His eyes went back to her just as she was ducking out, disappearing into the back. Likewise, the more burly men released the girl with the red hair, and promptly aid Dr. Katelyn in wherever she was going. Hayden's eyes traveled back to the door, almost ready to consider what was stopping them from leaving, but no... It would be locked. Their captors weren't that stupid. But neither was he, and there was always a way around a lock. It just required a lot of planning. Finally, he looked back to his knight, and noticed that his grip remained around Michael's wrist without loosening.

"Sorry," Hayden uttered, furrowing his brows and releasing him, offering up an apologetic smile. "Are you alright for now?" He knew his knight was far from alright, and the issue about knowing what pronoun to use was beginning to give him a headache, but at the very least he could be sure that his Knight didn't have any more immediate problems.

Mika Taylor

Mika, so involved in his little panic session, had barely registered his king's utterance, or the following clap of the man's hand covering his mouth. A little after the fact, though, it assured him. His King was just as surprised as he was, so his breach wasn't too terribly bad. Perhaps, if it had happened to someone else,the situation might have been funny. As it was, Mika didn't much feel like laughing at the moment. No surprise there, really. He had to keep reminding himself to ignore the strange sensation of being trapped in this ungainly body. Shapely women looked pretty, but he decided that it wasn't very fun to walk around as one. Combat would prove much more difficult this way. At least some of the threats, the other dolls, were just as twiggy looking as His Highness was, which hopefully meant they'd be slightly easier to take out. He needed some kind of advantage to balance out this feminine form, anyway.

After his inquires to the King's health the delicate face turned away, averted towards the ground. Mika's mouth stretched into a thin line of worry, a bit more difficult since his lips were fuller than they used to be. The response he finally gleaned was soft, coupled with his Majesty turning to face his knight. Looking up at him, it was quite evident that Mika was having trouble understanding what had just been said. 'Don't be sorry.' But he was sorry? He'd breached etiquette. Which required an apology on his part. Hayden continued, elaborating on his first statement.

Apparently this new body flushed easily because Mika could feel heat spreading across his face. Hayden was at least acting normally, which backed his claim that he was fine. He had always been good at acclimating to new situations. He was just so calm about everything, which helped Michael to calm down further. He closed his eyes fora second as they walked, gathering himself. Though his Majesty had told him not to worry, he couldn't help it. Hayden had already died once, he couldn't let it happen again. He'd just have to acclimate to this new obstacle. It would make him stronger. He would utilize it as an element of surprise. His own brutal fighting style in the body of a small girl. No one would ever suspect such a thing. Which unrealistic, those thoughts kept him level headed. He opened his eyes, composing himself.

He could feel Hayden's eyes on him and when he turned his head he saw the effeminate male looking at him from the corners of his eyes. He straightened, ready for whatever his King would have for him. Hayden suddenly grabbed his wrist with a summon and began pulling him along at a faster pace. Mika stumbled, his newly short legs not quite able to keep up, but he managed to keep his feet. He had to keep a run to prevent himself from falling over as they weaved through the people. There was another piece of Hayden, that single-mindedness. It took a large amount of his focus to prevent himself from running into each and every one of the people they passed, but he still felt his Majesty's slim hand tighten over his wrist, which made his own body go alert. What was the matter? He could not inquire, however, because he was out of breath and unable to catch his Majesty's attention in such a state. It would not be wise to let the others in the hall know that something was wrong anyway. He'd have to ask later.

Finally, after a long period of frantic traveling, or at least, it felt like a long time to Mika, they slowed, keeping pace with a woman with a clipboard. The one who'd been talking earlier. His Majesty likely had something planned. He could still feel lingering tenseness in the hand that was circled around his wrist like a shackle, and knew that Hayden hadn't quite recovered from whatever had suddenly ailed him. Which put that problem high on the urgent list. He would ask about it the moment he could speak without a ragged breath interrupting every syllable. This stupid body had no lung capacity.

He leaned against Hayden's arm as they walked, trying not to swoon from lack of air. That would be completely and utterly embarrassing. As it was his chest was heaving and his face was reddish. He listened to the conversation Hayden was having with the clipboard girl as well as he could, catching a few things. He straightened as they entered through a doorway into a blindly white room with a large black thing mounted on the wall. He payed little attention to the scenery, more interested in forcing himself to stop panting. He supposed the clipboard woman and the large men had left at some point during that ordeal as the next thing he knew he felt Hayden's hand releasing his wrist.

"I am alright, my Lord" He said with a dip of his head, rolling his wrist to bring feeling back into his hand. He nearly moved back out of instinct, he was very close to the taller man, he wasn't big on close proximity, but he had to ask after Hayden's health, something better left to privacy. To prevent eavesdroppers. "When we were walking...." He said, his voice dropping much softer than it previously had been. "Are you in pain, my Lord?" his eyes dropped down to Hayden's mid-torso. He could still remember what Hayden, in his real body, not this willowy white ghost's body, had looked like with that wound, ashen, dead. Then he looked back up. He had to tip his head back slightly to look his Majesty in the face, anxiety in his eyes. He had no idea how the pain could translate past death, ghost pains, maybe, but it was the only thing he could think of. Worth a shot.

I'd write for Sunny but I'm so exhausted please don't kill me kthxbai

"I am alright, my Lord," Mika responded, and Hayden nodded, giving a light smile at the affirmation.

"Good, I'm glad," He responded, giving a slightly bashful look that he'd continued the action for so long, and looking apologetic. "I know I was holding on quite tightly for a while there."

"When we were walking...." Mika suddenly commented, dropping that girlish voice down a little lower, making it a bit softer to avoid anyone listening in. Hayden dropped the bashful smile, slightly worried about the new topic, and slightly just surprised that it would be brought up as if it were such a pressing issue. "Are you in pain, my Lord?" Hayden watched as his knight's eyes trailed down to his torso, and self-consciously, Hayden put his hand over the spot where he'd felt the deepest pain, the center of his mid-section, just above the navel.

He bit his lip a moment before shaking his head in denial of any pain, before finally giving his old friend a smile, as if that would eliminate any doubt from his Knight's mind that he was perfectly fine. He dropped his hand from it's place and shoved it in the pockets of his pastel teal shorts.

"I'm alright, now," He said, his voice matching Mika's whisper, though keeping it upbeat and carefree. "It was nothing, really! The pain's all but gone now. But..." He hesitated, shifting his weight on his feet while he looked over his shoulder at the others in the room for a moment. The girl with the pink hair was calm enough, it seemed. The boy with the red hair looked like the situation was getting mighty heavy for him, and then the boy with black hair had suddenly begun to wander around. The others, likewise, were doing other things, very similar to the three basic concepts; absolutely nothing, freaking the fuck out, and taking a look around the place. He looked back at his knight as soon as he was sure that they were going to keep their fucking distance.

"I don't think I want anyone touching me," He said, and his hands were drawn from his pockets so that he could cross his arms, trying to play the comment off as a selfish one, rather than a fearful one. "Not without my permission, anyway, and not unless I can either see them doing it, or they tell me first."

He bit his lip, his position suddenly becoming a little more relaxed while he brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, a bit uncomfortable with what he knew he was about to say.

"I," He began, a little shaky about bringing up the topic. "Well, I... I would announce the rule to everyone quite blatantly, but I don't know if you even enforce that in your current condition?" His eyes widened slightly in realization that he probably should have just forgotten about saying that part, and that it was probably incredibly rude to be reminding his knight of his problem. "I'm sorry, does that sound insensitive to your situation??"

He sighed, before looking back at everyone else again, though he kept his words aimed at Mika. "I guess there's not much to do, anyway, until we take some time to figure things out and all. I'll try to assess more and make a plan with you tonight when everyone else is asleep." I don't think I'll be able to get to sleep anyway, he thought to himself. Not with all these people in the same place, he couldn't. Not when he didn't trust them, and certainly not when they could easily just be a hop skip and a jump away from sneaking up on him and doing... something. He wasn't sure what, but that was part of what made the idea even more uneasy. Especially when just a touch gave him such a reminder of his death. Never seeing his killer, and never seeing it coming, really did a number on his mental state.

"For now, at least," He continued, his voice no longer very hushed, as the words were not quite so important. "I wonder if there's any food around."

And he suddenly decided that he'd join the number that was wandering.

There was a short hall before the area opened up into a kitchen-dining area. The kind like peasants have, Hayden noted, as his old home was a palace with many dining halls and a big kitchen with an eating area designated only for staff to have their meals. But perhaps all homes were like this now-a-days, who could say. The table sported a bowl of fruit, and as he passed over to the cabinet-covered wall, he snatched a green apple from the top, biting into it as he took a place in front of a big white closet. Pulling on the handle, and opening it, however, he felt a shiver go down his spine, the blast of cold emanating from inside the closet was almost unbearable to his delicate new flesh, and though he took note of the foods inside, he shut the door quickly, deciding that he didn't want anything that cold in the first place.

He left the kitchen after, as he needed no investigation to tell him that there would be no knives sitting around the kitchen, and jumping slightly when he heard the sudden sound of rushing water, but passing it up as he spied the black haired boy playing with the running water which flowed from a pipe in what appeared to be the room designated for getting clean and revealing oneself. He took another bite of the apple, deciding to pass into one of the other rooms, which sat just beyond an interesting door with wavy glass panels settled in white wood. The thick glass's texture made the faint colors from beyond the door visible, but the actual objects inside were not. It seemed that the other doors were the same.

Hayden plopped down on the fluffy white comforter of the bed closest to the door for a moment, running his free hand on the linens, and almost amazed at the softness, and the high quality material. At least it would be nice to lay in, even if he wouldn't be getting much sleep. When his eyes trailed to the wall in front of him, now, he took note of the two big dressers, and the black rectangle mounted on the wall in between them. What was that even for? He stood, making his way over to it and feeling around the edges until his hands ran into some notches. They seemed to be... press-able. So, as any typical person would, he pushed the buttons, and jolted back as the screen flashed on, offering a little lady in a towel as she shaved her legs with the oddest smile on her face until she suddenly gained a look of pain, the screen turned black and white, and a deep voice offered, "Are you tired of getting cut shaving?"

Hayden pressed another of the buttons, and the channel changed. Now, the screen offered something else. This setting seemed to be darker, and gave an air of mystery. The two men, splattered in blood with weapons in their hands traveled along the side of a black road, going back and forth about something they were hunting. The little symbol in the corner of the screen said 'supernatural,' and Hayden was sure that everything about the box was surely supernatural in itself. He pressed the button which had turned it on once again, and watched as it clicked off. He'd surely ask Dr. Katelyn about what the box was when he spoke with her later.

Turning back to the bed he'd been sitting on and taking another bite of the apple, he spied at the light-wooded headboard, noticing a little sliver plaque which had been slid into place that offered a name on it. After speaking with Katelyn, it seemed they must have retrieved the names of the people they were pulling into new bodies, at the very least. Those were probably in those files. Perhaps though, it was only the first names? He noted as he noticed the singular name on the silver plaque in all capital letters. This one... This one belonged to him! What luck to have stumbled upon his own, he noted, though suddenly he began to panic. They had assigned beds? He glanced at the other bed in the room, and didn't recognize the name as belonging to his Knight. He didn't process whose name it was, but the fact that it didn't belong to Mika filled him with dread and paranoia.

He bit his lip, wandering until he managed to find Mika again. He gave the boy in a girl's body a serious look, and though it seemed like the kind of complaint a young child would make, he stated it with complete dread for the situation. Who knew which one of these mental cases he was going to be sharing with! Not that he wasn't a mental case himself, he supposed, but it still was cause to worry with his current situation of ghost pain and fear.

"This is terrible," He stated. "There are assigned beds and we aren't sharing a room."