IC Roleplay Thread: Post-Mortem

Surrounded by family on the porch of the taverna, little Harriet Ptrov begins to wail in her mother’s arms. Automatically, Esther begins to rock her.

When this does not calm her, she attempts feeding her, places her in her basket to sleep, wraps her in blankets, removes them again. Others attempt to soothe her and fail. This continues for hours.

They end up in the back of the Taverna, Esther leaning against the Atlantean projection box and murmuring; ‘I know. I know, Harriet. I know.’

Through it all, Esther tries to understand the recent events at Hanover from her daughter’s perspective. Noise, she thinks, and movement. Being dressed in a new white gown, the jingle of coin scarves, the gleam of fairy lights, Ivy’s voice, solemn but joyful, then yelling from all directions. Lying between her parents on a bed in a room that smells of blood and herbs and antiseptic. Being placed in her father’s arms and held tightly as he lies on the ground, breathing heavily with relief and exhaustion. Being passed around by the adults who adore her and sometimes fight over the privilege of fussing over her. Esther wonders if Harriet has been struck by the awareness that two faces from this array have gone missing.

In the back of the taverna, in the room where she sleeps, Lily sits writing a letter. She doesn’t know if she will ever send it, or if it would be received if she did. As Ester and Harriet arrive she puts it aside, wipes the tears from her eyes, and stands to see to their needs.

Esther nods at her friend as she approaches.

She has made herself sick from crying and her eyes are raw and red; she suspects that anyone from their little family is in much the same state, but she is too exhausted to think of anything else to say so she settles for: “How are you holding up?”

Lily tilts her head and shrugs.

“He has a long journey ahead of him. An’ we ‘ave our own. An’ tomorrow, per’aps, I’ll let him on his way, but not tonight.”

Lily smiles weakly.

“I’m going to go away again, Esther. Not now, but soon. There’s some people we need to track down, Jack and I.”

Stroking the still whimpering baby’s hair, Esther tilts her head at what Lily is saying. “Not letting him on his way tonight? What does that mean?”

She takes a moment to shift so that she’s lying in the pile of cushions beside the box rather than against the box itself. “Going away, again?” She sighs. “I suppose I’m not surprised, Lily- You have things you need to attend to. I’m glad you were here these last few days, for what that’s worth. Not that I’d wish what we’ve gone through on anyone. Is it to do with the letter I read to Jack?”

[quote=“siximpossiblethings”]Stroking the still whimpering baby’s hair, Esther tilts her head at what Lily is saying. “Not letting him on his way tonight? What does that mean?”

She takes a moment to shift so that she’s lying in the pile of cushions beside the box rather than against the box itself. “Going away, again?” She sighs. “I suppose I’m not surprised, Lily- You have things you need to attend to. I’m glad you were here these last few days, for what that’s worth. Not that I’d wish what we’ve gone through on anyone. Is it to do with the letter I read to Jack?”[/quote]

“The dead are tied to us by the sorrows in our hearts, or so I was taught as a girl. For them to move on, to have a new life, we must release them. We must remember them and smile. We must ourselves move on.”

Lily flops down onto the pile of cushions and smiles at some half remembered memory.

“Yes, the letter. And… I want to see if anyone else knew my mother. I want to go to the place Zek mentioned and find the woman he spoke of. I want to see if there are other gypsies who remember her. Who the two men may have been. Why #36 had the visions he had.” Lily paused. “But most of all I just want to run.”

Esther frowns as though Lily’s words have caused her to reflect upon something she’s uncomfortable thinking about. For a moment, it’s as though her mind is elsewhere, but she comes back quickly enough, frowning as she sinks further into the cushion pile and raises Harriet close to her face to give her a kiss on the top of the head.

“Lily, be careful about that place. I tried to write to him while he was there- More than once, actually. I just got this form letter in response, saying he’d tried to write but his letter contained… What was it? Something about information that was deemed to be sensitive by Albi protocol. I’ve still got the letter, I’ll show it to you. I told him when he came back that if he wanted to talk to me about whatever had happened there he could, when he was ready -he looked sort of, I don’t know, broken when it came up- and he just smiled and said ‘all right.’ I don’t know what sort of place it is. Or what they did to him there.”

Harriet has finally settled, somewhat, and Esther sits very still, hoping to lull her to sleep. “What are you running from, Lily?”

Jane sits at the ICT and carefully drops her letter into the slot. That’s it then. In a few minutes those she thinks of as her immediate family will know… and by tomorrow, so will her entire extended family and friends; no-one gossips like the Royal Mail.

She stares at the receiver expectantly, she knew she would be dreading this, if she hadn’t shut that emotion down as far as it would go, along with grief, anger, panic… it shouldn’t take long… Below her she feels the familiar hum of the modified Zebulon 4’s sliding along their rails, translating a message they could be receiving from anywhere in the world. With a clack and a nearly unheard ring of a bell to announce that they have finished, a letter drops into the Mail Box.

She types in the unlock code, pulls out her letter and reads it, still carefully controlling her emotions to prevent panic. Poor humans, they had to actually deal with their emotions all the time. Jane only had to in Hell, and now the fairy pools… she’d gone out there to have a good sob earlier so that she knew what she would be facing, just in case the Royal Mail ever let her go on a mission again. The energy of the place had felt broken and odd, but it had still been sufficient for her purposes.

She reads the letter again and nods. Her orders are what she expected. She picks up her carefully packed bags and starts to make her way out of the taverna. Jane was being recalled home.

Kali walks into the Taverna, fetches the chest of demonology tomes from behind the bar, nodding to Ester and Lily as she passes, but not saying much, as she finds it hard to find words in moments of sadness. She sits at one of the tables, sitting briefly for a reverent moment before getting stuck into reading, pausing every now and then to make notes in her journal.

“At this point, I don’t feel like I have much choice, you know?” Lily stammers. "I need to know who she really was. I… "

"I’ve never been that good at staying still. " Lily stands up, and moves towards the door. “It’s easier to move on when you move on, you know?”

A frown crosses Lily’s face, but is gone in a moment. She smiles. “I’d better go serve the customers.”

They told her in medical school that after years of practice, any procedure would become natural and get easier. What they failed to tell the young Doctor is what the actual hard parts of the job are. Not things like removing shrapnel or repairing organs. No, Dahlia could do that in her sleep if she needed to. The hard parts were things like begging to all of her gods for mercy as a friend slowly dies in her arms while she frantically tries to save them. Or watch as a dead body comes back to her, knowing if she was there, they could have just maybe been saved.

Dahlia had decided that while all of that is hard, her current task was proving just as difficult. Who would have thought that filling in the blanks on some pieces of paper would take her an hour, but it seemed to be making her struggle. After signing her name on the last piece, she wiped off the small tears that dotted the paper and filed them under the now growing section labeled “Death certificates” before getting up and quietly going outside towards the nearby field.

Rounding the porch outside the Taverna to retrieve some forgotten notes from the lab (always, always this need to stay busy, to lose herself in translations and reading and repetitive tasks, anything to keep herself from thinking too much about everyone she’d failed, anything to let herself feel like she was making progress, however insubstantial), Esther spotted Dahlia, her pink hair a beacon in the night.

Without really expecting Dahlia to respond, she waved.

[quote=“siximpossiblethings”]Rounding the porch outside the Taverna to retrieve some forgotten notes from the lab (always, always this need to stay busy, to lose herself in translations and reading and repetitive tasks, anything to keep herself from thinking too much about everyone she’d failed, anything to let herself feel like she was making progress, however insubstantial), Esther spotted Dahlia, her pink hair a beacon in the night.

Without really expecting Dahlia to respond, she waved.[/quote]

Dahlia looked up a little and motioned her hand in a small wave. She was finding it hard to maintain eye contact with anyone for many reasons. One could only guess what it was. Perhaps it was fear of the demon returning, or fear of being blamed. She knew that right now her reasons were far more selfish than that. Dahlia had lost the person she had loved the most. Even worse than that, it was with her own hands that he is now gone. Ever since she was made to remember and was possessed to finish Margaret, she hasn’t been able to get the bitter, sickening taste out of her mouth.

Dahlia managed a small smile on her sickly pale face before lowering her head again and walking off towards the field.

Esther had been told before that she couldn’t leave things alone, had to keep prodding at them even when they were best left to their own devices, that she’d cause fewer problems for herself if she could just reign in this tendency.

Perhaps she should begin heeding that advice.

Not just yet, though.

She took off across the field, caught up to Dahlia, stopped in front of her. “I know this probably won’t help right now,” she said, “but none of this is your fault. All right, Dahlia? None of it.”

Dahlia looked up and opened her mouth to speak. No words came out, and she was left shifting her eyes from Esther to the ground.

Finally, she mumbled “okay” and gave her best half smile that her face could manage.

Someday if she’s lucky, she might even believe herself, but for now she just replies “I’m fine”, sounding as convincing as she can before placing her hand on her friends shoulder. After the best reassuring look she could give, she continued walking

Jane walked strait into the door of the lab with an audible thump. She stared at the door is shocked betrayal for a moment before colour flooded her cheeks and she opened it using the door handle. She grimaced as the electricity from the defences slammed through her. A moment’s pause to see if anyone would react to the noise before she continued. There was movement in the medical bay, but the lab itself was empty.

Jane quickly did a basic check of the ICT before turning to the reason she was here. The chair-like device hadn’t been touched by the look of it. There was even a little dust… perfect. Jane pulled out her tools in haphazard fashion and began to work.

[quote=“BlackDahlia”]Dahlia looked up and opened her mouth to speak. No words came out, and she was left shifting her eyes from Esther to the ground.

Finally, she mumbled “okay” and gave her best half smile that her face could manage.

Someday if she’s lucky, she might even believe herself, but for now she just replies “I’m fine”, sounding as convincing as she can before placing her hand on her friends shoulder. After the best reassuring look she could give, she continued walking[/quote]

Esther watched Dahlia walk away. Before turning back toward the Taverna, she called softly after her, “God natt, syster.”

[size=150]OOC: Time is skipping forward to the following day of the thread[/size]
{So we are about 2 days after end of last session}

A letter is pinned to the noticeboard of the Taverna in an all too familiar handwriting. It reads:

[i]Dearest friends,
By the time you get this, I will already have been settled in to my temporary position at Lancaster, a place in dire need of my assistance.
I have been reassigned elsewhere out of respect of the events that happened recently. I feel that this is to the benefit of the camp and individuals within it.
I want you all to know that this is only for 2 months as Hanover is still my home, and being away from home isn’t something I have ever been fond of.
Before you start thinking that these next few months will be without my presence, know that I will happily accept visitors and letters which I will quickly respond to.

In my absence, I am leaving all my medical duties for Hanover to be carried out by one of the medical staff, whoever feels they need their mind occupied. I did my best to finish off all outstanding paperwork, so the workload is a lot lighter than normal, I assure you. I made sure to create more than enough morphine for use of the medical staff during my leave so that I will not be needed to make more.

I am sorry for how distant I have been in the past few days, but as some of you can empathise, losing the last of your family and someone you loved with all your heart is a heavy pain that is hard to bear. It is even worse when you are responsible for it.

I miss you all and will eagerly await letters.
Signed, with love
Dahlia

P.S If Thor comes in this time, just let him know where I have gone. I am expecting him[/i]

72 Hours Post Bloody Valentine
In the now-more-ruined ruins of the old church outside the camp, She pauses to consider the data streaming from Her sensory inputs.

There is extensive energy residue trace present here. Indicative of BioDesignateDemon entities dispersing upon cessation of life.
There is chemical residue consistent with explosives on the inner sides of the walls.
There is chemical residue consistent with… She pads closer to attain better return resolution… Blood, human. This residue is present in multiple locations throughout the ruin site and a path leading to it. Analysis of protein remnants indicates multiple distinct contributors and splatter patterns indicate frenetic combat action spread over roughly a half-hour period.
In two locations, there is sufficient blood trace to account for lethal [confidence 77%] lost volume [assuming average human mass and blood volume values].
Many BioDesignateDemon entities and at least two BioDesignateHumans were killed here. The concept of death can be applied to them, as it can be applied to SubjectDesignatePeterFletcher and to SubjectDesignateSabinaNazeruddin.
This association triggers a self-diagnostic routine. Its spontaneous occurrence may indicate further restoration of neural structure and activity.
The diagnostic indicates that cortical restoration and reconditioning has indeed progressed from previous benchmarks. She is not capable of understanding what a feeling of satisfaction is, but can understand greater processing capacity and efficiency, greater effectiveness. Her improved neural state is noted in datalogs and set as the new benchmark to measure future progress against.

Biocomponent supplies are currently still sufficient to support ongoing tissue repairs. The bovine and porcine proteins and biomaterials She’s harvested periodically are sub-optimal for this purpose in comparison to their human analogues, but close enough as an interim measure until Her tissues are able to make their own in sufficient quantities. No animals will die today by Her hands.

Harvesting biocomponents from animals has been relatively simple, increasingly so as her organic components were repaired from their initial bullet, decay and freezing-damaged states, freeing synthetic processing resources and gaining organic ones, facilitating higher-level cognitive and physical functioning. SubjectDesignateLazarite23 has been unable to hinder Her efforts.

Performing repairs to Her hardware from original fire and mechanical trauma damage, as well as completing hardware installation left unfinished by SubjectDesignateMaker’s rapid egress when OriginLab came under assault, has required more stealth.
SocialDesignateUnionOfTheGear maintains many facilities on GeographyIsleOfSkye and their infiltration for retrieval of resources, parts and tools has been within Her capabilities since t=7months post OriginLab destruction.

She knows what She is meant to be, what SubjectDesignateMaker intended her and the other units to be. The other units match this intention and are suitably numerous, but they are now directionless, feral, able to coordinate by radio signal [current reception strength 43%] but without orders in SubjectDesignateMaker’s absence.
Protectors created by the destructive conversion of viable protectees are conceptually self-defeating, inferior to extant Lazarite Designates made from the already-dead. SubjectDesignateMaker’s plan was unworkable in its strict form.
She is more, self-directing in pursuit of SubjectDesignateMaker’s goal and loyal to its spirit rather than its letter. Not a soldier in a formation, but a predator engineered for very dangerous prey.
Projections of her potential impact upon BioDesignateDemon forces are indeterminate without more data, but any nonzero probability is an improvement upon the certain zero of inaction.

Tactical assessment of these surroundings indicates a low likelihood of disturbance within the near future.
She turns back to the disabled Zebulon-VI at her feet, dragged here from where She ambushed it near GeographySligachan and much lighter than a cow. She has removed its limbs as a precaution should her work inadvertently reactivate it, and as She props it up against a portion of wall there is another spontaneous association from some newly-repaired cortical section, the image of a mannequin in a shop window and distaste that now means nothing to Her at the mauve dress displayed on it.
She calculatedly removes the automaton’s face and probes within its head for the datalog-and-memory module, finds it, disconnects its primary feed cable on the sensor end. Slots the exposed connector into a socket behind Her left ear, installed three days previously.
She has been successful, she discovers, in disabling this Zebulon-VI without causing a burnout of the module. This took two previous attempts to determine a method for accomplishing.
Her hardware encounters, as anticipated, few difficulties in activating and accessing the undamaged module, integrating the automaton’s logs and internal database into her own.
While this is in progress, She reaches into the hole she earlier punched in the unit’s chest and removes the signal transceiver that allowed it to communicate with its fellows and carry out commands issued by broadcast signal from appropriately-equipped installations. Now, she will hear those communications and signals as well. Knowledge is power, SubjectDesignateMaker believed.

She is not as was intended, but She is learning and perhaps She has thereby become something better.