Fate/Ethereal Order
- Thread starter Squirtodyle
- Start date
supersmall
Possibly a fae. Definitely a witch.
- Location
- inside your walls
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Bold of you to assume Roman tops.
Speaking of the soft doctor, it's obvious where Ed should go next.
[X] The medical wing.
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
Well the argument was made earlier that yes Edward will expect this bunch of crazy magus-scientists to have cooked up warcrime worthy shit and so naturally he should check this out before the walls start bleeding boiling lye and crystal babies manifest singing songs about the end of days, you know typical unchecked magus stuff.
Well the argument was made earlier that yes Edward will expect this bunch of crazy magus-scientists to have cooked up warcrime worthy shit and so naturally he should check this out before the walls start bleeding boiling lye and crystal babies manifest singing songs about the end of days, you know typical unchecked magus stuff.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
All this talk about Roman and I'm settling in for the EdxPepe long game.
- Location
- unknown
[X] The medical wing.
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
He doesn't have a Servant aversion, he has a superior combatant aversion. His training says to murder them first is the only way to win
Commonwealth1991
Thanks, I hate it.
- Location
- United States
[X] Your room.
Perhaps it would be in Edward's best interest to take a step back gather his bearings and belongings before going on the Chaldea grand tour?
Perhaps it would be in Edward's best interest to take a step back gather his bearings and belongings before going on the Chaldea grand tour?
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
[X] The medical wing.
Let's go meet roman and maybe mashu.
Let's go meet roman and maybe mashu.
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
Considering that he had survived more then one Grail war it is less a unfounded aversion to servants, and more the part where one has to train how to deal with a superpowered maniac that is showing itself here.
I mean we also see how in some parts typical magus society oppinions make themself known here, but then we also see that Ed is able to change and grow considering how his gear is described very modernized and not like what would assume from a druidic killer for rent.
(unless he has a white robe and a secret murder sickle stashed somewhere)
Considering that he had survived more then one Grail war it is less a unfounded aversion to servants, and more the part where one has to train how to deal with a superpowered maniac that is showing itself here.
I mean we also see how in some parts typical magus society oppinions make themself known here, but then we also see that Ed is able to change and grow considering how his gear is described very modernized and not like what would assume from a druidic killer for rent.
(unless he has a white robe and a secret murder sickle stashed somewhere)
Man, Edward, your hypocrisy is hilarious, literally goes straight from laughing at magi freaking out at him to having the exact same reaction to Servants. Guy's spent so long as the closest thing to decency in the room that he is completely not able to process people on his own wavelength.
[X] Your room.
The metagame answer is the medical wing to avoid losing consciousness immediately, but Ed's answer is 'I feel like shit, I'm getting a goddamn shower'.
[X] Your room.
The metagame answer is the medical wing to avoid losing consciousness immediately, but Ed's answer is 'I feel like shit, I'm getting a goddamn shower'.
But isn't the room also the meta answer for blending in as he replaces his coat with the uniform?
That sounds like a choice that tips a flag as we are now dressed propper for cutscenes!
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
Ahhh, so that's his problem. Ed isn't just socially awkward he's a goddamn hippy. Bet he drinks home-brewed kombucha and eats bugs because the New York Times told him to.
The Texas Chain-saw Massacre went very differently in this timeline.
Little did they know that Edward was a John Mulaney tier bottom. If you poured soup in his lap he'd apologise to you.
A) "I wish I didn't stand out so much," said Edward Dempsey, choosing to dress himself like a school shooter that morning.
B) Oh please, Shinji was able to attend conventional high school with naturally indigo hair. Yeh'd best start believin' in animes Mister Dempsey - yer in one.
No Ed you fucking fool, don't call her beautiful. Now when you see a hot guy you'll have the voters calling back to this as proof you're not gay.
Miss Leonardo "If you don't want to chat you'll get the strap" Da Vinci has you now, Ed.
I really, really wish I'd remembered to save the meme I once saw of Leo with a gun saying "shut the fuck up TERF", would have gained me many Funny
DaVinci: "I'd like to talk to you more soon, I hope we can be friends eventually
"Ed: "(razzerfrazzerfuckingservants reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)"
Leonardo will not break into your house brandishing the "Shut the fuck up TERF" gun, don't worry about it.
Everyone else has responded to this already, I just wanted to add that Ed will probably ease off a little at minimum once he's actually a Master, since then a Servant isn't a potential bomb just waiting to go off to him. And with a hand on the leash he'll be able to moderate the amount of collateral your average Servant can create, at least nominally. It's just that meeting one at lunch to him must be like, idk, you're just having your biscuits and gravy then suddenly Raiden sits down opposite you and begins gnawing on tasty spines.
Yeah yeah we'll see how your tune changes when Ed summons a Bathory.
This was the correct response.
Anyhow
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
Because now we've met Leo in the cafeteria I'm doubly interested to find out what Ed will see in here.
Unless picking this right after just causes him to bump straight into her again which is also fine because Ed deserves this pain. He shall suffer like G did.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
Does that mean Edward is also angry because where we are he can no longer tan his taint ?Ahhh, so that's his problem. Ed isn't just socially awkward he's a goddamn hippy. Bet he drinks home-brewed kombucha and eats bugs because the New York Times told him to.
The Texas Chain-saw Massacre went very differently in this timeline.
Little did they know that Edward was a John Mulaney tier bottom. If you poured soup in his lap he'd apologise to you.
A) "I wish I didn't stand out so much," said Edward Dempsey, choosing to dress himself like a school shooter that morning.
B) Oh please, Shinji was able to attend conventional high school with naturally indigo hair. Yeh'd best start believin' in animes Mister Dempsey - yer in one.
No Ed you fucking fool, don't call her beautiful. Now when you see a hot guy you'll have the voters calling back to this as proof you're not gay.
Miss Leonardo "If you don't want to chat you'll get the strap" Da Vinci has you now, Ed.
I really, really wish I'd remembered to save the meme I once saw of Leo with a gun saying "shut the fuck up TERF", would have gained me many Funny
DaVinci: "I'd like to talk to you more soon, I hope we can be friends eventually
Ed: "(razzerfrazzerfuckingservants reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)"
Leonardo will not break into your house brandishing the "Shut the fuck up TERF" gun, don't worry about it.
Everyone else has responded to this already, I just wanted to add that Ed will probably ease off a little at minimum once he's actually a Master, since then a Servant isn't a potential bomb just waiting to go off to him. And with a hand on the leash he'll be able to moderate the amount of collateral your average Servant can create, at least nominally. It's just that meeting one at lunch to him must be like, idk, you're just having your biscuits and gravy then suddenly Raiden sits down opposite you and begins gnawing on tasty spines.
Yeah yeah we'll see how your tune changes when Ed summons a Bathory.
This was the correct response.
Anyhow
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
Because now we've met Leo in the cafeteria I'm doubly interested to find out what Ed will see in here.
Unless picking this right after just causes him to bump straight into her again which is also fine because Ed deserves this pain. He shall suffer like G did.
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
He's Irish, if he tries to tan his anywhere it won't just be his hair and eyes that're red.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
All of you are banned, none of you are free from sin. O_O
TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] The room marked "Laboratory".
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
As usual, deadline will be midnight GMT tonight.
As I have exams coming up next week until the 17th, the pace of updates will slow quite a bit, and depending on how things go I'll either keep the slowed pace and allow more time for discussion and voting, or return to a quicker pace of updates over the Christmas holidays. I'm entirely open to feedback on this, whether people want more time to talk about things as the quest develops and the plot settles into place, or whether they'd prefer things to move a bit faster while I can keep it up.
And also, thank you all for your interest and investment!
As I have exams coming up next week until the 17th, the pace of updates will slow quite a bit, and depending on how things go I'll either keep the slowed pace and allow more time for discussion and voting, or return to a quicker pace of updates over the Christmas holidays. I'm entirely open to feedback on this, whether people want more time to talk about things as the quest develops and the plot settles into place, or whether they'd prefer things to move a bit faster while I can keep it up.
And also, thank you all for your interest and investment!
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Alright, we ended up with a tie between medbay and lab, and a coinflip said medbay, so that'll be what I'm going with. Sorry to those who voted lab, but I wasn't sure how best to settle it.
Chapter Six: Firstborn
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Your blood pressure feels like it's skyrocketed up to...well, you're not actually sure what blood pressure is unhealthy, but you know having it high is bad and frankly you're still a little too shaken to care. Sitting down to have lunch with a Servant is the kind of thing that you prefer to have at least a week to prepare for, not something that just happens. Even if she was kind, even if she was understanding, even if she'd seemed far more interested in bragging about how smart she was than trying to hurt the people around her...she was still a Servant. The only way to be safe around one was to have those three little brands on your body, and that only worked for one.
Memories come unbidden to your mind and you try shake them free as you walk forward. Legions of the dead, marching with rifles at their shoulders and blank, empty faces. A woman with serpents spun from hair, statues littering her lair before being crushed to rubble underneath her reptilian tail. A town filled with fog and the mad giggling of a murderer, throats slit and hearts gouged out for all to see.
With a shiver, you decide to head towards the medical wing. Maybe the trip has you tired and that's affecting your mind, maybe the simulator's still got some nasty side-effects, or maybe you're already getting cabin fever, but you'd rather make certain nothing is wrong with you before the big speech that's coming. Murmurs from staff you pass along the way shape themselves into something resembling information, and after a few minutes of walking, you're reasonably sure that not only will this be the first big meeting for all the Master candidates, but the first Rayshift too, whatever that involves. You'd really rather not be caught sick or tired for it, so after doing your best to quell your stomach, which still grumbles like it hasn't been fed nearly enough despite the amount you gorged yourself on, getting a little checkup couldn't hurt.
Besides, given how your job usually goes, you imagine you'll be there a lot. Best to figure out what the situation with them is like, given that you've never been in a techno-magical miracle facility built with the assistance from a Servant who you imagine must by definition be better than any modern engineer or magus you could think of.
The medical wing is located relatively close to the main deck, which you suppose is a good idea. If the major operations are going to be co-ordinated from there, then having a medical wing right next to it is probably the best place for it to be. At this point, you're half-suspecting that the Rayshifting thing you've heard about is some kind of teleportation, which...well, it should be nearly impossible, but that's the name of the game since you came here, and it's about the only thing that makes sense. A neutral base backed by the UN in an unknown location that can rapidly deploy troops to combat whatever threats Chaldea finds could be useful as hell. Travel time is one of the worst parts of the job, and you're certain if you could have cut down the days flying into minutes being warped to wherever some arrogant magus had decided to turn into their private petshop of horrors, a lot less people would have ended up as experiments or resources before you got there.
With a sigh, you shake your head again, this time managing to banish the thoughts more successfully. You're feeling the weariness that so unfairly creeps up on people who sleep too much, your stomach is taking its sweet time realising that you've put food into it and that you don't really need to eat more, and you're stuck in a metal can with only the promise of missions to the outside world and a little segment labelled "Hydroponics and Garden" on your map for any kind of comfort. No need to make it worse by starting to grumble about what could have been if only you'd been able to defy logic and do the impossible.
You have to stop and consult your map a few times while you walk, if only because you're still very much not used to the whole aesthetics of the place just yet. More than once you find yourself having to double back because you missed a turn in the same-y halls, and you're quickly beginning to think that your life here will be far more frustrating than you thought it'd be. Nevertheless, you find the door eventually, and right as you move to knock it hisses open, leaving you looking down at a young man who only realises he's about to bash into you when there's an inch in it. He yelps and backpedals, holding up his hands with an apologetic, nervous smile, immediately starting to speak in as hurried a tone as he possibly can.
"I'msorryIdidn'tseeyoutherethatwasmyfaulthowareyou!"
He's too young to be a doctor, maybe just on the cusp of twenty, with lavender pink hair and deep purple eyes behind a pair of round glasses. Most of the rest of him is covered up by a white and green lab coat, but you can see a pair of white slacks and matching shoes beneath the hem of the coat. Around his neck is a little keycard on a string, which identifies him as "Matthew Kyrielight, Assistant Medical Staff." Well, one mystery solved.
"Don't worry about it. I'm one of the new recruits. Wanted to get a check-up before the meeting." Confusion flickers across his face for just a moment before he makes whatever connection he was thinking about, clapping his hands together with a soft "oh" of comprehension.
"You're Edward Dempsey, right? The Enforcer? Olg- er, Director Animusphere mentioned you'd be in today, you're actually the last one we recruited! Come on in, Doctor Archaman and the rest of the staff are grabbing some lunch but he usually eats at his desk, so he'll be around in a moment, he's head of the whole medical thing here. I can do a quick physical, unless there's something in specific you're worried about?"
You blink. You didn't expect to be recognised by medical staff of all people, and if you were you'd imagine you'd be regarded with more suspicion and worry than usual, not less. But after realising who you are, Matthew's calmed down significantly, which...makes a lot of sense, if he's had to deal with people like Animusphere. If it's typical magi who fill the ranks of Chaldea for the most part, you can imagine they wouldn't be the nicest patients in the world to deal with, especially if you accidentally ran into them. Well, no sense in worrying him if he's gotten a bit more comfortable. Gods know you understand the feeling of having to deal with the nobility for vital services, even if for you it's more irritation than fear that results.
"I was in the simulator about two hours ago, and I don't know how long I was out before then." You smile at Matthew, doing your best to convince him you're not about to curse him into oblivion for daring to walk out a door. "Just want to make sure everything's functional and I haven't ended up with some issue that'll ruin things for everyone the moment I'm out in the field."
"Heh, that makes sense. Just take a seat and- no, no, bad Fou!" He swerves in the middle of his sentence like he's trying to avoid a bullet and makes a beeline for a cabinet near the right edge of the long wing. Following him with your eyes, you see...a cat? Or maybe it's a dog. Or a squirrel. It's definitely something small and furry, pure white besides for the bluish tips of its ears and the little blue mantle around its neck, tied with a red bow. It's roughly the size of a squirrel at least, but it's definitely not anything you've ever seen before. Some kind of magical creature? You're halfway through wondering whose familiar it is and why they're letting it run around before it makes a beeline for you, stopping right at your feet and gazing up at you imperiously.
"Fou!" it says.
"Um." you reply.
Matthew manages to dive down and pick up the little thing, apparently named "Fou", before giving you another apologetic look. "S-Sorry! Fou kind of comes and goes as he pleases, but he's not meant to be in the medical wing and messing with our stuff, are you Fou? Are you? Bad Fou!" Somewhere along the way, the chastisement turned into the little baby talk that you give animals that can't really understand you, but...well, you're not made of stone. Fou might be the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life, and there's some part of you that you're pointedly not listening to that wants nothing more than to pet the little thing and coo at it just like Matthew's doing.
After a moment, Matthew realises that he's got a patient, offering a nervous apology and setting Fou down on a nearby desk. The wing seems to be organized with a kind of examination room at the top, the rest of it split into long rows of beds flanked with beeping machines and intravenous stands, with a few of what you can only assume to be isolated rooms at the end. None of the beds are occupied, which at least means no accidents recently, but the sterile, chemical scent that made you wrinkle your nose before is doubly strong here. More incentive not to get hurt, you suppose. At Matthew's instruction, you remove your coat, before turning to give him a look when he trails off at the sight of your chains.
"Never seen a Mystic Code before?" you ask. It's not really teasing, but getting him more used to you is probably a good idea if he's going to be examining you, and making it a bit more normal for him is a good thing. If he's training as a doctor, there's no way in hell he's a magus.
"Oh, um, I have, just...well, not one like that. Could you, uh...?" He gestures vaguely at the pile you left your coat in, before sighing with relief when you let your chains unwind and spool down on top of your coat, picking up a pair of disposable gloves and putting them on after handling Fou. "Right, perfect. Now, take a seat and I'll...forget to introduce myself, damn it, I'm Matthew!"
You can't help but let out a little chuckle, pointing towards his chest as you do. "I kinda figured, seeing as how that's the name next to your picture." His pale cheeks flush just a bit, but instead of getting upset or angry he grins back at you, before putting on a stethoscope.
"Alright, alright, medical professional time. Just hang on a bit..."
The metal is cool against your bare chest as his hand slides under your shirt, though you can't help but stiffen up noticeably when it passes over the upper part of your torso, just a bit to the left.
"Are you-" he begins, pulling the diaphragm away just a bit, before you shake your head and push his hand back.
"I'm fine," you lie, giving him another disarming smile. "Just colder than I remember. I'll keep the shirt on, if that's okay."
He doesn't seem convinced, but continues nevertheless. Your lungs are, for a given definition, fine. When he asks you to cough there's a little bit of hacking in it, but a quick explanation that you both smoke and cheat with magecraft to make sure it doesn't get too bad is all that he needs to keep going, though there's no way for him to hide the look of disapproval on his face. For all he was nervous before you walked in, settling into the role of a doctor certainly makes him a lot more comfortable.
You're halfway through Matthew sticking a thermometer in your mouth when the door hisses open again, and you lock eyes with the man standing in the doorway. He's...well, "soft" is the first word that comes to your head. Light green eyes that look as inviting as a meadow at midday, salmon pink hair that would fall halfway down his back if it wasn't tied up in a ponytail, and a youthful looking face with gentle, kindly features. It's almost impossible to tell how old the man is, though you'd have bet not a lot older than Matthew. He's holding his own identical labcoat underneath his arm, some kind of roll wrapped in tinfoil in his hand, and as your eyes trail down, you realise that his features are about the only thing you could really call "soft."
He wears the same slacks and shoes that Matthew does, but on top he's wearing nothing but a tight black t-shirt that clings to every muscle on his torso, and there's certainly plenty to cling to. For a doctor, the man keeps himself in shape, and you can't help but admire the wiry build he's got beneath the shirt. Not anything like someone trying to build muscles, but they're functional and very, very pretty. His arms are just as well defined, toned without bulging out, but you really don't want to end up leering at the head medical authority of Chaldea if you can avoid it, so you flick your eyes back up and give him a smile, starting to explain as he opens his mouth.
"I came in for a checkup, but people were out to lunch. Matthew offered to do a quick physical, so..."
"Oh, perfect! Matthew, keep going, I'm starving. Don't worry Edward, he's competent." He grins at his assistant, who shakes his head and smiles.
"C'mon, Doctor, he's your patient. I'm only here because you forgot to eat until just now." The embarrassed grin he gives doesn't really do anything to suggest Matthew's wrong, and with an exaggerated sigh, he sets down his lunch on his desk and shucks his lab coat on, before pulling on some gloves of his own and moving to start where Matthew left off. Once your temperature is cleared he offers for you to stand up and start doing some stretching, starting to chat as you do.
"I'm sure Matthew's mentioned, but I'm Doctor Romani Archaman. Roman is fine though, it's what everyone calls me. Well, everyone but Matt, he keeps on saying "Archaman" no matter how many times I tell him." He gives a little chuckle, while Matthew calls over from the corner, head buried in some kind of filing cabinet.
"You're my teacher! If I don't respect you, no one will!"
Roman shakes his head and laughs, before turning back to you with a distractingly warm smile on his face. "I'm his guardian and his teacher. I picked him up about ten years ago, and ever since we've been pretty much inseparable. Olga wasn't pleased when she realised that recruiting me meant taking him on board, but you can't ever have too many people around to help heal others, right?"
"Mmh. He seems nice." You're not really sure what to say, and a part of you is bubbling with a little jealousy, but you stamp it down. Not the time or the place. "You both recognised me."
"Yeah, uh...honestly, most of the recruits on the magus side ended up being pretty standard, besides for one or two. Olga decided that we needed a bit more muscle, so we reached out to you, but it was a fairly late decision. You're the only one to arrive today, so Matthew and I were briefed on you before you came in, in case there was any issues while you were in transit or in the simulator." That's about as much of an explanation as you need, though you're a little disquieted by the notion that your forces are mostly going to be typical magi commanding Servants. Half you has to wonder if you're there less for the actual role of being a Master and more to keep the others in check.
The rest of the physical goes on without a hitch, another attack from Fou trying to clamber onto your shoulders notwithstanding, and after a few more minutes your Code and coat are both back on. You turn to leave, before you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning and finding yourself face to face with Roman, Matthew having taken Fou somewhere else for, apparently, disciplinary pets and harsh baby-talk.
"I know that this isn't exactly the nicest place in the world, and that the medical wing isn't where people want to end up often, but...well, if you ever need help, feel free to come around here. You're a little more down to earth than most of the Master candidates, so it'd be nice to have a chat every now and again."
You really aren't entirely comfortable with how eager you are to accept, but you're careful not to let it show on your face. Even if he's mundane, he's still working for Chaldea, and...well, you're not going to be here forever. It's one thing to have a fun night with someone you're attracted to when both of you can vanish the next day, it's another to end up committed when you're stuck in the middle of a frozen hellscape and have to see each other whenever you end up getting hurt.
"I'll think about it. Thanks, Roman."
You'll be about fifteen minutes early, but you get the feeling that Animusphere would rather everyone be seated and settled an hour before she deigns to grace them with her presence rather than the opposite, and you don't see any reason to piss her off even more than your "disappointing" display in the simulator did. Idly as you walk, you take note of those who walk past you and those you walk past, some moving slower, some quicker. There's a man with black hair and glasses who seems to be holding some kind of odd-looking sword, a vacant expression on his face, a petite woman with fluffy orange hair and a pink sweater who seems nervous just to be in Chaldea at all, another woman with strawberry blonde hair and the strangest expression of serene happiness as someone bumps past her and she ends up stumbling around. None of them really catch your eye as you approach the doors to the command center, except for one. A woman with skin pale enough to look unhealthy, long, dark hair spilling down her back, so helpfully revealed by the black backless dress she's worn. With matching black-and-silver opera gloves and thigh-boots, you half want to crack a joke about goths in your head, but another glance stills that particular reflex. Her lips are black as night, and her eyes are a pale, sickly yellow.
Grail mud abuser. Fantastic. Just absolutely perfect. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her as the doors to the command center hiss open, admitting the next little block of Master candidates, and you cast your gaze forward to examine the throne from which Animusphere will reign-
You see a flash of familiar, scarlet hair, of pale, pointed ear.
You're running before you even realise it, turning and all but sprinting away. Your mouth makes the noises people expect, that you've forgotten something, you're sorry for running into them, please move, anything to get them out of you way so you can just run. The rooms and command center are both in the third floor and that makes it easier, makes it simple for you to take a look at your map as your hand trembles and bring you to your room. It's locked, and you're about to get ready to pry the steel door open before the communicator on your wrist beeps and the door hisses open, and you all but stumble in, the door shutting behind you as you frantically try to figure out how to lock it.
A click and a light turning red is about as good a sign for it being locked as anything, and now that you're alone, you finally allow yourself to relax. Your chains are tightening around your limbs so hard it almost hurts, but you can't stop, like a fist clenched for so long it's forgotten how to relax itself. Your hands are shaking and your legs feel weak, and when you sit down on the bed your stomach feels like it's twisted itself into about a million different knots at the same time, somehow.
Breathe.
You force yourself to start taking deep breaths, in and out, held and released in a rhythm. That calms you enough that you can reach into your coat with shaky fingers and dig out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, and you know that will calm you much more. It takes you three tries to light it, and you hiss as you burn your finger on the second, but the pain is good, keeps you focused, distracts you from everything else. Your first breath of poison is like water in a desert, smoky-sweet vanilla rolling onto your tongue and into your lungs as you hug yourself tighter and shiver on the bed.
She didn't see you.
She didn't see you.
There's still time, still a way out. You'll be late for the briefing but that'll work in your favor, piss off Animusphere and tell her you want to go, submit to the memory erasure, make sure that you put this as far away as possible and never come back, that's how it'll be, that's how it has to be.
You can't be here while she's here.
If your sister knows where you are, if she realises that you're here, she'll drag you back and you can't go back.
Time passes, measured only in burnt fingers from cigarettes held too long and moments stretched out into eternity in the way only panic and fear can do so easily. You don't know how long it is until you hear a rap at the door, hear a voice calling out to you.
"Edward? Edward, are you okay? It's Romani!" Of course it's the medical head. Probably think you've gone crazy. "Please, open the door. I just want to make sure you're okay! You don't have to come out, I can stay in with you if you need!"
What will you do?
[ ] Pretend you can't hear him. Ignore him. Shut him out and make sure your mind is your own, refuse to let anything that could compromise it do just that. You're fragile and you know it, and you need to pull yourself together. You haven't broken down like this in a long time, and if you succumb to the desperate desire for someone else, you could ruin all your progress to fixing it. And who knows? It could be a trick. She could be out there.
[ ] Open the door. Roman's not a magus, he has no way of knowing your history. If he's after you, it's because he's worried. He was friendly and kind and inviting when you were in the medical ward, and right now you need to feel like you're not alone, even just for a moment. You don't have to tell him anything, but if he's there, you know you can use him to feel better, parasite on his company until you're able to control yourself. Then you can work on leaving.
Memories come unbidden to your mind and you try shake them free as you walk forward. Legions of the dead, marching with rifles at their shoulders and blank, empty faces. A woman with serpents spun from hair, statues littering her lair before being crushed to rubble underneath her reptilian tail. A town filled with fog and the mad giggling of a murderer, throats slit and hearts gouged out for all to see.
With a shiver, you decide to head towards the medical wing. Maybe the trip has you tired and that's affecting your mind, maybe the simulator's still got some nasty side-effects, or maybe you're already getting cabin fever, but you'd rather make certain nothing is wrong with you before the big speech that's coming. Murmurs from staff you pass along the way shape themselves into something resembling information, and after a few minutes of walking, you're reasonably sure that not only will this be the first big meeting for all the Master candidates, but the first Rayshift too, whatever that involves. You'd really rather not be caught sick or tired for it, so after doing your best to quell your stomach, which still grumbles like it hasn't been fed nearly enough despite the amount you gorged yourself on, getting a little checkup couldn't hurt.
Besides, given how your job usually goes, you imagine you'll be there a lot. Best to figure out what the situation with them is like, given that you've never been in a techno-magical miracle facility built with the assistance from a Servant who you imagine must by definition be better than any modern engineer or magus you could think of.
The medical wing is located relatively close to the main deck, which you suppose is a good idea. If the major operations are going to be co-ordinated from there, then having a medical wing right next to it is probably the best place for it to be. At this point, you're half-suspecting that the Rayshifting thing you've heard about is some kind of teleportation, which...well, it should be nearly impossible, but that's the name of the game since you came here, and it's about the only thing that makes sense. A neutral base backed by the UN in an unknown location that can rapidly deploy troops to combat whatever threats Chaldea finds could be useful as hell. Travel time is one of the worst parts of the job, and you're certain if you could have cut down the days flying into minutes being warped to wherever some arrogant magus had decided to turn into their private petshop of horrors, a lot less people would have ended up as experiments or resources before you got there.
With a sigh, you shake your head again, this time managing to banish the thoughts more successfully. You're feeling the weariness that so unfairly creeps up on people who sleep too much, your stomach is taking its sweet time realising that you've put food into it and that you don't really need to eat more, and you're stuck in a metal can with only the promise of missions to the outside world and a little segment labelled "Hydroponics and Garden" on your map for any kind of comfort. No need to make it worse by starting to grumble about what could have been if only you'd been able to defy logic and do the impossible.
You have to stop and consult your map a few times while you walk, if only because you're still very much not used to the whole aesthetics of the place just yet. More than once you find yourself having to double back because you missed a turn in the same-y halls, and you're quickly beginning to think that your life here will be far more frustrating than you thought it'd be. Nevertheless, you find the door eventually, and right as you move to knock it hisses open, leaving you looking down at a young man who only realises he's about to bash into you when there's an inch in it. He yelps and backpedals, holding up his hands with an apologetic, nervous smile, immediately starting to speak in as hurried a tone as he possibly can.
"I'msorryIdidn'tseeyoutherethatwasmyfaulthowareyou!"
He's too young to be a doctor, maybe just on the cusp of twenty, with lavender pink hair and deep purple eyes behind a pair of round glasses. Most of the rest of him is covered up by a white and green lab coat, but you can see a pair of white slacks and matching shoes beneath the hem of the coat. Around his neck is a little keycard on a string, which identifies him as "Matthew Kyrielight, Assistant Medical Staff." Well, one mystery solved.
"Don't worry about it. I'm one of the new recruits. Wanted to get a check-up before the meeting." Confusion flickers across his face for just a moment before he makes whatever connection he was thinking about, clapping his hands together with a soft "oh" of comprehension.
"You're Edward Dempsey, right? The Enforcer? Olg- er, Director Animusphere mentioned you'd be in today, you're actually the last one we recruited! Come on in, Doctor Archaman and the rest of the staff are grabbing some lunch but he usually eats at his desk, so he'll be around in a moment, he's head of the whole medical thing here. I can do a quick physical, unless there's something in specific you're worried about?"
You blink. You didn't expect to be recognised by medical staff of all people, and if you were you'd imagine you'd be regarded with more suspicion and worry than usual, not less. But after realising who you are, Matthew's calmed down significantly, which...makes a lot of sense, if he's had to deal with people like Animusphere. If it's typical magi who fill the ranks of Chaldea for the most part, you can imagine they wouldn't be the nicest patients in the world to deal with, especially if you accidentally ran into them. Well, no sense in worrying him if he's gotten a bit more comfortable. Gods know you understand the feeling of having to deal with the nobility for vital services, even if for you it's more irritation than fear that results.
"I was in the simulator about two hours ago, and I don't know how long I was out before then." You smile at Matthew, doing your best to convince him you're not about to curse him into oblivion for daring to walk out a door. "Just want to make sure everything's functional and I haven't ended up with some issue that'll ruin things for everyone the moment I'm out in the field."
"Heh, that makes sense. Just take a seat and- no, no, bad Fou!" He swerves in the middle of his sentence like he's trying to avoid a bullet and makes a beeline for a cabinet near the right edge of the long wing. Following him with your eyes, you see...a cat? Or maybe it's a dog. Or a squirrel. It's definitely something small and furry, pure white besides for the bluish tips of its ears and the little blue mantle around its neck, tied with a red bow. It's roughly the size of a squirrel at least, but it's definitely not anything you've ever seen before. Some kind of magical creature? You're halfway through wondering whose familiar it is and why they're letting it run around before it makes a beeline for you, stopping right at your feet and gazing up at you imperiously.
"Fou!" it says.
"Um." you reply.
Matthew manages to dive down and pick up the little thing, apparently named "Fou", before giving you another apologetic look. "S-Sorry! Fou kind of comes and goes as he pleases, but he's not meant to be in the medical wing and messing with our stuff, are you Fou? Are you? Bad Fou!" Somewhere along the way, the chastisement turned into the little baby talk that you give animals that can't really understand you, but...well, you're not made of stone. Fou might be the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life, and there's some part of you that you're pointedly not listening to that wants nothing more than to pet the little thing and coo at it just like Matthew's doing.
After a moment, Matthew realises that he's got a patient, offering a nervous apology and setting Fou down on a nearby desk. The wing seems to be organized with a kind of examination room at the top, the rest of it split into long rows of beds flanked with beeping machines and intravenous stands, with a few of what you can only assume to be isolated rooms at the end. None of the beds are occupied, which at least means no accidents recently, but the sterile, chemical scent that made you wrinkle your nose before is doubly strong here. More incentive not to get hurt, you suppose. At Matthew's instruction, you remove your coat, before turning to give him a look when he trails off at the sight of your chains.
"Never seen a Mystic Code before?" you ask. It's not really teasing, but getting him more used to you is probably a good idea if he's going to be examining you, and making it a bit more normal for him is a good thing. If he's training as a doctor, there's no way in hell he's a magus.
"Oh, um, I have, just...well, not one like that. Could you, uh...?" He gestures vaguely at the pile you left your coat in, before sighing with relief when you let your chains unwind and spool down on top of your coat, picking up a pair of disposable gloves and putting them on after handling Fou. "Right, perfect. Now, take a seat and I'll...forget to introduce myself, damn it, I'm Matthew!"
You can't help but let out a little chuckle, pointing towards his chest as you do. "I kinda figured, seeing as how that's the name next to your picture." His pale cheeks flush just a bit, but instead of getting upset or angry he grins back at you, before putting on a stethoscope.
"Alright, alright, medical professional time. Just hang on a bit..."
The metal is cool against your bare chest as his hand slides under your shirt, though you can't help but stiffen up noticeably when it passes over the upper part of your torso, just a bit to the left.
"Are you-" he begins, pulling the diaphragm away just a bit, before you shake your head and push his hand back.
"I'm fine," you lie, giving him another disarming smile. "Just colder than I remember. I'll keep the shirt on, if that's okay."
He doesn't seem convinced, but continues nevertheless. Your lungs are, for a given definition, fine. When he asks you to cough there's a little bit of hacking in it, but a quick explanation that you both smoke and cheat with magecraft to make sure it doesn't get too bad is all that he needs to keep going, though there's no way for him to hide the look of disapproval on his face. For all he was nervous before you walked in, settling into the role of a doctor certainly makes him a lot more comfortable.
You're halfway through Matthew sticking a thermometer in your mouth when the door hisses open again, and you lock eyes with the man standing in the doorway. He's...well, "soft" is the first word that comes to your head. Light green eyes that look as inviting as a meadow at midday, salmon pink hair that would fall halfway down his back if it wasn't tied up in a ponytail, and a youthful looking face with gentle, kindly features. It's almost impossible to tell how old the man is, though you'd have bet not a lot older than Matthew. He's holding his own identical labcoat underneath his arm, some kind of roll wrapped in tinfoil in his hand, and as your eyes trail down, you realise that his features are about the only thing you could really call "soft."
He wears the same slacks and shoes that Matthew does, but on top he's wearing nothing but a tight black t-shirt that clings to every muscle on his torso, and there's certainly plenty to cling to. For a doctor, the man keeps himself in shape, and you can't help but admire the wiry build he's got beneath the shirt. Not anything like someone trying to build muscles, but they're functional and very, very pretty. His arms are just as well defined, toned without bulging out, but you really don't want to end up leering at the head medical authority of Chaldea if you can avoid it, so you flick your eyes back up and give him a smile, starting to explain as he opens his mouth.
"I came in for a checkup, but people were out to lunch. Matthew offered to do a quick physical, so..."
"Oh, perfect! Matthew, keep going, I'm starving. Don't worry Edward, he's competent." He grins at his assistant, who shakes his head and smiles.
"C'mon, Doctor, he's your patient. I'm only here because you forgot to eat until just now." The embarrassed grin he gives doesn't really do anything to suggest Matthew's wrong, and with an exaggerated sigh, he sets down his lunch on his desk and shucks his lab coat on, before pulling on some gloves of his own and moving to start where Matthew left off. Once your temperature is cleared he offers for you to stand up and start doing some stretching, starting to chat as you do.
"I'm sure Matthew's mentioned, but I'm Doctor Romani Archaman. Roman is fine though, it's what everyone calls me. Well, everyone but Matt, he keeps on saying "Archaman" no matter how many times I tell him." He gives a little chuckle, while Matthew calls over from the corner, head buried in some kind of filing cabinet.
"You're my teacher! If I don't respect you, no one will!"
Roman shakes his head and laughs, before turning back to you with a distractingly warm smile on his face. "I'm his guardian and his teacher. I picked him up about ten years ago, and ever since we've been pretty much inseparable. Olga wasn't pleased when she realised that recruiting me meant taking him on board, but you can't ever have too many people around to help heal others, right?"
"Mmh. He seems nice." You're not really sure what to say, and a part of you is bubbling with a little jealousy, but you stamp it down. Not the time or the place. "You both recognised me."
"Yeah, uh...honestly, most of the recruits on the magus side ended up being pretty standard, besides for one or two. Olga decided that we needed a bit more muscle, so we reached out to you, but it was a fairly late decision. You're the only one to arrive today, so Matthew and I were briefed on you before you came in, in case there was any issues while you were in transit or in the simulator." That's about as much of an explanation as you need, though you're a little disquieted by the notion that your forces are mostly going to be typical magi commanding Servants. Half you has to wonder if you're there less for the actual role of being a Master and more to keep the others in check.
The rest of the physical goes on without a hitch, another attack from Fou trying to clamber onto your shoulders notwithstanding, and after a few more minutes your Code and coat are both back on. You turn to leave, before you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning and finding yourself face to face with Roman, Matthew having taken Fou somewhere else for, apparently, disciplinary pets and harsh baby-talk.
"I know that this isn't exactly the nicest place in the world, and that the medical wing isn't where people want to end up often, but...well, if you ever need help, feel free to come around here. You're a little more down to earth than most of the Master candidates, so it'd be nice to have a chat every now and again."
You really aren't entirely comfortable with how eager you are to accept, but you're careful not to let it show on your face. Even if he's mundane, he's still working for Chaldea, and...well, you're not going to be here forever. It's one thing to have a fun night with someone you're attracted to when both of you can vanish the next day, it's another to end up committed when you're stuck in the middle of a frozen hellscape and have to see each other whenever you end up getting hurt.
"I'll think about it. Thanks, Roman."
You'll be about fifteen minutes early, but you get the feeling that Animusphere would rather everyone be seated and settled an hour before she deigns to grace them with her presence rather than the opposite, and you don't see any reason to piss her off even more than your "disappointing" display in the simulator did. Idly as you walk, you take note of those who walk past you and those you walk past, some moving slower, some quicker. There's a man with black hair and glasses who seems to be holding some kind of odd-looking sword, a vacant expression on his face, a petite woman with fluffy orange hair and a pink sweater who seems nervous just to be in Chaldea at all, another woman with strawberry blonde hair and the strangest expression of serene happiness as someone bumps past her and she ends up stumbling around. None of them really catch your eye as you approach the doors to the command center, except for one. A woman with skin pale enough to look unhealthy, long, dark hair spilling down her back, so helpfully revealed by the black backless dress she's worn. With matching black-and-silver opera gloves and thigh-boots, you half want to crack a joke about goths in your head, but another glance stills that particular reflex. Her lips are black as night, and her eyes are a pale, sickly yellow.
Grail mud abuser. Fantastic. Just absolutely perfect. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her as the doors to the command center hiss open, admitting the next little block of Master candidates, and you cast your gaze forward to examine the throne from which Animusphere will reign-
You see a flash of familiar, scarlet hair, of pale, pointed ear.
You're running before you even realise it, turning and all but sprinting away. Your mouth makes the noises people expect, that you've forgotten something, you're sorry for running into them, please move, anything to get them out of you way so you can just run. The rooms and command center are both in the third floor and that makes it easier, makes it simple for you to take a look at your map as your hand trembles and bring you to your room. It's locked, and you're about to get ready to pry the steel door open before the communicator on your wrist beeps and the door hisses open, and you all but stumble in, the door shutting behind you as you frantically try to figure out how to lock it.
A click and a light turning red is about as good a sign for it being locked as anything, and now that you're alone, you finally allow yourself to relax. Your chains are tightening around your limbs so hard it almost hurts, but you can't stop, like a fist clenched for so long it's forgotten how to relax itself. Your hands are shaking and your legs feel weak, and when you sit down on the bed your stomach feels like it's twisted itself into about a million different knots at the same time, somehow.
Breathe.
You force yourself to start taking deep breaths, in and out, held and released in a rhythm. That calms you enough that you can reach into your coat with shaky fingers and dig out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, and you know that will calm you much more. It takes you three tries to light it, and you hiss as you burn your finger on the second, but the pain is good, keeps you focused, distracts you from everything else. Your first breath of poison is like water in a desert, smoky-sweet vanilla rolling onto your tongue and into your lungs as you hug yourself tighter and shiver on the bed.
She didn't see you.
She didn't see you.
There's still time, still a way out. You'll be late for the briefing but that'll work in your favor, piss off Animusphere and tell her you want to go, submit to the memory erasure, make sure that you put this as far away as possible and never come back, that's how it'll be, that's how it has to be.
You can't be here while she's here.
If your sister knows where you are, if she realises that you're here, she'll drag you back and you can't go back.
Time passes, measured only in burnt fingers from cigarettes held too long and moments stretched out into eternity in the way only panic and fear can do so easily. You don't know how long it is until you hear a rap at the door, hear a voice calling out to you.
"Edward? Edward, are you okay? It's Romani!" Of course it's the medical head. Probably think you've gone crazy. "Please, open the door. I just want to make sure you're okay! You don't have to come out, I can stay in with you if you need!"
What will you do?
[ ] Pretend you can't hear him. Ignore him. Shut him out and make sure your mind is your own, refuse to let anything that could compromise it do just that. You're fragile and you know it, and you need to pull yourself together. You haven't broken down like this in a long time, and if you succumb to the desperate desire for someone else, you could ruin all your progress to fixing it. And who knows? It could be a trick. She could be out there.
[ ] Open the door. Roman's not a magus, he has no way of knowing your history. If he's after you, it's because he's worried. He was friendly and kind and inviting when you were in the medical ward, and right now you need to feel like you're not alone, even just for a moment. You don't have to tell him anything, but if he's there, you know you can use him to feel better, parasite on his company until you're able to control yourself. Then you can work on leaving.
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NeonLights
Formerly Reliable_2IC
- Location
- In shambles
[X] Pretend you can't hear him. Ignore him. Shut him out and make sure your mind is your own, refuse to let anything that could compromise it do just that. You're fragile and you know it, and you need to pull yourself together. You haven't broken down like this in a long time, and if you succumb to the desperate desire for someone else, you could ruin all your progress to fixing it. And who knows? It could be a trick. She could be out there.
supersmall
Possibly a fae. Definitely a witch.
- Location
- inside your walls
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Wow, I wonder who these randos are. Never seen them in my life. Total nobodies. :3c
[X] Open the door. Roman's not a magus, he has no way of knowing your history. If he's after you, it's because he's worried. He was friendly and kind and inviting when you were in the medical ward, and right now you need to feel like you're not alone, even just for a moment. You don't have to tell him anything, but if he's there, you know you can use him to feel better, parasite on his company until you're able to control yourself. Then you can work on leaving.
In Roman we trust.
Sarpedon
Knight Errant
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Open the door. Roman's not a magus, he has no way of knowing your history. If he's after you, it's because he's worried. He was friendly and kind and inviting when you were in the medical ward, and right now you need to feel like you're not alone, even just for a moment. You don't have to tell him anything, but if he's there, you know you can use him to feel better, parasite on his company until you're able to control yourself. Then you can work on leaving.