towerofanimus | 2nd Spell

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Entry tags:

2nd Spell

Characters: Tara Maclay and open!
When: July 1st, and then July 3rd
Setting: Listed below
Format: Action or commentspam, I'll copy you
Summary: Today is a day where many things happen. Most of them are awful
Warnings: Death and possibly violence

1. Floor Thirty-Eight
Tara is pacing. She's pacing and wandering around the room, so lost in her own pensive thoughts that this occasionally involves bumping her shin painfully against a table or stumbling against an armchair. But, whenever she does this, it only results in a brief pause in her movement, and she doesn't put the letter down at all, instead simply standing there and reading it again and again and again.

Because she is holding a letter in both hands, and both those hands are shaking, and Tara is reading and rereading it as though each time is the first, and each time makes as little sense as the time before it.

Needless to say, Tara isn't in the right frame of mind to notice people, unless she bumps into them. "Oh! Oh god, I'm, I-I'm so sorry. D-Did I hurt you?"

2. Floor Two
Tara doesn't normally take the elevator in any case, so she doesn't notice that it isn't working to take her down as far as the infirmary. No, the walk down there is peaceful enough, for the tower, which is to say that she only has to strike down a couple of annoying little daytime creatures with a quick spell or two, and manages without having to take very much care to avoid the environmental hazards.

Her first collar check had been an early collar check, on her arrival, a fact she'd been made brutally aware of by some retrieval units dragging her kicking and shouting out of the library. After that, well, Tara had been even less sure of the schedule than she had before and, not being terribly eager to be dragging kicking and screaming from her work, she was taking a walk down to the infirmary just to check whether or not there was a collar check today, and get the indigo liquid in her collar topped up if there was. Ever since learning from Xion that the collars were necessary in more ways than one, she was eager to it topped up.

But, upon arrival, Tara was unpleasantly surprised. The clinic was empty, utterly devoid of the blank eyed, bland workers she'd met there on her last visit. In fact, the place seems completely deserted. Tara fortunately hasn't had to visit this floor more than once, so she has no way of knowing if there are days where it's supposed to be empty. But it still doesn't feel right to her, and so Tara lingers, knife in hand, pacing among the beds and checking the cabinets and rifling through whatever's been left out for her to rifle through.

4. Floor Twenty-Four
Ninety nine percent of the time, this floor is empty.

One percent of the time, it's not.

Tara stumbles as she appears at the far end of the room. The thing makes no sound as it marshals itself, but some hidden, long developed sense of danger makes Tara look up.

Her eyes grow wide with terror. Her mouth opens, but she can't even draw in the breath to scream. Instead, she starts to run, mad, desperate strides bringing her on and on back towards the stairs. If she weren't quite so terrified she would fly instead, but it's been too long without a power boost, and she can't take to the air without pausing for a few scant seconds that she doesn't have.

They're the stairs down, but she doesn't care, she just has to get away.

...and she doesn't.

Tara shrieks in agony as the shadow falls upon her. She prays for help to come or, failing that, for unconsciousness to take her.

No one comes, and it doesn't.

5. Room 2-07, then Dormitory Floor 2
It's two days later that Tara awakes, in agony, in her bed in the room she shares with four other girls. And, for ten minutes, she can't even move to take any action to ease the pain. But any of her roommates that happened to be present will be made aware to Tara's presence, if not by her soft whimpers of pain, then by her voice, faint and exhausted and bewildered.

"It's...i-it's not supposed to...to feel this way. They said..."

But then her words are cut off by a fit of ragged coughs that make her body twitch despite its paralysis, and leaves blood dotting her chin.

It's clear even to Tara that she needs medical attention, with every inch of her skin feeling like it's aflame and her insides feeling as though they were messily chopped to mincemeat before being clumsily reassembled. Who's to say this wasn't the case? But the painless resurrection she's heard so much about has been anything but, so far. So fellow wanderers on the second dormitory level will likely see Tara, limping along, one hand braced against the wall, staring straight ahead with the ragged determination of the exhausted but desperate.

And it's then that she finds that the elevators aren't working. Tara can't help herself, she collapses back against the elevator doors to sob. But she does so standing up. She knows that, as horrible as she's feeling, if she sits down getting back up to haul herself all the way back down to the infirmary will be even more of a hellish effort.

Tara can be found on any floor, after that, making her slow but grimly determined way down the stairs. It's clear that she's in pain, one hand pressed tight over her stomach despite how much pain even wearing her clothes is causing against her brutalized skin. There's blood around her mouth from the cough fits that occasionally seize her body, leaving her doubled over in pain.

But she keeps going. For an emergency like this...and she's sure she counts, even in this place...there has to be a way to get a doctor. There must still be doctors somewhere in the tower. Aren't there?

Back on the second floor for the second time in three days, she finds that there isn't. And then, defeated and in pain, Tara collapses onto a bed and just lays there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He makes note of the aversion to light, to touch-- the female's skin, flushed yet cold and tight under his hand does exhibit a consistent low level of inflammation. Possibly fever due to secondary infection, or a system wide reaction to some trauma.
Fuhito lowers the lantern a bit, impressed that she can move to protect her eyes-- he opens one in spite of her resistance. The pupil is well dilated, the flesh around the eye is puffed and clammy.

Someone, or something, seems to have done some slapdash work on this female-- scrolling through what he knows of the usual suspects he is tempted to hypothesize the Tower itself, or one of its denizens. But perhaps the situation can be remedied in a way that might benefit his research. Yes, a typical human woman-- familiar ground and a good place to begin. At any rate, she seems in no condition to resist.

He checks the holster at his side and rifles through a pack at his hip. He'll have to sedate her, of course. Carrying a weeping, bleeding woman to the Lab in darkness would be a most unwise idea.
He doesn't show her the needle. The sight can cause unnecessary stress, and her eyes are closed in any event.]

Rest now. I'll take you with me.

[Some time later, he sits in near darkness at a table in the Laboratory. His lantern is low, he won't waste light on notes he can easily squint over when he'll need the light far more for his subject. She is nearby. Fuhito has stripped and bathed her, sterilized her skin and the surface of the table to which he's secured her. She's stable, for the moment. He's administered fluids and muscle relaxers, as well as made a preliminary examination. He's gathered his equipment, put on his coverall. When she regains consciousness, he'll begin.

He's a patient man.]

W-What?

[The word barely has time to leave her before the needle slides home. It's one brief pinch against a whirling nightmare of pain, and so goes unnoticed. Tara had been trying to force her eyes open to get a better look at him but, almost immediately, they slide shut again. Raven won't have to wait more than about ten seconds for the sedatives to finish off what exhaustion began.

Consciousness returns slowly. Details filter in just as slowly, her dulled senses not really registering much of her environment besides a cold, hard surface against her back and the pressure of the straps securing her and a dull ache all throughout her body that's a shadow of what she'd been enduring earlier. Tara is much too dazed and disoriented to register just what that might mean.

But when she tries to lift her head to look around, she can't even manage that much. Her body is leaden and unresponsive, just like it had been when she'd woken up that morning, and for a brief, terror filled instant Tara is afraid that she'd died again. But, no, it doesn't hurt. She doesn't hurt. Not as much, just the memory of pain, really, the promise of it for when the sedatives wear off.

Growing anxious as her mind struggles to process all these bits of information, Tara's eyes flicker and rove around the room, taking in the walls, the surface of the table, her own undressed and washed state, and finally her eyes come to rest on Raven and widen in fear.]

W-What...w-who are you?

[Coming to stand at her side, he checks her pulse and pupils once more. He looks down at her, his face impassive.]

My name is Fuhito. I'm a scientist-- a biologist, and a surgeon.

It's obvious that things aren't all they should be in the Tower, its attempt to repair whatever injuries you sustained was less than successful. Given the state of things, I did not think it would be wise to leave you alone in the corridor. I've brought you to the Laboratory, where I will perform a few procedures that should ease your pain and speed your healing.

You are restrained for your own safety, and may find it difficult to speak. I've administered a load of muscle relaxants in order to allow the work to proceed with more ease. I'm unable to anesthetize you, of course, due to my lack of monitoring equipment, but I will make every effort to be as thorough as possible within a relatively small window of time.

[Fuhito adjusts the flow on one of two bags of clear fluid hanging from a stand. He pulls surgical gloves from his pocket and pulls them into place over his long-fingered hands. There is a tray of instruments nearby.]

Let's begin.

[He follows the inflammation under the skin first with his fingers, then with a scalpel. True to his word, Fuhtio works quickly, but he takes as much time for observation as he can and as many samples as he's able. Concentrating on the abdominal cavity (there seems to be nothing compromising the heart), he begins to repair the tissue and organ damage he finds, leaving clean sutures in its place. The drips being administered during the procedure are are fluids and antibiotics.]

[She can't understand what he means by "for her own safety". Tara can't even turn her head away when he checks her pupils again. Even keeping her eyes open so he doesn't have to lift her eyelid requires some struggling against the muscle relaxants.

And then Tara hears the words "unable to anesthetize" and panic sets in, icy and cold and sharpening her mind wonderfully. It will likely be clear to Fuhito, then, that Tara is evidently trying to struggle, but the restraints and the sedatives keep her still.]

S-Stop. D-Don't...

[Hypnotized by fear, she watches him pick up a scalpel, watches him draw it across her skin at just the right place.

There is pain, blessedly muted despite the lack of anesethetic, but there is pain. She watches him draw back her inflamed, brutalized skin, reach inside...and then she feels the sharp prick of the needle, nothing like the claws she'd felt before, but close, so close to it. She knows, on some sensible level, that such procedures might really be necessary to heal the damage done to her, but tears of pain still sting at her eyes and her breath comes in deep, ragged gasps.]

...dream. D-Dreaming.

[She has to be.]

[There is a pause, briefly, while Fuhito's hands move swiftly over some materials on a nearby tray. When he turns back to his ~~subject~~patient, it's to re-check her vital signs and adjust the restraints. He bends his heads slightly to speak to her.]

If you'd like to think of this as a dream, I won't disabuse you. I will sedate you afterwards, so the effect might be similar-- depending of course on the sort of dreams you're accustomed to having.

[Fuhito's expression betrays only traces of his usual dead calm, his dark eyes above his mask give off a deep, magnetic intensity. He feels almost-- grateful to this subject. Such a fortuitous circumstance. His research will benefit, and subverting the twisted, broken will of the Tower provides some satisfaction. Of course, these procedures will benefit the woman as well. He has never seen the charm in pointless cruelty.

Seemingly on impulse, Fuhito passes his re-gloved hand over the subject's face, encouraging her to close her eyes.
Then he picks up a second set of instruments.]

Try your best to restrict your movements. I can compensate, but I would like to keep as tight a clock as possible.

[The minor organ damage and internal bleeding are nearly repaired. Fuhito finishes his work in this are before moving on to take a few biopsies of the lymph nodes in the armpit and groin. While in each area, he'll work on the intramuscular inflammation in those areas, removing damaged tissue and encouraging full restoration of circulation and nerve function. Relatively small procedures, as the damage is widespread, but not systemic. The subject's body should be able to better heal itself without these pockets of infection.]

[And, like a parrot who's just had a cloth tossed over their cage, Tara does so. It's an effort to keep them open in any case. Besides, it's the sight of her skin peeled back like the skin of an orange that's so distressing, more than anything. Tara can't see much more than that, when she can't even lift her head.

Of course, it's painful, having her muscles and such exposed to the open air, but she's been in pain since her moment of waking. It's fast becoming part of life, now. That, in and of itself, does nothing to dissuade Tara from the idea that she's dreaming. Tara's dreams tend to be fairly horrific, in any case - especially since coming here. She's probably just having a nightmare about her death. Only to be expected.

Tara's breathing is a bit heavier, as she tries to use deep breaths to calm herself down and not break down in tears. But she tries to lay still, aware at least on a rational level that jostling someone in his position won't be terribly healthy for either of them. Finally, in a rather distant but slightly calmer tone of voice.]

...h-how bad is it?

[Though time is passing more slowly for Tara, of course, Fuhito is working as quickly as he's able and has made considerable progress. Which is impressive, considering he's been performing procedures that aren't strictly necessary alongside the repairs the subject legitimately needs. Just a few samples, a few tests, nothing permanent.]

It's coming along. Nothing irreparable.
Am I correct in thinking your skin was removed, then-- replaced? That would account for the inflammation, the infection and the fever.

Your internal organs show signs of distress, some minor injuries. I've completed work on the vital areas. If it's scarring you're concerned about, I'll be frank with you. you will have some scarring, but nothing-- horrific. I'm a far better surgeon than that, I assure you.

I'll begin to close shortly. It's essential that you remain still, though you can speak if you like.

[He's pleased the woman seems to be calming. He's always disliked working with distressed subjects.

Having collected an array of fluid and tissue samples (all out of sight, of course), Fuhito will begin to close. He'll use dissolving internal sutures for the subcutaneous layers and flat medical staples for the abdominal skin work.]

[Tara starts to nod, then remembers herself and only murmurs a slightly slurred:] Y-Yeah...removed. I, I-I wasn't there, for the replacing, though, so...I-I wouldn't know, about that.

[Tara tries to force herself to remain still but, of course in doing so, remaining still only becomes more of an effort as a part of her tries to kick through the drugged, broken calm she's built up around herself. Even so, Fuhito shouldn't find it too difficult to close - besides the occasional faint twitch or spasm, Tara obeys.]

W-Who are you? You're...y-you're not with them, are you?

[There is a flicker of a smile, though Tara can't see it of course. Fuhito continues to work as he replies. The muscle relaxers he administered are beginning to lose their effectiveness. It's been hours since he began the procedure.]

Oh, no. I'm not one of the Tower's minions or one of its monsters. My name is Fuhito. In my own universe, I'm an environmental scientist and a specialist in experimental biomechanics. [He is many, many other things, but those descriptors will do for the present.]
Or, rather, I was. I was brought here following my death on my own World.

I would like very much to go back. I'm sure you would as well.
[There is a longish pause as Fuhito completes the closing. Having finished and de-gloved, he leans over the subject once more, opening her eyes with his bare fingers. He seems quietly pleased with what he sees.]

I'm ready to administer the sedative now. When you awake, you'll be in much less pain.
If you've anymore questions, you may ask them now, or reserve them for later. Whichever you prefer.

...not really.

[There's nothing for her, back home. Her girlfriend is dead. She'd ruined any chance of reconciliation with her surrogate daughter by attempting to sacrifice one of her friends to the element of evil. She's learned, since then, that she'd actually been allowing herself to be manipulated into committing further atrocities on behalf of said evil.

There's nothing for her there.]

I'd be happier if my friends came here. [Even if they hadn't seen or spoken to one another in months, she had missed them.

Tara's eye focuses on Fuhito almost immediately as he lifts the lid back, contracting normally as it adjusts to the dim light in the room.]

W-Where am I going to wake up? [After suddenly going from being passed out on the stairs to waking up here, it's a point of concern for her.]

Would you. I see.

[He's not one to empathize with human pain. He'd like to bring an end to Gaia's pain, which would mean an end to the suffering of her human torturers-- but that would only be incidental.
Still, it is difficult for him to imagine that anyone would prefer this prison to their home. How-- odd. Perhaps he'll be able to gather information about any abilities or powers the subject has when she wakes.

Fuhito turns away for a moment-- when he turns back to Tara, there is a syringe in his hand. Fortunately, it is loaded with precisely what he says it is.]

After I administer this sedative, you will sleep for a few hours-- possibly more. I will be here when you regain consciousness.

Then I will escort you back to your room. It would be unwise for you to attempt to return on your own.

[Ready to proceed, Fuhito does so. He gives an extremely smooth shot-- then slightly loosens the subject's restraints.]

["I'll be here when you wake up". What an...oddly reassuring sort of thing to say.

And that's the only thought Tara has time for before the needle slides home. She barely feels it, and she doesn't even notice when, a few seconds later, her eyes slip closed and she passes into the deepest, darkest sleep she's ever experienced. Exhausted and, fortunately, recovering, the girl will sleep for about five hours, barely moving at all. If it weren't for the faint rise and fall of her chest, she'd probably resemble a corpse - especially with the new scar on her torso to match the others.

But, finally, Tara stirs, mumbling sleepily as she crawls slowly back to wakefulness. It takes a few attempts to open her eyes - it's not as though there's much to see, from this position - but, finally, she manages it.]

W-What an awful...

[She tries to sit up, and notices the restraints.]

...n-not a dream.

[Oh, god.]

[Ah, finally.

He rises, coming to stand at the subject's side. Hours have passed, but Fuhito is patient man. He has passed the time in the near darkness, listening to the shift and slide of the things wandering the hall outside the Laboratory doors, his sidearm ready on the table before him.

Having died, and not fearing pain, he is not afraid. But he was watchful nonetheless.

Fuhito checks the subject's vital signs as he answer's her question. He is pleased with the procedure and with the samples he's gathered (now stored away, of course). His tone is almost-- pleasant. Not wanting the subject to disturb her sutures, he doesn't loosen the restraints just yet.]

No. It was not a dream. However, you're recovering well.
How do you feel?

...weird.

[An answer Tara arrives at after some thought.]

I-I mean, I was...skinned, a-and s-something took all my guts out, and, um, and then I woke up, a-and you kidnapped me, and experimented on me, a-and I feel better, so thank you. I mean, i-it all hurts less. Kind of wish you hadn't, um, drugged and kidnapped me, but I, I do feel better.

[In the grand scheme of things, he'd been terribly polite and restrained about having her as a helpless test subject, so Tara somehow has the feeling that complaining too much would be impolite.]

...c-can I get up now? Or would that, um, be bad? W-What floor are we on? I, I-I don't remember a place like this...

[Fuhito raises a brow at the woman's description of her injuries. He almost finds himself smiling-- such manners from a subject. An experience entirely new to him.

He undoes the straps, encouraging the subject to sit up on the edge of the gurney. The room is dark, still. A fresh set of scrubs lies folded nearby.]

Oh, well I wouldn't have wanted to attempt to bring you here to the Laboratory without sedating you. You were delirious. I felt there was danger of your attracting additional-- attention.

Your surgery was challenging, but I'd hardly say it was experimental. I've performed similar procedures many times. In that vein, I will say that you are weak, and will need time to recover, but I will see you back to your room when you feel ready-- there are clean clothes, when you wish to dress.

I'm well armed and quite sure we'll arrive without incident.

Please try to limit sudden movements. You are stable, but have a care for your sutures.

[...that doesn't actually answer her question about where you brought her, Fuhito. Tara is not quite drugged enough to miss that fact, and frowns a bit.

But, then she sees the cleaned scrubs laid out for her, and decides to try tackling this issue first. If she's still not well enough to dress herself, she's certainly not well enough to get back up to her room, let alone try and get any more information out of Fuhito.

Slowly, carefully, trying to obediently avoid any sudden movements, Tara gets to her feet and shuffles towards the clothes. Wincing occasionally as her healing muscles protest and the fact that her skin still doesn't feel entirely right, Tara goes to work getting dressed.]

Does...um, does this happen a lot? I mean, um, if you've done it before.

[Fuhito watches the woman move to dress herself. Not with any lascivious intent, but rather a small surge of professional pride. His good work is there, in her movements. Pained, but no longer broken.

He will answer her questions. She has been helpful, in her way.]

When I lived, I was a scientist-- an experimental biologist, in part. The kind of beneficial exploratory I performed on you is common, in that line of inquiry.

You seem to process pain well. The physical trauma-- do things like this happen a lot?

[Tara has her back to him, as she finishes pulling the top slowly over her head. But she freezes, at the question, which will probably tell Fuhito a bit.

Tara doesn't have much in the way of scars or injuries that can't be attributed to the thing on the twenty first floor. But, depending on how thorough he was in his exploratory, he might have noticed that her left hand had sustained some fairly gruesome damage at some point in the past - the equivalent of, somehow, being put into a hydraulic vice. There had been no healing that, not completely, not with the technology available in her world. It's functional, now, but there's still some evident damage there, she's obviously learned to favor her right hand for reasons beyond handedness.]

...n-not a lot.

But, um, I...I guess the memory just, just sticks with me. After the first time...um, got to adapt, right?

[Of course he had noted the badly healed injury the subject had at some point sustained to her left hand. He had wondered what use she had of it. Were he another kind of biologist, another kind of surgeon, another kind of man, he would attempt to repair the damage with Materia or with his scalpel-- but he is none of those things, still the same, still himself. Still a monster, though that part of himself is sleeping.

He watches the woman's back.]

Yes, adaptation is essential. So is pain, in its way. It is a powerful teacher, isn't it.

What is your name?

[He can't recall the last time he asked the name of another human being. He only does so now out of an unusual kind of mild curiosity. He feels a certain-- interest in his one and only living-- unaltered subject.]

T-Tara.

[With a slightly decisive tug, she finishes getting the scrubs on, pulling the front of it down over the healing suture marks, and the y-shaped scar that's going to stay with her through her next death. Then, still moving gingerly, she turns back to face Fuhito.] M-My name is Tara.

...can we go now? Please?

Yes-- Tara. We can go.

[Fuhito rises (of average height and a with slight build, he isn't physically imposing by any stretch of the imagination) and removes his lab coat. He lifts his weapon from the table and quickly checks its Materia by touch. Everything in its place. The small portable light he hands to his subject. It should serve to decrease her fear-- and also make her the most likely to be picked off by the things that lurk in the dark, should the occasion arise. Not that he would disclose that strategic option. There is no need. He has every intention of seeing his subject back to her quarters safely.]

When you are ready, take a left at the doors. It should take us no more than a minute or so to reach the elevators.

[...there's a very slight frown on Tara's face as she takes the flashlight, probably enough to indicate to Fuhito that she does suspect that he's not telling her something, or setting her up for something. Maybe it's just that he's letting her go first. But, when you've spent most of your life in Sunnydale...well, one gets a sense for this sort of thing.

Even so, perhaps not wanting to push her like, and because at least like this she'll be able to see whatever is planning on trying to eat her before it strikes, she sets off, taking a left at the doors and, indeed, finding that her beam falls on the elevator doors after just a moment.]

...th-the, um, the power's still out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

2nd Spell

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So sorry, I've been ill!

Well, I hope you're feeling better now!

Finally, yes! Thanks for your patience, patient.

o7 No prob, doc!

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