2010-10-31 - La Circe

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"Really, though..."

Leonard Testarossa stands in the middle of the blasted ruins that as once the upper level of Mithril's Merida Island base, turning over a chunk of AS scrap with a polished shoe.

"... even I wasn't expecting a blast radius of this magnitude."

The sound of helicopters drown out 'Mister Silver's' voice as more Amalgam mercenaries arrive. This has been the consistent process throughout the week, cycling soldiers in and out as they secure the area and search the island for anything that has been left over -- machinery, weapons, data.

People.

Leonard's long silver hair wafts in the cold wind as he closes his eyes. "It must have been difficult on her," he muses to himself. "I guess that weapon really was as frightening as she said it was." Slowly, Leonard turns to make his way back to the helicopter--

"Sir! Mister Silver! We've found someone!"

Turning back, Leonard looks down at the incapacitated figure the two uniformed soldiers bring for his inspection. He looks down; his eyebrows lift in a subtle gesture of surprise.

"What should we do with her, sir?"

"... Bring her aboard my private carrier. And be careful with her - she's one of ours."

<>

The island is small -- smaller than Merida. A quaint, tropical place, it is registered as 'uninhabited' in any Federation database or otherwise you might care to look. Though it had been the subject of a minor spectacle when a strange piece of debris collided with the island some months back, it has nonetheless remained unperturbed by human hands.

Well -- save for the ones that live here.

Nestled deep within the island itself, surrounded by lush jungle flora, a grand estate has been built here. The manor is of exquisite design - almost palatial in its own way, like a tribute to self-indulgence. Servants move back and forth here, and though large, many of the rooms go unoccupied -- save for one, today.

A large, accomodating room with a comfortable bed decorated with silk sheets - a room that now serves as a home to one recovering Elenia Weyland.

Elenia has a surreal period as she starts waking up, a time of unreality and distortion. It is very much like travelling through three stages of brain damage in reverse, and that is quite accurate - for that is what it is. The integrated whole of the human brain can be imitated, but not precisely duplicated. The autonomic functions kept going, as always.

First to return in the sense of vision and taste, the coppery tang of blood from where she'd bit her tongue. Then after a lengthy interval, the temporal sense. Emotional regulation teeters for a moment. Her eyes open, unfocused.

She raises her hands, and only one of them comes up. The pang in her side from where several ribs were crushed by a falling object hits her then, and her eyes water. (Strangely, the prosthetic lung saved her from deeper penetrations - it got stuck, fully inflated and puncture-resistant, keeping the floating bone shards from digging in deeper.)

She sits upright, cautiously. She feels at her right side with her left hand, touching bandaging gingerly and the temporary sealant socket over where the prosthetic arm had been. It feels neatly done, and it's quiet here.

She exhales. "Well, at least it's not /prison/," she murmurs to herself. Her voice is nearly a croak.

It takes a while, for her to recover. But that's only to be expected. The care here is the best money can buy, both legally and not, but even that can't account for the rather unique way Elenia is... assembled. It will take time, regardless.

But time is something that they have plenty of.

Elenia awakens. Though she goes undisturbed and unperturbed as she assesses her situation, she is not alone. Recovering her sense of awareness as she is, she might not even notice until--

"Well, thank you for that," a smooth, calm voice speaks up beside her.

Sitting there, like a relative or a loved one waiting on the one they care for to recover, is Leonard Testarossa. Dressed up in a fine gray-violet vest, a white button-down dress shirt, tassles and black slacks, he looks like something out of a Victorian age as he offers Elenia the calmest and most considerate of smiles.

"I'd like to hope my home didn't feel like a prison." A pause. Leonard turns his attention back to something in his hands - a simple newspaper.

"Good morning, Mister Thallium," he finally says, speaking a name he should not rightly know belongs to Elenia as calmly as ever. "Though I guess 'Miss Weyland' would be more appropriate in casual company. We were pretty worried about you for a while there."

Elenia is unsure what she's wearing. The presence of Leonard is a surprise on its own right; she pulls the coverlet up out of reflex with her singular current hand, before relaxing, gradually.

She sniffles for a moment, which is perhaps defensible in the current situation. "I regret the... difficulties. I apologize also if I have insulted your home." She reaches up - and pushes back some hair, which is a relief. It is a minor project to keep it all together enough in the best of situations.

"How long have I been dead to the world?" she asks, then, settling back (if not to an entirely flat-on-back position) against the pillows.

Elenia is decent. She'll likely find she's wearing some nice pajamas -- possibly a little small for her, but they do what they can with what they have. Leonard is at least superficially a gentleman.

"Hm? Oh, don't worry about it," Leonard says with a kind smile, looking back from his paper towards Elenia. He doesn't seem to have a care in the world -- especially odd considering his organization just blew up his sister's house. "I'm just glad to see that you came through safely. You have quite the interesting body, though -- it probably saved your life."

There's only a mildly teasing hint in his voice there.

But still, when Elenia asks her question, Leonard does not respond immediately. Instead, he folds up his paper, and tosses it her way so it can land neatly in her lap, face up, displaying the date: October 31, NCA 120.

"... About a little less than a week," Leonard explains finally, turning his attention to the hutch at the bedside to pull a cup of coffee to his lips. "We found your body in the rubble. You should feel lucky, Ms. Weyland. You were one of only two confirmed survivors we found afterward." He pauses, to sip his drink.

"I guess this is what a humanist might call a 'miracle'?"

Elenia lets out a dry chuckle at what she has opted to interpret as flirtation. "I'm quite proud of it. The old model was a bit ragged." Of course, she is still majority flesh. But it is not a terribly decisive majority.

"Mm. Who was the other?" she asks, before turning her head towards Leonard with a slightly sly smile. "I am not so sure. I had gone down to their command center to retrieve some equipment before departing; I suspect you found me safely because the structure was so reinforced."

She reaches out with her other hand towards - thin air, apparently. It must be some old reflex action. "What did you end up doing, anyway? A N-2 weapon? I hardly could tell; the last I remember was going into their command center and finding, well... the lights were on, but nobody had been left home."

A measured smile tugs at the corners of Leonard's lips as he sips his coffee. "It fits you, I think. I couldn't imagine what you would be like without it -- a woman looks best when she embraces her nature." Another sip. "And change is always good." But --Who was the other?

"A partner of mine," Leonard says, with utmost ambiguity.

"Though it's a bit of a more recent arrangement."

"The underground levels of Merida are very strong. Even that weapon couldn't have affected them too dramatically. We were betting on that fact, at least." Which means they need Merida intact for something. But then -- it isn't like Elenia is completely in the dark about these things.

Some other things, though... His brows lifting at Elenia's apparently kneejerk reaction Leonard tilts his head to the side. "Is everything sorted out? We had both physicians and technicians take care of you, but I'll admit even they had a hard time figuring everything out. You're a complex woman, Ms. Weyland." A pause. The weapon...? An N-2 weapon. Leonard closes his eyes and smiles.

"'Lost Life Phenomenon,'" is all he says at first. "Have you heard of it? Maybe not; it was an event that was slightly eclipsed by the Second Impact, but it was no less noteworthy itself. It was an explosion that completely wiped out a city in Venezuela. I'm sure most chalked it up to the Second Impact, but...

"That weapon, Kiribito Zai, caused it.

"If you want to put a simple label on it, think of it as a release of highly compressed psychokinetic force. The Kiribito Zai uses a substance called 'Alpha' to supplement and enhance the discharge, but an incredibly powerful psychic is necessary to even cause a spark large enough to create it. One of our affiliates had both the weapon and the pilot necessary to achieve the effect." Leonard sips his coffee again.

"It was pretty serendipitous, don't you think?"

Though his voice seems devoid of any emotions to gauge his own opinion on the matter.

Leonard's words are ambiguous, but Elenia has run into that habit before. She breathes out firmly through her nose. "Yes. Do you have any cigarettes laying about?" Tsk tsk, addictive behavior.

Her head tilts. "I'd heard the phrase. I had not heard of the origin. It reproduced itself on Meridia, then, did it?" She straightens a bit further upwards, frowning slightly. Kiribito sounds a bit like the name of a DC support weapon she's used. She does nod, guardedly, at the origination point of it. "Related to the Balmarians, perhaps? I'm told they've some connection with psychokinesis, but it was as yet unproven."

Her stomach rumbles slightly, which causes her to cough. "It's remarkable, yes, but psionic science has made great strides in my lifetime. Was the pilot or the weapon consumed by the - effect?"

Cigarettes?

Rather than answering outright, Leonard merely gets up out of his seat and walks away from the bedside. Even as Elenia speaks, he moves to a cabinet towards the southern corner of the room, opening one drawer, closing it, then another.

"Hmm. It's possible they could trace their origins back to the Balmarians, but the kinds of psychics utilized in Jinkis are not conventional types. 'Cognates,' I think they call them. Similar to Psychodrivers, but... not." He opens another drawer, fishes around inside, and then withdraws, looking back toward Elenia with a faint, bemused smile.

"It seems like you're waking up enough for your body to realize you're running on empty," he says almost chidingly, before he tosses something lightly Elenia's way - a carton of cigarettes; Leonard is a thoughtful sort of man, after all, for good or for ill.

She speaks more, but Leonard's expression never wavers, even when Kiribitos pilot is brought up. His lips part, and-- "Cigarettes probably don't make for a very healthy breakfast, though," he says instead, walking toward the door. "And a woman should be able to enjoy the occasional breakfast in bed. I'll get have the chefs make you something. Any preferences?"

Eventually, though, he stops. A hand slips into his pocket as he looks back Elenia's way. "... The pilot is still intact, though prolonged usage of that sort of a weapon will no doubt inevitably cause irreperable strain on her mind. There's only so much even an abnormal human's mind can take." His tone is still calm, still neutral as he says this, his expression impossible to read before he looks back toward the door.

"I assume you're the one who Tessa caught her smoking habit from? She always did need someone to look up to in her life."

Elenia says, thoughtfully, "I haven't heard the name, but if there's only a half dozen of them I'm not surprised." She is unaware there is another sort of special psychic, about as rare, that she is in the presence of, and when the carton of cigarettes is tossed towards her, she lets out a sigh.

She reaches over to collect a water glass, drawing one out, lighting it and blowing smoke towards the ceiling. As she tucks up her legs, she says, with a slightly wry smile, "Scones and clotted cream and some bacon. Oh, and a mimosa." It's juice, therefore...

After another almost greedy drag, she continues. "So she's with you, then? I suppose then you would need to be cautious with how you use her. What does the damage end up like?" Her tone has a faint air of disapproval, but then she has tended, in meetings, to vote against various human enhancement projects, usually on the grounds of it being more useful to spend that money on improving the machines. This has, of course, not always been successful.

Then, she looks slightly sheepish. "Yes, I suppose so. It's relaxed her quite a bit, though." Another plume of smoke off towards the ceiling. "They've been able to do lung baths since 32, I don't see why there's still any sort of problem with it."

(This message brought to you by Space Tobacco, Consolidated.)

Leonard only smiles again at Elenia's requested meal, silent as he opens the door and hangs outside the room. He looks to a simple-looking girl -- about his age, with short blonde hair and horn-rimmed glasses, and flashes the faintest of grins. "It seems our guest is hungry, Sabina. Scones and clotted cream, and some bacon -- and a mimosa."

Sabina quietly quirks a brow. Leonard smiles apologetically.

"Now don't judge, Sabina. I hear it's a very popular drink for brunches."

"... Right away, Mister Silver."

The door shuts again once Elenia speaks up. Leonard tilts his head to his right, before lifting his shoulders in something of a helpless shrug. "'With me' isn't quite right. She belongs to an organization known as Angel -- as I understand it, their purpose is the eradication of extraterrestrial threats." He pauses here, before adding, pointedly, "Unfortunately, I have little say in how they choose to treat their pilots. Their director can be a fairly ruthless woman when she wants to be."

Though whether he approves of it or not either goes unsaid.

However... when Elenia speaks again, Leonard moves. He takes his seat at the bedside again, turning his head to regard the black surface of his coffee thoughtfully. "It's fine. She should have indulged in at least one vice. She was always an awkward kind of girl." The tenses he uses might seem off, even if his tone is still that even, level calm.

"... Though I guess it's not much of an issue anymore." But the way Elenia is speaking-- he considers, brows furrowed faintly.

"Do you know what happened to Tessa, Miss Weyland?"

Elenia has nearly finished the cigarette. Addictions are rather amazing things. She carefully ashes it out into the cup, setting it aside - some distance, where hopefully she will not hilariously try to drink from it. "I see... sounds a bit like NERV," she murmurs, crossing one leg over the other.

Her eyes darken slightly at the question. "She had told me to evacuate," she says. "I believe that they were making use of the latest build of my GUNTRON, I apologize for that by the way, but it was under autonomous control. She was heading for one of their evacuation ships - I did not want to leave my equipment, sooooo I went to get it."

She puts her left hand on her hip, her right bare shoulder lifting upwards slightly. "And we can see how well /that/ went."

Like NERV? "Yes, I suppose that wouldn't be too far from the truth." He lets his words and thoughts drift here. Aoba Tsuzaki... they were pushing her rather hard now, weren't they? He'd have to talk to her, after all this is over.

"Oh, no need to apologize. I'm sure it couldn't be helped," Leonard says with a dismissive sort of kindness. "According to the files I read, it didn't hinder the plan's schedule by much. Really, as long as the Zai remained in tact, there wasn't much they could have done."

Not even Tessa. His gaze softens as Elenia speaks, looking at that shoulder. "And you'll have to accept my apologies for that as well, on behalf of the rest of Management. Then again, the rest of them really had no way of knowing you'd be there. I'll pay for the replacement and repairs. After all, it wouldn't do to have you leaving this place without being whole and healthy, would it?"

But, he's avoiding the main point. Gray eyes look toward the window beyond, his lips pulling into a neutral line. "As I said, we only recovered two living people. My partner - the man we recovered - was supposed to have brought Tessa with him. But something happened." He remembers Kalinin, nursing a self-treated wound, looking as coldly neutral as always--

"My partner had been shot. I assume Tessa actually managed to surprise him, possibly when the Lost Life Phenomenon occurred. When we arrived, there wasn't any trace of her, but we did find blood that matched her DNA where we found the other survivor." In other words--

"The most reasonable explanation is that Tessa was shot, and died during the Lost Life Phenomenon."

"Mm," Elenia says. She looks rather saddened.

She says, with a wry chuckle, "Yes. And... I see." She purses her lips for a moment, looking at Leonard with a great deal of firm control in her face.

Inwardly, her stomach is sinking downwards. Dead, she thinks. Her shoulders sag slightly, which she can't control. She does not burst into tears; she does not even sob. She does not speak, either, for a few long seconds, gaze going down to her bedspread. "Then... I suppose that is that, then. I am - sorry. I don't know your relationship, but I suppose it was complicated. If there is anything that I can do for you--"

She's sorry?

"Don't be," Leonard says with the faintest of smiles. Unlike her, there doesn't seem to be any trace emotion of sadness bleeding into his features. Maybe he's simply gotten all those emotions out of the way already. Or--

"Tessa was always a weak girl," Leonard Testarossa considers, his voice more sympathetic towards Elenia than it is even remotely sad. "She could never fit in with the other children our age. She relied on me quite a bit, then. I had hoped she would have become more independant by now, but..."

He looks back, smiles, and shrugs. It might almost seem dismissive, or insensitive.

"... I'm glad she at least got to experience some kind of human life before she left this world." There is a particularly odd emphasis on 'this'; before it can really be answered, though--

"I often wondered what Tessa's life might have been like if she was born normal. If she wasn't thrust into an abnormal situation she shouldn't have had to deal with." Silence.

"... Your meal is probably ready by now, Miss Weyland. I'll go see to it. In the meantime, you should relax. That sort of expression doesn't do justice to your particular brand of beauty."

Maybe it's iron control. Elenia would not be terribly surprised. She listens to Leonard's judgment; the disagreement is not, at least, written on her face. It is she supposes an understandable judgment /to/ make - in a way, she is rather relieved by all of this, as it would have been...

... awkward, to propose her for membership in a year or two.

"Mm," she says at Leonard's remark. "Well, we all make the best of what we have." With that she settles back against the cushion, letting out a breath and looking up at the ceiling.

Breakfast, she thinks, her tone internally somehow sour. She managed to make it out, but not Tessa. It feels wrong, but why? It's philosophically foolish. But, she reasons further, there is no reason not to feel regret for the loss of another.