RP: Lazarus [Lazarus] Unapologetic, maybe

"You miss the old days, don't you?" Sana said, her back meeting the wooden door of their allotted dorm. She eyed the plaster-work of the ceiling -- eyes skimming lower to follow as someone let themselves out further down the hall. She watched the tall dark figure lock their door, hoisting a bag over their shoulder then move down the steps Seiren moments before had flown down.

"What about Rebeka, though?"

"I don't miss the old days, as much as I miss being in space, exploring, exploring via ass kicking. Generally being a belligerent motherfucker across light-years." Miles spoke with a laugh, as his genuinely Nepleslian sentiment spilled all over, though, his thoughts soon went to the woman who shared the face of his fiance "Rebeka... I really think she needs a good kick in the ass, ever since the Maras, she's been too much of a wreck. Only thing that'll put her head back together is to be in the role she was spawned for, whatever that is. From what it seemed though, she was happiest in the command chair, or at the very least, conducting strategic and tactical operation coordination."

There was a deep expression of thought, as Miles cast his eyes down to the waxed, yet still quite scuffed, floor. "She's a good friend, and I'd not let her suffer without a ship to call her home. After all, if I'm feeling so damned stir crazy after Ondine, she must be outright losing it being without a ship... besides..." There was a hush in that moment, as he looked at Sana out of the corner of his gaze; "I don't think she needs to be around this part of space when whatever the hell we've been working on bares fruit, I've got a bad feeling about it."

"And whatever it is..." Sana began. Her shoulders were hoisted slowly as she took a slow breath through her nostrils. She could smell the wet grass outside as watery fingernail pitter-patters of rain drummed against the cheap glass at the far side of the corridor.

Her eyes widened so intensely, taking in the moment as she filled to capacity.

The moment almost lasted forever.

She deflated audibly, eyes steady but never losing the warmth as her shoulders sunk now in a shrug.

" . . . we'll probably be meeting it head on. Like we always do."

Her smile had never left her.

"Right?"

"Right." Miles spoke, there was a resolve in that single word, a resolve that was reserved for the stoic optimism only meant to be used between loved ones, or by those who have the burden of a mind filled with thoughts of 'doing the right thing', and for Miles, that was an ever present spectre, but even with those looming thoughts, he still had a smile on his lips.

"Reminds me, we need to go gun shopping sometime soon." Miles spoke, with that same stoic tone, and for a Nepleslian to speak of gun shopping, without sounding giddy over it, was a clue that they were locked in a dangerous line of thought.

There was a moment, where Miles almost mirrored Sana, breathing deep, almost cleansing himself with the breath of slightly muggy air, before exhaling and giving a shrug. "Worst comes to worse, we just buy the fastest ship we can and go on a honeymoon." that was when the good humor returned, as he decided that Aiesu had been given plenty of time, and with that thought he went to Aiesu's door and gave it a sharp two knocks. "Aiesu, hurry up, daylight is burning."

Carefully, Aiesu squeezed her way through the door.

Looking toward her, Sana's eyes travelled, noticing a thickness in the L'manel's legs -- wearing a more naturally shaped set of prosthetics rather than her functional set. Over them was a rather clever sock or covering meant to replicate skin that she'd seen earlier -- and ontop of that, panty-hose, disappearing beneath Aiesu's reflective black spats and down into a black pair of worn and very tired Nepleslian canvas shoes, a sought-after item on Lor as a symbol of being well travelled. The laces didn't match.
Up top, she dressed quite thickly today: Shirt, tie, a stripe-pattern v-neck woollen sweater (framing her shirt and tie quite nicely, since she had no intention of showing her naked body -- yet she had unbuttoned the top of the shirt and let her tie down just a little).
It was woven from dark and pale grey fabric and adorned with a white decal pattern of some sort resembling a rabbit -- and atop that a long heavy parka coat. She also had what would appear to be a backpack -- a thick brown sack of some sort hanging on string like straps from each shoulder, adorned with smaller pockets.

"Planned ahead, I see?"

"Wh... Its... Cold. What were you expecting?" Aiesu muttered, unable to cross her dusky tired eyes with Sana.

When Aiesu slipped out of her room, Miles looked over and made a quick evaluation of the Lmanel, thinking on her style of dress in relation to the day outside. Two warm layers over a thin layer, a backpack undoubtedly containing an assortment of supplies that would likely never be used. Severe anxiety disorder, resulting in a need for over-preparedness for the purpose of dealing with a multitude of imagined contingencies. Though, there was one more thing that caught Miles' attention; And a desire to be seen as something more than a basket case... that sweater is a quiet hope for better feelings. it was almost a somber thought, as Miles strode over and gave a nod. "Doctor approved attire, I'd rather you not come down with something before we get to work on you. Until then though, Sana and I were thinking you would like to lead the way for a few hours, until the time-slot I reserved at the hospital comes up for our work."

♫ Kiichi "暗黒時代 (The dark ages)"

• ... And the sound of the rain

---

Aiesu held up her index finger, signing the universal for 'wait'. Her other hand fished into her deep dark pockets, producing a broad rectangle of medical paper wrapped in fabric with an ear-loop over each side. A medical mask.

The thing was set carefully over her mouth, careful hands combing through her thick snowy mane to reveal prosthetic ears: flat almost featureless things embedded into the scar-tissue where her own ears once were. The ear-loops were set against a lifted part along the back, making her shuffle to reset her glasses.

Satisfied, Aiesu perilously made her way down the stairs, clutching onto the guide-rail for dear life, expecting her legs to fall under her at any minute as Sana could imagine they had countless times -- though the dorm had no elevator.

Finally, she pulled at the hood of her coat as she buzzed herself out with her door-key and produced an umbrella.

"There's nowhere anywhere in particular for me to go... I-I don't know what you're expecting" she said, those cerise eyes staring through fogged up lenses at the aliens behind her. The umbrella flowered above and with that, her gaze lowered and she turned about - walking out from beneath the dorm building.

Aiesu would negotiate a number of purchases from small quiet market-stalls and shops that wound through repurposed ship-hulls that stood vertically like sky-scrapers and outmoded crumbling parts of the tired sleepy city -- neon and rich beautiful paint-work across what would be meaningless surfaces, breathing life into the place. There wasn't much in the way of money here, but it had soul.

On her journey...

A number of teas, both domestic and foreign.

Hair-dye (black).

Lactose-free milk.

Wet-wipes.

Anti-bacterial Hand-wash.

Medical tape.

Gauze.

Disinfectant.

Painkillers.

Duqs, in a ziploc bag.

All in one shampoo/conditioner/bodywash shower-gel.

Some new books. Others returned, or sold on.

A cheap pair of reading-glasses. She debated contacts silently with herself but decided against it.

A market-stall, sat on a tall stool pouring an assortment of powders, seeds and diced roots into brown-paper-bags and weighing them. The old man was more interested in his news-paper, the place practically operating on a trust-system of sorts.

Aiesu left correct change, after tucking everything into her bag and zipping it back up.

Perfume, which she stared at begrudgingly for nearly five minutes, trying to work out whether she should buy or not, though she tried hard not to make it obvious. The scent was, judging from the aesthetic of the glass case and the kind of advertising around it, male -- and she the only female other than Sana in the store. Her nerves got the better of her. She had to leave.

An ice-cold slush drink of some sort - a deep warm brown in colour that she drank beneath the mask. She needed to cool off -- taking a long slow break -- sat on a soaking wet park bench, watching how the rain fell against her transparent umbrella. Even though it wasn't completely effective - a torn end dripping on her leg, she didn't seem to notice.

Next, some computer-parts which she debated buying - going through her wallet only to find the amount of money on her person didn't quite measure up. She debated going back for the perfume, realising again she couldn't afford it.

And now she stared through a front shop window as she made her way past. Prior, she'd had the blinders on, psychological tunnel vision. But this thing, presumably a replication of something resembling a shimmering gray/wite cheongsam caught her attention - the same colour as her hair, though the almost invisible highlights of washed ink were golden rather than cerise.

She walked by after a short pause.

She couldn't stare at it.

Not long after that, she finally stood before the station -- entering and taking down her umbrella, fluffing the excess water from it as she stared a time-table down -- pale hands tweaking her glasses to make sense of what she saw.

During all of this, she hadn't even looked at, let alone spoken to Miles or Sana and what few attempts had been made, she'd deliberately ignored.

It wasn't special treatment, however; She hadn't spoken to the clerks or shop-owners, either.

There was something special to effectively being someone's shadow, especially when they had the ability to be so isolated even within a crowd, it was an opportunity to get to understand someone better, to see a world almost through the eyes of someone else, a chance to peer through a window and get a glimpse of what made up the life of a person. Following in tow, Miles passively watched Aiesu's actions, where her eyes went, what she lingered upon. It was an insight into the person who he was going to be helping, an insight into just what made up Aiesu, and perhaps, it could be something to help the process of treating her.

Anxious practicality, that was the best way Miles could sum her up, as he watched her purchases add up, and as he watched, he honestly wondered if Aiesu was the kind of person to get on better if she were hospitalized. Though, he knew better, he knew what he saw was the product of a lot of baggage, a sum of burdens which had accumulated during her lifetime, in conjunction with hormones and neurotransmitters being so immensely off balance that it was a small wonder she was not deeply disturbed, that was at least Miles' assessment on sight. Though, there was more to being her shadow than the visual assessment.

As Miles carried out his own bit of shopping, for his own needs, as well as Sana's, there was a steady stream of information that was being streamed from the collar around Aiesu's neck. A laundry list of various statistics regarding Aiesu's biological processes. Metabolic rate, stimuli response, even how often she would swallow to clear her mouth of saliva. So much data was gathered, and tucked away for closer analysis as Miles kept a discrete distance, along with Sana. Sana, who Miles had tasked with stepping into shops to purchase items that he had noticed Aiesu eyeballing, but not committing to out of finance or uncertainty.

Eventually, he had ended up at the station platform along with Aiesu and Sana, as he stood and remained relatively quiet while eyeballing his watch, and speaking to the two women in his company; "We have a Lorath hour before our appointment." he alerted the pair, ensuring that they were not about to end up involved in something which would keep them away from their destination.

"What exactly do you claim to be fitting me with?" Aiesu said, her voice muffled by the mask -- face buried in a book.

Sana leant over, at first trying to pick up the words on the page -- grumbling when she couldn't make heads or tails of it -- and then the cover.

"Isn't this a bit raunchy?"

The L'manel stared back with a soft grumble.

"...I-Its a record of Mishuhuuhfvvfffffpfff--" Aiesu struggled

"--Mishhuvurthyar" Sana corrected her.

"Case-account of contamination and infection" Aiesu spluttered, holding up the cover, hiding behind it.

"That chapter... The diagram tells me its the injection and ... Exchange process. If you're reading that so casually, you've never actually met one, have you?"

"N-No, why would I? I've... Only left Lor once." Aiesu said, though she was thinking of someone.

Sana loomed closer, settling an arm about Aiesu and carefully peeling her hood off. She then took off Aiesu's glasses -- who's small hands pawed for them instinctively. With this, Sana pulled the mask down and set an arm about Aiesu.

"First, they hold you down..."

"W-Wh... H-He--!"

"And then they cover your mouth..." Sana continued, her voice smooth now. Aiesu's eyes slowly widened.

"If you scream, they really love that, you know?"

The L'manel squeezed her disproportionately thick thighs together.

"But this is a topic Miles knows more about than I do..."

"Legs, we're going to fit you with new legs. Maybe some ears if we have time with the printer." Miles explained, before Sana made her move, and began to pick on Aiesu in regard to her choice in reading material. As the two spoke, Miles' ears picked up the conversation, and the topic was enough of one to send his mind back a few years.

There were a few times, Miles could remember, where he had seen the work of the Mishhuvurthyar first hand. Patients lost in a toxin induced daze, guts distended with eggs that eagerly waited to hatch. He could remember the look of the flesh beneath the broad white skulls of the tank-like synthetic organisms, the flesh beneath their skulls bearing the resemblance of ground meat, with a smell that hung about them and their ships that accompanied the look like butter to bread. Writhing tentacles that could rip someone's head off, but were more often used to administer toxins and cram eggs into a helpless victim.

"Yeah, I know about the subject. I've treated patients who have had run-ins with the Mishhuvurthyar. I've seen it first hand." There was a difference that set Nepleslians and Yamataians apart, while the average Yamataian would recoil in horror at the memories which flooded through upon remembering the past, a Nepleslian, like Miles, had the coping mechanism of being a sick bastard. "What makes the whole matter truly depraved, is that the victim is drugged with a cocktail of chemicals, acting on the brain and subverting it so, that when they are crammed full of eggs and tentacle, they are enjoying it more than anything else they've ever experienced." Miles spoke, standing beside Sana, eying Aiesu and the expression upon her face, to see the impact that his words would have upon the shark-rabbit-Lmanel.

The heel of one of Aiesu's prosthetic feet shook against the ground until she set the book back down into her lap and resumed reading -- preferring to be in her own little world for the time being -- turning in on herself.

Sana watched, unimpressed having anticipated emotional fireworks or at least an argument.

"Introversion." Miles spoke, before releasing a sigh and patting Sana on the shoulder. "We'll have to wait until the rabbit wants to come out of her burrow to resume talking to her." and that was the most accurate way to put it too, as Miles looked up to the murky grey sky over head.

"You know, a few hundred years ago, the skies were always like this. From what I've read about the Lorath, when they retook their world, they pumped the skies full of particulates that they used to dim the surface to something around the light levels that we'd see around dusk or just before the sun rises over the horizon at dawn." Miles stated, thinking on the culture that he was going to be dealing with for the foreseeable future, but not just dealing with, but also treating. "Depressing."

A light flickered across Aiesu's headband as she glanced in his direction, then up at Sana.



Each individual letter shook in a lose round shape inside the instant messaging window -- refusing to stay still until she took a deep breath, where they froze and then pulled themselves into proper kerning.

Sana, networked as she was, passed the message on for Miles' benefit exactly how she'd seen it.

"Sure as fuck I do." There was no wounding of Miles' pride or ego, not in the slightest, he knew he tended to chatter away at times, but that was what kept him thinking, as opposed to just brooding quietly on all there was to think on. Something did cross his mind though; She's usually the chatterbox... at least in her constructs. I guess in a way, those serve as her voice to the world.

None the less, there was no sign on Miles' part that he received the message, for the sake of being polite. His optic soon went to the station schedule, spotting the listing for the transport they would need to get back to the university in a timely manner. Five minutes. he thought, as he thought on how to use the time, but, instead he decided to just keep to himself, at least verbally, but there was still Sana to talk to.

"I'm thinking I will add anhedonia to her psychological diagnosis." Miles communicated to Sana, as he thought on just how Aiesu had taken to the market trip, and just how sterile the list of purchases was.

Anhedonia?​

Sana glanced skyward, letting the meaning of the word trickle into her in the secondary fashion that non-intuitive -- that is, memory that wasn't native to her, did.

She often says things to me that she doesn't share with you.
Would you like me to share them in future, dear?​

Her smile was knowing, but more than anything, polite. Aiesu on the other hand was utterly ignorant of the conversation the two were sharing.

Miles thought on the sharing of information, before he decided on the matter.

Those eyes stared back, framed in red. There was no glare. In fact, there was very little of anything.

"Can we go?"

Without skipping a beat, Miles transitioned from communicating non-verbally to his usual interaction, in truth, he could do both without much effort, but to do it without making it obvious was something that took practice. Though, as Miles was about to speak on waiting for the bus, that very vehicle arrived at its stop along the route that ran the route between the market and the university, as it came to a halt with the sound of an air-brake.

"Bus is here, yeah we can go." Miles spoke, as he strode over to the bus, but stepped aside for Sana and Aiesu to go first, with the intent of following up, and as he stood and waited for them, he readied a small bit of local coinage as a tip to the driver. It was a token customary gesture for the Lorath, he knew that much, and he was not about to stiff someone on a tradition.

Aiesu stepped up into the bus, reaching into the inside breast pocket of her coat to flash a pass that hung from her neck on a red ribbon. With that, she gripped the hand-rail to steady herself and took a seat in the front-row -- drumming her fingernails on her hollow prosthetic knee.

Sana followed closely behind, leaving a few small stones and taking a ticket to sit next to her.

Upon being seated in the seat in front of Aiesu and Sana, Miles decided it was time for a smoke break, as he reached into his pocket and produced a metallic case from which he produced an electronic smoking device. He took to the moment for all it was worth, relaxing on the bus as it traveled through the rain-spattered narrow streets of the Lorath city. As the bus traveled, Miles' gaze studied all that they passed. Storefronts, the transitions from concrete walkways to cobblestone paths, the number of people walking despite the rain, the way which trade was crudely painted alongside long-standing Lorath signage. It was a flavor of the people, a sense of stubborn dignity which welcomed what there was to offer in the universe, while clutching an identity that was simply not to be let go. It was a romantic concept, but one which made Miles experience a fleeting moment of somber feelings.

No wonder these people are fixated on bigger guns... my Papa was too when he'd want to keep the scumbags off our lawn, and keep them from tagging our stoop.

As the thought left his mind, the bus left the densely packed commerce-and-housing area, and came to the open several square mile area reserved for the university campus, which provided a clear view of the sky, and the red-hues which leaked through the cloud cover, as light from the Lorath sun was bent through the water vapor overhead.

"Looks like we're here." Miles spoke, as the bus pulled into the side-street that was used for student pick-up and drop-off.