• Closed • Invictus (Anomaly, please)

[Faith Augustin]

Ymiden 60th, Arc 716

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit, from pole to pole,
I thank whatever Gods may be,
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced, nor cried aloud.
Beneath the bludgeoning of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Looms but the horror of the shade.
And yet, the passing of the years,
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gait,
How charged with punishment the scroll.
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

Faith was in the clutches of a dream that was not quite a Nightmare but which was uncomfortable and unclear. She had been having tea with Mrs Witherspiddle, a one-eyed doll who had told Faith that her hat was not to standard and so she could not enter the cage. Faith didn't mind, because the cage had this enormous three-headed lion in it which had been chewing on Jamal. She didn't think that Jamal was going to like that, really, but Faith couldn't really do anything about it. As the lion chewed on him, Faith watched almost dispassionately. He shouted and he screamed, but Faith couldn't hear him. That was alright, though, she considered, because if she'd been able to hear his shouts then it would have really disturbed the ice cream. The ice cream was sleeping just over there, where the bodies were usually kept and if Jamal shouted too loudly then it would melt. And somehow that all made sense.

It wouldn't have made sense, she was sure, if there was any colour in this world. But as Mrs Witherspiddle slipped away and Faith's tea party was ruined, she realised that the world was entirely black and white. There was no sound and there was no colour. What exactly was going on, she wondered. It was not like she understood any of it and in the dream the slave girl who slept on the floor of the undertaker's shop mumbled and let out a low groan of pain and confusion.

Because the lack of colour hurt her ears and the lack of sound made her eyes bleed.

But as the tea party with Mrs Witherspiddle faded into the black and white, Faith realised that she was somewhere that she knew. Athart. That place where she was born, where she was trained. Where she had been broken and taught her place. But this was not the Athart that she knew. This was not the stark and clean and clinical place where she had wept and bled and had all the fight taken from her. This place was beautiful. Truly beautiful.

And there, there was a woman who was heavy with child. And a man who stood by his wife, holding on to her arm. There were healers and ... She looked around and wondered where her owners were. Because this life that she was watching, these people that she saw made no sense. It was all too rich, too decadent. Too...

where were her owners?

where was Jamal?

where, come to that, was Mrs Witherspiddle?

And what was her place here?
What was she doing?
And who stole the colour and the sound? If she could get those back then maybe her bleeding would stop...

[Anomaly]

Silence had an especially deafening quality to it when you indulged in it to the point of excess, mercilessly weighing down on one's conscious mind and drowning out all the defiant thoughts that clung to the borders of the mind---in this world surrounding Faith, it bore down without Mercy or Compassion, nipping at her core intrusively as if trying to claw her to shreds from the inside out, sucking the air out of her lungs and---propelling her forward, stumbling into the room with heavy steps that sounded so loudly through the silence that she felt her mind vibrating inside her skull, tossed about by the tremor caused by her own footsteps. Even still, they continued as Faith felt her body moving forward, still, every footfall louder than the next. The pain dampened with every step but struck against Faith's mind so hard that she felt compelled to grip her head for comfort, but her hands would not obey, one reaching within her coat and fumbling for something cold and metallic whilst the other crampingly held on to a warm---somewhat slick with sweat---leather strap by which she carried a bag that felt too heavy for just one hand, but...

The desperation surged through her chest, and by the time she started to realize what was happening, the scream of the woman pierced through the barriers to her mind, taking her by surprise. The silence was no more, and Faith felt... lighter, strangely, as if a great weight had been lifted from her mind. No longer moving, she felt herself washed over by a wave of cold, a man staggering through her and into her field of view. Older, perhaps in his late fourties judging by the grey thrown in to the dark hair adorning his head, though it was difficult to tell for certain with the lack of colour adorning him and everything around him, the room still flecked in naught but black and white and shades inbetween. The man carried a heavy-looking bag with various instruments jutting out the top, his dirty leather coat loosely sagging off his figure and sliding further down his left shoulder as he elbowed his way past the healers surrounding the shrieking, trembling woman laid out on a low table, her husband desperately holding on to her in an effort to ease her suffering but to no avail. While the silence had been lifted, Faith struggled still to make out what people were saying around her. Their voices were muffled by the static filling her mind, likely as a result of the pain she'd felt just moments prior---Though... A sudden realization struck her.

Where was her body?

Though she'd felt it just now, she couldn't feel it any more. Any effort to move her limbs came back with no response and she couldn't turn her head to look down, gaze set forward at the scene as it unfolded, healers passing through her field of vision and 'her' as they were shoved aside by the man she could only assume... she had been embodying up until she'd heard the woman's scream.

Had she been laying down before? And why was she suddenly in pain?

"Nothing's happening..."

The woman's husband spoke up, white-knuckled hands crampingly holding on to his wife's hand, squeezing it as if his own life depended on it. He looked up at the man in the coat, eyes desperate and afraid. It was the look of a man on the cusp of hopelessness, completely helpless and powerless before the situation he'd been thrown into---and, it seemed, the man ahead of him had the answers, or so he prayed. With every fiber of his being, he prayed that the man in the coat had the answers and a solution to what was happening.

"Why is nothing happening?"

The man in the coat said nothing, simply setting down his bag with a heavy thud that rung in Faith's mind, the clatter of metal inside enough to throw the other healers off, some of them drifting away from the woman and the man watching over her, now. Faith couldn't see him very well from her current vantage point---he had his back turned to her, but she could hear his breathing... heavy, strained, with a subtle wheeze that was almost imperceptible but Faith could hear it, clear as day. It carried itself past everything else, echoing in the room, and yet... the woman's husband continued to stare at him, ever pleading.

!	Message from: Anomaly
	Feel free to move around. Upon trying, Faith will discover that she can hover about the room if she desires, though her gaze will always focus on the woman at the table even if she circles around them. You can change your vantage point this way, however, if you desire. I hope this is still possible for you to respond to.

[Faith Augustin]

Ymiden 60th, Arc 716

Where was her body?
That wasn't right. It wasn't how it should be, most certainly.
Normally, she was quite sure, she had a body.
She used it almost all the time, for lifting things, cutting up food, scratching... all sorts, really, she considered.
And now it wasn't here and more and she thought that she was going to quite miss it.
One didn't really appreciate things until one didn't have them, she supposed.
And she should know better, because she didn't have things, so she should *really* appreciate them.
Oh. Maybe that was it.....

Maybe Jamal was teaching her a lesson!
He did that, sometimes. Her first owners had changed her name regularly, she remembered.
Sometimes, every trial
"I don't own anything except what they give me" she said.
But no sound came out and she chuckled at that (that worked... how did that work)
How could she make sound when she didn't have a body?

Where was her body?

And then, she tried to move (why, she thought, oh why did she insist on trying to use things she wasn't allowed to have....) and in that she realised that she couldn't. Which made it difficult, because she wanted to blink.

Just like when Yana had come to the shop
holding open Faith's eye..
she remembered that, the sting of the embalming ointment on Yana's finger
as she had held it and her eyes had poured water.
But she hadn't flinched.
She didn't flinch now.
Can't flinch with no body!

But all of that worry of whether her eyes would water when she didn't have eyes right now (and yet she could see....) ended the moment that someone walked through her. Literally, through her it felt like, like maybe she wasn't even really there. Right through her.

how rude!

"Nothing's happening" he said and Faith had to agree. She'd have nodded if she had a head, or the means to control it. But things seemed to be happening for the woman and Faith watched, intrigued, at the way that the husband held on to her hand. Like they ceased to be two people and were, in fact, now one person joined together. Did it feel that way to love, she wondered, to be that person who sought out another for warmth and reassurance? Like you were two people until you touched hands and then you were one. That might be it.

How was it that she was in pain,
when she had no body?
OW... hurts. It hurt.
Or had it hurt a moment ago
and now it was all alright again?
No. Hurt

The man, the doctor. Doctor, yes, like the nice doctor lady, Levinia. She had been nice, had shown Faith how to cut a corpse for an autopsy. She had been kind, too, although she'd been horrified at slavery. Strange, that a person who was a doctor didn't understand that she was meat. Or she had been, when she'd had a body. Was she still a slave now that she didn't have a body? Hmmm. Maybe she'd been autopsied, that might be it. But his breathing was so strange. And yet the man....

are you my husband? she wondered. Probably not.

...the man who was holding the woman's hand stared and stared at him. Her husband, he looked desperate and hopelessly at the doctor and Faith saw the look in his eyes as he sat there, holding his wife's hand. The doctor put down his bag.....

with a loud clang that hurt her not-ears....
ringing in her not-head.
Not good, not good.
Not good

...and he kept on not saying anything. Yet the husband was looking at him pleadingly, desperately. Who was this doctor? Faith wanted to see, to see his face. You can find out such a lot from the face and Faith wanted to find out if he was a good man....

it might be Malcolm.
He was a good man.
He taught her about things and he was kind

...or he might be a bad man. Or a neutral man or a nowhere one. But she wanted to see his face.

Malcolm had a nice face

So she tried to.. be, there. Over there where the doctor was and where she could see his face. Who was he? Was he..

Malcolm?

..going to do his job or just stand there wheezing? She felt anchored to the spot, yet free of physical restraints. It was most bizarre. She wished that someone would hold her hand. It would be nice, just once, to feel like someone was comforting her. That must be nice, nice indeed. Nice and comforting and just... something that she couldn't manage without a body.

So, who was this doctor then?

OOC

Hope the way I've done that makes sense and is ok. I wanted to get across that Faith is kind of all over the place and stuff. Apologies if it's naff!!

[Anomaly]

It was the strangest feeling one could imagine. An eerie sense of familiarity, as the situation in front of her escalated rapidly.

The man in the coat, the doctor... He had a strange face. Warped by fatigue and the years gone by, grey hairs in his newly shaved stubble that circled his lips and cushioned his gnarled nose and even more gray strands flowing through his disheveled mane. Unruly and unkempt, he was hardly the sort of man you'd think of when you imagined a doctor. All the joy for his trade had been washed out of his brown and ever distant eyes, burrowing into the lady laid bare on the table in front of him---burrowing so deeply that they drilled through her, as if unable to acknowledge her presence before him despite her agonized cries to follow the violent convulsions of her body.

Her husband continued to plead, crampingly holding on to his wife's hand. But his words fell on deaf ears, the doctor moving without a sense of urgency as he withdrew obscure tool after tool from within the trenches of his coat before reaching for the heavy bag he'd carried with him. It seemed strange and out of place even for someone with no practical knowledge of medicine... Clearly, the woman was about to give birth, so what were all these tools for? They were instruments you'd see in a slaughterhouse, nowhere near a woman on the verge of delivery.

The screams wouldn't die down.

Something was wrong. It was abundantly clear, and yet... Why was the doctor not doing anything about it?

Then came a sudden moment of silence as the woman stopped to catch her breath, everyone in the room seeming to hold theirs in anticipation---until the doctor turned, eyes resting calmly upon Faith. Could he see her? Rather than look straight through her, as would perhaps be expected... He met her disembodied gaze and offered her a weary smile, a hand extending towards her to touch a finger against her chest. His touch sent chills through her body... Her body. When did it appear? Had she actually been standing here the whole time?

"Water."

His voice came as raspy as his breath. Beneath the wear and tear of many years, there was still a certain softness to it.

"Please. Go. Get water."

!	Message from: Anomaly
	Feel free to be creative.

[Faith Augustin]

Ymiden 60th, Arc 716

He looked a little bit....
scruffy no, she shouldn't think that
It wasn't right.
He was free.
But he did look scruffy.
Weren't doctors supposed to be clean?

And it wasn't just that he was scruffy.
He had funny eyes. Not beautiful.

Malcolm has such beautiful eyes

Eyes that seemed to almost pierce the woman there.
Maybe he was hurting her?
Was that why she cried out?

Oh, no, she was crying out because of the tools. Oh that made sense to Faith. They were tools for torture, she knew. She had seen them before, felt the touch of others, or those that looked very similar. They were not medical tools, surely and if she could but speak then she would have asked what he was doing? Was he here to help the woman or torture her? She didn't know and she wasn't sure what was happening.

Help her!
You have to help!
Oh, for Famula's sake can't you hear me!?
She's in pain and you're not helping!
Why aren't you helping?
Help her
Help

Oh this was just frustrating, why didn't she actually speak? She spoke, but didn't speak and nothing came out just a movement of her mouth, which was no help to anyone at all and Faith felt frustration building inside her. She just wanted to help and this man wasn't helping and he should be. Why? Why didn't he listen? Could he not hear the woman's screams? They wouldn't stop, endless screams which just...

Oh.

Silence.

That was odd. And strangely disturbing too. But nice. It was nice. Silence, quiet, yes, nice. Her brain was ticking over faster than she could keep up and the dream around her was so real that it was confusing and disquieting all at once. She tried to pull herself together, to take stock of what was happening in the silence that occurred.

"Can you see me?"
It looked like he could see her.
He was looking at her, certainly.
"Can you hear me?"

And then, he touched her. His cold hand,
On her chest.
Ewww.
Oh that was cold
cold?
How could that be?

And then, all at once and always there was her body and she spoke "Yes, water" she said and she turned around to go and get some. Moving over to where there was a jug and bowl, she brought over both and spoke again "What is it that we are going to be doing, Doctor?"

Master
Should I call him Master?
Am I a slave here?

Glancing down at her arm, she saw no brands, which was unusual. She had never seen the skin of her arm flawless before and she frowned.

Malcolm would never see her skin.
Flawless or not.
But he had scars - he didn't mind scars.
They were like a map of life, she was sure he thought that.
Of course he did. Because he was good.
Good and strong and beautiful.
And she was his, in her heart.

That was what it would look like if she had no brands. Interesting. But still, that answered that question. "I have the water, Doctor, what are we going to do? Why do you have all those tools are we doing something with them?" she asked and she turned to the man who was holding his wife's hand, "Try not to worry, the doctor is a very good doctor and I'm sure that everything will be alright"

Why did she sat that? She wasn't really sure, but she wanted to help this man and the woman who lay next to him, she felt that she should and more than that, she wanted to. She wanted everything to be alright, so she said it would be. Would it be? Well, in truth, Faith wasn't sure and she was still shivering from where he had touched her and woken her up. That was what it felt like, anyhow. But she wanted it to be alright, and so she looked back to the doctor with the gnarly face and soft voice.

"What do you need me to do, Doctor?" she asked, completely in character, completely in focus and totally believing the situation she was in. She was the assistant to this Doctor and thoughts of Malcolm, her slave status, everything simply fled as she realised that she just had to keep going. To help. To assist. In summary? "How may I serve best?"

[Anomaly]

The man seemed to smile at her as she turned around to fetch the bowl and pitcher in the corner of the room, though he turned back to his endless fiddling with the strange-looking tools as he waited for Faith to return with what he'd requested of her. The woman was still catching her breath, her chest convulsing hopelessly as her lungs struggled to fill with air, hand grasping at the air like she was grasping for the surface of a pond, the occasional gasp escaping her with her husband quickly bounding to his feet to push her down against the table, hands firmly on her chest, to knock what little air remained out of her lungs and force her to breathe again.

And she did, with a hissing shriek to boot. The doctor seemed perfectly unphased by this, turning around very simply to take the water from Faith once she returned. "Thank you," he uttered quietly as he set both down beside the tools that had been lined up next to the table. "Don't worry. This isn't unusual. I will guide you through this, every step of the way."

He turned again to Faith to give her a weary, yet warm smile. It was all he could do to lift her spirit and prepare her for what was inevitably to come.

Faith's words seemed to hit home with the husband, still hopelessly trying to appease his wife. His attention tore momentarily from the shrieking woman next to him, brow creased and dripping with sweat with a pair of wide, icy blue and piercing eyes staring straight into her, acknowledging her existence for the first time. His gaze met hers when she spoke, and the weight that fell off his shoulders was almost visible to the eye as his shoulders fell and his jaw slacked, his whole body dropping back into his seat next to his wife, hands clasping one of hers and making an effort to gently stroke around her wrist---but not before he offered Faith the briefest look of gratitude, as if her presence alone had put him strangely at ease. ... Even still, his wife seemed to be in no less pain than before, but his attitude had completely changed.

"It's about to begin," the doctor said, reaching to place a hand on Faith's shoulder. "Step around the table and stand by her head, if you please."

[Faith Augustin]

His eyes are beautiful
So pale and ice blue
He is the only person I've met with eyes like mine
How strange

Breathe! She needs to breathe!

Breathing is important! Breathe!

"Yes, Doctor. I will do my best to assist"
That was right, wasn't it?
They'd done this before. Danced this dance.
Hadn't they?
No time to think of such things now. She had a job to do.
Always.

When the doctor smiled at her, Faith smiled back, her own silver-blue eyes calm and trusting. It was alright, she knew, it was going to be what it was and panic most certainly would not help. She would not lose her cool, that was no help. She prayed a fervent prayer to Famula that she might retain her sense of calm and serve this doctor, this man, this woman and the child still to be born the best way that she could.

"But those tools
I know them
I've seen them
I think I've felt their touch!?
What am I thinking?
Who Am I?"
But the thought was gone from her dreaming mind
As quickly as it had come.
And again, it all made sense. She smiled back at the man

"Yes, Doctor" she said, nodding to the doctor and grateful for the contact of his hand on her shoulder and moved to stand at the head as instructed. She stood, her hands moving automatically to stroke the woman's forehead. "Shhhhh, it will be alright. Can I give her some pain relief, Doctor?" she asked, motioning to where the leaves which provided such were in his bag. In the waking world, Faith knew about medicine, having learnt some from Lord Venora and learnt more from books and assisting in autopsies and being in the aftermath of battles. So, the role of physician's assistant was one which made sense to her head.

"If you stand there, sir, so that the Doctor is not hindered, that's right, thank you." she said and then she turned to the doctor to see what he wanted her to do. Looking down at the woman, she studied her face and smiled a gentle and hopefully reassuring smile to her. The deeper into the dream she got, the less she felt any remnants of her waking life and it all just fitted together into the narrative.

So, she stood ready, examining the woman's face and trying to offer her comfort whilst still listening for what the doctor wanted.

But at a noise from outside, she breathed in startled and Faith awoke.

[Varthakh]

Rewards for the two-legs's

Faith

Points: 15

Knowledge: None!?

Loot: None!?
Injuries: None!?
Fame: None!?
Devotion: None!?
Magic: None!?

Comment: Uhh... Well that was by far the easiest review I've ever made! Just a reminder, Moderated threads are still meant to be reviewed by the moderator. Read the front page, people!

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