kuriboh
ZMF 
Registered Newtype
Is Miang. Maybe.
Posts: 1,738
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Post by kuriboh on Feb 15, 2010 14:11:49 GMT -5
Florian had been alone for four hours. Not that he minded the time alone but given recent circumstances, it was extremely strange. He sat quietly on the edge of his bed, as he had since he was told to wait here. They’d left nothing for him to look at or do in the meantime, which left him alone with his thoughts and his feelings and nothing to distract him from them.
He’d heard about Veil. That made him very sad. He didn’t know the man well, but he liked him well enough in the same way he liked Caleb – there was no real connection between the two, but Florian had had no reason NOT to like the man, either. The thought of any of his fellow pilots being dead only depressed his mood further. The lingering senses of death from complete strangers caused the boy enough agony – he was almost glad he was a fair distance away from where Veil had fallen. He didn’t know how well he’d be able to handle a friendly death. Nadia, or Emil, or hell, even Caleb…if any of them ever died, Florian was sure he’d be devastated.
And this brought him back to Siobhan’s continued absence. He still had no idea if she was safe, or, if so, where she was in the first place. He’d begun to miss her more and more lately and, more importantly, somewhere in the back of his mind had begun to entertain the thought that she might be dead. It would, at least, have explained his feelings of missing something important.
And yet his rational mind did not want to accept that as a possibility, and so he continued every as normally as he could manage to appearances, but his insides were absolute knots of anxiety. He didn’t know how much longer he could last like this. His nightmares were recurring more and more lately, and with more intensity and detail, to boot. The identity of the curly-haired woman still evaded him, but he knew, somehow, that he loved her very much. The same way he loved Siobhan.
~
When the door beeped and slid open, Florian had abandoned his post at the edge of the bed and opted to nap the spare time away. He came awake instantly, very aware of a sick feeling building in his gut, similar to how he felt at the beginnings of battle. At the door were two of his posse, possibly the two largest of the retinue, and between them was a short and slender woman who Florian only vaguely recognized as an employee of the Flanagan institute. The insignia on her uniform confirmed it. The sick feeling grew stronger.
Florian watched her closely as she approached, floating because of the lack of gravity. He was somewhat in awe of how her gypsy-dark hair seemed to flow behind her like water, and marveled at its length, besides. As she came closer, he noticed the pale blue hue to her eyes and thought they contrasted very nicely with how dark her hair was. It was difficult to see the tone of her skin in the poor lighting of the room, but she looked to be fair and clear.
She stopped in front of him, and Florian found himself intimidated by her presence. There was an overwhelming pressure about her, the way Siobhan had, but stronger, and somehow far more severe. There was nothing soft or motherly about this woman – even her gaze was hard. The boy gulped a bit, despite himself. She was making him very nervous.
The woman raised an eyebrow as she looked him over, then her face stretched into a cynical, lopsided smile. “It would seem that Siobhan was very soft on you,” she said, her words ringing with the remnants of a long-forgotten accent, “We’ll have to fix that up. Tch.”
Without elaborating, she spun on her heel and made a gesture to the two men who had followed her in. A heartbeat later, they were grabbing for the boy. It was one of the times Florian was glad for his foresight, for he had maneuvered himself into a position to jump out of the way of their hands. Which he did. The woman looked over her shoulder, and Florian was nearly paralyzed with fear at the frown on her face.
“Florian,” she said, sternly, “Stop it.”
The boy went limp in midair.
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kuriboh
ZMF
Registered Newtype
Is Miang. Maybe.
Posts: 1,738
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Post by kuriboh on Feb 15, 2010 14:13:56 GMT -5
He was drugged, that much was clear. He couldn’t even make a feasible fist. Weak and unsuccessful tugs by his arms and legs revealed restraints that further prevented him from floating out of the chair he was sitting in. God knew, he couldn’t have moved much on his own with or without them anyways. His head was foggy, but he could think, and much like the rage he’d felt in the cockpit a few weeks ago, the muddling of his senses provided his thoughts with a clarity that was outright surprising for the state he was in.
The room seemed blindingly bright, but he knew the lights were at a normal level - the infirmary played this trick sometimes after sorties. Still it was uncomfortable, and he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, squirming weakly. He opened them again, and it was more tolerable, but nothing held still when he looked. Everything swam together like a haze, and it made him somewhat sick to his stomach. His hearing was garbled, too. Even the sound of his breath seemed like it was coming through a tunnel, and the slow hammering of his tiny heart was thunderous, echoing around in his head like a giant’s footsteps.
Then there was warmth on the side of his face, and his vision slid as his head moved to the side, and he suddenly found himself looking at a pair of eyes that seemed bluer than anything he’d seen in his short life. They seemed impossibly huge, dominating his vision the way the crater around Granada did, or a mountain might.
…He’d never seen a mountain. Not a real one, anyways.
For some reason, this amused the pair of eyes, for they crinkled up unevenly, and suddenly, the warmth on his face was gone and Florian found himself looking into his own lap. The dull green of his uniform pants seemed to go on forever, just like…
A Forest? He thought it strange that he was thinking of things he’d never seen in real life. He’d never been on a colony, and Earth was something seen from far away – to look at but never, ever touch. It was impossible to see from Granada. He liked to see it from the window of a battleship.
That train of thought was shattered, as more garbled sounds filtered through his ears. It was a voice, high and soft, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying. Slowly, he lifted his head (which seemed surprisingly heavy for being in Zero G), and looked at the source of the noise. A woman stood in front of him. The same one from earlier. He blinked slowly, and her long, dark hair was replaced by a blond mane. Another blink, and suddenly, it was a mass of curls. A third, and suddenly, she was right in front of him, her face assembling and reassembling itself before his eyes. Her mouth moved again, and once again, Florian only heard garbles that seemed to have some sort of grammatical structure, but one single phrase registered in his mind.
“I’ll take care of you, now.”
For some reason, that was the single most depressing thing the boy had ever heard.
~
Lilja stood up, her face falling away from the smile and back to its usual passive state. She looked at the sheets in her hand with a bit of a pensive frown. Contessa had chosen such motherly Keywords. Lilja didn’t like them, but notes scribbled into the margins pointed them out as the most effective for the boy. The scribbled were Siobhan’s handwriting. She probably didn’t even try. From what the Swede could tell, Siobhan had spent most of her time making sure Florian was comfortable and happy, instead of what she should have been doing. At least Contessa had had an excuse for being a bleeding heart about the boy.
Lilja turned her gaze back to Florian, who’s head was bobbing around drunkenly, like he was fighting sleep. Ideally, she’d have liked to have gotten this whole thing over with in as little time as possible, but orders from the top said that Florian had to be combat ready at all times.
She’d have to be slow about this. Step one was to make him accept her as authority. From there, she could take her time. Lilja flipped to the next sheet of paper, which had about a dozen phrases, all neatly written out. She already had a third of them committed to memory. She’d need to memorize the remaining eight before Florian woke back up. His file said it would be a long, hard fight for his unquestioning acceptance, so abusing his keywords would have to do for now.
He'd hate her for it, but that wasn't important right now. He'd love her soon enough.
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kuriboh
ZMF
Registered Newtype
Is Miang. Maybe.
Posts: 1,738
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Post by kuriboh on Feb 17, 2010 16:27:05 GMT -5
Oh now this was almost too perfect.
‘Almost,’ of course, because Lilja had to wait for the boy to wake up after his sortie. Blinding headaches the likes of which he got were treated with acetaminophen, and in a body as small as his, the risk of an accidental overdose was very high. More to the point, if Florian was in pain, he’d be focusing more on the pain itself than anything Lilja had to say to him.
Six hours, said the doctors, was the safe threshold for putting more things into his system, and Florian would be off active duty for a full Forty Eight hours afterwards. Lilja was willing to wait for six.
~
There had been no moment of sobriety for Florian. He woke, still drowsy from the last traces of the painkillers he’d been given. He stretched and showered, moving through his actions like he was dreaming, as was often the case during his recoveries. No sooner was he dressed, however, than a nurse came by and ushered the boy back to his quarters, whereupon she’d filled a syringe and stabbed him in the arm with it before he could raise a fuss. As his vision began to swim and his other senses garbled and melted together, Florian had the distinct feeling he’d been in this state very recently before.
~
Lilja had allowed exactly five minutes for the drugs to take effect, during which she made sure of the straps that kept the boy from floating off his chair, and checked the EKG monitor to make sure it ran accurately – she didn’t want to push the boy to cardiac arrest, after all. She’d done it to another subject before, after all.
If the boy’s metabolic data was correct, then the woman had another hour and twenty minutes before the drug would lose its effectiveness. Lilja hoped to take less than half that time, but every sign pointed to more than one of these sessions being necessary.
She bent over at the waist and lifted the boy’s head to get a better look at him. Florian’s eyes were glassed over like a pair of Catseye marbles, and equally as empty.
Excellent.
Lilja let her hands fall by the boys ears, one on either side, and snapped twice in rapid succession – first on the right, then the left. The look in the boy’s eyes instantly changed to one of extreme focus, though the rest of his body remained relaxed.
Lilja stood up straight again. “Code, number, handler,” She said sternly.
Florian took a moment to vocalize his answer – his mouth seemed to chew over the words before he spat them out. “F-florain. Zero-Five-Three-One. Ward of Siobhan Cuyler. Former Ward of Contessa Silas.” His voice was soft, and a little bit husky from disuse.
Lilja nodded, impressed at the resilience of his subconscious memory. “New handler,” she said, pausing a moment for the boy to register the order, “Lilja Andersson.”
A slightly pained look crossed the boys face, but soon enough, he nodded. “Understood.” The EKG spiked once, then returned to normal.
Lilja nodded in satisfaction, and then snapped next to his ears again, this time, both hands simultaneously. The focus faded, and the dead look returned to his eyes. Slowly now, they wandered about, no doubt trying to make sense of the mess they saw.
Lilja bent over and cupped his head in her hands and tilted it up, forcing Florian to look at her.
“Florian,” she said softly, as his file had instructed her to do, “you know me, right? I’m Lilja! I’m your handler.”
He blinked his eyes sleepily, but ultimately shook his head as his brows folded into a frown.
“Sh…shiv…” The EKG picked up slightly.
“No, Florian. Lilja. Who’s Shiv?”
“…Lil…?”
“Yes. Lilja.”
Florian’s eyes closed and his heart rate calmed. “…okay.”
Lilja smiled. She knew she’d just won her first battle.
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kuriboh
ZMF
Registered Newtype
Is Miang. Maybe.
Posts: 1,738
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Post by kuriboh on Feb 19, 2010 2:26:08 GMT -5
Florian’s blood pressure had begun to look a little high for comfort, and so Lilja had allowed him time to rest. It was just as well – he was beginning to come out of the drug anyways, so as soon as he regained some coherence, she’d told him that his bed awaited him, and watched him put himself to sleep. To be honest, she was somewhat impressed at his meticulousness – from the way he balled up his socks to the way he folded and stashed his uniforms. She wondered if it was in his nature, or if he’d been brought up that way. His file made mention of possible obsessive behavior concerning his personal hygiene, after all. Hm. She’d allow him a shower before their next session, then.
~
The world seemed disorientingly large, peripheral vision twisting and warping at the edges, as though it was being viewed through a wide-angled lens. There seemed a strange and dusky cast to the scenery, and everything moved sluggishly, after-images lingering and slowly fading.
Yet despite all that, He felt very comfortable where he was. Warm, relaxed, and with a telltale ‘lub-dub’ echoing from somewhere behind his head. He was on someone’s lap, exploring the room with His eyes alone. They were seated on a couch that had seen almost too much loving, in a room that seemed in a similar state. Through the arch of an open doorway, He saw a man, tall and slouched slightly over as his arms worked like he was stirring.
A telltale smell of garlic cooking. He almost felt drowsy off it.
There was, then, the metallic “clang” of a door unlocking and he turned to look. A young woman walked in, still with a youthful look to her face, despite the fact that she wore the standard green uniform of a Zeon soldier. Nevertheless, the smile on her face destroyed the image such uniforms usually brought, and the way the low gravity splayed out her dark ringlets was at once amusing and a thing of absolute beauty.
The man in the kitchen floated out to greet the girl with a kiss on the top of her head. Older hands framed His vision, then, waving. His own hands joined in shortly. The young woman came towards Them, leaning forward to kiss the person who’s lap He’d monopolized, and then down to kiss Him on the cheek. Her perfume smelled of irises. Something about her face – the barely restrained mane of curls and the bright, green eyes made him feel very nostalgic.
There were insignias on her jacket. The Red one stood out most.
He felt himself be moved, then, sliding off the lap and onto the couch. It was very soft. The young woman sat next to Him, and He felt her arm slide around His shoulders. The person who’s lap he’d been sitting on stood and went over to the man – it was a woman, who looked to be a few years past her prime, with black hair streaked with silver.
Things seemed to run together then – actions going blindingly fast, then agonizingly slow. People coming and going, sounds and smells running into one continuous stream of sensation. The setting seemed to fuzz in and out of focus, too. The only constant was the pressure around His shoulders, and the steady sound of the young woman beside Him breathing in and out.
A ‘BANG’ like the sound of wood breaking snapped the blurry montage back into focus. Sounds grew sharper, all of a sudden. The pressure around His shoulders was gone, and suddenly, everything faded to a blinding white. An occasional sepia shadow passed overhead. There was a bruising pressure on His arms.
His head hurt very much.
He struggled against the pressure, aware that He was screaming, but somehow unable to hear Himself. There were grunts and heavy breathing close by and distantly, screams and the jarring clangs of metal hitting metal.
Then two impossibly loud bangs blew everything away, and all he could see was the young woman with curly hair. She looked sad as she approached, her mouth moving, but no sound emanating. At His lack of response, her expression grew more distressed. She was very close to Him now, and put both her hands on His shoulders, giving them a shake. He watched her mouth.
‘Con…sa…tea?’
‘…What?’
The woman went rigid then, her nails digging into His shoulder. She seemed surprised. Her legs must have given out then, because she collapsed against Him, shaking violently in His outstretched arms.
‘My hands are red…’
He looked down at the gunshot wound on her back. Blood spread out of it like a blossoming rose. It was morbidly pretty, but something about it seemed very wrong.
‘Contessa liked irises…’
‘Con…tessa…?’
‘Tessie…’
‘Oh god…’
~~
Lilja had been napping. Past tense. The ear-splitting screams from the boy on the bed dashed away any hopes of that. In the time it took Lilja to get her bearings back, Florian had floated away from his bed, frantically untangling himself from the sheets, while his eyes looked about wildly.
The Swede approached him, arm outstretched to calm him, but Florian slapped it away with one hand, momentum from that strike putting him in a position to kick himself away from her…or her away from him – in space it didn’t matter.
“Where’s Tessie?!” He shrieked, voice cracking a small bit under the strain. “WHERE IS SHE?!”
Lilja was speechless.
“WHERE DID YOU TAKE HER?” He continued, having floated to the top corner of the room where he seemed perfectly content to curl up and scream at her from. “WHERE IS SHE?!”
When Lilja composed herself, finally, she made her way to the top of the room and gently pushed herself over, staying out of arms reach.
“Florian, you had a bad dream. Who’s Tessie?”
He didn’t speak, settling to glare at her angrily from behind the shield of his knees.
“Florian?”
He spat at her.
Lilja felt a cold knot in her stomach, recalling his earlier files.
“Const-“
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” He punctuated his screech with a wild kick. Lilja was, thankfully, out of range.
The irrational side of Lilja was scared. Terrified. Before his conditioning, this boy had put orderlies in the infirmary. The rational side, however, heaved a sigh. This would take a long time to fix. She sucked in a mighty breath.
“Florian.” She said with all the conviction she could muster. “Florian, stop it!”
For a long moment, he did nothing. The knot in Lilja’s stomach grew heavier, and she began wondering how quickly she could reach the taser she’d left on the table a few feet below her. But the boy’s face contorted, as though he was fighting something, and his posture began to relax, limbs floating out from the ball he’d twisted himself into.
The Swede heaved a sigh of relief. Those were precious seconds off her life, and no doubt a few gray hairs to boot.
When his face had taken a drowsy look, Lilja gently took a hold of his wrist and guided the boy back down to the chair. He did not resist, but she could see something in his eyes as she fastened the wrist straps. Anger, and the faint glassiness of tears.
The shower would have to wait.
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kuriboh
ZMF
Registered Newtype
Is Miang. Maybe.
Posts: 1,738
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Post by kuriboh on Feb 19, 2010 11:07:32 GMT -5
From:
Lilja Andersson
Stationed: Lucifer’s Fury
To:
Sigmund Ritzky,
Granada
Hello, herrn. I send this letter with both good and bad news.
If I recalled correctly, you always preferred the good news first. I’ve nearly completed the reconditioning. The boy has not woken yet, but I believe I’ve stamped out any unwanted memories. He should be stable and combat ready before lunchtime today.
The bad news is that he suffered a near-total reversion yesterday evening. I’m unsure of how much he remembered, but he was asking for Contessa. More to the point, he was extremely violent about it. To be safe, I took it from the top.
You were right, herrn. It is a good thing I’m good at what I do.
Regards,
Lilja.
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kuriboh
ZMF
Registered Newtype
Is Miang. Maybe.
Posts: 1,738
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Post by kuriboh on Feb 19, 2010 11:53:07 GMT -5
It was late morning by Granada’s standard time. Lilja was sitting by an infirmary bed, drowsing. She’d been up all night. The boy was in the nearby bed, heavily sedated and deep asleep. The last eight hours had been some of the most hair-raising and agonizingly difficult that Lilja had lived through in a long time. Everything in his files had been true. Every little victory over his mind and over the violent, impudent child underneath had been hard fought, hard won, and, at the moment, tenuous at best. He’d need to be awake before she could see if the conditioning took.
He looked rather pathetic bundled into the bed. It was too big for him to start with, and tired and drained as he was, the way the boy had curled in on himself made him look even smaller to boot. His left hand was sticking out from the little cocoon of blankets he’d made, a clear IV drip running into it. On the same hand, an EKG monitor was clamped around his finger. His pulse had settled, finally. It had been wild earlier, peaking with palpitations and then depressing to near comatose levels. Electrodes on his forehead and temples monitored his brainwaves. They had been stable all night. Lilja didn’t know if that was good or bad. He’d had a low grade fever most of the night, but it had broken a few hours ago. A result of stress no doubt, both mental and physical.
Just as Lilja’s eyes were drooping closed, the boy’s figure shifted. He curled up, then stretched out, rolling from his side onto his back, and then his eyes slid open. Lilja sat up. Florian looked up at her, none of the earlier malice or anguish at all evident in his gaze. The woman breathed an internal sigh of relief.
“Do you know who I am?” She asked. Her voice stayed low and soft, but remained stern. He nodded.
“And do you know who you are?” He nodded again.
Good. It had worked, then. He wasn’t talking, and seemed to hold no ill will towards her. When the sedatives were cleared from his system, she’d run him though the basic commands to check his reactions. For now, Question and Answers would have to do.
“Tell me your name, please.”
This was the winning question. To be made to take the handlers last name would be admitting her dominance of him. He hesitated as he always did when made to speak, but at the woman’s insistant look, his mouth moved into action slowly.
“F..lorian…Cuyler.”
“Andersson.”
“Cuyler.”
Shit.
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