removeimpurity | Tenth Incision [Action, Voice; Backdated to the 10th]

[March 10th]

[Syre's return to the village on the 10th is rather anti-climactic. Though she seethes with anger, none of it is related to the cage in which she finds herself again -- the Malnosso are not the source of her ire, not this time.]

[Her fury, in this case, is directed toward a different set of foes, soldiers and commanders a long, long way from here, whose swords have cut down all but the most loyal of her forces...]

[As the haze of hatred and anger clears from her conscious mind, jade eyes glance idly around what she realizes is her apartment. Her books are exactly as she had left them, with the most recent pages laid open and unfinished.]

[The first thing she does is collect all of her research and pack her bag, and then she gets moving, despite the lateness. Her destination is the Battle Dome -- a place where she can run as many experiments, as many tests, as she needs to get the data she requires. After all, this work of hers needs finishing -- especially if she can use it when she returns to Selles...]

[March 11th to March 14th]

[Loathe though she is to admit, Syre still has base needs to attend to.]

[Every once in a while, the alchemist can be seen flitting out of the Battle Dome, whether to grab a quick meal at the restaurants or to replenish supplies at the Item Shops.]

[Those that encounter her on these errands will notice that she's decidedly less friendly, and that her actions are quicker and more to the point than before; she's in no mood to make idle small talk, and in even less of a mood to stay out of the Dome for very long...]

[March 15th]

[It is somewhere about 7pm when a thought crosses Syre's mind.]

[Simulations are not enough. Simulations are predictable, and predictability leads to inaccurate results.]

[She ends the last of her simulations, and sets her things aside. In her mind, the only way to remedy this issue is to use live subjects.]

[Well, perhaps she can head out, explore the village, and perhaps find some... willing participants for her use...]

[March 17th, Early Morning]

[The journal begins broadcasting at what would normally be an hour entirely too early for Syre.]

[What is most noticeable in this is that the Ecliptian isn't calm, isn't cheery, isn't angry...]

[...but is crying. Half-choked sobs filter over the audio stream, and the older woman seems not to notice that the whole of the enclosure can hear her now.]

Gods... Gods Above, what will I become? What madness awaits me on that battlefield?

[The memories of her future are all but foggy remnants now, but what Syre remembers -- and the fresher memories of what she's done -- haunts her like a specter.]

[She doesn't believe that she could be possible of such atrocities... but she is. She is, and she was so easily willing to justify them...]

[Her sobbing begins again in earnest, much louder this time. It doesn't seem like she'll be stopping any time soon...]

((Advance Trigger Warnings for threads in this post: Violent actions, gory descriptions, and possible talk of suicide. When replying, please be sure to state the date of the interaction -- anytime between the 10th to the 17th!))

Threaded | Flat

[It's peaceful in House 55, quiet and calm as the evening light filters through the windows. Snow floats through the air thickly, glittering like fairy dust as it drifts downward.

Though Robert worries for Don in this weather - especially with his anniversary with the Turtle passing the day before - he tries to make himself calmer by focusing on the tea he's preparing, rather than the journal laid out on the table before him. He is determined to make this day normal - even if he hasn't been doing the best job until now.

This is why he is not paying attention to any possible... unwelcome visitors. And he's completely alone... all too easy a target for someone who needs a willing, pliant subject to study.]

Edited 2013-03-14 03:57 (UTC)

[Okay, apparently the pain that he'd leeched from Helios had been more potent than he'd anticipated. The effects of it were lingering, leaving his chest tight and his head pounding and he was exhausted right now. And that was just from absorbing the effects, not the symptoms.

He stumbled a little on the snow as he headed back towards the flat, dizziness overtaking him for a long moment. Shit. Not good. He guided himself over to the nearest building and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.

He just needed to rest for a few minutes. That was all.]

[After her encounter with Robert, and learning of the attacks, Moiraine Damodred did a little digging through the journals. Finding the woman had not been hard, she wasn't very secretive, and that puzzled the Aes Sedai. What she'd seen of the injuries reminded her more than a little bit of Semirhage, one of the Forsaken. Torture, in the name of progress. That set her Blue Ajah hackles on edge and made her teeth grind. Staff in hand and filled with saidar she rapped on the door to the woman's home with her staff.

Diplomacy first. She calls, voice clear and ringing with the Power.]

Syre Atries.

[The hour may be too early for Syre, but it's not to early for Phil. He'd taken to going through older entries in the morning when nightmares woke him early and he didn't want to wake anyone else. The journal's activity was quiet then as well, making it easy to look through.

So this early morning entry has his attention immediately. As the sounds of half-choked sobs float in the morning air he finds his attention sharpening and worry rising. A quick check and it shows a familiar figure is the source of the crying. The woman who had joked with him when he had been unfortunately stuck as a feline.

Her quiet, almost despairing voice simply further confirms her identity.

Unfortunately Phil doesn't know where she lives so he instead he replies to the entry, firmly held worry making him work quickly. A filter is put in place for her privacy as Phil tries to get her attention.]

Miss Atries. Please, Miss Atries- [No, what was her first name again.] Syre. Syre, Where are you? It's Phil Coulson. Are you okay?

[Well, obviously she's not, but sometimes that question can help people respond. He has a feeling this conversation might be best in person. Keeping the journal in hand he quietly starts getting ready to leave.]

[March 15 | Later in the Day because I'm an idiot and misread that as 7 a.m.]

[March 15th, afternoon]

[March 15th, Late Night]

[March 17th | Voice]