[hr][center][sub][color=cecece]DAY 1[/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [color=cecece]STEELWATER [RD-PRS - 3rd Level Research Wing][/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [color=cecece]Afternoon[/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [@Aeolian][@Krash][/sub][/center][hr][table][row][/row][row][cell][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5383761][img]https://i.imgur.com/3xZtJvi.png[/img][/url][color=2e2c2c]▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇[/color][/cell][cell][quote]

[color=8d8e8f]
The world around him seemed to settle in a familiar hum. Peter was healing someone, a soldier, black patch laced over a damaged eye. Nurses moved around him going about there own work and in some way, it seemed as though he fit in more here than on the battlefield. Whether healing the wounded or commanding seaside burials for the afterlife, there was a certain rhythm that came easily to Peter; perhaps it was the dichotomy of his existence in balancing life and death with his very words and fingers. 

The soldier moaned when Peter removed his eye patch, leaning in closer to inspect the nasty wound. He stared at the man for a moment, heartbroken at the devastation that the world outside the station laid upon him. With the gentle temper of a lagoon, Peter moved his hands to the man's eye, laying them just above the flesh. That holy glittering golden light filtered from his hands and seeped into the wound like angelic honey. It was something celestial, cosmic—an otherworldly light unlike anything one might find in the industrial bubble around them. 

His heart lurched—the pain returned. He retrieved one hand from the light and clutched it to his chest, breathing heavily. Peter knew it, frustrated at himself and his condition. He had definitely overexerted himself and the spiritual essence that fueled his being. Krishna, the nurse from before, came up behind him, equal parts worried and surprised. He cooed under his breath, first enthralled by the golden witchlight emanating from Peter's hand, [color=silver]"You're an Aeon?"[/color] he asked. 

Peter nodded feebly, the pained stutter of his movement visible to the nurse's trained eye. Shaking his head of the fact that he was in the presence of an Aeon, Krishna circled around to the other side of the table and looked at Peter clutching his chest. [color=silver]"Bro, are you okay?"[/color]

[color=gold]"Yeah..."[/color] Peter whispered, [color=gold]"It's just a heart thing. I'm okay."[/color] Peter took a deep breath, feigning that his pain receded. But in truth, he wanted to rip out his heart right then and there—shatter it into a million pieces, and fling them into the stars. Unrealistic, but anything to remove this detriment to his well-being seemed like a viable alternative to the disturbance it brought to his life. Krishna raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by Peter's nonchalance, [color=silver]"Doesn't seem like nothing. I can perform a CT scan—maybe see what's up."[/color] 

Peter shook his head, knowingly, [color=gold]"No. You'd only be wasting your time."[/color] 

Eventually, he pulled his hands from the wounded soldier's eye and the golden light faded soon after. He rubbed them on his knees as though wiping off dirt. His hands always got really hot when he healed someone with his magic, perhaps a side effect of the light. Peter didn't really know how his magic worked other than the fact that there was always an uncomfortable heat-like sensation, as though healing someone caused his hands to burn on the inside. Before Krishna could protest further, the lights in the facility blared and an unfamiliar voice rang out on the intercom (Errikos), announcing the situation that erupted in the Research wing.

An inner breach, but how? And then Peter's thoughts went immediately back to the little girl he 'rescued' from the forest and he felt a pang of dread constrict his chest—it was worse than his heart pains. At first, he wasn't sure what to do as he caught a glimpse of Emilia, the BlackRock soldier, and a few others following behind and descending to the Research wing. Were they Aeons too?

The medical staff and nurses within the Trauma unit moved about frantically as the lights and alarm continued their ear-blistering wail. Unease and fear crept upon many of their countenances, but the present commanding officers told them to remain calm and continue working. Surely, the Aeons who went down stares could handle whatever was going on...still, Peter couldn't shake the disquiet that settled within his bones and when the voice came back on the intercom to stabilize a nurse, his fear became realized. Someone was hurt after all, which meant, the little girl could be hurt too. He couldn't sit around anymore.

Once Peter's immediate objective was clear, he made his way towards the Research Wing, [color=gold]"Can you watch him please?"[/color] Peter asked Krishna as he moved further and further away from the trauma unit. Krishna called out behind him, [color=silver]"Where are you going?"[/color] 

[color=gold]"I have to make sure she's okay!"[/color] 

Peter didn't hear Krishan's response. His mind was singularly focused now as he descended the facility, practically fumbling between people on the second floor who were either sheltering in place or arming themselves for the potential threat that might ascend from the Research wing. Armed guards, informed that Aeons were handling the situation below, stood guard just before the entrance to the Research wing, just in case as per facility protocol. On his way there, rushing frantically, Peter accidentally bumped into a man. Older, salt and pepper facial hair abundant—an unfamiliar figure to the Funerailles, but he seemed to the heading toward the Research Wing as well. Was he an Aeon too? Peter didn't have time to exchange formalities with the man, [color=gold]"Sorry!"[/color] he said simply, continuing past the man without giving it further thought.

What would later cause him great distress, Peter didn't realize that in the collision, his ornate European-esque Freidalian golden locket with a small photo of himself and his boyfriend Milo fell off his neck and landed right in front of the man (Errikos). The surface of the locket on one side was cracked now, but Peter, naturally, didn't notice that either. 

Once Peter entered the research wing, he froze. It was a horrible sight indeed. Surrounding the Aeons were the busted remains and bio-slurry of a now terminated disturbance. Bodies of humans, but, they were twisted somehow, their corpses and innards smattered about—the walls and floors painted in a stinky black ink that oozed from their orifices and body wounds. God, the smell was so putrid. If Peter hadn't had years of experience working with dead bodies as a Funerailles, he might have puked. But this was just...incomparable to anything he'd dealt with before. 

Peter looked around, scanning the scene for the little girl or the nurse mentioned on the intercom. When he saw neither, he entered the treatment room, first catching sight of a swirling black fog in the corner and then he saw the nurse (Amy), wounded with bites and scratches. Her sanguine fluid licked the floor around her silhouette as he came over and knelt beside her. She was unconscious, but after checking her pulse, Peter could see that she still drew breath, feebly. She was teetering on the cusps of the afterlife, her wounds near fatal. But another thought surfaced—it was true then, the reports about the new strain of the stigma infection. Peter shook his head from such a thought that would serve him no good in the present. 

He rubbed his hands together, the shimmering golden light returning, as did his heart pain. How long before he passed out from overusing his magic, he wondered. It didn't matter for now, it couldn't matter. He laid his hands on the largest wound he could see and then began the healing process. Her wounds were so terminal that he felt them ardently, as if they were his own. Healing them would take a while, and she was too badly wounded to be moved without causing serious damage to her health and physical constitution. Peter would heal her right here, on this very floor, at least until it was safe enough to move her body on an empty table. 

His trousers became bloodstained by Amy's blood, but still, Peter didn't care. If he could heal her enough, then her bleeding would seize at least. Nothing to say about the new infection strain that roamed through her body now—like with the little girl. The little girl. She came back to his mind in that moment. He still hadn't seen her. Where was she? But for now, he had to focus on the most pressing concern, Amy bleeding out.

As his light filled her wounds, he repeated the thought. 

[i]Stay calm, Peter. One problem at a time.[/i]


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[hider=NPCs]
Little girl
[img]https://i.imgur.com/NCgPnXh.jpg[/img]

Nurse, Krishna Patel
[img]https://i.imgur.com/EMbwLZa.png[/img]

Medic, Amy
[img]https://i.imgur.com/0Ruvsu6.jpg[/img]

Milo Zabini
[img]https://i.imgur.com/dtMduHL.jpg[/img]

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[color=99945e][b]Summary[/b][/color][hr][color=99945e]

[color=cecece]DAY 1:[/color] In the trauma unit, Peter finishes up healing the UDF soldier. He feels heart pain from overexerting his magic. Krishna, a nurse, expresses surprise and concern at Peter being an Aeon and for his well-being. Peter dismisses the heart pain he is expriencing. When the alarm goes off, Peter goes to the Research Wing. On his way there, he crashes into Errikos, not realizing that he accidentally dropped his golden locket in front of the man. Once inside the research wing, he is stunned by the scene and the smell. While Peter is still concerned about the little girl's safety, he focuses on healing Amy, who at the moment, is near-mortally wounded on the floor in a pool of her own blood.
[/color]

[hr][center][sub][color=cecece]DAY 1[/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [color=cecece]STEELWATER [RD-PRS - 3rd Level Research Wing][/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [color=cecece]Afternoon[/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [@Aeolian][@Salsa Verde][@Everyone present at the scene][/sub][/center][hr][table][row][/row][row][cell][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5383761][img]https://i.imgur.com/OjKGhlK.png[/img][/url][color=2e2c2c]▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇[/color][/cell][cell][quote]

[color=8d8e8f]
Within the caressing protection of her darkness, Isolde watched the entire situation unfold. While Dr. Poole, and Dr. Khan both seemed to be succumbing to the effects of Isolde's magic, she remained ever analytical. She watched how the new stigma strain took hold of the undead corpses and animated them back to life. She studied their movements, and how they focused on Amy ravenously. Their behavior reminded her of a plant mentioned in one of Eunji's scientific fungal reports, and when she began to recall those critical details in that report, it started to make more sense. Combined with what she, Dr. Khan, and Dr. Poole had uncovered within the blood of the infected patients, Isolde would have assumed her present supposition all but impossible.

And yet...

She watched the SWARG members enter the research wing, guns blaring as they dispatched the monstrosities for what they were. And in a way, Isolde found herself disappointed that she couldn't capture some of them "alive" for additional testing. Still, their downed corpses would be useful for examination in some capacity.

Isolde shifted her gaze to the young slight-bodied man who entered the treatment room and begin healing a mortally wounded Amy. Isolde knew who this was immediately. The Funerailles. The Angel of Bellfort. Interesting seeing the UDF's little doll here in such a dangerous environment, she thought. Surely then, this mission was much more grave than she could have anticipated if they sent a Funerailles into a warzone. But for what exact purpose he had to play, she did not yet know.  

When Isolde's darkness finally dissipated, Dr. Khan seemed like she'd seen a ghost. She moved slowly, as though she'd lost her soul somewhere back deep within the shadows. When Dr. Khan finally found a chair to sit on, she just stared into nothingness. She was still alive at least, just left a bit traumatized. Dr. Poole was worse off. He hadn't left the corner and was huddled there on the floor, looking around like he had paranoia or schizophrenia. This was the magic of Belladonna, at least part of it. People who stayed in her darkness for too long, especially non-Aeons, would begin seeing and hearing things, as though they had been transported into another dimension where there was always something sinister and malign lurking just beyond the darkness. It seemed to distort a person's sense of reality and cause unimaginable fear. Perhaps, even being eaten alive by a stiggie was less of a frightful thought than lingering within the empty shadows of Isolde's magic. They'd recover, soon enough.

For now, they were the least of her concerns. She picked up a fever agent from off the counter, stepping in Amy's blood as though she'd danced in the blood of others on more than one occasion. Peter was so enraptured by his healing, that he'd hadn't even noticed Isolde behind him. He stirred when she knelt beside him, looking at Amy with feigned care—Pecksniffian and duplicitous as she seemed to be more often than not. Amy may eventually be of use to her, as would Peter, who she turned her gaze to and softened her eyes with that motherly downward crest you might show an anxious child. 

[color=8882be]"The Angel of Bellfort. A pleasure to meet you in person at last, though it is unfortunate that we should meet under such dire circumstances. The UDF like to keep you nice and tucked away don't they? And for good reason. You are valuable to so many people."[/color]

Peter, still healing Amy, looked at her, confusion etching upon his countenance, [color=gold]"Sorry?"[/color]

[color=8882be]"Dr. Featherswallow, but, just call me Isolde. I'm the one who should be sorry. For the UDF to put you into this predicament—and of all people, a Funerailles."[/color] She shook her head, disapprovingly, [color=8882be]"Truly unforgivable."[/color] Isolde took a moment to watch him work his magic, it was pretty, she would admit; anthesis to the darkness that swallowed her and those around her. He was an Aeon obviously, but she didn't know what he was capable of. And the unknown pissed her off more than she often let on. She'd keep an eye on him, the same way she always kept an eye on people. 

[color=gold]"Oh. I don't know..."[/color] Peter began, coughing a little before he continued, [color=gold]"I just want to help people, so, if that path led me here, then, I suppose I'm okay with it."[/color] Isolde nodded as though she agreed and sympathized with his sentiment, [color=8882be]"How honorable. You truly are a Funerailles in the highest sense of the title, but my dear..."[/color] she rested a hand on his back, [color=8882be]"Are you alright? You seem awfully pale."[/color] Peter nodded, [color=gold]"Yes, I'm fine, just fatigued is all."[/color] 

[color=8882be]"Well, when you finish healing this poor poor woman, administer the fever agent and then have Dr. Poole help you move her to an empty cot. After that, go rest."[/color] As Isolde explained, she placed a syringe beside him and then gestured toward Dr. Poole, still huddled to himself in the corner. Peter turned to look at the doctor, instinctively furrowing his brows, [color=gold]"Is he okay? What's wrong with him?"[/color]

[color=8882be]"He's just had a bit of a fright, my dear, nothing of grave concern."[/color] 

Peter nodded, accepting her explanation without further skepticism or questioning like he might have normally. This was Dr. Featherswallow. He'd heard about her through the tabloids and what not. But, he was too exhausted to think critically about anything else regarding her. His magic was zapping ever fiber of his being, and he had very little essence left; just about enough to finish healing Amy. Isolde saw that he was swaying back and forth as he healed the medic, teetering on the verge of fainting. [color=8882be]"Hang in there dear."[/color]

Isolde stood up, heading for the door when Peter called out to her asking about the little girl. She reassured him that she was safe and that he could see her later. That bit of relief brought a second wind to him, it seemed. But how long that would last, only time would tell. As she entered the hallway, she saw the aftermath of their battle up close. Yes, the smell was pungent and yes, the scene was gory and grotesque. But she remained calm, not a scrunch of her nose to indicate that she was in any kind of distress. 

[color=8882be]"Goodness..."[/color] she began as she walked towards the group, stepping over a corpse, kicking it once with her heel for good measure. 

"[color=6598c4]Isolde? Eunji? What is this?[/color]" Emilia inquired.

As Isolde made her entrance, she controlled her posture to appear tall and glamorous. She kept her voice low, but projected, commanding their attention like she was stealing the spotlight in the all-important scene of a movie when a major plot point is revealed. She gave each of them a once lookover, capturing the audience's attention with her steely gaze.

[color=8882be]"Unfortunately, this is the effect of the new strain of stigma. As we feared, we in the Research Division believe it is connected to the disappearance of Benjamin."[/color]

She paused, letting the silence and sudden reveal linger heavily between them. Those who already had their suspicions would be less surprised.

[color=8882be]"While you were in combat, we found traces of Benjamin's DNA laced within the blood of our patients infected by this new strain. Though it is not 100% clear, and further testing is needed to confirm it, we are almost certain, somehow, Benjamin's magic has caused the stigma to mutate."[/color]

Isolde pulled out her redberry and made a swiping motion at the screen with her fingertips, sending a digital copy of a scientific report to their mobile devices and/or tablets, written and doctored by none other than Eunji.

[color=8882be]"We must give credit to Dr. Park's previous report on fungi in helping us come to this conclusion sooner. But I imagine our resident fungal expert has probably already come to this deduction on her own."[/color] Isolde gestured at Eunji and gave her an approving nod, moving to stand by her before she continued addressing the group. [color=8882be]"We surmise that the new strain behaves almost identically, and as you'll find in Dr. Park's report about it, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis...the zombie-ant fungus."[/color]

Dr. Featherswallow, laced her fingers together and let them fall flat in front of her. She took a deep breath, looking around at everyone's faces. She wondered why Marcus and Oerba had not returned before continuing, [color=8882be]"I think Dr. Park can explain its probable behavior in undead humans better than I can, but I will say this..."[/color] Isolde allowed that smothering silence to return, letting it hang to emphasize the importance of what she was going to say next. In fact, this may be the most important thing she would say at all. 

[color=8882be]"If I can obtain Benjamin's blood, or rather, extract it directly from his body, then I may be able to doctor a cure for the new strain. While this is only a hypothesis, this strain behaves unlike any other. This may be the first true breakthrough the Research Division has had in finding an actual cure."[/color] Isolde's voiced became amplified as she spoke, like a skilled orator, the thrill and passion for her years-long work revealing itself in the rising inflections of her tone.

Isolde settled into the silence of the situation one last time before making her final statement. Isolde's gaze fell on each of them again before settling on Emilia, her gaze so fixed on Garuda that she very well could of bore searing holes straight through her cranium.

[color=8882be]"If you care at all about giving humanity a fighting chance at survival against the encroaching stigma, then..."[/color]

[color=8882be]"I need Benjamin..."[/color]

[color=8882be]"Alive."[/color]




[center]
[hider=NPCs]
Dr. Poole
[img]https://i.imgur.com/0hXxm9V.png[/img]

Infection Specialist Dr. Helen Khan
[img]https://i.imgur.com/mPMQZUL.png[/img]

Oerba
[img]https://i.imgur.com/k0WCDmD.jpg[/img]

Marcus Featherswallow
[img]https://i.imgur.com/6D2iTHz.jpg[/img]
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[color=99945e][b]Summary[/b][/color][hr][color=99945e]
[color=cecece]DAY 1: [/color]Isolde exits her darkness. Dr. Khan and Dr. Poole are left mentally traumatized by her magic. Peter enters the Research Wing to heal a gravely wounded Nurse Amy. Peter and Isolde meet formally for the first time. After leaving Peter to work on Amy's wounds, Isolde joins the group and reveals her findings. She makes a bold statement/request to the group. [/color]