Southeast Block

Restricted Area

Unlike the other areas along the circuit, the tram does not stop at Station D or even slow down for it. In the time from passing by Station C until the time when the tram nears Station E the tunnel becomes narrow and dimly lit-- cutting off the footpath that normally runs beside the tram line through the subterranean circuit.

The sealed tunnel widens only for a moment, a few seconds in passing as the tram car speeds past the brightly lit platform of Station D which contains nothing but a single, large door leading deeper into the underbelly of the Ark.

Pylons Wrote:

Standing before you is one of the strange, crystalline monoliths that seem to be placed all over the Ark. The cyclopean pylons have been chiseled in such a way that it is impossible to garner a solid look at them – the seemingly-perfect angles are not right to the eye, causing momentary lapses of vertigo or even hallucinations. The objects thrum with power of a wholly unknowable sort, possessing a prismatic glow that is both spectacular and disturbing to behold. If one is able to inspect them more closely, they will be able to see things carved into them – runes and glyphs that writhe and morph, never constant. Of course, it would be rather difficult to obtain such proximity, given the security that continually guards and monitors each outcropping.

Pylon Delta is nowhere to be seen. It must be deeper within the restricted area.

;!; Update 4/19 - A section of this block has been opened to use... but not by the public. The tram will now stop at Station C to let off and pick up passengers but after passing through the hefty steel blast door separating the tram tunnel from the Southeast Block of the Ark any visitors are guided down a certain set of corridors leading to a section on the western end... roughly what could be called a 'hospital' or an 'infirmary' but lacking in any sort of tender care.

After all tender care is for sissies and little girls, not for the grizzled and manly participants of Heaven or Hell. Your attending physician will be Dr. Doom and your x-rays will be taken by Dr. Boom... coincidentally, both are wearing lucha masks and don't seem to think that it's out of place at all.

Wandering too far away from the designated medical zone will result in swift and painful termination an armed escort coming to keep you from getting lost.

Glaciers made of emerald gemstone floating in a sea of mint hued water glistening in the cool blue setting sun set deep in the horizon of the pink sky that faded brilliantly into orange shimmering light that served as the coming night of the distant horizon. Here there was no fear, no doubt, no hurt, nothing but the absolute serenity of complete peace. The physical world had died away giving way to the plane of the mind. Tres mind perceived the purity of the void as an unspeakable beauty and because of it the night of death was as clear as the day. Here, alone in this infinite uncarnate dimension he was absolutely alone, but through solitude he found solidarity. Through solidarity he came to a revelation that changed him...

but how could this be...

Tresondros Ecstuffuan had just died.

In the physical world his body convulsed as his lungs grasped for breath's that did not come. The long screech of the monitor penetrated the silence and promised a grim truth. The doctors and technicians acted quickly.

"We are losing him someone get the cardiac defibrillator", the doctor grabbed the two handled pads and placed them on Tres's massive muscular chest that grew steadily more pale by the moment.

"Clear", the doctor shouted before he pressed the buttons on the pad. An electrical charge shot through Tres's body, causing his body to jump and then fall harshly onto the medical bedding. A single beep spiked on the heart rate monitor before it flat-lined again.

Even after the crisis of death had been averted it seemed like the stirs of semi-consciousness within his barely living body were filled with pain and tortuous tribulation. Tres squired as if fiery hot pokers were being applied to random points within his body. Constantly his hands moved to weakly grip his chest who's insides stirred with an audible crackle and pop. Emerald green whisp of psionic bolts crackled and popped visibly from Tres's body. Something was happening to Tres and each and every moment of it was filled with excruciating pain.

In the world of emerald gem the formless ethereal body that was Tres's own consciousness was faced with a multitude of similar bodies. The moment of peace that he had found in death was now gone as he had awaken to life once again. These formless ethereal bodies quivered and raged like floating flames who's wicked dance antagonized the lone conscious body. These things, were not of material or space, but abstract emotion and desire. They were self doubt, they were mental weakness, and Tres knew in that moment that now was not the time for peace...but it was time to rage against the weakness within himself.

It was said that Tres's greatest failing was that he lacked his father's faith. Tres knew that this was complete bullshit. He held faith in something more pure than any religion, more pure than any concept...

He had faith in THE DREAM

The entire world could go to hell and everyone in it could vanish, as long as he existed, he had a dream and seeing that dream come to reality was worth risking his life for. It was a dream born over years, when every individual in his life save for his parents told him he couldn't do something. It was a dream born with each and every failure in his life.

A single thought echoed within the vast corridors of his mind

"I SHALL OVERCOME"

And so he stomached the pain, he didn't run away from it through death...he fought it...

A few hours later a doctor with a metal mask walked out of the waiting area. Of course this was Gaia and such eccentricities were perfectly normal but since Lovi was from somewhere else then it may have been somewhat strange. The doctor war a large green overcoat and spoke with a somewhat presumptuous tone of voice.

"We have stabilized the patient but I think there is some information that I must disclose...If you would accompany me into the ER."

Tresondros Ecstuffuan Wrote:

A few hours later a doctor with a metal mask walked out of the waiting area. Of course this was Gaia and such eccentricities were perfectly normal but since Lovi was from somewhere else then it may have been somewhat strange. The doctor war a large green overcoat and spoke with a somewhat presumptuous tone of voice.

"We have stabilized the patient but I think there is some information that I must disclose...If you would accompany me into the ER."

Lovi had meanwhile fallen asleep in one of the waiting room chairs. After having paced the room a while and contemplated the possibility of returning to their teammates to relay what had happened, she resolved not to leave until she could do so with some resolve or peace of mind.

The doctor had woken her with a start, and his appearance did him no favors with regard to his immediate credibility as a member of the medical profession. Where were all the white coats and colored scrubs? Even conventional hospital attire was strange enough to Lovi, and now this..

"Oh, uhmm..." she had been waiting for so long it seemed almost unreal to hear any news at all, "Yes, of course." She followed after, her own appearance in disarray having not taken the opportunity to do much of anything other than wait.

The room was rather quiet, even for having two people inhabiting it. It was cold, sterile, white one the walls and stainless steel appliances fit for a typical hospital.

In the middle of the room against a wall sat the medical bed, and there in it was a certain purple hair femme dressed in a patient's gown. Her left foot in a cast, her arms still plastered with unearthly scales and lined with dry fins. The creepy masked doctor had told her to lay down, but she simply couldn't, instead she forced herself to sit up. Even if she was slumping forward.

The reason being the previous spines having been removed, leaving three flat stumps for the time being. Laying on them was far too painful, even with the drugs they gave her. Her brain was still feverish as she tried to let it rest, ridding herself of the false images that drove her into insanity.

God help her if she ever felt that way again.

"..."

She wasn't talking.

His anger blew over her like a heated wind, causing her to wretch. She was still so sensitive to everything. Lurching forward again, she frantically reached for the bucket the attendants left for her before sticking it in front of her face.

The sounds of her own vomiting caused her to twitch as a thick mixture of bile and ichor coated the lining of the container.

A gasp.

Another wretch and she was at it again.

It had been a while since she had thrown up, and the ichor seemed to have been disappointing naturally out of her system. It was the mutations that really did her in. There were a few places where she had been bitten and burnt by Omi's snakes, but they were minor in comparison to the burns she revived the fight before. She could deal with that. And while the broken foot was uncomfortable, it wasn't something she'd dwell one. Instead her fragile mind moshed to her mutation, how the scales often fluttered and rippled, causing her great discomfort.

Shoving aside the receptacle Fay huffed in air with fervor. It was the only thing normal she could do. Soon, her golden eyes peaked up at Terran, the left sclera still red. On her face was an expression of pain and embarrassment. All she really wanted was to be held and healed, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it. Her throat was sore, and so was her pride.

"I have knowledge in magical healing.", body wise Sieg was much like Tres. He had the build of a soldier and you wouldn't think he was a talented healer. Sieg however had an almost instinctual command of positive energy, the very essence of life. The energy could not be tossed wantonly onto a patient it had to be manipulated carefully lest the same energy that gives life can burn and mutate. Sieg seemed to be more concerned with Tres's condition than whom had brought him in. He could thank Lovi later.

Sieg also wasn't as concerned with Tres's mutation. He would live and that was all he cared about. Sieg knew that it was not Tres's time yet and that the boy still had much to live for and a lot to learn.

"I'm not sure what else to call it. Mutation, change...usually has a negative connotation but I'm not so sure that this change will be malicious. It seems to be assisting his healing process."

Fayble looked up menacingly from her place of rest, it was obvious she was in some serious pain. Sitting up a little bit from her slouching position, the femme wrinkled her nose and furrowed her eyebrows. She had an idea who this bloke was, but not as to why he was there.

"What do you want."

She rasped before coughing up more of the mixture putrefying in her stomach. Reaching to the bucket again, she hurled even more. It had been the first time she'd spoken since the fight, and if she had to again, this firecracker was going to be extremely displeased.

"It's okay." Chimed a voice behind the man. "We're here to help with the patients."

It was none other than Alan's other half, Charisma. She was hardly seen anywhere else but Alan's side during Heaven or Hell. Of course, save for the matches. He was kind enough to stow her away somewhere safe this last round, and probably so she wasn't going to be a liability. Pulling up her long brown hair into a tight bun, Chari went to the sink and washed her hands before making her way to the mutated contestant. She looked a little worse for wear. She pulled up a chair besides Fay and smiled.

"You'll be better in no time. I promise."

"Nice to meet you Alan."

It was obvious Sieg was trying to be polite and he was known to be a very polite man, unlike his son. However the paladin was obviously troubled by his son's present state. Very few things rattled the old dark skinned warrior but his family being in trouble did. Sieg raised Tres as well as he could, but he had too much of his mother in him and too much of himself. He knew that the boy would keep fighting until his body died and that was exactly what he had done. However, the thing that amazed the father was that even after his son's body had died he continued to fight on without a thought of quitting.

"No. He will never stop fighting. That has always been his greatest strength.

I and a fellow monk have been investigating the pylons and the strange creatures surfacing on latent since the Ark's arrival. However, I don't think my son's changes have anything to do with the rest of the mutation cases. Or maybe it does, I'm not sure if Tres had any contact with the pylons but I think it has something to do with his innate talent in the study of psychometabolism.

Tres's body and mind are more in sync than a normal persons. Perhaps because his mind has developed these psychic power, his body is changing to match it.

Thank you for your assistance. I'll begin the healing spells at once."

, Sieg approached his son and placed his palm on his forehead looking down with a caring expression. Sieg began to utter a prayer. Sieg kept his glistening desert yellow eyes open, which was somewhat strange considering his prayer. Sieg believed in watching and praying.

"Lord...Today my son has encountered the trials and tribulations of a legend and I want to thank you for granting him the strength and the ability to survive this day. My son is the greatest gift and wonder you have bestowed upon me and I want to thank you for seeing fit to allow him to see another day. He is the most beautiful thing in the world to me and today I am the proudest father I could possibly be.

However Lord, we still need you...My son...Tres needs you. His trials and his tribulations are not yet at an end and I ask you lord not that you walk with him, but you carry him through the valley of the shadow of death. Lord bless him and his broken body so that he may one day fight again to inspire millions to keep going even when the weight of the world is holding you down. Lord bless him with the light of life, so that he that he may not just look for the light of victory but see the glory of his own inner spirit."

, Siegs hand began to glow as a soothing warm light spread over Tres. This light was carefully manipulated positive energy, guided into the material plane through the force of faith.

superpsyco77 Wrote:

"I'm sorry interrupt you young lady, but I have some urgent business I must discuss with you."

Turning as she was startled from her thoughts Sey blinked and regarded the elderly gentleman, eyebrows raised in question.

superpsyco77 Wrote:

"I have a delicate matter that requires the attention of someone with a particular type of skills, and there is very little time to act. I beg you please come with me, there may yet only be a very limited amount of time."

"Aa," She furrowed her brows in concern, digesting his words.

"And you believe me to have those particular skills? I'm a healer... But ah. Not quite the traditional kind." She didn't want him thinking she was somehow affiliated with this infirmary. That wouldn't do, for her Temples coffers or for the lucha physicians either.

It was finally time to see her big sister, and even though it would be when Fayble was sleeping, Rell was actually a little nervous. The necromancer walked down the hallways quietly as she fixed her glasses to look at the numbers by the doors.

"Three...Four...Five...."

And room six, it's where one of the attendants had told Rell that Fayble would be resting in. Wiggling her fingers a few times, she thinned her lips took a deep breath as she started walking towards the door. When she was about to be in plain view, she caught sight of Terran as he was leaning against the frame.

'Abort!' She screamed in her mind as she immediately began to back peddle. 'Abort!'

Turning on her heel, she blindly slipped backwards into a room that looked as if it should have been vacant. There was no chart on the door, that was always a good sign, it would be a good place to wait. Putting a hand to her chest, Rell puffed a little as she tried to regain what breath she lost. Her frail body didn't work too well with surprises such as that.

Something rustled behind her.

Twitching her long ears, Rell's eyes grew wide as she moved to fix her glasses. Slowly, she began to turn around. Someone had been in the room!

"Oh dear..."

A whisper. It looked as if the man had been sleeping. Tucking her long hair behind her ear, the necromancer took one steady step back as her other hand met up with the first.

Caught off guard twice, this wasn't her day, it seemed.

He continued along in his quickened pace, the old man threatening to pull ever ahead as they wove down deeper into the halls of the Ark's built in medical facilities. He knew that he should have told her right from the start, a was it was fairly common knowledge about what had happened to the woman he was taking Sey to go and see, but not everybody knew the truth about what exactly had gone on. He didn't want to risk an incident because he went and opened his mouth and said something when there were others around, and for now he would have to keep a bit quite until there weren't as many prying ears about. Finally the pair would round a corner to the intensive care unit, where there were few staff members and even fewer participants or guests. It was then he finally stopped and turned about on his heels, his look of stoic and unfaltering confidence falling away rapidly.

"My apologies Miss Kaikou, I do not wish to make this any worse off than it is by having people hear of the young lady's plight. I am the consigliere of the Da'Fluer family, though a more easily remembered term might be butler. I was tasked with taking care of the everyday matters of the family heir while she competed in the tournament here, and it is with a heavy heart that I saw she received an absolutely sound thrashing in her last bout." he turned again, taking a few steps down further before stopping at the second to last door on the left, the only door that was open.

"She was missing for many hours after the tournament round came to a close, and I feared she might have been taken away or killed! However she was found in one of the many offshoot tram tunnels, wandering about in daze. How she was even able to walk confounds even the doctors here, so bad is her condition. Her injuries are severe and she refuses medical treatment, please I beg you try to talk some sense into her before her stubbornness and honor get her killed!" he sighed, removing his glasses with one hand. "I know this might be sudden, but I will clarify your questions. As I said I am the butler of the Da'Fluer family, a minor noble house hailing from the Durem region where they have resided for centuries. The house is renown for protecting the common folk of Gaia from attacks by various monsters and beasts, and the Lady in this room is set to be the heir to the family leadership. The only thing this has to do with the tournament, Miss Kaikou, is that she was competing in it before she lost. If she refuses a doctor then that is her choice, but I can only hope that you might be able to reason with her." he peeked his head inside, seeing her still laying in her bed.

"I beg you miss."

It almost sounded as if Fayble growled at the mention of pulling the scales. She didn't like the idea. When the other doctors tried to do the same, the skin below it clung to it further, some started to just bleed profusely.

"Leave the scales." She tried to say, her teeth gritting through the pain. The femme looked like a wild woman. "They'll fall off if I get hit."

Even though she was bed ridden, Fayble was still a weapon to be reckoned with. And she'd deck this sucker if he did anything against her wishes. Clenching her fists, the leather of her gloves creaked as he raised his gauntlets.

"Shhh..." The darling crooned, using her voice influence to calm the injured woman. Reaching up, she very gently put her hand on the back of the purple haired fighters head, trying her best to sooth her. "He'll leave the scales be.."

Huffing out, Fayble found herself calming down at the woman's touch. Magic? Perhaps, but whatever it was, it was working. Looking up, her once calm yellow eyes flickered in the light as she looked to her love, wishing there was something he could do for her. But she understood. He could only be there for support.

"My ankle." A croak. "Fix it first."

Alan came and went with about as much to say on the subject of their companion's condition as the doctor himself. Dull and irritating as it was to listen to him spout off so casually in a scenario that was otherwise quite serious, at least he had broken the near silence within the room. Prior to it, only Dr. Doom seemed to have had anything to say that extended beyond a few syllables.

Now Sieg was speaking with a voice that would have moved a more sentimental audience to tears. As it was, the scene before Lovi was far too emotional and dramatic to be drawn into the situation any further. She excused herself politely and silently, wondering in the back of her mind why prayer for so many people was so elaborate and involved. Novalha never demanded so much of her followers. Granted, she was only listening about half the time, and then only half of those times did she care. She cast one last look back before leaving Seig to his work. It had seemed like more of a family moment anyway..

Next on her agenda was the task of calling Gloria. Alan was already present for reasons beyond her comprehension, so she was really the only person left out of the current loop.

Glory Sieg Wrote:

She dialed the hotel number, uncertain if Glory had a cell phone and unaware of the number of she had. Lovi was, herself, too timid about her understanding of such technology to have one. She made her call from a pay phone in the lobby.

"Yes, I would like to leave a message for Gloria Sieg."

"** *******"

"From Lovi.."

"** **"

"No, no last name."

"* *****"

"Please tell her to meet me at Station D as soon as it is possible. I'm at the hospital currently.."

" ***** *****"

"Yes, everything's fine n-" Lovi had been rummaging her pockets as she spoke on the phone, looking for her pipe and gradually realizing that she didn't have it on her person. She checked her pockets frantically, but to no avail.

"Actually, could you have her also check my room for a long, silver pipe? It should be in the pocket of my.. No, wait! I might have left it in a red bag with.. You know what, never mind that last part. Thank you."

She hung up the phone with a sigh, massaging her temples with one hand and bracing herself as she leaned into the wall with the other.

"Dammit.."

[Ark - Infirmary Room of Omi Barsait]

"Hello." A voice, crispy as dried leaves, filled an expanse ahead. An endless void with little illumination, which only made the bizarre shapes in the shades of oblivion all the more ominous to glance upon. Friendly words greeted.. him? Were they even truly words, Omi wondered, or was it simply sound transmitted so purely that his own mind gave it structure out of a lack of being able to comprehend otherwise..?

"Exceptional performance. Given your condition, a lesser man would have shattered like glass to those beautiful stones with that ethereal glow. Yet you can feel one close by, can you not? It frightens you, yet it makes you hunger." Metal grinding across metal, the voice was so unnatural in its composition as it literally demanded the mercenary's attention.. yet his body. Where was it? Dimly aware of his surroundings, Barsait had no feeling.. looking down, no legs, no torso. Nothing. He was nothingness, air. Why..?

"Your entire life cycle has been that of a puppet. In birth, in childhood, in life.. MANIPULATION." The word uttered with such dominant force that it would shatter one's bones. "So I can understand your hesitation, even.. respect your adamant stance, and find it so delicious you wish to usher the same upon the world. But, understand the difference.. between I, a group of addle-minded researchers, and a glutton sorcerer. Your body is the only in some time to leave my grove, you're aware? Though you may have left me, I have never truly left you.. has the reprieve of that Changeling distorting your dreams allowed you to become an escapist from your fate..? POMPOUS." Sight fading into an ocean of flames, something manifested into his body which existed and yet did not, boiling his blood, cracking his bones, shredding his flesh, eating him alive from the inside out.

"NO!"

Team Kehr's Sign fighter Omi Barsait awoke in his white walled room with a panic, lurching up and swinging his right fist outward with enough force to take a man's head off. Sweat dripped down his brow, as he gently inhaled and exhaled in deep rotations. Realization the scene before him was reality, even if shaky, helped him still his beating heart and access the situation at hand.

I. He wasn't sure where he was.

II. The last he remembered, himself and Fayble were locked in combat amidst a hellish field..

III. He was wounded.

IV. He was restrained.

Hurling the white, thick covers off of his lower body, Barsait frowned at the sight of three extremely thick leather restraints around his legs, keeping him rather secure to the bed with the buckles to unlock them likely on the underside. Feeling foggy, the fighter began to analyze his own body.

He felt strange.. painkillers and various medications to keep pain from overwhelming him, the man wagered. All ten of his fingers were bandaged rather securely, IV lines were tied to him at various points, and he could feel his hair restrained by even more bandages.. no doubt, to help mitigate the gash in his skull. Also of interest was that his equipment and standard garb were all missing. The vibrant red coat and snake headed pauldrons were nowhere to be found, his two-piece armor was missing in action, his boots were at the door although the gauntlets were not, and of course.. thinking harder with a slightly painful sensation attached, Omi could remember his [Crimson Pata] blade shattering.

His upper body was bare, lower body wearing his standard dark cloth pants he loved so. Not seeing anything obvious done to his torso, Barsait could only imagine with no little pleasure what his gracious caretakers may have performed in the sake of medical care.

Finally, vision adjusting with no bit of ease, the lengthy haired man noticed he wasn't alone. A woman was at his door..

"Hello." Barsait growled, brow relaxing while the forehead found a rest in his left palm. His body was bruised and battered all over, the price of his method of combat. Of interest, his bare right shoulder bore a nineteen-point star that looked like torn out flesh, albeit flat and smooth to the touch upon the crest.

His team.. his surroundings.

Omi Barsait needed to figure out what happened, where he was as much a hospital as this blatantly had been, and leave. Much too obvious. Perhaps this girl would yield much wanted answers.

Amber brown eyes sharply glancing through his own spread fingers at his guest, the mercenary questioned with a level of professionalism: "Medical staff or visitor?"

Antique Queen Wrote:

It almost sounded as if Fayble growled at the mention of pulling the scales. She didn't like the idea. When the other doctors tried to do the same, the skin below it clung to it further, some started to just bleed profusely.

"Leave the scales." She tried to say, her teeth gritting through the pain. The femme looked like a wild woman. "They'll fall off if I get hit."

Even though she was bed ridden, Fayble was still a weapon to be reckoned with. And she'd deck this sucker if he did anything against her wishes. Clenching her fists, the leather of her gloves creaked as he raised his gauntlets.

"Shhh..." The darling crooned, using her voice influence to calm the injured woman. Reaching up, she very gently put her hand on the back of the purple haired fighters head, trying her best to sooth her. "He'll leave the scales be.."

Huffing out, Fayble found herself calming down at the woman's touch. Magic? Perhaps, but whatever it was, it was working. Looking up, her once calm yellow eyes flickered in the light as she looked to her love, wishing there was something he could do for her. But she understood. He could only be there for support.

"My ankle." A croak. "Fix it first."

Alan would look at the ankle, then at Fayble, and nodded. "Well, at least that part won't be painful." the enchanter assured as he moved his right gauntlet over the appendage and held it just above the situation.

Alan actually had a field version of the ability was using, a healing light of the element. Though with him, there was no religious connotation or obsessive chant. It was a simple focus on light, a focus on the growth, creation, and healing of life. It was a natural energy, not some imposition of a wanton god supposing to have ruler-ship of creation or some aspect.

He would hold it over for a moment as it mended tissue and bone together back into their natural area, the nerves would still ache from the sensation of being broken, but no where near where it was. The ankle would be in a state as if it had just mended itself, still vulnerable if she were to strain it too far. But it would be decent enough to fight on in a few days.

Alan would level her eyes on Fayble, looking a moment over to Terran a moment.

"There, the easy part is done... the rest... is going to be painful." He would direct his attention over to Terran again. "You... might want to be close to her for this. I can work with you near, don't worry."

As forward and opinionated as Alan was, he wasn't insensitive, especially to those who seemed to be emotionally bonded to each other. Alan would want Charisma close if he was in such a situation, he wasn't going to tell the man to back away from his woman just because he wasn't an arm to help.

"Just nod to me when your ready." Alan would say, looking at Fayble carefully. Checking her reactions would be important on whether or not the nerves had slipped into the spines that had grown from her bones. If so, there would be worries of further mutations. Hopefully, she'd only hurt when he got to the portion of bone that was naturally hers, and not some growth mutation.

Whatever these Pylons were, they had dealt a lot of damage to a lot of people, Alan was already forming an opinion that he should get rid of them somehow.

Antique Queen Wrote:

Fayble looked more than a little uncomfortable as he healed her ankle. It wasn't that she was against healing, after all it was something that saved her life in the past. She just wasn't used to it. Normally she toughed things out was all. It was relatively quick, but the mention of moving onto more painful procedures made the femme sigh out.

Without hesitation, she lifted her right arm towards him in a way that suggested surrender. Fayble knew it was going to hurt, and she was primed to take it. The other hand cling to Terran lightly at first. It wouldn't be so in just a few moments.

Alan nodded quietly and set a small metal tub under her arm, indicating that Charisma be ready to keep her arm steady. He would then mix light with wind. Healing with cutting. It was an interesting combination of magics to wound and heal, but it was a good combination for medical work, as it helped keep incisions clean and let them close much easier.

It would be his right index finger, the clawed part at the end, that would move close to the first of the three spikes. He paused as if considering his cut path carefully. In truth, it was his hawk like eyes honing in on the parts of her growths, looking at where they building from the bone and under the skin to the surface. There would have to be some flesh carved as well, but at least with his methods, they would not scar.

It was quick, and focused. But the pain of cutting into the bone still hurt regardless. However, she would feel it more after each cut, than during. Each swipe with his finger was arcing slightly into her natural bone to make sure it got rid of the remainder of the corruption, rather than leaving growths on the spine to bother her again in the future. Wet dabs and solid thunks both were heard in the metal pan as he made his motions. One, two, three. Then he would wave his hand over to heal over the flesh and muscle, the bone, the way it was damaged, would have to heal more or less naturally, but the incisions at least were clean.

He would then, without hesitation or reprieve, gesture for the other arm. Fayble was a warrior, like he. Painful moments were to be done quickly and have finished rather than sit in hesitation. His eyes stern, focused like he was in battle. It was the face of someone who was determined to do the best he could in whatever he endeavored at. Strange how a man who committed such acts of violence would also commit himself to healing in the same venture. But it was his training, the holistic, worldly approach to education that each of his father's Idonis Achadamy gave.

Alan just excelled at it, where others took a more general approach, and then specified later in life. It branded him as arrogant, opinionated, over reaching, a meddler. The Half Breed Avion could only smile at these things. His mom and dad were both meddlers too. It only drove him to do it more.

Inside Vanessa Da'Fluer's Infirmary Room

superpsyco77 Wrote:

"I will remain in the hallway if you require anything, miss. She has refused anyone seeing her, including myself, but I hope she'll at least talk to you. Best of luck miss."

Sey smiled in appreciation as he opened the door, thanking him quietly before focusing her attention on the woman resting before her.

"Pardon my intrusion Lady Da'Fluer," The healer said softly as the door clicked behind her, taking a few steps toward the bed before stopping. Her unmistakable aura would have reached Vanessa as soon as she stepped in the door though it was a wonder if she would even notice it in the condition she was in.

'Resisting treatment? Is she even lucid enough to make that decision?'

"I'm Seyumi Kaikou, a White Mage of Falis. May I sit with you for a while?"

Contrary to her calm tone, Sey was itching to run to Vanessa's side and rid the woman of her injuries though she knew better then to force her gifts on others. She did her best to remain as calm and serene as possible despite her barely containable urge to heal, politely waiting on the woman's reply... if she could possibly make one.

It would be several minutes before Seyumi even received a response. What she got was in a rather weak tone, voice cracked and pained, but still quite clear for a woman whom had been beaten harder than a dozed eggs for an omelet.

"Aha, let me guess, David went and sought you out miss? He's a dutiful man even if I told him I didn't want to see anybody right now. However pardon my manners miss, please have a seat. Feel free to clear my things off of the chair, I believe David set them there when they brought me here." even in the dim light it was quite clear than Vanessa was at least trying to smile and be presentable. Se struggled for several moments to push herself into an upright sitting position, though she would only manage to make it about halfway before she just slumped back against the white headboard. It would have to do.

"It's a pleasure miss Kaikou, though you may call me Vanessa.Only those employed by my family call me Lady, and only at father's insistence. " she chuckled, though it was once again cut off as pain welled up into her chest. Broken ribs tended to do that. "So tell me, miss Kaikou, are you here to try and convince me to undergo some form of treatment? My answer is the same as it was before, I refuse. I am not fit for such actions, and if I am to recover then I will do so on my own." she shook her head.

"Failure should not be rewarded."

[Ark - Infirmary Room of Omi Barsait]

"I'm tied this way because when hospitalized, I tend to wander off and never quite come back unless in worse condition. Seems I've made a reputation on it." Shrugging casually, Barsait wasn't telling a fabrication there. Not just a few interns lost their budding careers because the patient they were supposed to be watching had quite literally disappeared, and doubly so if he returned all the worse for it. Such was fate..

However, far from intimidated by this woman in her spectacles, the bandaged man only smiled steadfast. Not even the tiniest indication he was daunted.

"However.. I'm afraid you miscalculate how tenacious I am. Leave me tied to this bed, and not only will your guilty conscious eat at you for the rest of your life~" Shifting forward as his body strutted against his plush confines, Omi delivered the finishing line: "..but, say I am correct and there is more than your story tells. I can give a rather accurate description, what if I ask every staff and patient of your whereabouts? Ooh~ Ask the staff for film stills, pay if need be! Then I can raise awareness most easily about-"

In a mockingly cute voice, the mercenary prattled on: "The malicious woman who left an ailing fighter to rot~" Finally, his voice returned to a semblance of calm:

"Or, we can just get these things untied. I can do it myself four different ways, but all involve injuring myself or others at this point I'm 'fraid. Help is so appreciated."

Beginning to walk forward as he spoke, Rell lifted the clipboard from the end of the bed before bringing it to her face. Her ghostly yellow eyes skimmed through the information idly, occasionally she'd flip the page. It looked like he has received quite a sum of injuries, intentionally or not. As soon as he stopped his gab, she glanced up.

"Well Mr.--" She looked once more before neatly setting the board down. "Omi Barsait. I'm afraid you miscalculate just how much I don't care to help you."

She feigned his exact and walked a little closer, though still well out of his reach. Clicking her tongue, Rell shook her head before looking back up at the ailing fighter. It would be a shame to see him rot, though she could already imagine it. Being around the dead for extended stretches of time would to that to someone, see what a person would look like in the throws of deep death. Sometimes it made it easier to deal with the living. Fixing her glasses, she sighed out lightly as her fake smile faded. His silly little threats meant nothing to this time traveler.

"Pity." Turning on her heel, Rell began a slow walk to the door, the bell like objects swayed along with her hips. "Bad luck, Barsait~"

Slowing to a halt, the blue haired woman looked over her shoulder, her eyes rolling lightly. Call it growing up in a caring environment, or maybe a guilty conscious. Maybe it was because he said please. Regardless, Rell looked toward the door once more before whipping back around to undo the damned straps.

Pausing to look at the bindings, she looked to him silently before hesitantly reaching down and attempting to do what he asked. She had a little trouble, to be honest. Rell wasn't the strongest creature, and how the medical staff had them tightened was ridiculous, she had half a mind to just use her knives to cut the material. But soon, all three straps would be undone, leaving the necromancer to step back a bit.

"There." Her lips pursed as she glanced away. Her mother's teachings pushed her to help further. And so, begrudgingly she crossed her arms, her hands gripping at the cloth of her sleeves. "Do you.. Need help up or something..."

Terran watched the procedure quietly, looking over the scales with a scowl. He'd been quiet, trying to comfort Fayble through it all, though now, he couldn't help but ask. "Do you have any idea what those things are?" He said blankly. He was referring to the pylons, and their penchant for disfigurement and madness. "Cause... this s**t is absolutely ridiculous." He didn't know if Alan knew any better than he did, but it was worth asking for ideas or theories.

Lovi had waited a few hours for Gloria to receive her message and come to the hospital portion of Station D, but the wait had already been a long one without adding to the general stress of the situation. She wanted her pipe. Perhaps a warm bath and change of clothes as well, given how long she had slept in the waiting room chair for slightly better news. Alan was there. As long as somebody was around to hear about any changes in their companion's condition, she supposed she could leave for a while, brief or otherwise.

The amazon departed from the place to return to the hotel and put a little care into her own well being. It was a fairly quick break, only enough to ease her mind some and search frantically for the ornate silver pipe that had somehow gotten lost amongst her things. The weathered expression upon her face when she finally came back to the hospital would suggest that she had not yet found the item in question. Concerned as she was for her captain's condition, her thoughts were gradually shifting to care more for the absence of an heirloom she did not care to be parted from.

However long it had taken for Tresondros to wake from his deathlike slumber (days, hours, whatever suits your fancy), Lovi had arrived on the scene in time to hear muffled sounds of fumbling and physical pain from the hallway on her way to his room. She picked up her pace, the c-click c-click of her heels on the linoleum giving some indication of a wardrobe change from her previous arena attire to something more suitable to her profession (some things were just habitual for some people). She hurried to the door and opened it to find her friend awake, exposed and fallen to the floor.

The first thought that came to mind and, subsequently, her mouth was, "Idiot! Why are you not in bed?" She didn't seem bothered by the fact that he was indecent. The human form was not so uncommon to her eyes. She motioned to help, of course.

"Can you stand at all?" she persisted, touching on his inquiry, but not terribly concerned by it...yet. Waking from such a state was, she assumed, a difficult thing to manage for anyone. Not surprisingly, her companion had likely overlooked his own limitations with regard to his injuries.

Lovi knelt next to him, unsure if he required assistance to support his whole weight or just part of it. She couldn't recall a time where she had ever seen such an expression of fear, or at least alarm in his face. It wasn't pleasant to witness...but then, her perspective on the matter had been affected by a lack of sleep and preferred substances.

How he managed to smile in the wake of such an ordeal, she didn't know. There were many qualities of his, if you could call them 'qualities', which she would likely never understand. But at least some were a little more endearing than others. She seemed relieved, even happy to see him better, or at least awake and somewhat active. Then he had to go and ask her for a kindness she hadn't been prepared to give.

"I'm almost certain they have nurses who could help you with that.." she responded with a bitter taste in her mouth, though she knew that such a request was likely a difficult one to make, especially for one so otherwise independent as he.

"Besides," she added, gradually easing back to allow him the opportunity to support himself, "You just woke up. Shouldn't you rest your body first?"

"You mean completely helpless?" she inquired with a somewhat more inquisitive inflection, "Yes, I do like seeing you this way, just a little." There was no point in tiptoeing around the obvious. Whether he took it as a strait insult or a friendly jest, it was what it was, and Lovi felt no guilt in voicing it.

It was strange watching him stand there so confused and lacking in coordination. Yes, it was satisfying to know that he was human, that he had weaknesses beyond the his often irksome personality. But at the same time, it was painful to imagine how far he had fallen from his natural state of being. He uttered that last sentence and her expression sank into something rather grim.

"...You were dead."

Whether he had been made aware of the fact or not, Lovi was still coming to grips with the possibility of an alternate outcome. What if he had died? While she knew it shouldn't have, and in the long run wouldn't have mattered to her, it seemed so wrong when his pulse stopped.

"Your clothes were cut up when they carted you off in the ambulance," she explained, "I'll see what I can find."

'You can help me to the spire.' He spoke as if doing so was an obligation or a privilege of some kind. And then to add that she be quick about it was quite more demanding than she would have liked. She should have left him to walk on his own and see how far he could manage before falling flat on his a** and being carted back to his bed. Of course, leaving now would deny her the opportunity to play witness to his humiliation.

"No thanks necessary," she spoke irritably, though the mood had lightened some. There was a truth to that statement, considering she had carted him to so-called safety when it might have saved his life just to remain where they were and await the assistance of a healer. Not the first poor decision she had ever made, but he had asked to be taken to the hospital.

She knew that at the heart of everything, he was being eaten alive on the inside, and she imagined she would feel much the same in his position. But it was simply too gratifying to see him in such a state, however mixed her feelings were on the matter.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, more so to make certain that the sheet didn't fall than to keep him steady. Given his condition, it would be a long ride to the spire, and all of it by public transit.

}I edited a little. Because I was bored.{

Rell flinched back as he held up his hand in effort to tell her to stay put. It only made the grip on her shirt tighten, her eyebrows furrow forward. She mentally sighed because of his will to get up by himself. The necromancer didn't like touching people, or having others touch her for that matter. She was even weary around her own sibling, Oriel, when she had to be healed. Focusing on the floor for the remainder of his struggle, Rell blinked when she saw his bear feet.

He was standing now.

"See~?"

Rell looked up. All the way up, it seemed there was a quite the height difference between the two strangers. Pinning her long ears back, she adjusted her glasses as her eyes affixed to his, the fatigue very prominent on his features. She felt more than uncomfortable in this situation. A tall, dark haired, rather handsome man standing in front of her. Without a shirt or much else besides pants. Rell cleared her throat and averted her light eyes shyly.

"Mm.."

She said simply in response. The necromancer wasn't too keen on giving her name out just yet. If it could be still helped, she'd like for him to forget about her. But at the present, it probably wouldn't happen. Thinning her lips, she looked to the door before shifting her posture.

"Can I go.. Or do you need me to stay for something else."

Slowly, Rell let her eyes rise back to his. She might have been a rather cold individual. But it didn't mean she had misplaced her manners... Completely. Letting go of her right arm, she tucked a few locks of hair behind her ear.

"I mean... You don't look as right as.. Well, anything, really."

The knowledge that his son would be ok was like a weight off the old monks shoulders. He knew his boy would heal and would come back to challenge Deitric to one day defeat him in combat. It was not a thing of revenge or of anger but of sport and competition, and such things were healthy...at least from the Ecstuffuan family perspective. Sieg stood with the group of people at the tram stop to go back to the crystal tower to check on Tres.

Apparently he and that girl had transported themselves back after Tres finally had awoken from his long slumber. Despite the pleasant knowledge of his son's health something about the arc bugged Sieg and he intended to find out exactly what it was. Those pylons in the last round of fights caused devastating mutations similar to what he encountered when he fought the Daemon of Nurgle so many years ago.

From out of no where a sickly looking man walked out of the darkness of the tunnel. He was dressed in a medical gown and looked as if he was running from something with the IV hanging halphazerdly from his wrist. Sieg moved immediatly through the crowd to assist the salivating gentleman who looked as if he were going to collapse at any moment. However, Just as Sieg reached the edge of the crowd.

"Donwannagoduntwanttogodontwanttototogooooooooooooooo~"

Sieg stopped for a moment to examine the situation. Such a noise should not have been able to come from a man. Sieg then began to walk from the crowd slowly with his right hand held out to offer an assisting hand. He approached carefully as he didn't want to further frighten the distressed man.

"Sir. You need medical assistance. Allow me to help you..."

Zig, on the other hand, had found his way into the restricted area, using a bit of arcana to forge a medical tag off of a nurse he'd found sacked out drunk in the commons. It'd fail under any sort of authorial control, but insofar as getting in close enough, it'd pass muster.

The pylons were ******** with his judgment, he decided. But for some reason, even realizing that his actions were brash and psychotic did not deter him from carrying them out. In fact, the thought that what he was doing, his desperation at figuring out more to do with these damned stones, only seemed to thrill him. He knew this way lay madness. But he moved forward regardless.

"Donwannagoduntwanttogodontwanttototogooooooooooooooo~" sounded as he came up the hall at long last. The man was blasted and in a twisted way, not anything approaching normal while not out and out appearing deformed. It was a wholly disturbing sight. Like a gibbering transient. It has been said that there is more discomfort in the familiar, but wrong, than in the unknown. Gregory was just one such case.

"Don't want to go?" Zig muttered to himself, watching as Sieg stepped forward. And likewise, Zig would as well. He didn't speak. He didn't want to startle the man any worse than he already was. Sieg seemed capable with the sick, and if Zig talked, his subterfuge would likely end quickly.

[Ark - Infirmary Room of Omi Barsait]

Barsait smirked, watching how keen this woman was to avert her gaze. Interesting.. he was rather close to her after all, mostly unclothed and rather prominent in the room, so of course the awkwardness was understandable. However, against his urges to instigate ten levels of sexual harassment as was his regular approach, Omi had business to press towards. Shaking his head even with a constant threat to fall asleep looming deep in the recesses of his mind, the man merely paused for a moment.

"I am a participant in a combat tournament held nearby these parts. I need to get towards [Latent], and survey what has happened. Cutey with glasses, tell me, where exactly are we? Last I recall, I was in a farm field on [Ark], then nothing. An abyss that swallowed all memory." Teetering just noticeably in place, it was clear the mercenary was a standing miracle simply in that he could stand; the medication threatened his consciousness where the injuries murdered it. However, time was irreplaceable.

Still, this was problematic. Omi had no weaponry, no armor, no utensils.. the shape his body was in, his self-defense would be sloppy at best, stubborn will all that kept him on his feet. His [Serpentine Manipulation Art] was quite literally the man's only practical weapon at the moment, which was a ten-fold problem in that Barsait certainly didn't need stamina drained where so little was present at the moment. Much less to call upon the snakes only to feel a deathly manifestation emerge, no.. even if they worked flawlessly, the larger problem was: he was too weak at the time to beat a similarly skilled fighter in direct combat with them. There was but one way he could defend himself, and that way frolicked with death and despair.

He needed information and he needed mobility until in a location that was deemed secure. The [Crimson Hawk Hotel] in company of his fellows was the ideal destination for the moment, 'til his body was indeed his own once more. Thereafter, the barely clothed fighter could re-obtain both his equipment and decency, and ideally begin investigations most vital. But Omi was too self-aware of his fortune, full of riches and blunders; life was not so kind.

"DonwannagoduntwanttogoDONTWAN-"

Howling, shrieking. It was hard to make out just what was being yelled, it seemed like a voice and yet, nonsensical noise all the same. Dulled, muffled by white walls.. however, it existed and pierced his ears like off-key notes of a hellish song. An uproar outside followed this, confused and frightened individuals relaying inane babble from one to the next like a chorus of circus ingrates, too afraid to investigate the noise yet too keen on passing judgement upon the injured and ill of mind to not spectate.

"..and if you'd like to get something to eat with me," Omi Barsait began, eyes burning a hole towards the direction that voice stemmed from, "Well now. That would just be super. Because we are in an infirmary and those do tend to have guest lounges, right right~?"

Right hand tensing up, fingertips cracking into a condensed fist, the perspiring man's ill feeling about his environment just grew wings and flew into his mind in the form of a banshee's shriek. Beautiful.

[Ark - Infirmary Room of Omi Barsait]

A wry smirk grew as her touch left him. Perhaps he seemed in rough shape.. no, perhaps he in fact was in dire condition, plastered with wounds and injuries, filled with an exhaustion that would grip his mortal coil. Yet he had been through so much worse.. that in relativity, this was absolutely nothing. Yet. Something about Latent and its surrounding area began to distort in an unsettling way, and all the more he gazed, the blurrier the circumstances became. For reality to transition into a nightmare..

That was Omi's every disgust incarnate. It simply would not do.

"Perfect. If we are indeed still upon [Ark], we can catch a bite to eat, become acquainted, become INTIMATELY acquainted, and I can be on my way towards where I need to be in record time." Glee dripping in his voice, it was hard to tell amidst the thinly veiled flirtation and bizarre, sudden shift in energy whether he was more happy to be aware of where he was, or getting ready to devour a hospital's food stocks.

Sometimes, they were on the dry side, but given the atmosphere and how pristine these white walls were, Omi could only guess this was a well ran facility with resources poured into it. Coffee, perhaps hot dogs, or nachos.. quaint and yet that in itself lend to their allure. Ah.

"Come, my spectacle laden queen~" Shamelessly strutting out of the room despite his balance quite obviously quivering in his forelegs, Barsait was practically excited despite his condition. Truth be told, he hadn't gotten much of a chance to explore [Ark] just yet; to know a location well was an advantage, to not was a disadvantage that was crippling. He would feast, shrug off troubles, and be in his hotel room asleep before the painkillers even wore off along with being a good deal more learned of this odd facility.

The scream wasn't too concerning. Likely a patient that had been pained by a low-skill nurse or something. It happened. No, more important was scanning the halls for a "break room," a "recreation room," a "food court," a "cafeteria.."

"...mm." Bare feet clicking together, Omi paused right outside of his room's doorway as his eyes scanned the halls uncertainly. It was like being a child in a candy shop given unlimited access: how could you begin to choose?

Left, right, northeast, northwest, should he poke around or get straight to fine meal? Bandages and all, Barsait noted guard-types.. but they would pay him no mind so long as he didn't act too outlandish. A wounded patient in a hospital, this was elementary, and the context by which Omi would pass away his boredom this day via exploitation.

[Ark - Infirmary Room of Omi Barsait]

"Ah~ Now that I find highly unlikely, frames goddess." Bringing his right hand to chin tip, fingers stroking it gently despite their tight bandaging, the artist's whimsical words didn't match his genuine expression that was obviously pondering their situation. Now analyzing their environment, Omi noted the lack of a decorator's touch once you stepped foot out of one's room..

"If what you say is true.. tch.. then perhaps this is merely a medical quarter of a larger structure, but that implies food storage even heavier. Trams, tunnels, blast doors.. to seclude oneself without supplies is to ask for a slow death if times turned ill." Still, Barsait couldn't help but frown slightly. Blast doors weren't necessary for anything.. civilian period. Perhaps this was a military outpost in [Ark]..? But then why was he here? No doubt, not out of the kindness of anyone's hearts..

Unsettling.

"Perhaps it would be wise indeed to make my leave now, before misfortune and I acquaint ourselves once more." Cool air reaching his bare flesh, the artist had to grin and bare his lack of decency. Perhaps that would explain why none of his things were salvaged even better; if this was in fact military of any type, likely a damn wasn't given on pleasantries. That would also explain why his balance was constantly on the brink of destruction; hurriedly administered painkiller..? And his coarse means of restraint..

"Here, mind escorting me to the trains then, princess in rims? I-" Pausing awkwardly, Barsait's grin grew even as his brow furrowed just slightly. "...know I'm asking quite a bit of a stranger, or of anyone for that matter. But if I had to be honest, I need to leave here as soon as possible. I feel so unusual." Not daring to keep his eyes on the woman, instead they traveled down the tunnel interior with a lofty quality to them.

"My body feels sluggish.. I 'spose that's the drugs they pumped me with. And my lack of modesty explains my cold skin~ But speaking frankly, I feel something else that troubles me.. like the blood traveling through my veins is cold, like my body is beating to a metronome. Something unnatural." Finally breaking his gaze and forcing it upon her, truth was imparted. Something about their surroundings caused his very mind to ache.. and it was beginning to bother him.

Something told him this location was just not ideal to be within at this time. He was hard pressed to find a reason to disagree.

"So~ You escort my weak conditioned self about, I'm in your debt. Deal?" Omi would have clapped, yet his fingers stung even through the numbing agent to consider it just yet.

[Southeastern Block Western End - "Infirmary"]

Barsait felt something mildly warm drape him. It was rather unexpected, and took a moment before Omi realized she had just covered him in a blanket. No such bedside manner was granted by even the staff at this militaristic location, and yet looking down only to catch a smile made his expression blank at once. Quick, snappy dialogue failed him at this.. what was this? Absurd. Not a pessimist by default, he still knew people weren't that friendly in this world. It was too cut-throat, full of those who shut their arms tight and would let you rot. Those that opened their arms wide.. simply did so to ensnare and slaughter. But you didn't just do something like this, what was her intention?

Flustered and quite off-guard, Barsait did smile - but uncertainly, a bit of heat rising in his face from exhaustion as well as simple embarrassment. He, the "Artist" coined by combat past, was a solitary unit. Even when cooperating with a team, which he upheld the concept of comradeship quite literally to the death within, Omi still joked obscenely and acted eccentric to keep a healthy distance, keeping to himself with the excuses of exploration, improvement, enlightenment, engorgement, hedonism.. but always solitary. To be wealthy and yet sleep in the wilderness for weeks on end, it was not simple love of treasure or some idiotic fancy, it was isolation. With it, he managed to make sense of the many fanciful, wonderful, and horrifying images both true and false that flashed through his mind; it heightened his paranoia to ridiculous levels, and yet set it at ease at the same time with the linearity of it all. To hold one's mind in their hands.

But this was absurd. People didn't just comfort him. That was what you did with family, or dear friends, or lovers; these social links of society at large, not a snake, not a beast. That wasn't what you did with a man submerged neck deep in the waves of war, that made no sense.

".. Ahm. Well. That is much appreciated." Such a lackluster response. Omi of course caught onto the woman's little hint at her profession, and assumed it either meant she was an apothecary or a death magician; a "necromancer." Funny enough, this really didn't phase him if she was telling the truth. Superstition and implications aside, dealing with dead corpses to create weaponry was no more barbaric than clean weaponry to create the dead, neither more profane and tainted. If anything, the thought of a "White" mage as they called them, that order with no regulations which experimented on the living body.. they were a far more chilling prospect.

Still, curious. He realized at once, she hadn't even given him her name, and that simply would not do. Trudging towards one of the blast doors, Barsait hummed at last: "Name? Mine's Omi Barsait like I said, but you never really spoke your own. Unless it really is Glasses Maiden. Then I am just clairvoyant." Teeth shining, the blanket coated mercenary was forcing a little dominance back into his voice.

No point and no strength in being shaken.

[Tram Platform, Southeastern Block]

Perhaps the drugs were just making him loopy. That was the easy reasoning to throw on the table for Omi, convenient and logical; but, he couldn't shake a level of embarrassment that made his brow furrow. It was simplistic, perhaps even beyond that, to be on the "offensive" and flirt a woman into the ground. So true, that he had done it many a time to his humor, wit and fast tongue embraced; yet being on the receiving end of even a little well meaning treatment, rather than being ostracized for his eccentric behavior.. well. It was also simple, and yet all the same had him fairly flustered. Still, he tried to maintain composure best as possible.

"Rell, is it.. a pleasure now that we are properly introduced. And you'll find my mind is.. rather unique. Some would even call me mad, although I'd readily say the same of they more than half the ti.." Voice trailing off weakly, Barsait had only paused to enter the train doorway due to a momentary dizzy spell. Omi's eyelids grew heavier, vision blurring a little. Truth be told, he was still rather tired, and this walking about was already getting to him. Exhaustion stemming from combat, a lack of proper sleep, and various things lodged in mind that robbed his thoughts their peace helped form a stamina devouring demon.

Omi snapped to at Rell's question, flashing his teeth with an audible "click." "Been ready." Energy to smile, energy to step up into the compartment.. how odd, how very tired he had became. His battle with Fayble was certainly fierce, but to make his body suffer such weariness? What, he wondered, kept his body in this bizarre wedge between deep sleep and alert focus? Absurd, really..

Hearing the sliding doors come together just behind him once he had stepped inside, a nearby leather seat would find the mercenary practically collapse against it despite his bravado back-first. Letting his head rest against the back seat edge, it tiredly tilted towards his ... what was even the right term, impromptu guardian at this point? And slowly sprawled with a weary smile: "Very kind, Rell. Very.."

Eyes gently shutting, Omi Barsait seemed content to let the sentence stop at that. He would need to rest what time this tram ride would grant it, then use that conserved energy to get towards his desired oasis. He couldn't even accept his usual paranoia on the grounds had she been someone intent on causing him harm, she'd done so when he was strapped to his bed with relative ease. However, that only meant she was no perceived danger..

..making the fact he was traveling with this newly met individual, blanket wrapped about his bare shoulders like a warming cape, all the more curious to Omi. It was rare he kept company when not for a specific objective or business. Odder still, given the situation; a woman easing his woes like he were a child, all while he barely kept awake and shivered under warm cloth the slightest. Too odd.

Bed in a familiar location, and a chance to digest this, was a welcome prospect.

[Tram of C Station - Receiving]

"..mm." A simple little noise. Barsait's forehead was now perspiring, a light fever manifesting. Rell, this no longer random stranger, was in his trust for such simple reasons. Above all, a need: had she not aided him.. would he have left that compound infirmary, he wondered? Something nagging at the back of his mind told him 'no,' that his fate would have been sealed shut. Such an odd premonition.

Of course, Omi was also optimistic at interactions with women, although at the same time wary his behavior rarely ever reaped results. Still, due to the sheer kindness this individual had shown him, he couldn't bring himself to start grilling her with innuendo even as a joke; there was a soft but sure level of respect you gained for those who aided your ill form, after all. Still, the soft blanket she had shielded his wounded body with shifting with him, no amount of ease came to the motion of Barsait rising to his feet with a pained grimace..

"How cheap were those bastards.. the painkiller's already wearing off." Flashing a humored grin at Rell, it was as easy to see through as glass: pain was beginning to visit his nerves, synapses putting the equation of agony together at rapid speeds. Despite his complaints, the medical staff, rag-tag or not, had done their fair share of work. His mutated art had damaged the innards of his limbs, and the [Pylon] grown mutation on his back, fully severed, would have likely killed him by raw shock alone had it not been done with some care. And he knew it well enough. The mercenary knew..

Still, the man's forehead beat with his heart, heat rising in his face and a dull ache setting into his joints, where sharper burning erupted across those bandaged fingers. All a distraction, Barsait reassured himself, fleeting pain that he would need to surpass.. still, what a monstrous distraction it was after all. He began to grow concerned at his prospects of making it anywhere in his condition on foot without collapsing in a street somewhere, and the more he thought of guilt-tripping this extremely kind Rell into aiding him farther, the more a very uncharacteristic heat rose to the man's face. Such an embarrassment to be in someone else's care like this.

"Still. Mi'lady Rell, you showed me no small amount of kindness in a dark hour." Voice coming to & fro with its strength, Omi stubbornly persisted in adding: "I do not forget those whom do well by me. Forgive me for being so forward as it were, but you only need ask for the rest of your days, and you'll have the services of Omi Barsait at your disposal." Lips shutting, just a rather sincere smile accompanied this even while the man's left arm twitched once from a stab of sudden pain in the wrist. His condition was irrelevant, he felt indebted to this woman entirely.

Without a doubt, he would see to it she was compensated. Money, literal service for whatever was needed to be done as per his job description, something else his conscious would bite at him for a lifetime, harder than the setting sun striking what of his neck flesh was exposed through the tram windows behind himself. It was already decided.

[Tram of C Station - Receiving]

Barsait was indeed a stranger to this type of interaction. Yet, first the wiping of his forehead sweat, then her taking his temperature.. weary though he may have been, the man's face flushed involuntarily. What was she doing? Furthermore, what could he possibly say or do? He felt like a child in her care, a notion ever more reinforced by his weakening limbs that threatened to collapse if not for stalwart and stubborn reinforcement on his part.

"Do... " Swallowing just audibly, Omi seemed to attempt rather forcibly to regain his composure. "Mm - don't fret their hospital staff. That's the least of my concerns. My primary objectives are to find a location to rest before I collapse.. and then to collapse. The [Crimson Hawk] is good as any. Suite #219." The notion he had just given away his team's location briefly entered Omi's mind, but then muddled away amidst the sun's searing heat mingling with his own high body temperature.

This woman was entirely trustworthy. Else he would have been disposed of between the blast doors and tram station, body never seen again. Still, she vocalized what Omi already well knew: he needed security. Normally, seclusion took care of this. The man was a decent enough tracker for purposes of recognizing what would get him followed and killed out in the wilds. It worked nicely for him to rest somewhere where about all he had to worry through was a wild animal his unnatural snakes would frighten off half the time.

The city, any city, was different. Fortunately, he wasn't in his trademark garb, so spotting him wasn't as easy as normal.. but to any experienced fellow looking to hit a mark, still rudimentary work. In his condition, he would miss a beat, slip a step, take a rest for a brief moment, and that would be the end. Truly, there was no limit to the motivation available: he was a fight tournament regular in many regions, killing him could be a sign of recognition for a number of groups or, a sign of satisfaction for a jilted gambler. Conversely, his mercenary work and general behavior, regardless of intentions, was oft flashy and stepped on a lot of toes. The fact his body had been mutilated, shattered, broken, disfigured, warped.. yet Omi always walked away eventually looking clean shaven and with fine health, at his age no less.. this also enraged not just a few parties.

All it took was just one individual, one spiteful b*****d to pick their reason.. and he was looking at a plausible early death.

However, for all the preaching made of him being a strategist, a genius, a tactician - truth be told, he was reckless unto the point it was ridiculous. Someone swooping in for the kill simply meant they would reveal themselves and could conversely be killed. A defensive themed assault with his own life as bait and wager. However, no such plans sufficed at the moment with this Rell woman being his escort.. too much guilt to risk himself after all the effort she placed in his name.

"Let's.. get going that way, shall we?" Nonchalant in such a forced fashion, he could win an award for transparent acting - Barsait grinned sheepishly even with his hue unchanging, and began to march his tattered body out the tram door. [The Hawk] was calling.

In the black, he screamed. He screamed for three reasons. He screamed at the void beyond his prison, he screamed at the man who had placed him there. And lastly, he screamed because he was free, and the cold iron bars rattled as he fell between the worlds.

Kchak, kchak, KCHACK.

The station flickered, lit in fitful bursts as the train screamed past. Then...there was a shiver in the world. The lights on the station went out. The train moved past, endless. There was a bundle upon the platform, a black, ragged thing where there hadn't been before. The roar of the tram receded as it kept going, not stopping.

Something changed. It's...warm. No, still cold but...warmer than that place. That place.

The bundle of rags exploded upwards. A rage-filled roar ripped from the throat of the man within the rags. He was grimy, his hair long and uncut, matted with blood. But he was loud. And very real.

The man was quiet now, but he clutched his head as if in great pain. And he was. His head was pounding. He shuffled in circles, holding his head, muttering to himself. "Quiet, quiet, quiet. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF QUIET!" He spun, suddenly tense and still as a statue.

There was a pulsing.

"No no no...I can't...it could be him!" he hissed, to the air. "A trap! Yes...that's how he works, isn't it?" Connor let out a breath. A small vapor cloud misted before his face. It swirled, lasting longer than it should have. It wasn't that cold down here. Brown eyes blinked at the face within the mist. He shook his head, disagreeing with whatever was speaking to him. "No, you're right...there is only one door. Doors...they lead places. Away. Yeah I...I don't have anywhere else. I know, I KNOW!" The muttering turned into shouts again, but this time of exasperation. His breath-cloud finally evaporated.

"Fine. Fine! I'll...I don't want to...have to. Okay." At the end, his voice became firm. He took a few hesitant steps forward, then a few more. Now the door that led deeper into the Ark was before him, and the station at his back.

"It better not be ******** locked." Connor turned the handle.

The man stood there for who knows how long, arm out and hand grasping at thin air, and muttering to himself. "Of course. Locked. And that one...locked? Yeah. Oh, there's another, what a surprise."

Hallway after hallway after hallway greeted Connor at every turn. He'd long since given up the hope that he'd made it out of his prison. He'd passed a mirror a while back and glimpsed, just out of the corner of his eye, a ring of iron bars.

He'd smashed the mirror. Blood was still dripping from his hand, from the shards embedded in his knuckles. He didn't bother to wonder why that was so. He was too busy at the moment trying door after door in this endless hallway of doors.

Every single one of them had been locked. But he had expected that. There was a movement, a familiar slithering shape. "What are you doing? You've tried this door already." Connor stopped, sat down. "Really? That's the third time you've told me that. Sure it ain't the same one, jus' different looking?"

"They all look the same, Connor."

"Do they?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Because I think that one's pink." He pointed towards a single door standing in the middle of the room. He failed to notice that he was now in a round room, rather than endless hallways.

"Oh. That looks like s**t."

"I know, right?"

"No, I mean it looks like s**t. Like brown. The color?"

"You sure?" Connor squinted in the wrong direction.

"You're talking to yourself again." With a sigh, Connor stood up. The room dropped away, disorienting the man. Around him was blackness. He couldn't see his shadow-self.

The pink door was floating in front of him.

"Goddammit."

With a shout, his features suddenly twisted with rage, he kicked the door in. Light flooded out, blinding him. When he opened his eyes again, he was in the middle of an infirmary.

A voice asked, "Are you in need of medical aid?"

"No."

And then it asked again, but a different voice, "Are you in need of medical aid?"

He answered, not noticing the change."Yes."

And again, "Are you in need of--"

"I'VE GIVEN YOU AN ANSWER ALREADY!"

He heard the question asked thrice and so he answered three times, yet the question had only been asked one time. Connor gave no indication that he realized he had just spoken three different answers in half the time it had taken the woman to voice one question.

For a brief moment after he'd first arrived, the man had too many shadows, long ones, short ones, shadows hiding within shadows and shadows flitting across the ground like a flock of birds. Now he spun and the shadows (must have been a trick of the light) snapped back to normal positions as governed by the glowing fluorescent lighting. "What more do you want?" He was irritated, no longer shouting and he seemed to be looking right past her.

Because something, a pulsing, had his attention.

Something hiding within the chattering shadows studied the woman standing before Connor. She had spoken to the things it resided in, senseless forms and shapes. Interesting, but that was something Connor did day in and day out. His host had become quite the conversationalist within the prison of his mind.

"Now scat!"

Connor looked down suddenly, as if he were a child again, being yelled at for taking the cookies before dinner had been eaten. "Okay...yes. Yes yes, places to be. We have places to be!"

With a little dance in his step he recovered, moving past Rae without a second glance, because he didn't see her. He only saw the pylon. He started singing to himself. " Places with shiny things, glittering things, shiny, glittering, prism-y things!" The medical robe he wore rustled with the faint sound of feathers as he stepped past her. The dark thing within his shadow retreated to it's perch within where it could better guide it's host.

Guided by the pull, that tugging feeling the parasite shared with Connor.

The Parasite must have been exhibiting more of an aura then it thought, or maybe Raven was very susceptible to psychic influences via her connection with the shadows and that was why she had the vision of the pylon. Because the warped creature generated shadows that mixed and mingled with Connor's own, it must have shared something with the woman. Thus, they both shared a a brief moment of "Ooh, shiny~".

But to any 'normal' people around, there was no visible pylon. It was deeper within the restricted section.

Suddenly, reality reasserted itself and Connor was left with a vague memory of something bright and glittery, and Raven a glimpse of his gloriously nude rear, framed by the untied medical robe.

"Noah? Who is he? No no, I remember. Foundation dude. Wait." He turned, just as she finished tying up his robe. "Noah's Ark? HA! I get it~" He giggled for what seemed like five minutes straight. And then abruptly stopped and gave Raven a great hug.

"...Hmm. Okay! Um. I gotta go...somewhere. Keep walkin', I'll end up at the...pillar, tower, pylon...thing." It was shiny! That's all that mattered. The Parasite slithered through his veins, reacting to Raven's close proximity, then it retreated once more. It would bide it's time and try to keep it's presence under wraps. No need to draw any more attention to itself and its host.

Connor released Raven and wandered down the hallway, his departure as sudden as his mood changes.

Connor continued walking at a brisk pace. His bare feet slapped at the floor, the only other sound he made was tuneless humming. Occasionally he uttered a few words, most incoherent, others seemed to be titles along the lines of 'Black Crowned King, Carrion Lord Raven' and many other feathered names.

"I don't have to look, lady!" He spun around on the sole of his foot, paused ever-so-slightly, and continued walking backwards. "We already found it!" He threw his arms wide as if to emphasize his point, then bent one elbow and pointed at his head.

And in a stage whisper, "It's in here, somewhere~".

Then her other question hit home and he stopped, looking at her with a confused expression on his face. "I used the front door." As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Don't know anything about portals. Door wasn't orange OR blue." He turned back around, began walking. "It was pink." A giggle, a laugh, then silence. He again answered her a second time, even though she hadn't asked a question.

"So do I. It reminds me of a cage." Near the end of that sentence, anger flooded his voice and he tensed up. He didn't like the thought of being locked up. Made his skin itch.