[Despite the effort that had gone into remaining a Regressor, all of the sweat and fight and writhing... in the end, when she had grown too tired to do anything but embrace the sink into darkness and let the call of Hell's Gate come rushing back with it... it had gone with a whimper and not a bang.
For one last, aching instant, she had been the woman that Hei had called "Carmine". She had been afraid, desperate to be saved from the fate of rationality and selfishness, from a life without dreams and without hopes beyond the cold calculations of survival, the weighting of cost and benefit. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone again, the blood she knew stained her hands had been a source of deep, uncleansible guilt-
And then it simply wasn't.
The memories (the ones that hadn't been extracted) came rushing back, the glow of radiation surges and this time doesn't putter out and die. Somewhere, in some patch of space, a false star called FN-067 reactivates... and the emotions she'd valued dim away to nearly nothing, leaving her concerned only with the physical truths of her situation.
Her body was weak. Hungry. Not in fit physical condition. She had two broken fingers.
That can be most easily addressed. And when someone who she had "met" before makes himself known... She turns to look at him, dead-eyed for a moment as the calculations run... and then her lips curl up in the corners just slightly, mimicking the look of a slightly awkward smile for "Mr. Michaelis".]
... Yes, thank you.
[It was difficult to do one-handed. Helpfully, she holds out her hand with the half-tied, makeshift bandage wrapped around the broken middle and ring finger.]
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For one last, aching instant, she had been the woman that Hei had called "Carmine". She had been afraid, desperate to be saved from the fate of rationality and selfishness, from a life without dreams and without hopes beyond the cold calculations of survival, the weighting of cost and benefit. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone again, the blood she knew stained her hands had been a source of deep, uncleansible guilt-
And then it simply wasn't.
The memories (the ones that hadn't been extracted) came rushing back, the glow of radiation surges and this time doesn't putter out and die. Somewhere, in some patch of space, a false star called FN-067 reactivates... and the emotions she'd valued dim away to nearly nothing, leaving her concerned only with the physical truths of her situation.
Her body was weak. Hungry. Not in fit physical condition. She had two broken fingers.
That can be most easily addressed. And when someone who she had "met" before makes himself known... She turns to look at him, dead-eyed for a moment as the calculations run... and then her lips curl up in the corners just slightly, mimicking the look of a slightly awkward smile for "Mr. Michaelis".]
... Yes, thank you.
[It was difficult to do one-handed. Helpfully, she holds out her hand with the half-tied, makeshift bandage wrapped around the broken middle and ring finger.]