TDM #3

[aionmods]

TDM #3

DREAMING (new characters)

At first, there is nothing. You are nothing. Whatever existed before ceases to be if for a moment. Then, bit by bit, you start to become aware. Where there was not even darkness now is a dim haze, gentle and almost mist-like. You have limbs again and beneath your feet lays a path of light reaching out like limbs of a great tree beneath you, twisting and climbing out into the horizon.

You take a step forward for what else is there to do? As you walk you begin to remember what it was you were doing before the nothingness; maybe something as simple as chatting with a loved one or close friend. Maybe you were just beginning a great journey or facing off against an old foe. Whatever it was, you get the distinct feeling that wherever and whenever that was, it is not here. Not now.

The path of light twists off into different directions. When you look up you can see that it is not a sky above you but the sky of everything, a grand cosmic tapestry littered with not mere stars but galaxies and clusters of galaxies that gleam like crystals against the velvety backdrop of space. Admire it for a moment, if you will. You don't know how long you will drift here, but you are not alone. Other wanderers will come and go as you bask together in the vastness of creation.

It seems to you that there are two paths to walk in this place, the light and dark beckoning in turn.

❖ THE LIGHT AT THE CENTER
One leads you to the center, splintered fragments folding together and colliding until only one thing remains: a light that speaks to you with the voice of all there is and has ever been. It greets you simultaneously as an old friend and as a lost child, both rejoicing in and mourning your arrival. You remember it too, somehow, with a feeling of complex nostalgia, as if returning to a place recalled from your distant childhood.

You’ll feel the same of the other wanderers that join you in the light; you know their faces, their voices, and as you reflect upon the world of your birth, you may witness fragments of theirs as well. You feel a comradery, then, a synchronicity of thought and emotion. Are the lives of others truly so different from your own? Or are you simply two hands of the same, greater being? Though some individualistic part of you may resist, the longer you spend in the light, the more you will find yourself becoming one with it.

Despite this welcoming call, no matter how eagerly your pursue its embrace, before you can fully submerge yourself in this oneness you will find yourself being torn away. As if seized by the impossibly long, cold arm of a creature unseen, you are plucked from the edge of fulfillment. The last thing you will remember is the sensation of your world, and all the others your experienced here, collapsing into nothingness.

❖ THE DARK OUTSIDE (CW: deep despair, ego death)
The other leads towards the outside, where the splintering becomes so great that the vestiges of reality can do nothing but collapse back into the abyss at the end of everything. As you wander to these barren outskirts, your thoughts will not be drawn to familiarity and oneness, but instead to memories of discontent and waste. The darker the path becomes, the more you find yourself dwelling on life’s disappointments and injustices, of the things about yourself and your world you find wanting.

If you see others here, at first they will feel frightening or contemptible, as if representing to you the worst experiences in your life. Even if they are someone you’re certain you know, that familiarity and affection will be stripped away in the face of the great emptiness before you. In the end, you were all the same. In the end, none of this was worth it. If you approach the end together, you may even form a kind of kinship around this acknowledgment, as the need for paranoia and hatred fades.

Slowly, the darkness encroaches, and you can see it devouring all the things you once knew. Memories of your home, of those you loved, dissolve into nothing, and you can only reflect on the barren emptiness in your heart as you see it happen. In your final moments, though, you feel peace with it all, knowing that there was no other way. You step from the edge of the last dwindling fragment of being and are greeted by silence.

❖ THE END
No matter which way you go, you are left with a single impression: you feel the world you came from die. It's a realization that transcends logic or sense; it weighs on your heart and leaves the vestiges of dark memories dancing in your thoughts like motes of ash. It's a memory of your home crumbling away into nothing as if consumed from within by rot. Returned to the void, all that's left to you is to be reborn.

REBIRTH (new characters)

In a new time and place, you awaken. Stirring within a capsule of warmth and isolation your senses will slowly return, only to observe that you are trapped. Your body, as it wakes, is tangled in close, yours eyes unable to open, as if still within the womb. You are held tight in the embrace of something unyielding, so smothering that at first you only have the strength to struggle for moments at a time. Yet, as you persist, the pressure begins to relent in turn; it may take hours, but eventually you will find the purchase to push, to claw, to fight, and it will all give way.

The chrysalis surrounding you bends like flesh and cracks like glass. It tears as you force your fingers through, finding liberation one inch at a time, until finally you have emerged. As if having undergone metamorphosis, you feel old and new all at once. You are weak, piteously so, but the markings and scars of your previous life remain. As you slump down upon the smooth cavern stone, you realize that you've just wrenched yourself free of gigantic crystal, though its hollow, shimmering form is now in pieces on account of your passing. Somewhere on your body, a shard of similar material remains embedded.

The cave itself looks almost like the inside of a geode, the walls and ceiling bedazzled with greyish crystal that shines with all the colors of the rainbow. While they vary wildly in size and shape, only a few have grown large enough to hold a form like yours, and you can see the one you just escaped isn't the only one bearing a passenger within. They may have already hatched, or they may still be lingering in stasis. Either way, there's enough time that you may have a chance to speak to yours unexpected peers, or to perhaps to struggle to find something to cover your naked body with. You feel the chill of the open air against your moisture laden skin, a distant light trickling in through the cavern's opening.

Make the most of this time. It won't be long before you're interrupted.

[Mod Note: If you don't want to deal with your character being naked in front of the others at that location, feel free to assume they emerge at a different time than the others of their legacy. Characters will be 'hatching' over a period of several hours.]

DREAMING (OLD CHARACTERS)

For those already in Horos, they will find themselves in the same dreamscape as the new arrivals, only, this time, it's familiar. You'll feel more cognizant of your surroundings as you reawaken in this psychedelic realm, more in control of your emotions. What's more, you recognize that light at the center and the darkness at the edge: it's the Pleroma and Kenoma respectively. The one you are attuned to will call our to your soul, and though you are technically free to wander as you please, the closer you get to the force of your opposite sect, the more it will grate against you spiritually. Pleroma attuned nearing the Kenoma will feel as if its presence is desperately trying to tear them apart, and Kenoma attuned nearing the Pleroma will feel as if its light is burning them from the inside out.

More importantly, you notice that entirely new souls are wandering here with faces you didn't see in the cavern. It gradually becomes clear that they are Aions in the same state you were prior to your rebirth, lost and wandering this stretch of the cosmos with no idea what's to come. Maybe this is your chance to ease the confusion of their arrival, or maybe you'd simply like to scope out what kind of people are on their way. It's also possible for you to run into Aions already in Horos, wandering just like you are. Unfortunately, things are a lot less neutral than they are the last time you shared this realm.

No matter what you do, eventually the cosmos above will begin to burn out, just as it did the first time you were here. As darkness swallows reality itself, you will wake with the visceral memory of your world corrupting and breaking apart.

SEARCHING (OLD CHARACTERS)

Soon after the dreams begin, it will become clear that the Aion NPCs of either sect are also aware of what's happening. For those in Achamoth and Greentruth, the imminent arrival of new Aions will become a matter of official discussion. All able Aions will be called upon for their aid, in whatever way they can offer. Getting to the shrines themselves will be easily accomplished via teleportation. What's would be more complicated is ferrying any new arrivals back to a secure location. Thankfully, this is something both sects have already prepared for.

All characters will have the opportunity to acquire a 'returning stone' if they don't already have one. In all cases, this will amount to an amulet made of the same shimmering material as the shrine monuments, though the stylization differs between the Pleroma and the Kenoma. While regular Aion teleportation can bring you to any of the shrines you know the sigil and location of, a returning stone is magically programmed to bring its wearer back to a specific destination to which it is attuned. Normally, these stones will only be able to store enough energy for one 'return' a month, but it turns out that the ambient power created by the shrines being active will temporarily super charge them. Though it's not guaranteed, this means they may generate enough energy to perform multiple returns for TDM purposes. More information about returning stones can be found on the powers page.

Spare returning stones will be issued to all Aions so that they can be used to bring back anyone they collect, as it's possible to bring someone alongside you if they are also wearing a returning stone. Where your stone leads will depend on your sect.

❖ PLEROMA
Tehri will be the one to supply returning stones, based out of Greentruth. She will not travel to Godsblood to deliver returning stones to those that have not visited Greentruth, but it can be assumed that Greentruth's visitors can pass them along to anyone who has been staying in the city. The returning stones are set to bring them to a secure location beneath the water of Godsblood's coast. From there, new arrivals will have to be allowed to rest and then brought up into the city when they're ready.

Greentruth is limited in its resources, but it will attempt to send troops to the Innocent, Seeker, Wanderer, and Firebrand shrines, all of which are close to the forest. Compared to the last attempt, these troops are a bit better armored. Meanwhile, bolstered by recent events in Godsblood, bands of Resistance members and guerrilla fighters will turn up at the Artisan and Sovereign shrines. The Resistance members will work willingly alongside with the Pleroma Aions, but the guerrilla fighters seem to have their own priorities and that is mostly that they have a beef with the Achamites. These reinforcements will struggle against powered Aions, but they might be able to delay any troops sent by Achamoth or Hylici.

❖ KENOMA
Xishen will be handing out returning stones to all Kenoma the day after the dreams begin for the Aions that don't already have one. She'll explain how to use them, and state that the Regent expects for them to head to the shrines once they become fully active. The Kenoma will have whatever mundane weapons or supplies they need at their disposal for this mission, along with minimal Achamite reinforcements. Due to injuries and death in both Godsblood and Venera, many are in recovery or on their return to Achamoth. She'll reiterate not to rely too heavily on them; after all, only the Aions are able to quickly move between the shrines and at the Citadel. The regular troops will have to be deployed by river or by land, and mobilizing them will take time. They will feasible be able to reach all of the shrines to some degree or another, but will more easily populate the shrines of the Martyr, Celebrant, Lover, Champion, Visionary, Sovereign, and Firebrand.

The Hylicians will be called to fill in the ranks of the diminished Achamite troops. They follow the orders that they are given but are very standoffish otherwise, even more than usual for them. Xishen herself says she will be traveling to the shrines and the Kenoma will be expected to communicate their movements to her as they work. Dionys remains in Achamoth to 'keep watch'. All Kenoma Aions will be given a familiar vial of black sludge, and are instructed to feed it to any Aions they capture at the shrines. It will cause the same effects it did in the cavern, though it will resolve in a few days rather than a week.

RETURNED (ALL CHARACTERS)

New characters that are found a the shrines will be brought back to one of two lodestones, depending on which sect they are taken by. This will be accomplished by their escort putting a 'returning stone' around their neck that will enable them to be teleported to a secure area in their sect's territory. It is advised for your character to be taken by whichever sect you'd like them to end up in.

❖ TO THE PLEROMA
In a dazzling flash of psychedelic light, you will find yourself brought to the Pleroma's lodestone: a monolithic rock set in the center of temple-like ruins. The entire cavern is hidden away beneath the ocean waves, just outside of Godsblood, and the ceiling itself is comprised of nothing but a barrier of water, as if held back from filling the space by some unknown force. The waters surrounding the lodestone are exactly body temperature, with swarms of tiny, violently iridescent fish darting through it. Crabs that look as if they're made of pure, clear crystal wander the sparkling, sandy shores.

There isn't much here in the way of accommodations, but it's comfortable enough that the new arrivals brought in by the Pleroma can take a moment to catch their breath. Some relatively plain but assorted new clothing will have been brought to the cavern to make sure they are actually clothed, as well as blankets and basic food items. It's a good time to ask your questions, or if you are an established Pleroma, to help out your freshly arrived peers. After all, their welcome at the shrine may have been a confusing one.

New arrivals will be permitted to leave the lodestone's temple when they are ready. Unfortunately, the only ways out of these place are through your choice of either swimming through pockets of water that eventually lead to the surface, or by spelunking through a series of tunnels to make your way the cliff faces near the city of Godsblood. More information about the city itself can be found on the setting page, though it would be preferable to keep TDM interactions to the lodestone area. As characters emerging from the shrines will start our as Untouched (more info about attunements here) they will not be permitted entry into Greentruth until they have attuned to Pleroma.

❖ TO THE KENOMA
As your returning stone activates, you will feel yourself thrust into a suffocating void, only to emerge just as quickly somewhere else. The most pressing thing on the minds of anyone taken by the Kenoma will be the vial of pitch black sludge they are forced to drink, whether it is before or after their arrival. Maybe their 'escort' from the shrine gave it to them, or perhaps another Kenoma does soon after they arrive. If not, one of the Achamite cultists wandering around definitely will. Dedicated servants to the Regent's will as they are, they are not afraid to gang up on the vulnerable new arrivals and force it down their throats.

Once in your mouth, the potion will slither down your throat as if it's a living thing. The effect takes hold quickly: as this darkness creeps through your insides, it will embolden your darkest and most despair inducing emotions, plaguing your thoughts with the worst sorrows of your life. What's worst, it simultaneously seems to awaken some form of enhanced psychic empathy within you, both projecting your thoughts for others to hear, and allowing you to receive those of the others around you in kind. Black ooze will begin to seep from orifices, or the space around your shard. The effects of this contamination bring out your worst, and its recipients will be forced to live with these effects until they accept the force corrupting them into their souls.

This world is not good enough, a voice speaks to your through the Kenoma. This suffering you feel, the cruelty that has birthed this darkness in you... it is simply the rot that is consuming this existence. A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand, and all you need do is first bring about this broken reality's end.

How long this goes on will depend on how long the characters is able to fight it. Acceptance of the Kenoma can come as quickly as immediately, if your character is inclined towards it, or it could be drawn out to take a few days. In the meantime, they will have to stay in the barren halls surrounding the Regent's lodestone, and will not be permitted to exit into the greater Citadel as the current Kenoma are. All that will immediately be offered to them down there are stone slabs that can be used as beds and formless white robes that reach down past their knees.

Of course, that doesn't mean the characters that are already of the Kenoma can't do something about that. If they desire it, they will be able to bring food or other supplies to those suffering with their Kenoma infections, and it will be equally within their power to try anything from bullying them into accepting to lovebombing them. Once a character accepts the Kenoma and attunes to it, they will be permitted to leave, but for the sake of the TDM interactions should be kept to the lodestone area.

QUESTIONS

Is this TDM canon?
Mostly! It's part of an in-game event. However, only threads with new players that app and are accepted will be considered game canon. Threads between old characters will all be canon, but threads involving new characters that don't apply or aren't accepted will either need to be tweaked to remove their involvement or made non-canon. New characters will also be able to decide TDM threads aren't canon if they end up changing directions.

Who can toplevel on this post?
Anyone, whether they are a new character or a current one. However, we do ask for current players to do their best to tag new characters. If you are bringing in a new character and want a current character to bring them into your sect of choice, post your request here! ICly, current characters are fighting to claim new arrivals, but it's up to the player of new characters where they ultimately end up going.

When is this TDM taking place chronologically?
The beginning of August. The shrines will be active and forming Aions during that time. The dreams will start around the 29th of July. All current Aions will be able to sense when it's time for the new arrivals to start emerging.

What are the shrines like?
Every shrine is comprised of the crystal-filled cavern character emerge inside and then the massive statue symbolizing the relevant Legacy built on top. More information about each shrine can be found in the "Aion Shrine" section of the setting page.

Are everyone's homeworlds really gone?
That's a complicated issue, and while the fate of their world is not without hope, they may certainly get the impression its been destroyed from the dream they had. Alternatively, they may refuse to believe what they felt and attempt to dismiss it as only a vision. More about this situation will be revealed as the game goes on.

Can I only experience one end of the dream sequence prompt?
New characters may experience one ending, both endings, or neither. If they experience both they will struggle to recall which came first or which feels the most 'true' to them, as both will simultaneously be the thought they are reborn with. If your character refuses to pursue either path they can simply linger in the middle until the infinite worlds above them start being extinguished one by one, eventually expelling them into darkness in a similar style to the light prompt. Which dreams they experience will not dictate their initial sect affiliation.

Is it possible to pull another character back from the end of the light or darkness dreams?
Yes! If your character is able to resist the pull of either end, they will have the chance to try to pull another character back from the edge of the abyss or the edge of oneness. Whether or not they succeed is entirely up to the other character, though.

Do you come out of the chrysalis wet?
For most intents and purposes it's the same experience as hatching out of a real butterfly chrysalis, so yes, a bit.

How does attunement to the Pleroma or Kenoma work for new characters?
More information about sect attunements can be read on their dedicated info page, but in summary: when new characters are brought to Horos, they will be in the state of being "Untouched" meaning they are not attuned to either sect. By the end of their first month in game it is expected they will either attune to Pleroma or Kenoma, though for those taken by the Kenoma's forces, the transition will be forced within the first few days. If taken in by the Pleroma, it may take then some time to attune to Pleroma, depending on the strength of their spirit, but it could also happen almost instantly if they are allowed to. How quickly it happens will depend on how strongly they align with the Pleroma's traits. Characters who have been taken by the Pleroma but that remain Untouched will not be allowed into Greentruth until their attunement to Pleroma is complete.

Can a character taken by one side end up attuning to the sect of the opposite one?
This is theoretically possible, yes: a person taken by the Kenoma could potentially resist the Kenoma's call, and someone taken by the Pleroma could end up falling to the Kenoma while staying with them. Generally, though, we recommend that you have your character be taken by whichever sect you want to end up in, as doing a switcheroo will cause narrative complications that might bog their introduction down in plotting that will need to be done with the mods. It can happen, but it is not to be done lightly!

Comments

Havoc | Darker than Black | Innocent

[regressor]

[OOC: Because canon powers are suppressed at first, Havoc's Contractor nature is being held back, and she is currently in her more emotionally capable Regressor state (for now). I would like her to be taken by Kenoma, plz and thank you!]

01 ☄ THE LIGHT AT THE CENTER

[She had expected the nothing of death, the freedom from fear and pain. More importantly... she had expected to escape the pulse of her messier code, calling out to her from Hell's Gate in the hypnotic, powerful pull of Havoc... Havoc... Havoc...

But instead she is walking, slow and disoriented in a space that feels like every sky in the universe has collided and mixed above, below, and all around her. If she looks for it, will she find the false star that had ruled her life since all of the colors had drained out of her world to be replaced by the cold rationality of a Contractor? Would she find Hei's, hopefully still glowing somewhere in the night?

The light calls to her instead. It is warm and soft, the opposite of Hell's Gate and the cold, rain-soaked concrete she last remembered. The fragments of life that flicker into existance around her are... not so many in number. She had been through the Memory Extractor far too many times for that. There is no childhood home, no parents' faces, no happy birthdays, no flying kites, or school days. But there are confused, muddled recollections of deep jungles, blood in her mouth, rubble where buildings once stood, and Contractors gasping for breath before their vessels burst. There are quiet days in the countryside, the smiling faces of children tugging at her apron, old hands that show her how to shuck the harvest. There are run-down apartments, grunts and rancid breath, money on bedsides, and days spent in hiding.

And there is the Gate, her powers surging back with Lancelnopt Synchrotron radiation glowing in her eyes. Running. Rain.

But there is no glow now, when she meets the gaze of another lost in this sea of stars and memory. Just a pair of dull green eyes set in the face of a woman who wonders how it is she is still alive... and more importantly, if she deserved to stay that way.]

02 ☄ REBIRTH

[Hazy. Slow. Her eyes flutter but refuse to open, and her mind refuses to focus. She remmebered it was raining. Or maybe it had rained. The scent of it had filled her nostrils. Wet concrete. Diluted blood. The stench of abandoned homes and lives some ten years past.

The last moments on her world came back in pieces, but not in the right order. The pull of Hell's Gate. Hei's hands, clutching her face, telling her she didn't need to kill again, that she could live. Laura's children, laughing as they chased each other through the yard. Hei breaking her fingers. The taste of fried rice. A child's dead body at her feet. Rain. Standing on the edge of the abyss with blood-stained memories and radiation lighting up her eyes. Running. Bursts of pain as something, one, two, three somethings lanced through her chest. The cries of jungle birds as a blazing light raced toward her. Her eyes flutter again.

She inhales, and a clotted mess of old blood sticks in her throat. No, it's not blood, it's something else. Something that reminds her to wake up, to move, to gradually push her way out of the tight, warm comfort of whatever held her. Why wasn't she cold? Why didn't it hurt, the spears of ice that should be lancing through her chest? She doesn't know... and so she moves, presses, stretches-

Until a woman spills out onto the floor of the Shrine of the Innocent. She is malnourished and unhealthily thin, what would be vibrant red hair and emerald eyes dulled by neglect, with three large scars on both the front and back of her narrow, bony chest. The small hands that struggle to pick herself off the damp ground are shaky, two of the fingers painfully crooked... and she fails at the first effort to stand, collapsing back onto her knees in an undignified sprawl. Nestled between her clavicles in the dip between is a blood red, drop-shaped crystal.

And as her mind begins to process what is happening and where she is, as it finally catches up and realizes that the call of Hell's Gate has finally gone quiet... the only thing she wonders feels too good to be true. Had she truly escaped it?]

03 ☄ RETURNED (KENOMA)

[No. She hadn't.

On one of the stone slabs surrounding the Regent's lodestone, a small, frail woman dressed in the simple white shift of a new initiate lays on her back, one hand clutching so tight at the fabric of her gown that it shakes with the effort, beads of cold sweat staining her skin as she struggles in stillness against the forces at war in her body. Black ooze seeps out from around the shard at the base of her throat, drips out of an ear, but perhaps more strangely...

She's glowing. Or rather, flickering, like a light switch being flicked on and off in slow bursts. An eerie red glow is born and then fades in her eyes, a strange neon blue light seems to suffuse her silhouette and then be extinguished... and a more observant person might notice that the dying of those lights is tied directly to how she squeezes at the fistful of robe in her hand, using the pain of two broken fingers to focus.

If she didn't... She didn't want to back there. She didn't want to be a Contractor again. She didn't wan't to be Havoc anymore. But there is no relief from the black sludge that had been poured down her throat, there is only-

Her other hand desperately reaches to cling to the leg of whoever walks close enough by. Her mouth opens, but her throat is too tight, and she only mouths the words at first, more an exhale than a voice.]

Please--

[But she gathers it, brow furrowing, forcing herself to get it out, to beg and to plead for just one thing-]

Please kill me...

[Before she wasn't "me" anymore.]

03.

[subsist]

[ ... isn't this a sorry sight.

kaeya is armed with a basket full of necessities, because he knows how well this part of the experience went for him last time. he'd almost forgotten how it felt to have the kenoma in his system for the first time, all the ugly realities and emotions that it managed to dredge up to the surface, all for anyone within earshot to perceive. he hated it then, but now... a part of him can accept that it's necessary.

so when havoc reaches out to him, begging to be killed, he is immediately reminded of someone from his past. the girl asked for a swift death back then too, as if she couldn't bear the weight of her own guilt and sins, as if death was truly an escape. is it the same for this red-haired girl?

he looks down at her hand, but doesn't move to pry it off him for the time being. he only has one thing to ask: ]

Why?

[regressor]

[Why?

This place... it wasn't her world. She knew that now. It could be an illusion, she supposed, but over time and as things grew more strange and intricate, more painful and exhausting... she couldn't doubt. Now, with whatever that black sludge was coursing through her veins, all she can think about is those snatches of memory remaining from her brush with Hell's Gate.

A girl drained of blood after an ambush had left her desperate to pay her obeisance, a businessman who had the misfortune to choose the roof she'd been operating from when he wanted a smoke, a politician and his retinue in Glasgow, the laboratory she'd reduced to rubble in San Paulo... Hundreds, thousands of them, corpses bloated, twisted, crushed, and all because of her. Why?]

Because-

[In this moment, she wishes desperately for the ignorance she'd once possessed. No powers, no memories, a slate wiped largely clean, possessed of practical knowledge, language, and no memory of where or how such skill had been acquired. Didn't know her own name, not the one she'd been born with at any rate- only remembered vague snatches. Havoc. Carmine. Heaven's Gate. The flash of light. The need to be on her toes. The inkling, pitfall feeling of having once done horrible things with no exact recollection.]

I don't want to kill anymore...

[Whimpered out in a near violent shake of her head, interrupted by the near hyperventilation she'd worked herself in to. As if in proof, the telltale neon lights suffused the outline of her body, limbs, pulsed behind her eyes before she killed it abruptly with another harsh clutch of her broken fingers, the others trembling where they clutch at this stranger's pant leg.]

[subsist]

[ there is a few brief moments where kaeya considers leaving her alone for now, because this encounter is quickly becoming uncomfortably similar to what happened with collei. he hates that he can see a bit of himself not only in collei, but in this person too, because he knows what it feels like to have no control over your own actions. it would have been much easier for him to walk away, come back with someone else who is better equipped to handle this, and yet he chooses to stay.

he sets the basket down on the floor before he gently pries her hand away from her leg, holding onto it as he kneels down by her side. he is careful when he tries to study her other hand, the one with broken fingers, watching the pulse of neon blue be snuffed out as quickly as it appeared. ]

There are people who will be very cross with me should any harm come your way.

[ gone is the serious demeanour that asked her why? (why does she want to die?), replaced by something more like his usual self. his tone remains casual, but the way he looks at her has more hidden underneath the surface. it's not sympathy he can offer, but more so that of understanding. that there's someone else out here who knows what it's like. ]

So I can't give you that. [ slowly, he reaches for her broken hand, wanting to look at it more closely if he's allowed to. ] What happened to your hand? Did someone hurt you before coming here?

[regressor]

[It is pathetically easy to pry her hand off of his pants. She is weak, not just from her recent rebirth, but from far before, her petite body thin and bony from years of living as unnoticed as she could between small wads of filthy cash. He holds it, and she instinctively clutches not just at her robe but at his fingers, her grip shaking with effort despite how pitifully lacking it is in strength.

Whether he intended it as comfort or not... She gropes for anything that she can use, anything that might tether her in this moment and keep her from answering the whisper of Hell's Gate pulsing behind her eyes.]

Please...

[People who will be cross with him... She doesn't want to ask it of him. She's sorry to. She was supposed to have someone who would do this for her, someone who had promised that he would kill her, if she turned out not to be able to accept her powers back without losing the precious scraps of feeling and budding emotion she'd been able to scrape together since she awoke in eastern Europe.

He reaches for her other hand, and though she seems to be trying to stop him... it's a bit more that she can't offer it to him. She has been clutching that fistful of robe for so long that all of her joints are locked, frozen in the claw-like curl and the occasional tightening to force her broken bones to throb with pain as a defense against losing her focus, losing the battle against the sludge coursing through her veins and spilling out of her shard and her ears.

If he can't give that to her... His question about what had happened to her hand reminds her of snaps and screams in a Syndicate safehouse, of Hei-]

Hei... Is Hei here? I need... I need to see Hei....

[If it were Hei... Surely she could convince him. He had held her cheek so gently when he told her that she could live, that she didn't have to die...

But he'd been wrong. She wasn't strong enough.]

[subsist]

[ when it doesn't look like it's going to be possible to get a better look at her other hand without hurting her, kaeya stops his attempt, murmuring quiet apologies for even trying. this is one of those times where he wishes the gods' favour he'd been granted with came with something that can ease the pain, but as it is, he has nothing that can help. all he can give her is company and some fraction of solace until the worst of the kenoma's effects are over.

he brings his other hand to cover the one that's now clinging to his fingers, giving her that anchor she seems so desperate to have. ]

I'm afraid I haven't met anyone with that name just yet. If he's here, I promise you that you'll be the first to know.

[ there are snapshots of something more frantic that keep threatening to blend in with his own thoughts. is that coming from her? he remembers experiencing ambient feedback from others before, when it had been his turn to go through this entire mess, but...

he tries not to dwell on it. ]

... Are you hungry? I've got some food, if you'd like.

[regressor]

[Whether he intended it or not, his hold on her unbroken hand does at least grant some relief, for the more observant eye. Now, then the radiation begins to glow in the blacks of her eyes, when the blue neon thrums to life around her body… she seems to clench desperately at his hand instead, relying less on the pain of forcing movement into her broken fingers to focus on suppressing the power, choking it down each time…

But how long can she manage it? It’s subtle… but each time it happens, it seems to take her just a bit longer to dispel it, sweat breaking out cold and noticeable on her brow.

Those droplets are displaced as she swallows and shakes her head, struggling to force the words out when all she can see in her minds eye each surge of power is blood on her hands and rubble broken all around her, when all she can feel is the reach of claws that aim to rip from her every small and precious joy she has learned to treasure.]

You don’t understand…

[How could he, this man of this foreign land. She can’t expect it, but she tries to impress it as best she can, worry knitting her brow… and not just for herself.]

I’m dangerous- I’m so… I’m so dangerous…

[Perhaps hard to believe when she looked as frail and half-dead as she already did, but-]

If they come back… I don’t know how many people will die…

[Her powers. Her victims. Would this man be among their number? A whimper overtakes her, another powerful surge that makes her spine arch and her body dance eerily in pain on the smooth stone slab.]

03

[tohell]

[ J hadn't picked up this stray to haul back to the lodestone, so at first he's preoccupied with other matters, including some newcomers more headstrong about their present arrangements. But the little glowbug's flickering light still draws his curiosity enough for him to work his way across the space to stand over her.

J's expression gives nothing away but the faintest tinge of interest, right up until she latches onto a powerful lower leg, covered in fur and ending in a massive feline paw. That sort of desperation is like blood in the water to him. Its flavor so alluring to the demon that he subjects himself to the indignity of sinking down onto one knee to regard her better.

A small body, shattered finger bones, and a plea that sounds honeyed as a lover's oath in his ears. How can J resist reaching over to touch this beautifully broken creature? He doesn't even try, as his smooth pale hand draws across the space to gently cup her small cheek. ]

What an exorbitant demand to make of your rescuers. [ Looming ever further over her prone form leaves the angles of J's face bathed in the blue light which rolls off her in waves. It dances most in the shard above his rapt, unmoving eyes, as they stay locked upon her face like a bloodhound on the hunt. ]

Aren't you afraid of dying?

[regressor]

[She wasn't even aware that the man she has stopped isn't human... until after she reaches out in her desperation to clutch at anyone in reach, and she felt fur instead of skin. But even with that... even with the nearly angelic, strangely-horned face that comes into view... She doesn't have the time nor the space in her mind to worry or wonder what he is. He is there, he has come closer, leaning over her...

And his hand is gentle on her cheek, where here flesh is cold and clammy.

As if in reaction to his stare, to the unwavering confrontation of his own shard... the blood-red crystal embedded at the base of her throat begins to ooze even more of the black sludge, the excess spilling down her narrow chest to stain her white robe, to stain a hint of a large scar situated just over her heart.]

I'm not afraid...

[Not of dying. She is afraid of living, of what she may do if she lives but forgets what it's like to feel bad about hurting someone, what it feels like to live peacefully, what it feels like to make someone smile.

Her unbroken hand leaves his left to try and reach for him in turn, attempting to curl weakly in his shirt, on his arm. Though her expression is upset, her brow furrowed, her eyes fairly radiating her desperation...

There aren't any tears, as if she simply doesn't quite know how.]

I promise I'm not... So, please...

cw: suicidal thoughts

[tohell]

How is it that you've come to crave death with such fervor, and suffer no fear of its embrace? [ Years ago, a teenage boy had called out to J to ultimately end his life too. The demon remembers clearly how his eyes had been equally absent of tears. ( Up until the satisfying climax of their arrangement. ) Devoid of everything but the determination to deliver his soul into the open arms of oblivion, in exchange for throwing open the lid to the veritable Pandora's box comprised of his innermost desires. A cursed sarcophagus he'd only peeked into before, in intermingled awe and fear over the horrors that lay within.

As the wisp of a girl calls out to him for the same erasure, a pang of nostalgia rises up like a summer's heady fog. Parallels draw themselves between the present and days past that include but don't end at Makoto's induction into his thrall. The stirrings of self-destruction run like a red thread of fate through the very contractor of his ward's grisly end.

J also awaits the day someone, (Makoto, he can only hope), will be strong enough to pull down the final curtain on his life, and give him what he's always wished for. Scattering his atoms like stardust across space and time.

The three of them connect together now, here in this alien world. Their fates drawing themselves out like cartography and the neurons that light up with all the veracity of her brightest bloom of light. ]

Has life caused you so much sorrow that it no longer seems worthwhile?

[ As she clearly opens herself up to contact, with fingers tucking into clothes like a child begging to be plucked up from the floor and coddled in a parent's arms, J acquiesces. Just as he had once before, to commemorate the event of Makoto fulfilling his own father's contract with a knife to his immortal heart, and suffering such a breakdown he'd collapsed into sobs, J gathers a body close. While her clutch upon his immaculate white shirt aids in drawing him in, he does the brunt of the work.

If she doesn't resist being held, a free arm sweeps under her legs as the other sides from the sickly flesh of a cheek, both chilled and damp to the touch, to cradle her back. And with that she's coaxed into his arms, away from the hard slab of rock and its chill. At every point of contact, all of J is strangely warm. His body heat trapped further to coax some of it into her own as white wings draw a curtain around them like the closure of a trap. ]

cw: prostitution

[regressor]

[Even if she wanted to resist any which way another tried to move her body… at this point, there’s no way she would have been able to. Just reaching out to grasp at a passing leg, just clutching at her robe and using the flares of pain from her broken fingers to try and keep her mind in the present rather than left behind in Heaven’s Gate… that’s all the physical control she has left. Even if she wasn’t the sallow skin and bone of years spent living hand to mouth, fighting the black sludge’s corruption and the call of the Gate has left her drained and weak.

And it’s not like she doesn’t want it. This man? is warm, his touch is gentle, and her memory-hazed vision can’t see anything to fear in his face or hear it in his voice. In fact… she sees white instead. Soft, large white wings like the cheap paintings hung in Laura’s home, depicting the angels of her faith that guarded over humankind… Even if she had never believed…

Beggars can’t be choosers. Surely an angel would grant her mercy.

Maybe it already was. In her five years of memory, she had never been held like this. She has been awkwardly embraced, she has turned her head to the side to try and avoid the stench of alcohol and tobacco panted heavy against her lips, she has closed her eyes and let fingers tighten in her hair and push her face into the pillow, but no one had ever touched her like this. Yet rather than deep bitterness or hatred for such a life-]

No… I loved it… I did…

[A life with feeling, when she had eaten because she liked the taste of food, slept because she wanted to, did things for others for no reason at all, and learned how to laugh. She doesn’t want to die because her life has been miserable, even if any other person might label it so.]

But I don’t want to go back… I don’t want to kill anymore, so please…

[Held tenderly in strong arms, her body limp and exhausted in between the pained writhing of a glow and a power attempting to take over her body and mind while the Kenoma attempted to worm into her heart, she gropes weakly for a hand, tries to tug it up, up past the three large pierce scars on her torso that should have left her dead on the concrete, up to her throat.

She’d asked Hei, pulled his hand to her neck in this same way, but he… he wasn’t a proper Contractor at all. He’d been naive enough to want her to survive despite the odds, told her could live, run far away, go back to those quiet days she had loved…

But that life bleeding out in an alley with three spears of ice in her chest is worlds away.

And now, any hand will do.]

cw: discussions of murder

[tohell]

Go back? [ Naturally, he believes Carmine is talking about being sent to whatever hellish place she's been brought from. ]

Rest assured, no one here will return you to the world you knew before.

Horos, is your home now. [ The process of an Aion's arrival is complex, involving gem-bound souls, destroyed worlds and an entity that brought them here to fight a cosmic war that determined the fate of the known Universe. Even if he's a demon who has sent countless to their deaths, and doesn't particularly care if this woman's end comes now or with the collapse of everything, J knows when to avoid overwhelming someone who might be unable to process a deluge of highly emotional information. So he saves that cozy chat for a time when she isn't begging for him to claim her life. ]

But neither I nor this world can grant your wish, when dying here doesn't offer an end to your existence. [ J doesn't jerk away or disrupt Carmine's attempts at guiding his hand up to a slender throat. If anything, the demon allows the process, watching her struggle to persuade him into conceding to these suicidal demands. But instead of crushing her neck in his grip, J brushes away streaks of the brackish sludge aside with a stroke of his fingers. What he feels beneath this gentle touch is her pulse, the very testament of her life, fluttering just under the skin.

In the dimly lit space, a demon cradles another creature that confesses to sharing a similar profession as his, in cutting short lives in a world that likely exists no more. Some may struggle to see a murderer when looking at the emaciated figure of a woman many sizes too small for her age. Her limbs jagged and her figure bony, showing every sign of a life lived in a constant state of struggle and hardship. But J has seen the worst of mankind. Nothing can incapacitate someone intent on performing wicked deeds beyond a dissipation of their soul. Not age, infirmity or even death. Makoto's revenge towards J is still a work in progress years after his worldly demise.

That she professes such heinous crimes isn't a deterrent in keeping her alive, but a fascinating reason to deny her goals. He wants to see just what kind of killer this little lightning bug is. And if that glow of hers is anything like the beautiful colors of a poisonous creature, giving a warning to the wise to stay away. He can only hope. ]

No matter how many times you try, you'll only be reborn all over again. [ It would take the destruction of her shard to grant that. But he's not going to give someone perched on the edge of suicide-by-proxy a means to end herself. The loss of a precious Aion on his watch may be met with more dire consequences than J cares to risk finding out. ]

[regressor]

[When she had still been in the Shrine of the Innocent... It had almost seemed like it could be a blessing, to wake up in this new, foreign world. Like a gift, a reward for how valiantly she'd managed to fight off her powers near Hell's Gate, how she'd held off just long enough to nearly die, how much she'd longed to atone and live a quiet life. But now...]

Not back... not back to my world...

[The hand on her throat doesn't constrict, even though she begs for it, her weak, bony fingers, two of them broken, squeezing with the strength of... nothing, she has nothing left. Every ounce of her power is being used to mentally fight the advance of the Kenoma even now calling out to her in sweet offers of the comfort that came with despair. Instead, she feels fingers gently wiping away the black sludge she has coughed up, preventing the dark stains from dripping further down her neck to pool in the hollow where her crimson shard rested. She hears the man (angel's?) voice soft and soothing, as if trying to chase away her fears.]

My powers...

[She tries to impress upon him the importance, beg him to understand why she has to die, but... her vision is growing black at the edges, exhausted from her fight.]

They'll turn me back into a...

[A Contractor. But this new world of Horos would not understand what that was, would it? So how, in the simplest terms, could she make him see why she had to be put down now... ? Why she should be put out of the potential misery of being-]

A monster...

3

[cutlery]

[ If nothing else, hanging around the area was proving to at least be interesting. It's not surprising that he had less trouble than most with the process. For a demon, it was as easy as breathing, he thought. It's also why he was quite intrigued in watching how the process would go for others. With most of his self returned, it was much more obvious that most of the other creatures gathered here wouldn't have so much ease.

So, he wanders a bit. He's curious to watch the proceedings, but it's also more than that. With how he'd felt an intensity of emotion by drinking the ichor, he can imagine so easily how it would twist at others. It's a delectable thought. Were he less disciplined (or a younger demon, perhaps), he's sure that he would absolutely feast upon it.

When Havoc grabs his leg, he of course stops, and his expression is the appropriate one of polite surprise. But the surprise shifts to one of concern, but only briefly. With a request like that, it doesn't quite feel fair to show that kind of lie. He cants his head lightly as he seems to watch her for a moment, and his response is only delayed by a timely flicker of her power.

Curious. ]

Why?

[ His voice is gentle and soft, and not at all fitting for an answer that's not a refusal to her request. ]

[regressor]

[She doesn’t know who it is she grabs. She is reaching out for any hint of movement, anyone who passes close enough to the stone slab that feels more like a sacrificial altar than a bed, anyone at all with no time or sense left to judge whether that person will be able to do as she requires. Can they kill her? Can they fetch someone who will kill her?

It’s a man who answers her. A man who wants to know why. Why-]

My powers… my powers are dangerous-

[She wanted to know why, too, some days. Why had the stars all disappeared? Why had Contractors begun to be born in the world at all? Why did those powers come with such high costs?

A hint of black sludge bubbles at the corner of her mouth, turning her voice, low and raspy for a woman’s, wet and a bit hard to make out. She tries to swallow and repeat herself, but the radiation swells in her eyes and around her body, tending her speechless to a whimper of pain and effort, clutching her broken fingers right to give her pain to focus on, gasping as she comes out of the swell more desperate than she was before, her hand on his trousers quaking with raw, visceral fear.]

And I don’t want… I don’t want to kill anyone else… Please…

[cutlery]

[ Fascinating.

He watches the light as it appears, but he doesn't at all understand what he's looking at, and that's a unique novelty. Sebastian easily shifts so he's instead partially kneeling by the slab. He doesn't technically need to do so to hear her better, but that, and perhaps some sense of empathy, is the impression he wants to give. Not that his expression particularly matches the latter, though. It's not cruel or particularly cold, but it's certainly not one of someone taking her plight to heart. ]

You truly lament the power being returned to you?

[ It's a rhetorical question, since it's obvious. He's tempted to truly look and take an evaluation of what sort of morsel is before him, but he doesn't. For now. It almost feels too early to do so, because the conflict she feels is so clear that he doesn't need to take a peek at her soul to know it. ]

Could you not stay your hand? Must you kill for your power, Miss?

[regressor]

[Does she lament it? It’s strange, that that a woman who tries so desperately to beg for death, whose brows furrow and whose eyes plead does not seem to produce tears. But she doesn’t. Her eyes almost shimmer, but don’t, it’s probably just a trick of the light. Even with the return of her emotions, five years as a Regressor trying to relearn how to feel…

The woman who had once been known as Havoc had never managed the ruinous strength of feeling that would produce tears. Or perhaps, it was simply that she had gone too long without them, and she had simply forgotten how.

Either way, she manages a pained, whimpering nod when he asks about how much she desired to be rid of the powers she manages to reference in snatches of words, struggling to fight the black sludge and the call of Hell’s Gate both while also trying to communicate.]

I will… the second it makes sense, the second it’s me or someone else, I will…

[She remembers just enough, snatches of orders and circumstances and ultimatums and ambushes, and for a Contractor… the choice between the self and another was never one that required consideration.

She would kill, and then she would pay her obeisance, and her mouth would know the taste of blood again-]

And I won’t… I won’t care at all…

[She tries to plead once more, get another “please” past her lips- but she coughs up the sludge instead, thick and foul on her tongue.]

[cutlery]

[ It's fresher in his mind, so he thinks of a child declaring with such conviction that he wasn't so noble that he would sacrifice himself for someone else's sake. It was true, certainly, but Sebastian had never missed those hints of deeply held regrets all the same. He has to wonder if that little master would have preferred the conflict she seems to be facing.

...Ah, but it's no time to be nostalgic, is it? ]

The void threatens to swallow you up rather literally, then.

[ His gaze turns to the black ichor as he says it, since it's reference to its name, though he doesn't expect her to pick up on it. It's more for his own amusement than anything. ]

Would you stake your soul upon not falling to it?

[ Sebastian's question is serious, but unfortunately (to him) also just a philosophical question. It was a bit different to die than to lose your soul entirely, and that distinction would tell him more about the depth of her conflict. And of course, it's a purely selfish interest. He may not have any intentions of granting her wish one way or the other, but it's definitely nice to at least imagine staving off his own hunger. ]

[regressor]

[That's what it feels like. What it had felt like, when she stood at the fence around the perimeter of Hell's Gate and tried to answer it's call, hoping that she might be strong enough to answer it's call while still remaining herself... the herself of only five years, the part that still remained somewhat human. The abyss of darkness, a night sky full of false stars, and something distant and consuming reaching out to her.

Within it... there was only the cold, rational motions of a Contractor. Even if she had moved through her years as a Regressor slow and awkward... the idea of giving up those tiny, precious moments, those hints of caring and wanting and feeling something warm flickering to life...

Is that what a soul was? This man asks, and all she can think to say is-]

I don't think... I have one...

[She has heard "soulless" used to describe her more than once, whether it was someone clutching the body of a dead loved one or the government handlers who'd once issued her orders.

Did Contractors, who did not dream and did not feel and did not care for anything but their own life... did they have any more of a soul than a Doll did? If she did...]

02

[expiera]

[It's difficult to tell the woman's age. Her face isn't visible with how she's crouched over the stony floor, but even beneath the light of day, she is so pale, so thin, so small, yet there's a wrenching sort of resilience to how she struggles to stand. Her hair splays haphazardly over the glaringly large scars marring her back, and a moment's glance taking her frame in was more than enough.

Before she manages to reorient herself, a presence rushes to her side. An outstretched hand comes into her field of vision, and if she manages to look ahead, she'll find a woman with short dark blue hair who has gotten on her knees to offer her support. Her gaze is quiet and patient, but those blue eyes are also watching her with open concern.]

Miss?

[This woman doesn't look like she sports any active injuries, but... Goodness. This may 'only' be the second time, but it's still the worst shape Ciel'ever came across a newly awoken Aion in. At the shrine of the Innocent, too?

...

Nevertheless, she must do what she has to do. But there's no deadline for that, so...]

[regressor]

[It is difficult to tell how old this newly birthed aion is until one has gotten close. Though womanly curves have been blunted by a naturally petite form compounded with poverty and malnourishment, there is a hint to be found from the front, despite the fact that the sight comes with the discerningly large scars splashed across her torso- one above her heart, one straight through her sternum, and another more over her stomach. Though her body looks haggard, skin sallow and expression haggard, there is potential for vibrancy, in her hair and her eyes… perhaps a young woman in her second decade of… a rough life.

One who looks up to find another woman crouching in front of her, reaching out…]

Where-

[Her voice is uncommonly low and raspy, but the words are interrupted by a sudden cough, a wet inhale as she chokes on a bit of fluid from her “chrysalis”. The cough seems to take all the energy out of her, it leaves her panting, until she finally can reach back, groping for support heedless of her nakedness.

Doing so reveals the only remaining injury on her body, two fingers crooked and obviously broken. Not the bruised up, mangled swelling of an accident- the calculated, man-made snap of delicate bones designed to make even the more reticent of subjects talk.]

Where am I… ?

[This place is so bright with crystal and reflections that it hurts her eyes, she can’t tell, but there is something absent, a painful pulse of power she is afraid to feel that means the one thing she needs to know is-]

The Gate… How far are we from Hell’s Gate?

[expiera]

[She unfortunately can't offer water or any other amenities as she is, but once the red-haired woman accepts her hand, Ciel can at least try pulling her up and offer her own upper body as support. Hooking her other arm beneath the woman's shoulder on the other side, she attempts to slowly and carefully lift her up. (She is mindful to avoid brushing against those crooked fingers, more signs of hardship from a life mercilessly lived.) She can lean against her shoulder and chest if needed, try to sit up a bit straighter and even out her breathing without exerting as much effort. Take her time and steady herself more first, before making another effort to stand again later.]

This continent is Horos. Wherever you were before, ["it's gone", but she can't tell that to this terribly weak woman. Not now at least, when she can't event stand on her own.] this is a different world completely separate from it.

[...]

May I ask for your name, miss? I have water and clothing, too.

[For once she's better composed. They both have questions, but this woman's well-being comes first.]

[regressor]

[She needs all the support that she can get.

Though she does seem to be trying to exert the effort not to be a burden, her legs are like jelly and her body in general feels laced through with a weakness the like of which she couldn’t quite identify. Even if she’d had an ounce of muscle on her body… she slumps into the other woman’s grip, more like a rag doll than a human being.

A rag doll that manages to ask-]

A different world… ?

[Even if her voice is now accidentally muffled in a shoulder, her narrow chest inhaling shallowly in uneven pants for breath as she tries to orient herself.

A different world. The world of the dead… was such a thing real? It’s the only thing she can imagine, because she has never been imaginative, even as a Regressor…

But what’s her name?

The one she’d been born with was gone years ago, lost somewhere along the line to the Memory Extractor. The one Laura’s family had given her was help too secret and too precious.

Code name “Havoc”… or, no…

She thinks of Hei holding her like this, when she had nearly collapsed under the weight of her sins, the fear of her powers, and he had called her name. Or at least, the code name he had known her by, in a war more than five years done.]

Carmine… it’s Carmine….

[expiera]

Mmhm.

[The hum of confirmation is faint, the other woman may feel it more than hear it. It'll be a lot to take in, but it's the plain truth. Unable to promise this woman safety knowing how suffocatingly tight sect tensions are between Kenoma and Pleroma at this time, Ciel can only pray that their time here remains undisturbed.

The pause is palpable before the red-haired woman finally answers, though her weakness would be just as likely of a reason for it than anything else. 'Carmine', like the color... It doesn't sound entirely natural. Then again, who is she to judge, when she's discarded her own baptismal name and bears a different one for herself now?]

Carmine.

[She repeats back softly, her hold still firm and steady; as long as Carmine still needs.]

What do you wish for, Carmine?

[It's sudden and forward of her, she knows. She'll apologize later. Ciel wouldn't be able to explain herself particularly well either, if asked just what drove her to ask such a question. It feels like the "right" time though, somehow, and depending on her answer...

...]

[regressor]

[Another world... The concept is something that she wasn't unfamiliar with. In her years a Contractor, though she hadn't taken any actual enjoyment out of television, books, or theater, there had been occasions when a mission or need to blend in had involved absorbing a certain degree of knowledge. She was familiar with the idea of it as a genre, a fantasy for text and screen... People had thought the skies and the false stars might have had to do with another world, when they first appeared...

But no. Those belonged to them, now.

Some Contractor could surely possess an illusion-based power that could convince her of such a thing, but... She isn't sure. If she were trapped in such a thing... She was resigned to it.

And she is asked a far more important question. (By a woman who actually did have a keen instinct... But perhaps there'd be no proving that without the other members of that elite cell, without Bai, Hei, and Amber, each afforded the color in name form in place of birth ones lost to government agencies and ME squeeze.)

What did "Carmine" wish for... ? She's naked and confused, weak and newly reborn, but... She knows the answer. Even if this was another world, somehow, some way, if it was far enough from Hell's Gate...]

I just want... to live quietly... somewhere I won't hurt anyone else...

[It would have been foolish, to think that the woman responsible for the deaths of so many could have a quiet life. Hundreds or thousands, depending on if you counted the collateral damage as hers, if the people who died days later trapped under rubble or in hospital beds counted... She did not deserve to live, or to feel happiness. But she still wanted to, now, as a Regressor capable of feelings and desires beyond the instincts of survival.]

I want... to cook good food... and make children smile sometimes... and grow things...

[She had never dreamed as a Contractor. Now, though... The answer might be low and weak, but it is sure.

If she could go back... back to those days spent with Laura's family in the country, before she'd been discovered by someone who knew her as Havoc...

But, no. She can't.]