Tie the Noose [Paragon]

[Florian]

Florian did not say anything, though he followed. It was his usual method - quiet, anxious, and even obedient until he had a concept of boundaries, and an idea of how to push them. It was how he always operated, whether intentionally or not. He hated being constrained.

He also hated food, and after observing the interaction between Gertrude and the soldier who accompanied him, he realized he would have to get over it. Pick your battles and all that. But she gave him far more food than he would normally eat, even after the hunger that came after three straight days of sleep. He nodded at her introduction, and then he followed where he was guided.

Not only did he have to eat, he was now compulsed to socialize, and sober at that. The idea of friends made him itchy. He liked reading, he liked his mother, he liked Eitan — though Eitan was a rare exception. There was also Myles, Stefan, and Franky, but he...well, he didn't want to think about any of anyone. Especially not his mother or Eitan.

Florian sat down, and then looked at each of them, repeating their names. "Astrid. Mirella. Ghoron. I see." He looked down at his food and picked up a fork to pick at it. He was hungry, but he was nervous, and he would have to work up the energy to actually start his meal. Finally, he took a bite. When he was finished chewing, he turned to look at Astrid.

"Why are you here?"

He wondered if learning why the other three were imprisoned here would grant any clarity to his situation. He was offered a choice, after all, and he chose not to die. Were they offered the same? The Dr. Constantine had told him that they had found an avenue to inoculate people of the effects of magic through him, but he still didn't understand what that really meant.

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“She’s a Seer. Dr. Constantine tore her eyes out yesterday. Something about trying to see if they could isolate the mechanism by which her visions flash before her eyes. Or whatever.” Mirella piped up. She had managed to somehow make some manner of standing figure that was made out of forks and butter knives. The whole figure seemed precariously balanced and prepped to fall.

“Mirella!” Astrid touched the bandages over her face self-consciously. “No need to go into the details.”

The elven girl scoffed as she eyed whether or not she should add a spoon to her absurd sculpture.

“What? He’ll find out soon enough. They give you a comfortable room. You eat well. They want to keep you alive. The healthier you are, the longer they can study you. Like Ghoron here.” Mirella jerked her thumb at the impressive half-giant. Despite his intimidating stature, he seemed docile. He was slimmer for a half-giant, not the stocky build of the Kishoi. His skin was smooth and possessed a warm melanin tone to it that bespoke much more tropic environments. Sparkling blue eyes met Florian’s briefly before ducking down back to his plate which was mostly empty of food.

“You don’t need to be so cruel.” Astrid once again admonished Mirella. The Siltori girl rolled her eyes.

“Oh as if he cares.” She pinned Florian with a stare. “He doesn’t even want to be near us. Another freak for the freaks.”

“That’s enough, Mirella!” Astrid’s brow was furrowed. Mirella huffed and slumped down, poking at one of the vegetables on her plate. After a tense moment, Astrid sighed.

“Each of us has a gift. Something the scientists want to…figure out how to extract. I get visions. Sometimes of the past. Sometimes the present. Other times, the future.” She rubbed her hands on her legs.

“She’s never wrong.” Ghoron spoke for the first time. He had his hands wrapped around a large mug, one thumb rubbing over the exterior of the mug. His comment made, he said nothing else. Astrid worried her lip.

“Why are you here?” It was Mirella who piped up.

[Florian]

Florian looked at Astrid’s bandaged eyes. She seemed awfully unconcerned with the fact they had been taken out. He looked at Ghoron, too, though he knew he could not determine why he was there just from looking. Nor could he with Mirella. It explained why Astrid had greeted him the way she had, at least.

He paid no mind to her comment, though he met her gaze for a second before it dropped back to the plate and he ate another bite. Astrid had visions. His “gift” seemed far less interesting than that, but it was no mystery on why the state would be particularly interested.

“They were presented with a sample of my blood from my physical.” He paused to take a sip of water. “I was told that they have ‘found a solution to inoculate against the machinations of aether’ through me.”

He took another bite of food, finally actually eating. “I have no idea what that means, let alone what it means for me.” The more he chewed on the statement, though, the more that he wondered exactly how this happened. He did siphon almost exclusively Negation, and many of those wards were against magic. But if that had any relation… he supposed he would find out eventually. But if they had torn out Astrid’s eyes to research her visions, he was not looking forward to finding out what they would do to him, with a thing so much more physical in nature. But after eating a bit more, he looked back up at Mirella.

“Why are you here?” Florian’s gaze switched to Ghoron. “And you?”

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

As Florian explained why he had been brought to the facility, both Mirella and Ghoron did not look at him. They looked at Astrid who was quietly holding her hands in her lap. Some silent communication passed between them before Mirella answered his question.

“I’m immune to the Mists.” She shrugged. “They want to know why.”

Ghoron remained silent. He offered up no answer as to why they were keeping him at the facility. Neither Astrid nor Mirella offered a response for him. Before any of the conversation could continue, a woman dressed in the attire of a scientist walked up to the table. She came to the back of Astrid’s chair.

“Astrid? Are you ready for your morning session?” The young woman smiled up at the scientist nodding. Before rising from the table she turned her head in Florian’s direction, those bandaged eyes seeming to find exactly where he was in the room.

“Until next time, Florian.” Picking up her tray, Astrid walked without need for assistance. Shortly after that, another staffer walked up to the table.

“Ghoron, Mirella. It’s time for your morning activities.” Wordlessly, Ghoron stood up. If his stature as a half-giant had not been clear before, it was now. He moved smoothly for a man so big. Each motion performed with a steady and diligent purpose. Gently, he leaned down and picked up Mirella’s tray along with his own. The Siltori girl hopped up, tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave Florian an appraising look.

“For your sake, I hope he goes easy on you today. I doubt he will.” With that she looked up at Ghoron. “Come on, big guy.”

The two of them walked away with their attendant staff. Time passed. Eventually, another attendant came to the table to promptly remind Florian to finish his food. Continual prompting would follow until all or at least nearly all of the meal was consumed. When it was deemed adequate, his two escorts walked up and guided him to where he could drop off his tray at the scullery.

The morning went by. Florian was taken to the medical examiner who asked standard questions that were not out of the ordinary for a physical. He was examined physically. A few basic appraisals were made concerning the state of his physical health. When the time came to sit down with the psychiatrist however, he was directed to one of her assistants. It seemed that another of the facility’s special occupants had experienced a traumatic episode and was being attended to. Florian was asked a basic assessment of his mental health and psychological profile, information that would be reviewed by the psychiatrist when she was able. He was taken to an exercise area where an athletic human introduced Florian to the facility, then set about establishing a baseline for what Florian was physically capable of in terms of strength exercises, weight bearing, flexibility and agility. At noon, Florian was taken back to his room so that he could bathe and change out of sweaty clothes.

Then came lunch and finally…

The walk was a longer one. The same two guards were escorting Florian through the facility. They came to approach a set of double doors made from heavy wood. As they were approaching the doors opened and Ghoron was being escorted out. Or rather, he was being carried out by two tall and brawny looking soldiers that had both of the half-giant’s arms draped over their shoulders. Ghoron was sweaty. His skin was pale. His face looked taut and fine tremors were going through his body. He was breathing heavily. Agonal gasps bubbling up from his throat that seemed a mix of just trying to breathe and trying not to sob. As he was half-carried, half-stumbling out of the room, one of the soldiers was whispering to him.

“Easy, big guy. Breathe. Just breathe.” They didn’t even stop to glance at Florian. With the doors opened, there stood the man himself. Dr. Constantine had his hands tucked into the pockets of his lab coat. He was smiling at Florian.

“Florian! Welcome! Come in, come in! I trust you’re settling in okay?” Florian was walked into the room. The doors were closed behind him.

“Please, sit down.” Dr. Constantine gestured to a cushioned chair across from a heavy oak desk upon which were assembled various books and papers that the man was clearly studying. The room was large. It was two-stories and appeared to be a mix between a laboratory and a library. The upper floor was lined with bookshelves. The bottom floor had various chalkboards, tables upon which were arranged jars of organs, diagrams of anatomy and physiology, and an array of tools. At the center of the room was an operating room table. Several assistants were going about cleaning the remnants of what had clearly been a recent operation.

As soon as Florian was seated, Dr. Constantine looked to the two guards.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” The both of them saluted and quickly left the room, clearly not part of whatever operations went on inside the doctor’s space. Dr. Constantine looked at Florian.

“Welcome to my study, Florian.”

[Florian]

Florian couldn't shake the feeling he had somehow said something wrong, but there was no time spared to elaborate on his social failings. And then he was alone, still picking at his food, but even that was not to last. Perhaps worse than the act of trying to finish his food was the fact that someone had come to tell him to finish his food, and he ate much faster after this revelation.

Florian did not like doctors, and the environment did not make him any less cagey. Still, for the most part, he listened. It was not until it was time for the session with Dr. Constantine that he began to fear, an effect exacerbated by Ghoron's exit. Reality set in with equal parts resolve to accompany it. He knew that they had no intention of killing him, not yet. The accomodations spoke of that enough, but Mirella had confirmed it. Immune to the mists. Prophecies. Whatever the fuck Ghoron could do or had done to him.

His time to consider things had passed, and he was sitting in Dr. Constantine's office-lab that he called a study. It was fitting. He did not like the look of anything in the room, and he especially did not like the smile on the Doctor's face. It was unnerving even when he had no concept of what to expect, and it was no less terrible now. He didn't respond to the question of whether he was settling in. Everything was too new and too specifically targeted at the things he hated to be comfortable, and the one time he had spoken to anyone, he must have said something wrong. He sat, and once the guards had left, he tried his best to ignore the assistants and the operating table.

"What is going to happen? What exactly is...is going on with me that I'm here?" He rubbed his hands together in his lap and he stared at Dr. Constantine as he spoke.

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

Dr. Constantine opened a book, grabbing a pen so that he could begin writing in it. As Florian asked his question, he looked up from his writing to smile at the Lysanrin. Adjusting his glassed, the scientist answered plainly.

“I am going to perform a live dissection on you. We are going to begin the process of performing a complete study of your anatomical, metabolic, and physiological profile. This, to determine if there is a method by which we can isolate, extract, and develop a means of producing an immunological compound that can be used to vaccinate the populace against aberrant anomalies.” He adjusted his glasses once more then turned his attention back to writing in his book. Behind Florian, the assistants had begun to gather equipment in between cleaning. They were clearly setting up for the next procedure.

“You will be administered various alchemical compounds to ensure that your system can adequately survive the procedures. However, because of your unique properties, I cannot guarantee they will have the typical anesthetic effects that they do in others. Repairs and perhaps structural damage or alteration to your body will be handled by myself and my staff using necromancy.” He paused, quirking his head as he considered a thought.

“Although, I may need to take a few extra precautions when we examine your cerebral cavity.” He jot down a note real quick before smiling at Florian as though he were not, in fact, discussing how he was going to cut the man open and dig through his organs.

[Florian]

"Oh."

There were no words. There were no possible words or preparation he could have for this. Even if he was told this would happen that morning, to his face, he would not have been able to process what was going to happen, and now it was imminent. It felt ironic that they were going to use alchemy and [/i]necromancy[/i] to assist in a process to find a way to prevent magic from affecting others. He did not cry or speak or panic, but he did stare at the table and the assistants setting up what was going to be his turn.

He thought about his mother. Her stomach had been cut open, and her organs had spilled out onto the floor. Had she been awake for that? He hoped, he desperately hoped she hadn't. He was unsure if he wanted them to succeed. In one hand, stubbornness insisted that they did not find what they were looking for. In the other, he was wondering if it would not be better for them to find whatever it is that did this and kill him before he had to go through it again and again. He did not ask, but he did not think that they were going to...thoroughly examine him in only one day. No.

Florian focused on his breathing. For now, at least, that was a thing he could control in the immediate. He did not want to cry or panic, and neither of those things would help him. Slowly, he turned to look at Dr. Constantine again, his eyes colored black with hate. But now all he could do was wait until they were ready.

[Paragon]

R E W A R D S

Name: Florian
XP: 10
Requested Lore:

Psychology: Holding Out Hope
Psychology: Deep Breaths to Soothe Anxiety
Detection: Noticing Unexpected Reactions
Politics: Who You Know is Important
Etiquette: Being a Prisoner

Note(s): It begins. Florian has a long road ahead of him. I hope he's ready.