Dust and Shadow

[Pravus Zambrano]

Maena

Somewhere in New City

Abnormally long fingers hovered along the credentials, embracing each letter with a delicate touch. Reflective and full of luster, the tall figure was caught by the awe inspiring visage that looked back in the foreground of the information. All of which were forged and not even close to the truth. Because, as it were, a deity was not an option for race and professional butcher was inappropriate for listing as occupation. Or, that were the words the first forger uttered before choking on his own tongue. Pravus lifted one finger, then another, and then another. With three outstretched, he agreed. Three forgers to get the details right.

The transport shook as he clung to the railing, clutching his briefcase in hand and praying that his other items had made it safely through transit. He wouldn't know for a few days, following the arduous processing phase. His relatives, resting in Vain Hollow, had told him to be wary of the use of his last name through the various regions. Evidently, some were not too fond of such a noble lineage. After all, it had crafted him from creation. Nevertheless, a name he often wore as badge was tucked deep away, most easily found in the corruption that filled his veins and turned his heart three shades darker than black.

"Letters please."
"Oh, yes yes. Here you are." He smiled, lips unveiling rows of white and sharpened teeth. Big bulbous eyes of uncomfortable proportions looked down at the officer as he waited most patiently. Most patiently indeed.
"Please state your name, for the record."
Pravus lifted his hand to his heart, bowing his head. "I am the Noble Sebastian Toydaver. Like a Toygarian, but with cadaver at the end."
"Matches up. Thank you Mr. Toydaver. You may proceed into New City."

Pravus clutched his bag in one hand and nearly lifted a gesture towards the officer as he departed. Shocked at the dismissal of such elaborate charm, he lurched forward and plotted the mans demise. But that wasn't what he was here for, no not quite.

No, he was here for something far grander. Rummaging through his elaborate robe, he pulled out a parchment listing he had printed back on Panatha.

Doctor needed immediately. All experience is appropriate. Please apply on line or in person.​

Maena New City Health Department.​

​

He pressed his fingers across the letters, smeared from the sweat of his inner pocket. In his mind, he imagined the Doctor looking back at him. Oh the way she operated, the way the doctor mask covered her visage, he knew there was a connection there. If only he had time to pursue it, to show her just how important she was to him. And the way she moved, operated, and the screams that her work brought. Such a wondrous specimen of expertise. Her scent, the way it carried through metallic tones to deliver explicit focus and pure force.

"Oh, Rose..."
"Did you say something to me?" A passerby stopped, looking up at the visibly irritated Epicanthix and Vahla hybrid. His expression soften quickly, veering nearly towards creepy.
"Yes. Which way is the New City Lower clinic?"
"Oh...uhh...that way." He pointed a good stretch down the dirty thoroughfare.
And with that, Pravus was off to his interview. But by the looks of things, it wouldn't be too hard.

He wouldn't say he passed the interview with flying colors. That would be an understatement for how well he had performed. Happy to suture on request, perform amputations without any assistance, and to inform a wife that her husband was dead and that his body was needed for science, he did all that was required and more. Given the work immediately, he got straight to things. The first being to re-initiate his alchemic practices.

It wasn't but two days in that old habits crept in like invited guest. He figured, based on the turnover rate of death in the Slums and New City, that he could pick happily from the crowds and none would be the wiser. For those that could look back at his work, they would realize it's importance and the sacrifice that was required of it. And it truly was never the sacrifice others made it out to be: his victims were just members of a more substantial process. If they only knew how significant these findings would be, they might have consented. Might.

Turning on the lampshade of his dimly lit abode, several stories up within the hollowed out volcano, he opened up his long pig bound diary to the sound of the news blaring. As he made sketches of a woman kneeling over an operating table with ink formulated from blood, he heard a news story crop up. Leaning forward, he looked onward towards the headline with a mixture of glee and anticipation.

::One women killed in New City Proper. Current investigations have yielded no results.​

In other news, an outbreak of gang violence has left 17 dead and 22 wounded in a recent club brawl.​

Now for the weather.::​

​

He gripped his quill pen so hard he thought he might break it. "UNBELIEVABLE! I painted a mural with that woman's body! THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT! She was a mixture of human..." He gestured to his left. "And EWOK!" He gestured to his right, flinging ink across the floor. Clapping his diary closed, he stood up and pressed his hand against his chest. "She wasn't born like that, Idiots! I did that. ME!"

He heard banging on the wall and the muffled expressions of someone telling him to shut up. Snapping his head towards the wall, he threw the pen. "YOU shut UP!"

He realized he would need to try harder. With stomps loud enough to anger the tenants below him, he draped himself in the robes of his people and stormed out.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNchOCVB1MQ[/media]​

The changes in Irajah were visible for anyone who knew her. The last few months had been a new crucible, and one that she had only just barely emerged from. Returning to Maena from Azure had been.... difficult. There had been a part of her that wanted to stay on that floating platform forever.

It was the knowledge however that forever would be very short indeed if she did not make progress on Gideon that finally spurred her to return. With [member="Matsu Xiangu"] 's blessing, she had moved her apartment into the city, away from the memories that lurked in her quarters at the castle. With the help of Matsu, [member="Carach"] , [member="Aria Vale"], and [member="Darth Imperia"], she had slowly been regaining the fierce independence and self confidence she'd had before Panatha.

It was a slow climb. But every time the stone crumbled beneath her, she only gripped harder, gritting her teeth and moving upward one step at a time.

She moved back and forth between her apartment in New City and her labs beneath Matsu's lair. Walking, always, from an outside view, there was no hitch between her cybernetics and flesh. But for Irajah, and the way she worked within her own body in the battle with Gideon every day, those mechanics would never truly be her. Part of her. They were alien, always barely on the edges of her consciousness. She hated it.... but with time, the hatred had moved from loathing to a certain grudging acceptance. Her fingers, only three of them hers, would never wield a scalpel with the same precision, they had taken that from her. But Gideon was still within her grasp.

The research into Gideon had stalled, long before that night. All of the original research her father had done was exhausted. Simulations had failed to produce results. Living tissue samples could not support the entire cycle of the virus. Every step never moving forward. She understood now why it had stalled. It had been because she was weak- unwilling to do what she had to do. She had hoped before that she wouldn't have to do it. That she could find an answer without taking that finally step.

That she could live without that cost.

She knew better now.

If it was a choice between living and dying, there were no half measures. If she did not want to live, then the research stopped here and she could die with the knowledge that her oath was intact- that she had died, perhaps, a good person.

But if she wished to live.....

Irajah hadn't fully made peace with the decision yet. But she had made the decision.

Life- her life- was more important than 'goodness.'

The Doctor moved through New City. Short dark hair bounced around her pale, tired face, heavy bangs obscuring her forehead. The white lab coat shone in the dim grey of the city. Short heels takked dully against the duracrete. It was later than she usually made her way back to her apartment, night had long fallen. She was no longer naïve enough to assume her safety, just because she was under the protection of Matsu. Panatha had thoroughly crushed that beneath its boot. After her time with Carach, she was better prepared to defend herself, and she was more aware of her surroundings.

But 'better' and 'more' were not proof perfect. And she had so far to go.

She paused, a small frown on her face just outside the door of her apartment. Something in the night caught her attention, but when hazel eyes cast around she saw nothing. The street light that hung just above her door shone brightly, but the shadows beyond it were still. Slipping inside, she locked the door behind her. But the crease in her brow didn't ease as she moved into the small apartment. Moving from room to room, she flicked on each light, moving between windows as the glow flared and soothed some of the unease she couldn't put a finger on. Setting up a pot of caf, she paused at the kitchen window for a moment, then shook her head.

Tomorrow she had so much work to do. And none of it sat fully comfortably in her mind. She settled at the small table in the kitchenette once she had a steaming mug in her hands, pulling a data pad across to her. Slowly, she started going back over the files of the terminal patients currently in residence at the clinic only a few blocks from her own. Tomorrow, she would go to speak to each of them. To make an offer. And slowly, she started organizing them in order of suitability for her work.....

[member="Pravus Zambrano"]

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

"Do...do you recall your first time?" Large oblong marbles, black as coal, sat fixed against juandice sclera. His vision was clear, pristine, and as sharp as the various needles that rested against the metal tray. A little chrome goodie holster, covered in blue napkins. "This is your first time?"

There was no response. The gag probably didn't help.

The figure knelt before him, arms tied and bent backwards to apply pressure on his shoulders in the reverse and upwards position. Knees clamped to the tile flooring, he could do nothing but stare at the blurry reflection of his own bloody visage. Nothing nearly as magnanimous as the depiction of the Zambrano that sat behind him, but it was all he had. And Pravus appreciated that. Opting to make his patient comfortable, he decided to offer a bit of small talk.

Taking the long needle, roughly 5" in length in his left hand, he licked the tip before dousing the end in what appeared to be ink. Though it contained trace blood content of a ysalamir, it was quite a beautiful mixture. "Hmm, perfect consistency. Absolutely perfect. Just the right bit of swirl." Eyeing the needle as it dripped and dropped across the napkin, his focus changed to the untouched flesh on the back of his patient. "Wonderous canvas. Such supple resolve." He had to touch it. A hand extended out, gracing the cool and clammy tone with his right hand. Down the spine, the sounds of muffled cries escaped the man, and Pravus shushed him. "I know, I know. I was nervous the first time too."

Pressing the needle firmly against his back, Pravus pulled a square hammer from his lap and simply began. Small yelps turned into a shivering ache that he could feel beneath the expanse of his artistry, chiseling away at stone to create something beautiful. Without thought towards pain, Pravus drove each needle deep enough to draw blood, to ensure proper mixing. Tongue curling over sharpened canine teeth, a leer formed where a warm smile once appeared.

"Have you ever owned a speeder?" He spoke quietly, against the sound of the hammer hitting metal. "I haven't, either. But I have heard that if you damage one and the repair cost is more than the value of the speeder, people just simply throw the metal heap away." He paused, taking a towel to the mans back before proceeding. "I wonder why we don't do that with people. It would save so much time and effort if we could just...throw them away." He shook his head, gripping the mans shoulder from behind. "But not you, Darron, never you. No, you are far too important to me." He nodded, reassuringly, despite the fact that the figure couldn't see him. Leaning back, he went returned to his work.

Silence consumed his patient as Pravus continued. The images that would be depicted across the back of this figure were not unlike Sith Runes many had seen before. Sharp edges, abstract turns and impossible connections. Just the way the runes ran across his forearms and body, given to him by his mother many years ago. But the purpose of these were quite different from his own, which had powers that couldn't be manifested by his current expertise. No, he needed a servant, one far more resilient than the common man. He might have offered the man an explanation, but focus claimed him. Such steady fingers, such obsession - even the Goddess might look down and take notes. But his intent, while alien to the man in front of him, was forever clear. To trap the soul to this body through amateur magic, so that he might never leave this plane of existence.

"Well, I believe we will need multiple sessions for this piece. But I think it will be my best work, yet." He placed the bloody needle down after what felt like hours had passed. The flesh of his canvas was reddened, raised, and tender. But no more noise escaped him as exhaustion bore down. Another child of Maena, another servant for the path to mastery. Stepping forward, he pulled the man from his position, to bind him. Injecting him with a sleeping agent, he jammed the limp body into a small closet and locked the door. Clapping his hands together, he strode back upstairs, where the light was just peeking through the front door.

"Oh my Goddess..." He spoke, wiping his hands on the white coat that awkwardly covered his tribal clothing. The line for the clinic extended out the door and down the street. A nurse walked by, giving him a glare before handing off a pile of datapads.

"You're late."

He looked over, flipping through the information. Letting out a laugh, he ran his fingers through long strips of greasy hair. "How's your sister doing?"

The nurse stopped in her tracks, a look of shock and horror painted her face. As her hands cupped her face, tears streamed down her cheeks and she took off running down the hall. It was just a few nights ago that her sister had been slain by an unknown assailant. Pravus simply snickered as he turned to the head of the row. "Mrs.....Uhh..."

"Vandercomb." The women seemed impatient and angry at the wait. Perfect.

"Yes, obviously! Please follow me."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah found the line for the clinic before she found the clinic itself.

Though it was only a few blocks from her apartment, the difference between this part of the city and the part she was more familiar with was stark. The Doctor stood out like a sore thumb as she walked past the line of patients. In this place of filth and slow, weighted despair, she moved with swift, precise steps. The white lab coat was pristine. Dark curls bobbed around her face. Sharp hazel eyes flickered over the waiting queue- so many easily treated maladies in plain sight.

The clutch of the datapad against her breast was the only sign of her lingering unease about this new course of action. She had made the decision, it was the only logical next step. But it was not entirely straightforward to shake off what she had been taught her entire life.

Oddly, it wasn't bringing death to terminal patients that gave her pause. She had come to grips with that. It was disrespecting their death in the manner she intended to that settled like a weight in her chest. To bring death peacefully to a patient that had no hope, that was one thing. But Gideon was not a peaceful death. She would not pretend to herself that she was doing them any favors.

She didn't wait on the line. She moved past it in a breeze, stepping into the clinic and glancing around critically. Lips thinned slightly.

Irajah clearly wasn't impressed.

There was a time, not that long ago, where that would have led to rolling her sleeves up and getting to work. After all, she was a Doctor, wasn't she?

But she was already here with intention. And those did not include treating sniffles and infected boils. The hand on her cybernetic arm flexed slightly, but she didn't notice it.

"Excuse me?"

The red-eyed nurse looked up at her from the front desk. Stepping up, Irajah pulled out her badge.

"I believe you are expecting me? I'm Doctor Ven. I am here to speak to certain patients this morning? I was told that everything had been arranged."

The woman frowned, clearly confused.

"I would like to speak to whoever is in charge," Irajah said, trying her best to keep the irritation from her voice.

[member="Pravus Zambrano"]

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

"You...you don't need that."

Pravus, sitting quietly in his twirly stool, peered over his shoulder. With one finger pushing back a greasy layer of raven black hair, another attached the loop of the face mask. Until that ravenous smile was hidden behind cloth.

"I'm not actually sick..."

"So you say!" His words were muffled but clear. And accusatory. "Every time you talk. Every time you breath and huff and puff and look around, you send all your little pesky germs everywhere." All the while, he was gesturing towards the ceiling and the air in flamboyant twists of his wrist. Holding up his long index finger, it moved back and forth to the rhythm of a pendulum. "Not today germs, not today."

Turning back towards his notepad, he rummaged beneath the white lab coat. Pulling a quill from the awe inspiring pauldrons of purple and red feathers, he pulled out an ink well and began work.

"Alright...Mrs..."
"Vandercomb!"
"Obviously!" He shook his head, snickering. "What seems to be the issue?" He twirled, looking the woman down as she sat in the patients seat.
"I'm just here for medication renewal. Arthritis and high blood pressure."
"Yes, yes. I saw that you were near empty on the data pad." He wrote some notes down. "At that rate of pain medication consumption..." He ticked his tongue and shook his head. "You know. If you're looking to off yourself, I have a far more practical combination. The pharmacy wont even bat an eye!"
"Excuse me?!?"
"My mistake!" He held up his hands, one filled with a quill. The other with a notepad, covered in doodles of snakes and rotting flowers. The woman narrowed her eyes towards the paper and then back towards Pravus. "Let me just fill these scripts and we'll all be on our way." He looked towards the door and then back towards the datapad. With a flick of the wrist, all was right again.

The door nearly slammed open as the woman walked by, script clutched in white knuckle grip. Pravus strode out, gingerly, as his hands were filled to the brim with datapads. Sliding the Vandercomb data pad over, he looked past Irajah. He had forgotten to take off the mask.

"Doctor Ven is here, by appointment, Doctor Toydaver."

Pravus snapped his head, furious at the name. Then he recalled that he was living off false credentials. Incredulity changed to something more resembling anxiety as he looked through the datapads. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Each time, he set a datapad on the counter desk of the attending nurse. Until his hands were empty.

"Hmm. I have no information for a Doctor Ven." He slid a fresh datapad towards the woman, totally ignorant to her scent and all it's similarities. "Please fill this out and take a seat. We should be getting to you soon..." He looked towards the line. "...ish."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah had already been standing there for some time, growing more and more impatient as the minutes ticked by, when [member="Pravus Zambrano"] appeared. She had waited, about to hold out her hand to shake once his own grip was emptied of data pads.

Instead, she blinked at him.

"What? No. Excuse- I am not here as a patient," she said, her tone betraying a touch of the growing irritation. "I am here to speak to certain individuals that are under the care of this clinic."

She didn't need to check her data pad. The names were burned into her memory. These were the names of people who were dying yes, terminal and in pain- but they were also the names of people who's lives were going to save hers. If they agreed of course. The least she could do was know them. As if she had any other reasonable choice.

Her left hand gripped her datapad, ignoring the one he had pushed toward her. Only the knuckles on three fingers grew white with the strain.

"Telos Scarin. Mari DeButan. Lukas Pashmi," she said, her tone more clipped than she intended it to be. "Arrangements were made yesterday to speak to them."

While she had made the decision to move forward on this path, she was not yet entirely at peace with it. It left her on edge, annoyed when normally she could be patient with a simple misunderstanding. There was a hard edge to her voice, a tension in every part of her body that she was only distantly aware of.

She was here to take lives, rather than save them. And that was something she had very little experience or comfort in.

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

He had already moved on to looking over his list of patients when she responded, failing to take the datapad in hand. When he offered something to someone, he expected them to take it with glee! But he sensed something far more fruitful, lingering beneath the porcelain veil of amicable attitude. Irritation.

Instinctively, as if removing his face mask to breath fresh air, the cloth mask was unlooped and discarded. Beneath was a cheshire smile at rest, sharpened teeth lurking beneath. But it wasn't the smell of irritation that came to him, nor was it the aura he expected. Doctor...

He shook his head, sure that it was a mistake. Instead, he leaned over the nurses shoulder to the point of discomfort. When she couldn't take any more, him watching over the various tasks she was attempting to complete, she scooted her chair away and moved to the relic file cabinet. "Thank you so much, I'll only be a minute."

Clicking away at the keyboard, the names came up on the screen. "Telos Scarin. Mari Dubutan. Lukas Pashmi." His eyes were illuminated with the green reflection of these names as he crouched, nearly hovering over the information. "Yes, I see now." She might have heard a click, one that would indicate a note put on the names of these individuals. Next to them, verification for a Doctor Ven to examine them and complete all necessary research.

He looked up towards the woman, the way she almost blushed with annoyance. He fought the urge to dab her cheek, collect that color, and paint a work of art with it. Instead, he caught his breath and stood. "Doctor Ven. I must say I am intrigued by this note, regarding your research. This has hardly been advertised as an educational clinic but if the leadership deems that a worthy endeavor, I can only humbly agree."

He pressed his hand against his chest, a gesture that followed him wherever he went. "I am Doctor...Sebastian Toydaver. Please show me identification and we may proceed to the terminal facility." He waved on, expecting that she would have the information necessary. He hadn't visited this particular portion of the clinic yet. It was all he could do to contain the excitement.

The line of patients could wait.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah was slightly mollified by the change in tone and reaction. The tension in her shoulders, nearly a fight response relaxed slightly, and the grip on her data pad eased. She nodded once, more to herself than to him as he pulled up the information.

He was.... odd. She didn't have much of a chance to dwell on it- and in truth, doctors as a group tended toward the strange.

"Oh. Um. Yes. Of course."

She tucked the data pad she'd brought along under one arm as she fished the lanyard out from beneath layers of fabric- jacket and lab coat, all over high necked, long sleeved tunic. Covered from her chin to halfway down the backs of her hands. She held out the laminated bit of plastic for his inspection, quite proper of course, couldn't just have anyone wandering in and claiming to be a doctor, after all. The ID was from [member="Matsu Xiangu"]'s own labs, in the heart of the city.

She briefly wondered about his eyesight- between the way his eyes actually looked and how close he stepped up to her to view the badge. She didn't step away, but she did lean ever so slightly back. She hadn't realized just how tall he was until he was standing right there.

"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Toydaver," she said, looking up at him a little awkwardly. "Doctor Irajah Ven... but....you.... already knew that."

Nice Raja. Good job.

She cleared her throat, taking a step back and then to the side.

"Shall we?"

He didn't exactly lead the way to the terminal ward, but it was close enough. She couldn't exactly put her finger on why it seemed off, and as she was prone to do when she was uncomfortable.... Irajah talked.

"I appreciate the opportunity to speak to these patients," she commented as they walked. Data pad pulled up to her chest, she worked on juggling herself out of her jacket without having to stop moving. "I understand that this is not a teaching, or a research clinic. I am hoping that at least one of the patients will be willing to work with me on certain research.... not here, you understand. I doubt the clinic has the facilities I need. But we, my lab I mean, we would take care of all of the necessary details for a transfer of course-"

[member="Pravus Zambrano"]

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

Irajah Ven. He let the name twirl off the mental image of his tongue, stifling the utterance for the time being. Was that also her name, he wondered. No no, they aren't the same person. It's just a coincidence! Nevertheless, he was content to turn her badge over and over again, whisking off the warmth of her fingertips.

Returning it, he nodded as only a perched vulture could, before offering her the first steps through the hallway en route. Swaying, as he was often to do, he moved like a drunken hover board. With no true gait, his steps were particular and born from habit. Soft steps in the sand, soft steps in the dark of night, as he pulled the kitten from it's little home.

No one missed her, anyway.

Then she began talking and suddenly he missed the vile doctor of the Vain Hollow and the soft sound of her breath, absent any form of loquacious habit. The noise, or lack thereof, was the allure of such expert technique. She existed in the void of senses, guided by the fleeting hands of godhood, and he was mired in appreciation. But here, here it was something else entirely!

There was an economy of sound and she was monopolizing it!

His hands began caressing one another, nervously folding over each other as they were held at mid chest level. A perched fowl, searching for carrion. Not the white knuckles of anger but more the anxious tick and worry of missing something important. His head snapped to her, somewhere between research and understand.

"Shh!" Abruptly the sound came whispering from his lips, behind the gangling finger held against his mouth. "You're going to miss it, Doctor Ven." He said with utmost praise, despite his irritation. Coming around the corner, there was the sound again.

"CLEAR!"

He nearly shrieked in excitement, muffling it behind curled fingers. Lunging forward, he looked back to the brunette before waving her forward. The curtains were pulled back and a team stood over a bed, a man sat with shirt open and chest exposed. There were no pads but instead, a machine stood over him and issued a set of charges. One after another, each time with a male voice that was amplified into the distance. "CLEAR!"

Pravus looked at the wall towards the datapad. His finger trailed down the clear crystalline display, nodding his head happily. "Not Telos or Mari or Lukas. That's good..." His voice dropped to a hush. "...Two birds, one stone." Perking up, he looked over to Irajah and smiled warmly. "Not one of yours, we can proceed forward unless you'd like to stay and watch as they complete the treatment."

He hoped she would.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

It was an all too familiar sound. She'd registered it a moment before he'd shushed her. Though his choice of words was slightly odd, there was only so long that someone could work with Sith like [member="Matsu Xiangu"] or [member="Darth Prazutis"] and still find that sort of response specifically disturbing. And Irajah was long past that event horizon.

The nearly childlike excitement in his voice was positively benign in comparison.

All of that shifted just beneath conscious thought, not fully registered but neither ignored as the pair stopped. Her eyes didn't flicker to the patient information. If it was one of those she was here for, well, that was simply the way of it. Hazel gaze sharpened as she watched, quiet now where she had chattered before.

Before she had been uncomfortable, out of her element in some ways. At least in the ways that mattered. But this?

This she knew all too well.

Irajah was no stranger to death.

"It's not treatment at this stage," she said quietly as the word Clear cut through the air again.

Despite that, she didn't move, standing in [member="Pravus Zambrano"] 's shadow as they watched.

"It's delusion."

He had already given up. While they fought to preserve his body, whatever part of him occupied it was already gone. Someone like Matsu could bring him back, at least for a moment or two, though it would be far more unpleasant than this scene. Not that she would have any reason to in this case.

Despite the clarity of the moment for her, she stayed, watching until the efforts finally ceased.

"Time of death-"

"Five minutes ago."

One of the doctors looks up, as if noticing them for the first time.

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

He listened quietly to her words. When she was so loquacious before, practically stumbling across sentences, now she stood a wordsmith and titan of succinctness. These were thought provoking messages, carved from humanity with a scalpel and the steady hand of a surgeon. She had a stern facade but beneath, he could have sworn he saw innocence. And these words were quickly cutting away such false notions. Even with the brevity of her words, the indifference towards the patient was cold and exacting.

He could only hope to one day be so capable of stymieing his grandiose interpretation of death, with all the excitement that came from it. But that day was not today.

"Five minutes ago."

Pravus laughed nervously as the doctor looked back towards them. Rubbing one hand over the other, he motioned towards the surgeon, as if pushing him away with an open hand. "Yeaaah, I only just ate my lunch five minutes ago. Too bad too, I'm already hungry again!" He lifted his hand, scratching the greasy swathes of hair that coated his pale head. The doctors went back to work, mumbling about inappropriate conversation.

Now would be the time that the body would be wasted for organ donation or for nothing at all. Pravus made mental grabby fingers at the corpse as he turned away, ushering his fellow doctor along.

"You are right, of course." He stated quietly as they progressed down the hall. "Doctors often inject too much..." He snapped his fingers, trying to summon the word. "...Humanity! Too much humanity into the equation." His face was painted with triumph, conjuring a word so foreign to his own beliefs. "A speeder is wrecked. Repairs cost more than the value. We have the good sense to sale the parts, scrap it, and move on. But in a hospital..."

He shook his head. "Just think of the progress we could make. If we weren't so affixed to the sunk cost that is life, incapable of being saved." His hand gestures moved wildly, emboldened by his passion in such a subject.

He was an ardent believer in these concepts, though he described social welfare when he truly intended his own good. For good done for a God would trickle down to his followers. His apotheosis would ultimately be a road paved in blood and fortified by bone. And he would much rather the resources be donated willingly, or at least through the conjured illusion of charity and self sacrifice. But for his victims, these ideas were often extreme or too progressive. If only they were more enlightened!

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Where before she had chattered, now she walked in silence as he spoke, her expression closed off.

How often could she be reminded that, to anyone else, her own continued choice to live might be ill advised? She knew, all too well, what the most effective way to end the threat of Gideon was. After all, it would kill her. All of this effort, she already knew was that 'sunk cost' he spoke of.

​"If there is fight, drive, then I believe it's worth the effort," she finally said She had to believe it. The alternative was to throw herself into a star. And she'd already fought too hard to give up in the here and now. "In that case however, that man had already given up. Knowing the difference between fighting against death and fighting for life may seem to be splitting hairs, but it matters."

Her voice was a touch hollow and distant now. Irajah had never been good at keeping her emotions from her face, from her words, and while the events of the last few months had made her more guarded, in some ways, she would always be an open book. This wasn't distant and impersonal for her. Death was present and very, very real.

"If someone has given up, then I agree, it is entirely a waste of everyone's efforts," she continued, a hard edge creeping into her voice. "If they aren't willing to fight to live, then don't waste anyone else's time, yes? There's a better use of the energy and carbon."

Her mind drifted back to the First Order soldier that she had literally drawn back from death itself. There was a satisfaction there. Less in regards to saving the man's life, although if someone had asked her, that of course would have been the answer. Especially then. She knew better now.

Now she knew that taking something back held a certain power to it. She didn't give one wit for the soldier himself. But the feats she had accomplished in returning life. That had been a high she hadn't expected.

[member="Pravus Zambrano"]

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

There was far too much in these conversations for rebuttal, especially for someone as preoccupied as Pravus! Particularly now, given that he had suddenly found a fascination in determining just how deep this doctor was willing to go. To experiment, to explore, to investigate the rudimentary components of life. He wondered, to what end, she would supplant life for her research.

It was a cliff for which he was willing to flirt! And despite all those numerous tell-tale signs of inner turmoil and contemplation, he was fixed on the signs that paved the way for his benefit. And the all too present resemblance of her scent to that of the doctor. He couldn't place it but, for some reason, he envisioned blackened hollyhocks under a pale sky, blooming on the outskirts of the vain hollow. Beneath rusty twilight, they blossomed against the backdrop of blue lightning, only to die soon thereafter.

Panatha was no place for growth, after all.

"You may be right, Dr. Ven. If that man had a DNR...which he didn't."

He snickered beneath the sound of a hushed whisper, knowing that the figure had died as a result of an 'unknown' allergy to a certain pain medication. He hadn't given up, he was offered to the Gods that existed beyond. And in hopes of obtaining some sort of profit, the would-be sorcerer may have helped push things along.

"Wellll..." Pravus stated loudly as he opened the curtains with a wide grin. Sitting quietly in the bed, Telos Scarin looked up with eyes that where just roused from sleep. "Telos Scarin...the nurses tell me that you are feeling better today?" It should have been obvious that he read the recent observations on the datapad that he studied, having yet to make eye contact with the patient or discuss any matters with the nurses.

"Uhh, yeah. I guess."

"Good, good." Pravus looked up, his gaze drifting from the man to the cuffs that chained him to the bed. Despite being a convicted felon on multiple counts of murder and even more heinous crimes, he had elected to offer his body up for science. Pravus turned to Dr. Ven and gave her the low down.

"Convicted felon. Really...really bad stuff." Pravus made a facial expression like he cared. Which, he didn't. Showing her the datapad, he motioned in a whirl. "Multiple diagnosis but the fact of the matter is that he has days to weeks. Full organ shut down, we don't know what is going on. But he's requested that his organs be harvested for science, for study of his unknown ailment."

"You...you know I can hear you, right?" Telos sat up, flattening out his thin blanket.

Pravus turned and waved at him, laughing quietly. "Nothing that isn't a matter of record, of course. Worry not, my friend. I have the utmost respect for you!" He gestured towards Irajah. "This is Dr. Ven. She'd like to speak with you a bit on the matter of ongoing research."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

There was a tiny part of her, watching, from far away. This isn't me, it thought. This is not how I respond to a situation like this one. I care. Even if not about the individual, about the greater needs of science- to study Gideon, I must ignore the unknown cause of his degeneration. Is it genetic? Environmental? Autoimmune? A local virus? How important could it be if it is caused by local conditions, to the people that live here? There was mystery here that not too long ago I would have been interested in, at the very least. That cold calculating woman.... that isn't me.

And yet the alternative had been to remain that broken creature [member="Carach"] had brought to Azure. The alternative was to allow Gideon it's due. In the face of those simple facts, that voice was tiny indeed. It watched the scene unfold, mouse like in its distress.

"I'm not particularly interested in your past, Mister Scarin," she said quietly, glancing sideways at [member="Pravus Zambrano"], eyebrow arching slightly in his direction. Snaking out her foot, she caught a wheeled stool with her ankle and pulled it over to the side of his bed before sitting. "It's your future that interests me."

"What future? Didn't you hear him? I'm dying you stupid cu-"

"Finish that and I'll step on your air tube Mister Scarin."

He was hardly her first round about with a combative patient. She responded smoothly, calm, but with an edge to her voice.

He scoffed.

"You wouldn't do that."

She looked down casually, flicking her finger over the datapad that held the information on his situation.

"You may be right. Then again, the only person who gives one, tiny maw-ridden hint of a care about if I did or not isn't here. Your.... daughter? Yes? I'm sure she'd be disappointed by not getting a chance to say good bye. Are we done playing? " Her voice was cold. "Tick tock, Mister Scarin. I have all the time in the world. But you are running yours down and you still haven't heard my offer."

At mention of his daughter the man paled slightly. All of her focus was on the dying man. She didn't smile when he nodded slowly, just offering a curt nod of her own.

"As I was saying. You have agreed to donate your organs once you are dead to gain insight into your particular condition. That is a noble thing." The lack of inflection said that the words were just that. Words. In truth, she didn't really care in this case, as this time. She had bigger things to concern herself with.

"However, that can only benefit, perhaps, people that you have never met. I have a slightly more pragmatic offer. I have several studies I require subjects for. I am willing to purchase what time you have left for my research."

Confusion flickered across his face.

"What the kark do you think I need money for?" He asked, his tone incredulous.

"Not for you of course," she said smoothly, hazel eyes glittering slightly. "You are, after all dying. What are credits to you? I'm not offering them for you. I am offering them for your daughter. Once the inevitable occurs. Your last days, well taken care of, well fed, comfortable bed in my laboratory. A tidy sum paid to her once my experiments are complete. And of course your organs can still go to discover how to save others with your affliction. Doesn't that sound so much better than dying here, slowly, surrounded by the sounds of men and women weeping?"

​There was much she didn't say. About the experiments. About Gideon. About the pain that would wrack his entire body while the virus liquefied his organs. She lied without concern about donating his organs as promised. After all, was there any research that could be more important, at this moment, than her own?

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

The datapad lifted to cover his wide open mouth, skin held taught and the only thing keeping his chin from smacking against the tiled floor. Large bulbous and beady eyes suddenly felt themselves burdened with awe, watching as the Doctor spoke to the victim patient with such cold enthusiasm and restrained passion. How wonderful!

He looked left.

He looked right.

He signaled for a male nurse to come over.

"Yes, Doctor Toydaver?"

Pravus lifted a finger to his own lips, shushing the nurse. Lifting his hand over the short man, he gripped him by his blond crown and turned his attention to the doctor while she worked, with a forceful jerk. Just one day prior, Pravus was reprimanded by one of the board supervisors for inappropriate touching of work personnel. Obviously that hadn't put a dent in his tendencies.

"Just...just listen to it." As Pravus turned the mans head towards the patient and his new Doctor, so too did his gaze transition. "Just...the bed side manner. It's...it's beautiful. Leveraging the daughter for treatment, threatening with time itself." His words had grown quiet yet sharp, a whisper that could cut with its intensity. And yet the nurse not only seemed confused, but oddly perturbed. He wrestled himself free from the grip and with two steps back, made the boldest of proclamation.

"I have more important things to deal with!" The nurse in his baby blue garb stomped off and Pravus nearly cursed his name. "Not likely, you swine!" The words danced from his lips with mild displeasure, quickly overtaken as he tuned back into the conversation. Gripping his hands together, he shuffled forward like a shadow, following the slow set of a evening sun.

"I...I see you are getting to know each other!" He stated with a celebratory raise of his hands, as if he was praising the goddess herself. Wringing his palms, feeling the sweat from anticipation, he looked towards Doctor Ven before looking back towards the patient. "Sounds like a fair deal to me, fair indeed."

His words spoke of promise, but his eyes offered a threat of alternative. There were plenty of sewers, plenty of abandoned chop shops, and plenty of shack sized homes that would suit his needs. He was just imagining it now, the sort of display he could make with this mans body. Eyes darting back to Doctor Ven, his hands moved in an arc down the hall. It was just then that he made eye contact with that male nurse, making silent promises of his own. Darron was in need of a roommate!

"Telos, if you don't take this offer. We have plenty more who would be willing to capitalize. Think of your...daughter." The way he said it, the way the words rolled off his tongue. He was almost pleading for the opposite. This knowledge of a daughter was news to the would be sorcerer; she would obviously make for a tantalizing offering to teasingly dangle before a dying man.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Much to the disappointment of [member="Pravus Zambrano"], Mr. Scarin agreed that it was, indeed, a fair offer. How could he not? He knew what kind of life his daughter would struggle with here. While the sum in question was not even remotely enough to change her station, it would ease the burden of poverty in a way that he had never been able to otherwise provide.

One, last, fatherly gift for his daughter.

Irajah's mouth tightened into something that could easily be mistaken for a smile.

In truth, it was anything but.

Each meeting went differently, Irajah adapting her approach as needed, based on the history available to her in the database, and her initial first impressions of the patient. With Marin, an old woman even smaller than Irajah was, she was gentle and patient. And with Lukas, gruff and clearly ex-military, she was blunt and straight forward without resorting to manipulation as she had with Telos. Ultimately, she assured the agreement of both men- Marin it seemed, had made her peace and simply wish to be allowed to die in quiet.

​Irajah respected that and let it be.

Doctor Toydaver was a..... strange companion for this endeavor. At times quiet, he was always present, and not merely as a physical shadow. Irajah had originally intended to do these visits, these discussions, alone. Not only was the situation a delicate one, but what she was doing was not, in the strictest sense, ethical. Sure, she could convince herself of the rightness of the course in any manner of ways, but another Doctor? Would not understand. So it surprised her when he not only seemed to intrinsically understand what she was doing, even if not the why- but approved and offered his own, very strange, sort of support to the endeavor.

"I'll arrange to have Scarin and Pashmi moved to my labs this afternoon," she said as they stepped away from the last bed.

While they had been moving through the wing, intent on her work, Irajah had been.... more sure. Stern, or at least firm. Now, however, when the crutch of her work vanished beneath her, she once again foundered.

"Thank you," she said, tucking a lock of hair awkwardly behind one ear. For what? "For accompanying me through your facilities."

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

Enamored wasn't the right word, though he found a certain modicum of elation in the longevity of this endeavor. The way she moved through each patient, one by one, seeking something that would invariably hasten the end of their life. He couldn't possibly know that but he suspected and that was as good as certainty! The way she moved, bed to bed, gave him visions of a cat with wiry hair, darker than midnight. As each paw struck the earth, she moved through opened cages of sedated mice. Having her pick of the lot.

Cat....cat.

Cat.

~~~​

"I wont that one!" The small child screamed, nails particularly immaculate for a boy of his age. He gestured towards a rusted cage as a cat sat quietly, covered in dirt and a lazy disposition. "No." The mother replied, sternly but with an ounce of tender care. Her eyes looked down towards the child, filled with a knowing sense that couldn't be overturned. "BUT I WANT IT! I'VE BEEN GOOD. YOU SAID I COULD HAVE ONE!"

"Impossible." She slapped his hand away. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"This will be the third cat so obviously you KNOW!"

"And where are those cats, now?"

The young boy, adorned in royal gypsy cloth of his family, turned with a sulking expression. But where his eyes showed a mixture of pain and loss, his mind race with memories of the events that transpired. They way they cried like tortured beasts, the way they were silenced after all the agony, and the way that even after they had passed, they still seemed so filled with expression. It was then, more than ever, that he felt alive. When he questioned the very notions of life itself!

"I said...where are those cats, now? We don't deny the truth here. We own it and overcome it."

"I...hurt them." He feigned sympathy. "I am a bad child. It wont ever happen again."

"I am happy to hear it. Come, Pravus. Lets get some vegetables for dinner."

His eyes lit up. "Can...can I chop them?!?"

"Of course." She spoke with a smile and laugh as they moved back through the market.

~~~​

​

His vision turned just as the Doctor spoke of Scarin and Pashmi. While he had been there all along, Pravus felt the haze of removal of idle thought. It wasn't that he didn't respect what was happening, it's just that his mind turned to the future. He lifted his hand as she offered a thank you, knowing very well that he was merely glorified chauffeur. "No need to thank me...but..."

He stopped, gripping his book in hand beneath the datapad. He was always so quick to drum it with idle fingers. "The work you are doing. Experimentation, investigation, true science! I cannot deny that it has piqued my interest. Now now..." He held out his hand, desperate to keep these cats from slipping his grasp. "Undoubtedly you are without need for any services I can render. But I can assist in menial tasks. Please, tell me you will consider it. While I adore helping the needy, I must have time to..." He lifted his free hand, the power ballad fist returning with a certain subtlety. "...express myself."

There was more than one way to skin a cat. He would know of them all.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah paused, and for the first time, turned her gaze critically on [member="Pravus Zambrano"].

She had been primarily focused on her task- now accomplished, she would have simply walked out of the clinic without even a backward glance. She had no time, no energy for backward, after all. At least, that's what she told herself during the day.

At night was always harder.

Truthfully, she hadn't considered him beyond the barest idea that he existed and that he was either going to help her or hinder her. It had been that simple, his presence an afterthought after their initial meeting. Now though, she really looked at him.

He's more like a looming vulture than a man, isn't he? Then again, he didn't even flinch once while we walked the halls. Exactly the opposite. He gets it.

And then, as she usually did, she accepted the parts that worked rather than the parts that scratched at uncomfortable angles.

She nodded once after a moment.

"Send your credentials to me," she said, slipping a small data key out of her pocket. It contained her contact information at the lab. "I'll arrange clearance for you, Doctor Toydaver."

​Like cadaver, just with a....

The barest trace of a frown brushed her lips but she shunted it aside. What a strange thing to think just then.

"I have not had much opportunity to discuss my ongoing research with another doctor. Perhaps you will be able to find something I have missed."

Irajah turned, about to walk away, and then, stopped. She spoke now over her shoulder.

"What, if I may ask, is your specialty, Doctor?"

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

"Many hands make less work..." He said with that all too common giggle, nervously wringing his hands over one another. But then, that question came that might have turned his world upside down. There were so many answers to the notions of specialties. As a doctor, as a living God, as a necromancer, as a follower of the Goddess, as a hobbyist of the occult.

He could specialize in the exchange of life and death.

He could specialize in the ritual of ascensions.

He could specialize in the words and symbols that return life to the diseased.

He could specialize in everything and more.

But it all came down to what he uttered in the moments pause between her question and his answer.

"Literature review." He stopped, lifting a finger. "Reading is my specialty." That finger turned into a fist as he grew aggravated with his answer. "No, no, that's not what I meant." He laughed as he placed a hand on his chest, rubbing as if to remove debris. "Esoteric diagnostics. And the research for prescriptive solutions."

Reviving the dead, entrapping the soul, raising the hordes of undead with a single whisper. Nothing could be more esoteric.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"Hmm."

Irajah's lips thinned, ever so slightly. It was an incredibly odd answer. But then, these were very odd circumstances.

And a doctor who she could label as 'normal' or 'well adjusted' wouldn't touch what she was doing with a ten foot pole.

"Prescriptive solutions. Quite. Alright then Doctor Toydaver-"

Just like.....

"I will arrange clearance for you for my lab. Hopefully it will be.... mutually beneficial."

And with that she was gone, shoes tak takking swiftly down the hallway. She didn't look back, didn't hesitate. In truth, her mind was already on the next steps, the litany of action that must be undertaken next to reach her goals. Under other circumstances, at an earlier time, she would have had so. many. questions.

But she could feel Gideon coiling inside of her. She had arrested it's forward momentum once more after Azure, but it was temporary and she knew it. Doctor Ven simply did not have the time to spread her attention to unnecessary strangenesses. Not now.

Of all of the resources at her finger tips these days, there was only one that was truly finite.

And that was time.

*****

She had not expected him to be available the next day. So it had surprised her when she got the call that a Doctor Toydaver was waiting for her on the ground level. Out from her office, she moved with practiced familiarity through the underground installation. It took ten minutes for her to reach his location at the security desk, and when the door opened, she immediately noticed the discomfort of the guards.

A small frown flickered over her face.

"I have his pass, gentleman," she said as she stepped up to the desk. "I will take it from here. Good morning Doctor. I trust you found the place alright?"

​[member="Pravus Zambrano"]