2023-08-29: Drive (Push)

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<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Another night had descended upon the underground halls of Merida Island, a place where few people sleep and less get a full 8-hours of winks. Even if the outside had seemingly slipped into slumber, the base was working away; Transferring people, coordinating with other battlegroups, reporting to HQ, and generally being the busy bee of one of the branches of the Shuffle Alliance.

Tessa was not exempt from this sort of workhorse environment; Countless days pulling double-digit workdays to manage crisises, to manage personnel and keep up with the movements of the world, both personal and not.

It was at this juncture she was sipping on her coffee, stopping by the dormitories in the tailend of one of her shifts. There's reports in her head and a tinge of worry in her eyes, born of reading the reports and keeping up her reading of Seolla's own reports. Maybe...It'd be best to check in, even if she herself was a wreck.

...Was she a wreck? Who knows. There's only the rapt knocks on the door, a distinct pattern she's always used as the Commanding Officer.

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        Probably the most troubling element of the report is just hearing that Seolla had been largely non-verbal for much of the time since the incident with Dr. Murasame. While she was the least physically injured of the lot, save Dr. Mass herself, it was pretty apparent to everyone that the distant and distraught expression she kept, and...

        Well, while it's less confirmable in medical reports, anyone with more...extrasenory acumen left a note that Seolla 'felt' like she was trembling quite intensely - not in a physical way. They added a section about what they learned on their opposition - the assassin Mad Poirot, and the flash of psychic visions recounting quite gruesome experimentation...and while obviously, Seolla hasn't been changed as dramatically, they could all tell it struck a chord.

        At least it's nice that three or four people all seem to have concurred that Seolla's obviously struggling!

        In the time since, thankfully, Seolla's rallied a little better. Food helps. Even rations - it's not like those are horrible and inedible here. She's quick to reply with a "...come on in," knowing well that's Tessa's knock. Honestly, she was hoping to see the captain - she's always a little brighter whenever they're together.

        One hand over her forehead, uniform unbuttoned and bundled around her shoulders, Seolla's fully laid out on the bottom bunk in this little dorm room, her other arm extended and watching a movie on one of the little non-communicating media players common at Merida Island. Can't have things trying to actually access the internet here, so once every six months an operative stocks up the media libraries on these devices. A loud and somewhat goofy Tarabaman movie is playing, the titular hero launching a ray at some form of stingray-themed monster.

        Seolla flicks the volume down when Tessa comes in though, head tousling sideways to look at her. "...mm. Sorry I'm this down in the dumps. ...spent a while thinking I was doing a good job keeping up spirits around here, but...huuu. ...sorry," she repeats.

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

There's theories brimming in her what happened, what transpired, what exactly was seen in that psychic vision. Her gut (and general sense of knowing what "experimentation" usually was) wasn't exactly positive in that avenue.

Regardless, it was still blatantly obvious that something had hit. Far, far deeper than just the general trauma of knowing how experimentations were performed in detail.

The door cracks open, Tessa's own face maintaining a curious face over the wears and tears of office stress. Turning around, gingerly shutting it as she took a sip of her cup. The liquid energy had long since cooled down by now.

"I read the reports." Choosing to conveniently skip over Sousuke's own condition (or lack of it, in his case), she keeps an eye on Seolla. Clear symptoms. Obvious downcastiness. It's practically textbook...Except for what caused it.

Her mouth opens for a moment, trying to choose her next words. Uruz-7, and now Uruz-11. She can't dwell on Uruz-7. This was...the thing in front of her right now. "Have you been eating? Proper sleep?" The advantages of Mithril included discretionary leave; Something Tessa brazenly utilized for herself and her crew. No one deserved to be overworked, and results ensured she couldn't exactly be rebuked for it...If they didn't want someone on 24/7.

"...Was it related to The School?" Best to attack the hypothesis directly.

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        Well there's a pretty decisive wince - one that makes Seolla abruptly drop the little phone-sized device, landing with a little smack on her cheek that jolts her a little bit out of the absolute mire of funk. (Achievement earned: Bright Slap Yourself.)

        "Ouch ouch...nn. ...Of course it has to do with...what they...did." Peeling the screen off with the sound of of the faintest adhesion, Seolla sighs and pulls herself to sit a little more upright, one leg curling up towards her in the process, supported by one hand.

        "...It probably wouldn't have...been as bad if I hadn't been doing so much to remember things easier these days. ...All the worst things I'd forgotten are just...making my head ache. They won't go away. So much of it was...familiar, what that assassin showed me. ...maybe too, it's because I...am hazy on the details...that because something so awful, but so similar, was put at me...the more heinous kind he went through feels the most real."

        Mouth gently parted, Seolla's stare is fixed on a single bolt in the wall - a familiar experience after going through the worst of it - before one slight shifting sound Tessa makes pulls her back to reality, shaking her head gently. "And I was pushing through that just because of...how much danger we were all in. That guy was - that was the most unhinged assassin I've ever seen. Did Sousuke make it obvious in the reports? That he was doing unreasonable, borderline magic stuff kinda like what the Arbalest des on occasion..?"

        Well, she's sure broached That subject.

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

THere's minor solace in the minute comedy of errors; The sort of thing to remind herself that she's dealing with humans. With people. These aren't just soldiers to wrap upp and toss into the frontline, they have to be cared, looked after, all hundred-plus on the ship. One by one? Maybe, if it calls for it. Delegation is key, but for the SRT, one failure could cascade into something worse.

Having two people out of it couldn't stand for long.

But she allows Seolla to talk and work through her own thoughts. Staying silent and parsing each sentence, keeping a close, anxious eye on the girl. "What I'm aware of in those kinds of situations...Is that your fear makes it more real." Not fear of the unknown; Fear of the barely known. Something half-forgotten, something experienced yet fading away. And after leaving it to rot, to dig up and remember it anew, the mind's natural touch forcing things that were not there, however minor. "...Because you don't remember it completely, you can't parse it." A dangerous thought.

There's a glance to the side at the uncomfortable question. The reports that came in were in excruciating details; Documenting the impossible made possible, recognizing that this person should not move as a normal one did. "Yes. The underlying things are different, but the outcomes are similar." Things that should not be. What did he go through? All of it, not just physical.

"We're lucky, and we have Murasame." Cornelia would have her side of the deal. This, Mithril made absolutely sure to highlight in their regular reports to the other heads of the Shuffle Alliance. "The REA is a current black box of what they're doing behind the scenes, so this glimpse is..." How to put it. "Rewarding." A gulp. Imagine that.

To talk to someone dealing with their trauma, to try and help them with their mental anguish, and she could only think about the result.

Pathetic.

"Good job, Seolla. I'm glad you all made it back alive." There's a slow step, careful to make wide movements to sit on the bunk. "I'm relatively aware of what training regiments are like, but..." ...How? "Have they been fading away before this?"

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        -And here Seolla is, in the midst of Tessa wondering, worrying, coming to grips with whether her approach is the right one, whether she's navigating assisting a crewmate well enough-

        She's just relaxed hearing Tessa talk about anything. Posture going more upright, pulling in on her uniform to look a little less disheveled, pushing herself to look Tessa more in the eyes, especially when she sits right nearby.

        "...most of the time, I only made it through because I had someone. A partner, somewhere. I knew they were going through what I did. I knew we had nobody but each other. So I could lean on that, for a while." Cupping the media player between both hands, Seolla curls her heel under the side of the bunk, tightening at the thought. "...This guy went at it alone. More than alone. He was fixated on how...a cat was worthy of care, but not him. ...It made him...horrified at anything that looked and sounded like a cat. And it just reminded me of how it always felt whenever I was...on my own."

        -There's a curious pause there. Like a word came to mind - and the thought of it made Seolla suck in a terse breath. Walking around it. ...maybe it's that the idea of avoiding something very specific resonates strongly from the ever-broadcasting way Seolla expresses. ...a 'block word', somewhere - a familiar technique in a lot of these regimens.

        "...I don't want to start imagining that when you're right here, Tessa." Vivid blue eyes locking onto Tessa's pale amber. "...What about you? Something about you seems off. I can't place it. You're usually pretty formal and analytical, but...somehow I feel it. The sense of like...a stone caught in your shoe..."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Maybe she's overthinking it. It's her job: Think. Think. Plan. Think. Push. The best possible situation, always, now and forever, to have everyone come back alive. There's a certain tenseness to Tessa's movements. Eyes darting over every so often, taking in everything. The room. The bunk. The marks on the floor. The knowledge of her own minutely disheleved self, how her tie is just that slightly crooked, how her braid is that slightly askew.

Even talking is relaxing, subconscious as it was. To stave off the whispering in her own self, to keep herself away from the spiral of doubt.

She listens. The darkest recesses of oneself; Seeing yourself under the light only you have, with no one else to strike it off of. "A cat..." ...Something more worthy than him. The immediate thought. Of course. Loathing something that reminded him of his own...inadequecies. "I'm not in the realm of psychoanalysis, but the conjecture is...He felt himself to not be worth the trouble."

...

A slow shift. Sipping the coffee. Near-empty. The soft suck of air. Note it. Catalogue it. For her own good. "Is there a word that comes to mind?" Just that. No further. Necessary to prod, but not to puncture the mind's barriers.

But. She's gazing into those eyes, the barest reflection against the aqueous humor in seeing herself. Her own mind screams its assertion at the sight of her own tired gaze, the continually spinning gears coming back to that same assessment of herself ever since she had to issue that damning order.

Pathetic.

"...Uruz-7 had to be taken off of protecting Angel." Use the proper language. "He can't go back to Jindai. Not when the Arbalest needs to be used at a moment's notice and he learns how to call it at will." The rote reasoning, the same reasoning used when Mao broached that subject.

"It's the Commander's job to issue those orders and see it done." The edge is there. She's staring back.

Those amber eyes are wavering.

"So I can't let that stone keep making me stumble...Especially when you're still out of it, too."

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        A brief little jolt of pain. The word does - and doesn't - come to mind. Rather...the feelings surrounding it do. A sense of being cast off utterly into space - of choking and being diminished into nothing.

        So Seolla's rather blank-eyed when she says, "N-no, nothing of that- sort..."

        It makes her cling, rather abruptly to Tessa's arm, furrowing her brow at the topic of Kaname having someone else assigned. "...That makes sense, I suppose, but you do have a replacement, right? It's sort of a shame though. I mean...I think Sousuke was pretty happy there, but...you're right, you know. The Arbalest isn't just any old Arm Slave, it's some spectacular one of a kind thing that only he's able to use, if I'm not mistaken."

        A deep breath. "...Unless you were coming here to request that I handle that job? To be honest..." Thought bubbles emerge. The way Kaname gets, hot-headed at the preposterous antics that naturally happen around her. The way Seolla gets, fiery when in distress and easily left puffy and pouting. There is a level of reciprocal tsun here that, if left unchecked, could consume the entire world in a matter of days if the two were left unchecked.

        "W-well, just to be honest, I don't think our personalities match very easily when things need to get serious."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Unfortunately, Tessa is exactly the type to pick up on that jolt. An eyebrow lightly raised at the sudden turn of phrase, watching those eyes fade away for a moment.

...It's scarily enticing, whispers a corner of her mind, one that's shoved into a closet immediately after that thought dared to manifest herself. It'd be so easy to move the world if she had the right people. The right mind. The right...loquaciousness.

But she doesn't.

Dragged back into the 'correct' train of thought, lightly jolting in surprise as she's clung to. "Yes, there's someone else there." That's as much as she can say. "Kaname won't have to worry about her safety, at minimum. Sousu- Uruz-7 has to pilot the Arbalest. There's no one else who can."

"No...No, nothing of the sort." She can't exactly say that Seolla would be...possibly more than adequate, but immediately segueing into another bodyguard at such short notice would bring more harm than good. The fallacies of internal politics. "We have contingencies, and Uruz-7 should be able to adjust to his current situation with acceptable results, but..."

But I want him to be better. I want him to say what's on his mind. He accepted it without question. He left without a single thing to Kaname. One foot in front of the other. Forward. Was there any other way?

Not that she could assemble in such a short time.

"What I need you to do, Uruz-11, is to rest up. If you need additional therapy on top of the deconditioning, I'll be happy to file a recommendation." Step away. Look objectively. Help your crew. Help the people around and below you. You can't engineer a perfect person. "I understand what you went through is...dredging up bad memories."

But I can't stop the world from spinning.

"But I want to see you improve, as much as anyone I under my command to do."

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        ...It's not just the aversion to her own predicament. It's that Seolla still feels like...she's not getting the whole picture.

        Ordinarily - she'd brush it off. When did she ever? Details were need to know - she was to perform assigned actions and leave it at that point. Those giving her the commands did not care for her, and would not be entrusting her with anything besides those duties.

        ...None of them ever sat there with her. None of them accepted being a shoulder to rely on. None of them ever felt right talking to them.

        -hardly a surprise. The level of loyalty Seolla's displayed - accepting ever more and ever tinier things, diligently going about them with a level of cheer - that's not just duty and obligation to the chain of command.

        "Ahahah...honestly...that's a tall order sometimes. It feels...nh. Frustratingly...pathetic. To not be injured, to be physically capable, but to be put out of commission anyway. It's hard to rest, since...well. Now something's boiling in me to...push further. ...I get what you're saying exactly, captain! I know what to do. But I can't help but think at first - isn't resting and improving two totally different things?"

        Seolla does eventually let go of Tessa's arm, letting out a long deep breath, then pulling in two shorter ones, dusting herself off lightly. "...when laying around in bed is exhausting, maybe that's the time when the way I rest is by taking a walk around, so I think I might do that. ...Thank you for checking in on me though, Tessa. It's...exactly what I needed."

        An oh so meltingly warm and wistful smile, like a campfire on a brisk evening.

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

There's a pervading sense of self-loathing inside the Commander. SHe could be better. Do better. Push herself better. This was the purpose of such a vist; Maybe somehow, someway, seeing someone deal with their own demons would help provide perspective for her own failures and blind spots.

She's not sure if she found that. Was this too far? To talk as Officer and Soldier in this environment, this strange place with the malaise of the world and the problems of one's own head? Maybe. Maybe not.

There's a minute part of her that spites the rational question. This wasn't a government operation. This was Mithril. A PMC. Nearly all of them went for cash. Two people bought off under her own nose, two people who shouldn't have died. The traitor will be brought to justice soon enough. Mithril's version of it.

The small shift to lean into Seolla's grip. Someone to rely on. Someone to use as an anchor. She has to be this. She has to. No one else in the West Pacific. Her life needs to keep going here, on pain of walking if Mithril ever dares to reassign her. It's the only way.

"Most things are tall orders if we disagree with them." Even moving is hard, sometimes. She knows. Too much, she knows. "Push yourself to rest and to work out your head." Giving advice. The same advice she should follow. The hypocrisy.

There's a lingering want that's quickly snuffed. Sitting herself up appropriately, brushing the hair out of her eyes. An empty coffee cup. Near the end of work...But it had to be done.

"I'm glad. We can't know when the next order for mobilization will come down from above, so the sooner the better." One deep breath for herself. One. It's all she can afford.

That warm smile is reciprocated with one of her own; A silvery star to pierce through the veil of night. So she'd like to think.

"...It's my pleasure, Seolla."

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