View source for 2024-04-25: .i do struggle with these ritualS

*'''Cutscene:''' .i do struggle with these ritualS
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Yuliana Kafim]], Dr. Noburu Kimura
*'''Where:''' The Photon Power Labs
*'''Date:''' 2024-04-25
*'''Summary''': ''Yuliana speaks with the doctors at the Photon Power Labs about her feelings over Elisa's blood sacrifice.''
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[[Category:Cutscenes]]
[[Category:Phase 2, Turn 1]]
[[Category:Phase 2]]

"... I think I've gotten less tough, over the years," Yuliana sighs, as she looks over to Dr. Kimura. "It's embarrassing to say it... so don't you go around gossiping. It's just..." She sighs, and trails off, drawing one jean-clad leg up onto the couch, tentacles wrapping about it.

Dr. Kimura sees her clamming up, and he doesn't need psychic senses to intuit that voicing her embarrassment has reminded her she oughtn't talk about it. "I'd never gossip about our sessions, Yuliana," he assures her, then. "I only share this information with your care team, and the people you've signed off on -- like your wife, or Sayaka, or Leina... and even then, I'm only telling them what they need to know. This is a confidential space. Do you remember what I told you about patient confidentiality?"

"Mm... it's how you people can't read or talk about me unless you're seeing to me," Yuliana frowns, humming through her lips. (She still struggles to phrase it as 'caring for her'. She remembers Dr. Petrov) "You know, unless -- unless I'm due to jump off a bridge, or throw someone off it -- like that."

"That's right," Dr. Kimura nods. "Unless you're a danger to yourself or someone else, I can't talk about this to unrelated people. I'm bound by medical ethics."

"Tch... it's weird," Yuliana grumbles. "But that's -- I guess -- you know, not ''medical'' ethics, but I have an ethics problem, I think."

"All right," Dr. Kimura nods. "How does that relate to feeling less tough?"

"Well -- it's just --" Yuliana gestures, though her leg's still coiled to her chest. "You know, when I was a Captain, I was always quite captivated by Elya's rituals. Even her brainwashing... well, I didn't know what was happening to me, back then. But I'd bring her people to -- you know -- eat, more or less, and it didn't bother me at all... you know, it's not like I wasn't killing plenty of people myself. Even re-educating them." Which is worse, apparently, then the murder.

(Yuliana is pretty sure she'd remember it if she'd ever ''died.'')

"But over the last few years, that changed?" Dr. Kimura prompts.

"Yeah," Yuliana frowns. "It started when I couldn't deal with seeing hollow-eyed servants around... of course Elisa found willing people when I complained. But over the past year, you know, I became more aware of how -- different her violence was to mine, and..."

She falls silent, her other leg lifting to curl on the couch. Dr. Kimura waits for her to gather her thoughts and her courage; she does, eventually. "And just recently, you know -- she had to sacrifice people, and -- it's the pain and the fear as they cross the threshold to death which fuels her works. That shouldn't bother me... really, a little fear in the face of death can be very satisfying! But -- but it just -- you know, I asked about it. I asked about it. It bothered me. It shouldn't... bother me," she says, and makes herself small. "It's just... Leina said that anyone on the street could have been me, if they were born differently. What if -- well, of course my wife would never harm /me,/" she insists, shaking her head.

Give Dr. Kimura credit; he doesn't flinch, even with those grim implications. He takes a deep breath, instead. "Let me ask you something," he starts, gently. "Did you enjoy making people afraid -- hurting them -- before you enlisted?"

"No... no, not particularly," Yuliana says. "Honestly, it was only when I became special forces... I would have been in trouble if I didn't like it, then."

"So the REA forced you to become more brutal to better serve their purposes," Dr. Kimura surmises.

"I... I guess so," Yuliana frowns.

Dr Kimura gestures. "Now you're free of them... is it such a bad thing that you're asking these questions? Perhaps you -- the real you -- is someone occupied by whether something is right or wrong."

"Of course you'd ask that," Yuliana grumbles, before she sags, into herself. "But... I don't know. Maybe. It's not like I have a problem with how my Elisa is," an important thing to note. "It's just -- it's just different -- killing someone in their home and killing them in a ritual circle. It's different. That's all."

"I don't think it's unreasonable to notice that a mortal woman isn't the same as an avatar of the divine," Dr. Kimura points out, using Yuliana's words. "But... may I ask why your wife needed so much power she had to sacrifice someone?"

Yuliana locks up again, looking down to her wedding ring. "Don't ask too many questions about what my wife needs," she says, sharply. "You'll live longer."

"I'm not trying to threaten you," Dr. Kimura says, with nerves of steel.

And Yuliana sighs, sinking back against the couch. "I know! I know... I just don't want to talk about it." Didn't she already say too much to Leina, back then?

"I'm worried about it weighing on you," which isn't all he's worried about, but Dr. Kimura doesn't mention the implications out loud. Weighing the ethical considerations in his mind, and deciding the lives of an unknown number of innocent people win out, he advances: "You've said that your wife listens to you when you bring your concerns to her. If you can't share everything with me, perhaps you should speak with her. She'd want to know if her rituals were bothering you."

"I don't want to seem unreasonable," Yuliana pouts.

"It's not unreasonable to share your concerns with your wife," Dr. Kimura points out. "Many would say that raising those concerns would be the mark of a ''good'' wife. Would you be happy if your Elisa were silently resenting something you did?"

"No," Yuliana says, sullen. And, after another deep sigh: "... okay."

Dr. Kimura's notes on the session underline the need to query any recent unexplained disappearances.