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*'''Log: 2022-03-03: Similar Wounds, Same Weapon''' *'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Sayla Mass]], [[Character :: Kamille Bidan]] *'''Where:''' Clop-class 'Ra Mari' *'''OOC - IC Date:''' March 3rd, 0096 *'''Summary''': ''There's only so much work the Yumi Foundation can do without skilled hands to do it. Reaching out to a fellow doctor for volunteer work, two lives shaped so heavily by the same man collide for the first time.'' ---- <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed. <poem> The work never ends. The hangover did, at least. It was getting closer to that day. So she tried to organize 'good' work. Today's good work was reaching out to doctors who might want to do some charity work, and she got a bite. She heads for the meeting point- his office on his ship. Makes sense- he might not have much time or space elsewhere. The Ra Mari... It's been a while since she's been on a Federation ship. The Argama briefly 7 years ago doesn't count. She doesn't expect to be recognized by anyone serving here today, but chance is chance. She has her visitor clearance, but being guided by a young soldier is still unpleasant. She remembers Luna 2. She knocks on the door of the CMO's office, and waits to be let in, making small talk with the soldier. This is the ship those Londo Bell soldiers at the fundraiser came from, wasn't it? </poem> <Pose Tracker> Kamille Bidan has posed. <poem> Kamille knows it's getting closer to 'that day' too, the day where he does his best to think about anything but Axis and his old mentor and finds it impossible amid the psychic residue of all the remembrance and mourning. And right now he is doing his best not to think about ''that,'' what with the busy nature of his current job. It's sort of working. "One second," his voice comes from the other side of the door before he opens it. He has a tidy, rather small office, as to be expected shipboard, with the usual medical charts, his accreditations on the wall, and several pictures on the desk-one of himself and Fa, one of an older woman, and one of a younger version of him (he still has the babyface) with Fa, Emma Sheen, Katz at some point before his death, and...part of the picture has been cut off. Odd. "Dr. Mass! Come on in," he invites her. "Kamille Bidan, happy to have you here." He offers a handshake. And if Sayla takes it... She'll notice a presence with him that belies his professional demeanor, the intense pressure of a powerful Newtype mind that cannot help but radiate itself. It's as if some part of the stars themselves have embedded themselves in him. </poem> <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed. <poem> Sayla's eyes lock onto those pictures. So that's what Katz was like in AEUG... before he died. He was such a mild mannered child on the White Base, from her interactions. But that was far more Mirai and Fraw... And that cut. Back then, Kai had told him what ship he was serving on. "Dr Bidan," She says, smiling and stepping through. "Thank you for making time for me." And of course she enters the handshake. She's ready, she thinks. She was not, but Sayla's walls were up. They're always up. And they're being battered by the stars. It's like Riku again, but instead of a suddenly intense presence with specific memories it is just... The core of being newtype. Is this is what her father meant? Her eyes stare off at nothing for a few moments, before she can pull away from the handshake as elegantly as she can. She recollects herself in moments, repairing her walls. "May I sit down?" It's almost like she can pretend nothing happened. </poem> <Pose Tracker> Kamille Bidan has posed. <poem> Oh dammit. Kamille really can't put up walls, not anymore. He can focus elsewhere, but it's like turning off a sense. Some things never quite heal right. He always knows the mutual sense of Newtype to Newtype contact. He withdraws his hand and plunges it into his pocket awkwardly, standing aside. "Uh, yes, yes. Please have a seat." He pulls out the chair opposite his desk, while he sits across from her. He pours them both water from the cooler without prompting. "If I'd known I would have given you a heads up," he mutters quietly. "I promise I don't do that on purpose." It's just like static shock. Of the mind. "Sorry about...that. Thanks for meeting with me here..." </poem> <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed. <poem> Sayla takes a seat, and drinks the water- a little quickly. "...It's fine, Dr Bidan. It wasn't just a surprise. Just more intense than I expected." Of course she knew. She puts up a smile. "So, I suppose I should just... start. There are lots of areas on Earth and the Colonies where doctors are needed. Not just specialists, even general practictioners like you and paediatricians like me are in demand. But it also means going into refugee camps, or places like 'Area 11'." Sayla is straightfroward and to the point. "...I realize you are serving on a military vessel, but I also understand that doesn't mean you wish to go even deeper." The Gryps Conflict was lots, even as an observer. "We also have placements in colonies that have been neglected after the wars. Would you be willing to do that work in any of those place? The Foundation will cover your expenses, provide supplies and living arrangements." She leans back... she came on pretty fast there, but she needed to get it all across. </poem> <Pose Tracker> Kamille Bidan has posed. <poem> Kamille is able to process it all pretty quickly, making notes here and there as he does. His handwriting is a little sloppy, and he's clearly using some kind of shorthand. "I'm fine with going deeper to help people," he says after a moment, for a second looking older. Tired, even. It passes quickly. "My Londo Bell duties have to take priority, but I have the ability and knowledge to keep people alive now. Refugee camps, colonies, anywhere. High areas of suffering and pain can be a little...intense for me," he admits, "but if I let that stop me I wouldn't be in this profession in the first place. Or here," he adds. </poem> <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed. <poem> Sayla nods. "...I see. Thank you." That makes it much easier. "We'll take any time you're willing to spare, but please don't burn yourself out on our account." Says The Hypocrite. She lets out a sigh of relief. "I imagine you would feel it more than most, certainly. Thank you again." Ah. Doctor's handwriting. A universal. "We can have paperwork handled electronically when you have the time. But if you have any questions, please, bring them up and I'll answer." She pauses. Whatever she's bringing up seems difficult for her, even through her walls. "We've decided to focus on some of the colonies now, where we can." Prioritizing who to help is never an easy one. "...One of them is a Side 4 Colony named Sweetwater, and it's in bad need of help that the Federation won't provide." She speaks frankly here- if this comes out, it means Londo Bell isn't the organization Bright hoped for. "...It's where Char Aznable formed the Second Neo-Zeon." Sayla can hide her feelings from other newtypes pretty well. Normally. But on this she feels conflicted, and struggling. Uncertain, cautious, but necessary. People need help. Who they are now is not who they were. </poem> <Pose Tracker> Kamille Bidan has posed. <poem> Sweetwater. Neo-Zeon. Char... Kamille's pencil does not snap. He congratulates himself on his self-control that it does not. His dojo master would be proud. "I wish I could argue with you there," he says in a flat tone. Haman Karn isn't there. Char isn't there. The thing he felt after the Axis Shock, the light, the pull, it isn't ''there.'' Why should it be? Why should he punish the living out of fear of the dead? "I can do what I can. For as long as I can last there. I suppose in a way that would make him proud..." There's a bitter, angry little smile on his face for a second; he does not specify who ''he'' is, but given the context... And then it's gone, and he's back to business with that intense, focused gaze. "That is to say, there might be a lot of psychic pressure there, and I'm a little acutely attuned to it after a-psychological injury, but I'm healed enough that I think I should be fine. Certainly well enough to provide first aid and medical care. If someone there needs me, I'm better off than they are." </poem> <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed. <poem> "You don't have to go there, if it's too much. That's why I wanted to be up front with you." She has the advantage of Kamille, somewhat. People kept her in the loop on what Casval was doing here. And that included Kamille. It didn't go both ways, why would it need to? Everyone was partaking in the lie. She knows who he is. There's a feeling there, knotted and hurt. After all, when she was little, she wanted to make him proud too. Now... Now she wishes she could show him he was wrong. "...Dr Bidan... Kamille." He was another of his victims, in a different way to so many who weren't her. "I had my own encounters with him. Before you did." That's all true. "That man left a lot of hurt in his wake, for his enemies, and his allies. Don't do this to make him proud. Do it because you want to make things better for the people left behind." She sighs. "We can't be trying to live up to the legacies of others if we want to move forward. </poem> <Pose Tracker> Kamille Bidan has posed. <poem> Kamille is quiet for a moment, the pencil set aside. "Yeah, sorry. For a second I was just-just chasing ghosts. Maybe that's what he meant by having your soul tied down by gravity," he says, almost a whisper. He never did figure it out. "Thanks," he says, breathing in, breathing out, looking over at Sayla again. "I'll help them. And, I'm sorry. About. That." The show of passion? The mask slipping? He swims in emotion, mixed and knotted, simmering like a red star. He stands and almost moves to shake her hand, then remembers what happened last time and just...bows instead. "Thanks for the work you're doing, Dr. Mass. Sayla." </poem> <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed. <poem> Chasing ghosts. She can understand that. Oh how she can understand that. "I'm sorry. For bringing up so much, so quickly." Her blue eyes look towards Kamille's, for a moment, before looking away. Maybe she should leave, give Kamille time to patch the wound she just opened. Sayla stands too, giving Kamille a nod. "Thank you for helping me with it. But please, take care as you do. We need people who care in this world." She starts to walk away, but Sayla pauses. "...Kamille, I don't know if it might be too much but... Next week, there's going to be a small group of people gathering. On Saturday." The 12th. The Day of the Axis Shock. "It might be preferable to being alone. Just contact me if you feel up to joining us. You can decide on the day, if need be." She starts to walk through the door. Hopefully, she hasn't made things worse. </poem> [[Category:Logs]] [[Category:Phase 1]] [[Category:Phase 1, Turn 1]]