2022-11-25: Beyond Dreaming

• Cast: Rita Bernal, Shelby Korts
• Where: ???
• Date: U.C. 0096 11 25
• Summary: Two old friends reconnect -- though neither is as the other is expecting

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<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

The first thing she notices is her own breath.

Nothing, no sight, no sound, just the reverberation of deep, deep breaths filling her chest, of air pushing right back out of her nose before her lips part slightly. Awareness is expensive at a moment like this; years of training and the advice from XXXXX has trained her to always be vigilant. Note your exits.

Run away.

Her fingers find sensation next; clutched around a metallic pole. When she can finally find her own neck, her head turns to look, seeing the vague outline of a metallic pole-- no, an IV stand? And a tube, in her arm-- her arms also wrapped in bandages, and a few smaller adhesive patches and band-aids dotting her arms. Her shirt is a plain, boxy mint color from a set of scrubs, wearing shorts and her feet bare. Her limbs ache, from tests.

Stranger yet, when “Shelby Korts” looks down at her own hands, she can see far more hair than she actually has. Moreover, it's not pink: It is a fierce color of red. To look at her, one would simultaneously see girl she *was* and the young woman she *is*, actually, literally visible at the same time, in the same space. Is it a paradox? Yes, absolutely.

Her breaths become a little more shallow, as awareness picks up and her mind starts to recognize places. Feelings. Fragments.

Recognition drives the formation of the space: Like a mosaic of puzzle pieces that don't *quite* fit together, the world comes together directly in front of her and directly behind her, but leaving her in a transitory, liminary gap: A band of darkness. She slowly takes in the sterile hallways, echoes of staff and orderlies and doctors; a distant voice on a PA system... other people, dressed similarly to her, though those that pass by do not seem to recognize that she exists.

This... is ... the lab?

Her voice sounds dry, at first, as it echoes across hallways and light broken by the dull buzz of fluorescents and the unnatural formation of this space-- this burned out memory clinging at the edge of a mind's shadow.

"Hello...?"

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

"That's enough."

Sunlight steams into the room, from what used to be a wall. Now, it's an open picture window, white curtains blowing gently in a newly-forged breeze. Perched on the windowsill is a young woman, blonde hair reaching down to her waist, clad in a clean white dress. Gentle green eyes look to Shelby, unbothered by her paradoxical state.

"Hi, Shelby. It's been a while." Standing, the girl walks to Shelby's bedside. She sits at the edge of the bedside, offering a hand to the girl -- young woman -- girl. It's a soft gesture. If Shelby wishes to take the hand, she can. But it won't be forced upon her. "I've missed you!"

Just like before.
    
"You've been having a lot of dreams like this lately, haven't you?" The blonde girl's eyes dip down, but the gentle smile doesn't leave her face. "I'm sorry. I'd love to talk for a little while, if you don't mind."

Unless this way is easier?

With a glance toward the window, the room begins to change. It's an effortless action, so easily done Shelby may not even notice this young lady is the cause. From a visual perspective, it seems that the sunlight grows brighter, and when it fades, everything has changed. But a person like Shelby would be able to sense the intent behind this action. This girl is reaching for a place of safety and happiness, trying to give her friend a better setting for the dream.

This is what my home was like, before everything.

Another smile. They're now in a child's room. The window has remained, though a little bench is built into the wall beneath it, covered in pillows and toys. Shelby still lays on a bed, but one with a colorful bedspread. Pictures and banners line the walls. A rocking horse rests in one corner.

I've been on my own for a long time, now. It's really nice to have someone to talk with. What has the future been like, for you?

A sweet smile. The girl's eyes crinkle at the corners.

I hope it's been good.

<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

She hears the voice, and feels something Change.

It's ... warm. Turning toward this warmth, and light, Shelby's eyes squint trying to process it. As she turns toward it, so too does the boundary of darkness around her; the liminal space ripples as she moves, curiously, into the room that isn't through a door or divider, but simply exists.

The boundary of fragmentation ripples; the cracks that web and form and 'heal' beneath Shelby's bare feet stop once she is fully inside the new room, and so is the IV stand and tubes that run to her arm. The bandages are gone, now wearing a lightweight hoodie, t-shirt, leggings, and a pair of worn old running sneakers. She's dressed in a crisp white blouse and long dark skirt, while improbably large round glasses with thin frames sit on her face, long fiery red hair tied back to hang loose on her back with a ribbon. Her glasses are a little more stylish than the bog-standard cheap frames she had in the lab, and her hair is now shorter, and pink.

Walk? No. She's laying on a comfortable bed.

The girl becomes less consistent: She becomes a flicker, a ghost. Something that waxes and wanes as Shelby tries to figure It out, so hard, and-- Rico. Rika. Ruda? Her memories falter, but she fights, her eyes closing. She's visibly digging deep, sounding it out in her mind over and over.

Sitting upright, Shelby looks confused as she takes Rita's hand in a way that is just far too familiar to her, her eyes not quite able to make contact just yet-- instead staring at the hand holding her own and trying... so hard.

Then, the voice inside her head. Finally, she gets it:

"Rita?" Is it easier? Yes.
I can't even tell if this is real...
This isn't the lab.

Her home -- before the lab. The room feels distant yet hauntingly familiar; deja vu but for a place she cannot ever remember being in. Shelby's head turns to look at the blonde, finally, her mouth pulling into a taut line before she looks down. The girl's face is a smudge of color, her glasses a faint impression that only half-exists.

I'm...

Shelby looks down at her hand.

I'm a pilot now. It's not... I'm fighting for something good. I'm trying, anyway. And nobody else, like me, I... I want to stop people like us from...

Both draw in a deep, centering breath. Beyond her, an impression in the window -- the sunlight is not gone, but it's like a paper doll diorama of a memory: A girl alone in a city, in the long-abandoned ruins of battlefields, and space. The places and people change, while the image of Shelby gets older. Her free hand lifts to rub at the corner of her eye.

It's been hard. But I have people who care about me.

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

That gentle smile brightens as Shelby's appearance changes. No more outward signs of her pain. It still remains, of course, but the fact that she can actualize herself as a being without bandages and IV tubes has to be a hopeful sign. She can still picture herself as a being worthy of light and warmth.

I'm so happy, Shelby. I'm so happy I found you!

Laughter floats in this cognitive space. Almost a state of being, rather than a sound to hear, it affects the room around them in subtle ways. The rocking horse tips forward and back, and the curtains blow just a bit more. The young lady herself seems to glow with golden light. She seems to catch herself, and calms back down.

Taking in the dual forms of Shelby, she can't help but feel a tinge of sadness. She must be so conflicted inside...

It's hard to decide what to be in this space, sometimes. You're doing great. Don't worry, okay? I'll be right here until you wake up.

Rita. How long has it been since she heard her own name? Shelby is rewarded with a sunny smile, and a squeeze to her hand.

That's right! Thanks for remembering me. I know we weren't together too long. And... of course it's real! Everything we experience is real, don't you think?

Bits of glimmering color can be seen in the corners of the room, proof of the resonant space this dream takes place in. The same sparkling aura echoes deep in Rita's eyes. Something isn't entirely right, here. Something is... different about this girl, from what Shelby remembers.

Sometimes things are just a little different than we're expecting. And that's okay. Right now, you're dreaming. You're safe and sound, I promise. I'm close enough right now that I could stop in for a little visit.

Rita's gaze follows Shelby's, gently waiting for her friend to gather her thoughts. Concern draws Rita's brows together as Shelby's visage smudges together. Leaning forward, Rita places her other hand on Shelby's. There isn't much she can do to help, really, but... Maybe being close will be enough.

Quietly, Rita observes the change in her surroundings. Watching Shelby's past unfold in silhouette, she smiles fondly. It's a painful memory, but what else could show off Shelby's courage so strongly? She is the light that shines beyond that paper doll. Illuminating more than she knows.

You're so brave. You've always been brave. I know this isn't what you imagined for yourself, but you're doing it to save people like us.

Another squeeze of Shelby's hand.

You're making a difference. I promise. I'm so proud of you! Someday, we'll all be able to understand each other and live in peace. There are scary times ahead, Shelby. Sad times, too. But you're going to be able to do this. You're won't be alone again.

<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

Even if she can get those thoughts out, it's hard: She's struggling to comprehend what's going on, and what she's seeing. Is this *really* a dream? Is this *really* happening? Could it be resonance? But there's no active psychoframe in the vicinity, is there? Nothing substantial, or reactive enough, to actually provoke a reaction that would elevate her powers to this level?

"I'm sorry. I can't remember a lot," she says aloud. Her voice has far more emotion in it than when she was younger-- she has far more emotion in her than when she was younger. "It's bits. Fragments. That's as far as my memory goes back. The rest is like..."

In her mind, there are impressions of smoke blown against glass. Hints of something linger behind, but there's too much missing-- too much broken. She doesn't even seem to be aware of the two sides of one coin.

I forget as fast as I remember...
She and I are too different.

She's dreaming. More than that, Rita's visiting. -- Visiting? As she tries to consider what this even means, the two versions of Shelby Korts-- the young woman and the faceless child-- almost glitch into one another at points. Her voice is smaller, for a moment, feeling larger hands tightly clasp around her likewise smaller hand: "It's been so hard."

The reassurances lead the young Newtype to sniffle a little, like a knot of stress is being undone.

Another glitch. The young woman's mouth curls again into a tight-lipped line. She's always been a little strange, but Shelby has always been tougher than she looks... but now, with her guard down, with someone she knows from her past, it's ... so different.

H-How are you even here, Rita? W-Where've you ... where have you even been? This doesn't feel like...

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

Rita gives off just a hint of surprise to hear how emotional Shelby becomes. That's certainly a change from the little girl she knew so briefly. So much has changed... Despite her immense gift of foresight, even Rita wasn't able to know every detail in advance. The fates of the other children in the labratories she was confined in were almost entirely a mystery to her.

Sometimes it's a kindness not to know.

Though her thoughts are directed at Shelby... Rita's talking to herself, too. Maybe it's best to leave things this way, but there are moments she and the other girl shared. Would offering them to Shelby bring her peace, or only add to her unhappiness? Rita closes her eyes for a moment.

If you want, I can help you a little. We shared some time together! But please think about if those are memories you want returned to you.

Shelby's distress, though it's somewhat unknown to herself, is seen by Rita. This was a selfish action on her part, coming to visit one of her friends. She has to be careful not to do more harm than good, here. No matter how lonely Rita is.

The glitching gets worse. Rita moves more closely to Shelby, and as she does, the bed obliges by widening just a bit. It leaves enough room for the blonde to lay down next to her friend, still clinging to her hand. Rita stares up -- faded glow-in-the-dark stars cling to the ceiling just above them. With a blink of her eyes, she sets them alight. The light they give off isn't... quite right. It isn't the gentle green glow of the typical children's decoration, it's too bright. A little too sparkly.

I understand. The future hasn't been kind to you. And I'm so sorry. I wish I could do more.

Rita turns to smile at Shelby again. Colors swirl and intertwine, deep in her irises. As if in response to Shelby's questions, Rita herself glitches out, just a bit. In one moment, she's the beautiful blonde girl clad in white, and the next...

Her hair is gone, shaved, revealing pre-surgical markings on the bare skin. A thin hospital gown covers her body.

Another moment passes.

Rita's hair has grown back, though nowhere near as long. More scars cover her body -- crisscrossing, in some areas, as though there were no longer open places to cut, but the doctors had simply continued anyway. Soft green eyes look so weary, the light gone out of them. But her smile doesn't fade for even an instant.

I'm sorry.

And just like that, Rita appears whole again. No scars, beautiful hair spread over her childhood bed. The skirt line hem of her white dress brushes against Shelby's legs. It certainly feels real enough.

I'm not like you anymore. But I'm still here! I'm not going anywhere, not yet. There's something very scary coming up, that I have to help protect everyone from. I'm... different. But it's not bad. Nothing hurts anymore, and I can finally go wherever I like.

<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

Think about if you want those memories returned to you. She told Anser once, that she was okay with not knowing. That she could live without knowing who the person she was before is That she could live a life at all and just live as she is now. As Rita scoots onto the bed, where Shelby sits, her brow creases with worry.

I still don't know.
I still exist.

With every glitch, every dissonant thought, it puts a slight mosaic ripple into the room. It isn't much, but a subtle weave like a shattered stained glass window trying to reforge itself into something new, there, and then gone again. Pieces of herself, still presenting themselves even for a split-second. Even Shelby herself doesn't seem aware of contradictory thought, and voice, right now.

I didn't have a choice. It's not fair.
I... survived. I have a life.

Her head turns to see Rita, as she was, back then-- and then, how she is, here, now. Blue eyes drift up to the stars overhead, staring at their light. The sparkling glow, the unusual light-- light that she will never, ever forget in her entire life.

Light that changed her. That let her, let go. "Psychoframe...?" she whisper-wonders aloud with fear and awe and hope in her voice.

'I'm sorry. I'm not like you anymore.' Shelby's demeanor becomes more urgent-- worried.

Rita, what does that mean? What ... where are you? I'll come find you--

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

It's okay not to know. And it's okay to not want them returned. Memory can be a heavy burden.

Once more, Rita quietly watches Shelby glitching out. The other woman seems truly unaware of her contradictory answers, and just as unaware of her fragile state in this resonant realm. Wondering if Shelby could fall apart like this, Rita reaches out, touching a piece of the stained-glass splinters. If she gathered these all up, could she press them back into Shelby, like pieces of a puzzle? Would that help her?

Maybe that's why Rita found her way to Shelby tonight. Maybe she's here to help her. Or maybe she's here just to bear witness. It's impossible to know, sometimes.

I'm sorry. It isn't fair. Especially not to you.

Rita will never forget how small Shelby was when she came to Augusta. How broken, even then, even for a child of the Universal Century. But nothing that lives stays broken. Healing is always possible.

For the living.

Your life is wonderful. The good you do, and the good you're going to do, all shine like the stars. You've been given shattered fragments and turned them into a work of art.

Rita softly waves a hand, and the ceiling gently fades away. Pieces of Shelby's inner self seem to be drawn up toward it, gently pulled in by some kind of unearthly magnetism. With gentle precision, they're arranged into a mosiac of Shelby's adult face, softly haloed by light, hair floating around her. The image moves, breathing in tandem with the woman it resembles.

After a few breaths, it's gone, dimming into shimmering light. The glow-star studded ceiling does not return, however, replaced with rolling waves of color in a heavenly expanse of incandescent radiance. Rita smiles up at it.

This is my world now. This color, and this light. And…

Gold shimmers in the center of what was once the ceiling. Slowly, it comes into focus. Feathers stretch in a vast wingspan that gradually gets smaller and smaller as it flies toward the girls. From out of the mist of radiance, a tiny bird emerges, flying down -- up? -- to Rita's outstretched palm.

See? Isn't she pretty?

Rita holds her hand out to Shelby. The bird has landed, safe and sound, staring up at the other Newtype with calm eyes. Even now, it glows, trailing pastel resonance with every movement.

<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

The splinters continue to ripple, even as Rita puts her finger to them. A few feel sharp, some feel like fragments just tightly fit together. All of them have a distinctly mercurial quality that flows in impossible waves that show at peaks and fade in the dips before disappearing completely. Whether or not Shelby actually sees this interaction is something up to debate; for her eyes are locked only on Rita's face as she asks, and does not get an answer. Not one she likes, anyway:

This is her world of color and light.

When she looks up from her sitting spot on the bed, Shelby sees herself; fragments and glitches and all, and the image that fades away toward a scene that she's seen before -- the rainbow that she is all-too familiar with.

She pays more attention to the sky-- or lack thereof, replaced with the flow of colors-- versus the bird, but her head turns down to look at the bird now being placed in her hand. She locks eyes with it, even, before she cycles through expressions of worry, griefTOO MUCH and sadness.

Rita...

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

Shelby's grief and worry cut through to Rita, and she bows her head a little.

I'm sorry. I just didn't want to make you sad. I'll be more clear.

The little bird in Rita's hand begins to grow. It becomes larger, and larger, brighter, and brighter, until Rita's childhood bedroom has faded entirely. Everything is gone except the swirling, glimmering color, and the growing bird. As it grows, it begins to turn metallic, organic feathers hardening into armor. An avian body becomes a humanoid one.

Finally -- and in no time at all -- a Gundam waits, just before the two girls. They float before it, level with its eyes, and it seems to watch them patiently.

This is the Phenex. She and I are one, now. I don't exist like you anymore, but I got away from the people who were hurting us, finally. It took so long... So, so long.

The Gundam begins to glow blue, between the cracks of its armor. It's a sight Shelby will recognize. Psychoframe resonance. And a lot of it, too, perhaps reminding her of another Beast she's come into contact with...

But now I'm free. And it's time for me to play my part to help others. I've been waiting my entire life for this. There are bad things coming, scary things too. And I know when and where they'll take place. I'm going to guide everyone toward the future.

Rita turns to look at Shelby, smiling with her eyes closed. The colorful radiance seems to emanate from the young woman's body, now, almost overtaking her. Green eyes are entirely incandescent, with no sign of their gentle green visible anymore. There is only the rolling color of this plane.

Maybe you can help! I'd like that.

With gentle motions, Rita floats more closely to Shelby. Should the young woman not protest, the Newtype spirit will wrap her arms around her friend and hug her tightly, fiercely. The sheer amount of resonance Rita gives off is thrilling, leaving a tingle in Shelby's spiritual body. Almost like a gentle pull -- a wave going back out to sea -- when Rita lets go and backs up.

I'm so happy I found you, Shelby. Thank you for talking to me. It's a little lonely to be like this. It's almost time for you to wake up, so I have to go. But I hope I'll see you again. And I'll be thinking of you!

With that, Rita offers Shelby one last smile. The waiting Gundam stretches out a hand to the young woman, and she turns away, touching an outstretched fingertip with her own hand. Golden light flares, and when it fades, Rita is gone. All that remains is the golden mobile suit, eyes now illuminated with that same shining energy. It seems to be looking down at Shelby, though the unmoving face is a far cry from Rita's gentle expressions.

Gradually, the swirling light is drawn in toward the Gundam, slowly gathering into a blue light around the machine. Once it has been fully absorbed, the mobile suit turns and takes off, faster than belief. The last thing Shelby will see in this dream is golden kite tails, flowing back in the Gundam's wake.

<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

All Shelby can do is listen-- listen, and watch the form of the bird, the swirling shapes and color and feathers and armor and-- They are one. She doesn't exist ‘like her’ anymore, and yet...

Rita, a-are you saying you're...

She can't even say the word. But if what she's saying is true-- all of the resonance, the psychoframe glow, all of her, where she could--

M-Maybe we can find a way to...

Arms slip around her, hugging her tightly. Shelby's own lift to hold Rita, stuck somewhere between herself and the image of what was; both existing and both not. It's familiar, comforting, warm, and a terrifying thought all the same: She's not here, but she is, but ... this Mobile Suit, this Phenex-- is it really like that other suit?

W-Wait, Rita… Please, don’t go!

Shelby doesn't actually let go, at first. Not that she remembers, her arms letting the ephemeral form slip away from her. The young woman's eyes wide in the scintillating light and the flares of color, Rita starts floating away -- going to the Phenex; merging with it.

It's like crossing a hallway that never ends: Shelby starts to chase after her, after the Gundam, but does not make any noticable ground. Her arm stretches out to the light, eyes wet and expression almost desperate.

Rita!!

And then ... it's gone.

Shelby Korts awakens with a gasp, body tense and eyes wide. Legs swinging over the edge and feet hitting the floor, her hand reaches over to tap the touch-lamp and bring dim light to the room. Her fingers slip up to her ears, pulling out a set of earbuds playing white noise a little louder than what others would consider normal, throwing them onto the nightstand next to her glasses. There's a moment to adjust as the newtype can 'hear' things normally again; wincing, carefully controlling her breathing to try to calm herself down.

She remembers: A name she thought she forgot forever. A name lost to all those fragments and torn-down memories.

"Rita..."

Then, she cries.