Difference between revisions of "2022-05-30: Drowning in Memory"

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(Replaced content with "*'''Cutscene: <Drowning in Memory>''' *'''Cast:''' <Character :: Ple Two> *'''Where:''' <The Shower> *'''Date:''' <2022-05-30> *'''Summary''': ''<Puru Two remembers si...")
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*'''Summary''': ''<Puru Two remembers simpler times with one of her ailing clone sisters.>''
 
*'''Summary''': ''<Puru Two remembers simpler times with one of her ailing clone sisters.>''
 
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<!-- Produced by MUSHclient v 5.06 - www.mushclient.com -->
 +
<table border=0 cellpadding=5 bgcolor="#000000">
 +
<tr><td><pre>
 +
| (This cutscene takes place after Puru Two is in the same map grid as the    |
 +
| Garencieres, and by extension, Marida Cruz.)                                |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|                                      ***                                    |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| The shower has been running for half an hour, by now. The pump has long      |
 +
| since flicked over to cyclical mode, because in the age of compact fusion    |
 +
| reactors, electricity is cheap. Pale fingers splay against ceramic tiles.    |
 +
| The cubicle's sole occupant does not stand, so much as lean against an      |
 +
| imminent collapse.                                                          |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|        (Eleven identical children strain against their restraints, the      |
 +
|        visors of their normal suits clinking against a porthole. A          |
 +
|        A grand sight awaits them: the sun rising over the mighty spires      |
 +
|        of Axis. Soon to be their new home. To their young eyes, it          |
 +
|        is as wondrous any magic kingdom of legend.)                          |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| Almost a perfect white noise, the arrhythmic chattering of water drowns out  |
 +
| the static from within Puru Two's soul. Her back and neck are seared a      |
 +
| brilliant red, as if recently slapped. The vapour fills her lungs and        |
 +
| dizzies her. One finger lies still upon the stud which increases the        |
 +
| water's temperature, and the display dully blinks: 107 F.                    |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|        (Ten identical children crowd around one who has fallen in a          |
 +
|        grassy quadrangle. The one who has fallen is thrashing,              |
 +
|        writhing, choking on something so harmless as a mouthful of          |
 +
|        nutrient gel. Being children, they panic. They cry. One              |
 +
|        of them runs for the sliding doors of the compound in search          |
 +
|        of a minder. It's not the fallen girl's fault. Her body is            |
 +
|        tired of the medicines, the augmentations, the changes in            |
 +
|        pressure. Her mind is tired, it resists the rigid structure          |
 +
|        forced on it. This is an unknowing act of rebellion.)                |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| A bath was preferable, but a shower? Almost as good. As each sense          |
 +
| gradually grows too overloaded to keep track anymore, it's as good as        |
 +
| turning them off. Eyes squeezed shut, Puru Two stares at the evolving        |
 +
| fractals of grey-green that dance in the absence of sight. She feels only    |
 +
| the numb drumming of the shower, hears only the distant roar of blood in    |
 +
| her ears. The scent of faded shampoo has supplanted anything natural. The    |
 +
| thin, recycled water in her mouth tastes of nothing. She is as removed      |
 +
| from the physical world as can be.                                          |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|        (One of these children drops to her knee and throws her              |
 +
|        book aside. The tablet spins lazily, end-over-end, in                |
 +
|        the low Axis gravity. She lifts her gagging sister in her            |
 +
|        arms, covers her eyes with one hand. One less sense to be            |
 +
|        overpowered by. Swiftly now, she moves both hands to the              |
 +
|        girl's abdomen. Closes one hand to a fist. She can feel the          |
 +
|        colour of her sister's presence, wild with panic and yet--            |
 +
|        so tired. So wearied, ready to just run out of air                    |
 +
|        and escape this life.)                                                |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| Puru Two's mind and spirit linger in the space between past and present,    |
 +
| somewhere deep within. Withdrawn within her shell, submerged beneath the    |
 +
| waters of a distant memory. The only place she can escape the whisper of    |
 +
| nearby minds. Whispers she can usually withstand, but not today. Not right  |
 +
| now.                                                                        |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|        (The child with the numeral II on her gown gives a guttural          |
 +
|        grunt of effort as she tugs her fist upwards into her sister's        |
 +
|        ribcage. Choking noises give way to something liquid, wet, awful.    |
 +
|        And then--coughing. Crying. Tears of pain, and relief. The            |
 +
|        thrum of the sick girl's presence regains a warmer tone.              |
 +
|        The chilling fear of the end abates, giving way to more              |
 +
|        pedestrian complaints.)                                              |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| For eight long years, Puru Two has spent every cent that she has, she has    |
 +
| stolen and lied and threatened and run from one place to another for a      |
 +
| single purpose. Forever chasing a sign that someone; any of her kin still    |
 +
| live.                                                                        |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|        (A scheduled spring breeze washes over the frightened children.      |
 +
|        The one suffering the most lies with her head buried within her      |
 +
|        savior's lap. Arms loosely cling to her waist.                        |
 +
|        Her every sense screams: I want to go home! But this is all home is.  |
 +
|        Axis.                                                                |
 +
|                The training compound.                                        |
 +
|                    The staff.                                                |
 +
|                        Each other.)                                          |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|                              (Each other.)                                  |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
|        (Puru Two's hand rests atop her sister's head. She strokes the        |
 +
|        girl's hair. Pats her back between cough-hiccup-sobs.                |
 +
|        Wipes her messy face. Why, she wonders, did that happen? She          |
 +
|        didn't do anything to deserve that. She's so upset. She could        |
 +
|        have died. It wasn't even a fight.                                    |
 +
|                So stupid.                                                    |
 +
|                So unfair.                                                    |
 +
|                I'll never let something like that happen again.              |
 +
|                Ever.)                                                        |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| The hiss is almost imperceptible as the faucet closes. Pale fingers stab    |
 +
| repeatedly at the controls. The drumming rainfall soon becomes a staccato    |
 +
| dripping, a gurgling, and then... a deafening silence.                      |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| At least one of them still lives.                                            |
 +
|                                                                              |
 +
| She doesn't know how to process it.                                          |
 +
</pre>
 +
</td></tr></table>
 
[[Category:Cutscenes]]
 
[[Category:Cutscenes]]
  
  
 
[[Category:Phase 1, Turn 1]]
 
[[Category:Phase 1, Turn 1]]

Latest revision as of 00:37, 16 July 2022

  • Cutscene: <Drowning in Memory>
  • Cast: <Ple Two>
  • Where: <The Shower>
  • Date: <2022-05-30>
  • Summary: <Puru Two remembers simpler times with one of her ailing clone sisters.>

| (This cutscene takes place after Puru Two is in the same map grid as the     |
| Garencieres, and by extension, Marida Cruz.)                                 |
|                                                                              |
|                                      ***                                     |
|                                                                              |
|                                                                              |
| The shower has been running for half an hour, by now. The pump has long      |
| since flicked over to cyclical mode, because in the age of compact fusion    |
| reactors, electricity is cheap. Pale fingers splay against ceramic tiles.    |
| The cubicle's sole occupant does not stand, so much as lean against an       |
| imminent collapse.                                                           |
|                                                                              |
|        (Eleven identical children strain against their restraints, the       |
|        visors of their normal suits clinking against a porthole. A           |
|        A grand sight awaits them: the sun rising over the mighty spires      |
|        of Axis. Soon to be their new home. To their young eyes, it           |
|        is as wondrous any magic kingdom of legend.)                          |
|                                                                              |
| Almost a perfect white noise, the arrhythmic chattering of water drowns out  |
| the static from within Puru Two's soul. Her back and neck are seared a       |
| brilliant red, as if recently slapped. The vapour fills her lungs and        |
| dizzies her. One finger lies still upon the stud which increases the         |
| water's temperature, and the display dully blinks: 107 F.                    |
|                                                                              |
|        (Ten identical children crowd around one who has fallen in a          |
|        grassy quadrangle. The one who has fallen is thrashing,               |
|        writhing, choking on something so harmless as a mouthful of           |
|        nutrient gel. Being children, they panic. They cry. One               |
|        of them runs for the sliding doors of the compound in search          |
|        of a minder. It's not the fallen girl's fault. Her body is            |
|        tired of the medicines, the augmentations, the changes in             |
|        pressure. Her mind is tired, it resists the rigid structure           |
|        forced on it. This is an unknowing act of rebellion.)                 |
|                                                                              |
| A bath was preferable, but a shower? Almost as good. As each sense           |
| gradually grows too overloaded to keep track anymore, it's as good as        |
| turning them off. Eyes squeezed shut, Puru Two stares at the evolving        |
| fractals of grey-green that dance in the absence of sight. She feels only    |
| the numb drumming of the shower, hears only the distant roar of blood in     |
| her ears. The scent of faded shampoo has supplanted anything natural. The    |
| thin, recycled water in her mouth tastes of nothing. She is as removed       |
| from the physical world as can be.                                           |
|                                                                              |
|        (One of these children drops to her knee and throws her               |
|        book aside. The tablet spins lazily, end-over-end, in                 |
|        the low Axis gravity. She lifts her gagging sister in her             |
|        arms, covers her eyes with one hand. One less sense to be             |
|        overpowered by. Swiftly now, she moves both hands to the              |
|        girl's abdomen. Closes one hand to a fist. She can feel the           |
|        colour of her sister's presence, wild with panic and yet--            |
|        so tired. So wearied, ready to just run out of air                    |
|        and escape this life.)                                                |
|                                                                              |
| Puru Two's mind and spirit linger in the space between past and present,     |
| somewhere deep within. Withdrawn within her shell, submerged beneath the     |
| waters of a distant memory. The only place she can escape the whisper of     |
| nearby minds. Whispers she can usually withstand, but not today. Not right   |
| now.                                                                         |
|                                                                              |
|        (The child with the numeral II on her gown gives a guttural           |
|        grunt of effort as she tugs her fist upwards into her sister's        |
|        ribcage. Choking noises give way to something liquid, wet, awful.     |
|        And then--coughing. Crying. Tears of pain, and relief. The            |
|        thrum of the sick girl's presence regains a warmer tone.              |
|        The chilling fear of the end abates, giving way to more               |
|        pedestrian complaints.)                                               |
|                                                                              |
| For eight long years, Puru Two has spent every cent that she has, she has    |
| stolen and lied and threatened and run from one place to another for a       |
| single purpose. Forever chasing a sign that someone; any of her kin still    |
| live.                                                                        |
|                                                                              |
|        (A scheduled spring breeze washes over the frightened children.       |
|        The one suffering the most lies with her head buried within her       |
|        savior's lap. Arms loosely cling to her waist.                        |
|        Her every sense screams: I want to go home! But this is all home is.  |
|        Axis.                                                                 |
|                The training compound.                                        |
|                    The staff.                                                |
|                        Each other.)                                          |
|                                                                              |
|                              (Each other.)                                   |
|                                                                              |
|                                                                              |
|        (Puru Two's hand rests atop her sister's head. She strokes the        |
|        girl's hair. Pats her back between cough-hiccup-sobs.                 |
|        Wipes her messy face. Why, she wonders, did that happen? She          |
|        didn't do anything to deserve that. She's so upset. She could         |
|        have died. It wasn't even a fight.                                    |
|                So stupid.                                                    |
|                So unfair.                                                    |
|                I'll never let something like that happen again.              |
|                Ever.)                                                        |
|                                                                              |
| The hiss is almost imperceptible as the faucet closes. Pale fingers stab     |
| repeatedly at the controls. The drumming rainfall soon becomes a staccato    |
| dripping, a gurgling, and then... a deafening silence.                       |
|                                                                              |
| At least one of them still lives.                                            |
|                                                                              |
| She doesn't know how to process it.                                          |