"Doctor, I'm sorry I burned your stupid book. It was so hard to read that I got mad and…"

"Ifrit."

"Can you not tell Olivia? Please?"

"Ifrit…"

"It was just a stupid book anyways! Why are you mad over-"

"Ifrit." The Doctor's tone chills her to the bone, puts out that fire in an instant. They were mad, weren't they?

"I am not mad." The Doctor says to her, standing up from their desk.

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not Ifrit."

"But I got mad again and things burned. Isn't that what you're trying to cure in me?"

"I'm not trying to cure you of anger Ifrit. Everyone should feel anger, just like everyone should feel happiness, or sadness, or peace."

"Hah?"

"What matters to me is that you came to me and told me, Ifrit. You didn't try to hide it, you didn't try to make excuses. You made the decision to own up to your mistake."

"Now… I suppose Olivia doesn't need to necessarily know what happened to the book I lent you, but only if you agree to try again, a little harder next time."

"It's over. Do it Ifrit. End it."

The explosions.

The alarms.

The screams.

The screams-

Everything burns. Everything turns to ash.

Everything.

And then the silence.

"Iffy?" Eyja whispers, giving Ifrit a gentle shake. If it had been anyone else, they would have been vaporized, a pile of ashes in the passenger's seat.

But it is just Eyja. Ifrit sighs, squeezing the blear from her eyes.

"You were having a nightmare."

"Every day is a nightmare." Ifrit replies with a groan, pulling her seat back up from the recline. It is still dark, no lights coming from the caravan, the faint glimmer of stars still in the night sky. Sometime between midnight and dawn, then.

"Iffy, you can talk to me."

"Ifrit, you can talk to me." The Doctor said calmly. A gentle hand upon her head that she bats away. They both settle for the warm hand upon the shoulder-

"Bad dream. All it was." Ifrit grunts. Eyja leans across the center console, giving Ifrit a gentle hug. It's a warmth that she needs so desperately needs, that stabilizing factor that helps to keep the… keep the-

"Welcome to our reading-"

"Whatever, I'm only here 'cuz the Doctor made me come." She crosses her arms and looks away, a huff of contempt.

"That's okay! We're reading 'The Twilight over Londinium' right now, but since you're the new member you can pick next."

"I don't care, just give me the stupid book…" She skims through the book, landing on a random page. A squint, and frown… "What the heck! These words are too long! Fuck this-"

"Iffy? You're heating up again."

"It's cold in here." Ifrit belts out. Thank whatever contemptible, damnable gods ran Terra that Eyja was blind. If she saw the glow on Ifrit's cheeks, Ifrit would never live that down.

"The past-" Eyja begins to say.

"Is the past, and there is nothing I can do to change it. I know, Eyja." Ifrit mumbles, tentatively resting her head against Eyja's. "But there are some things I can't escape from." She admits.

"Can't, or won't?"

Ifrit tenses at her best friend's words. Of course Eyja can feel it in Ifrit's muscles, now that the Caprinae woman was blind to the light, she could only feel.

"Tomorrow will be hard." Ifrit pivots the subject so hard that she gives herself whiplash. The frown on Eyja's face isn't so much because of Ifrit's implications of what's to come, but Ifrit's reluctance to simply answer the damn question.

"The Gendarmerie will find us." Eyja replies. Her tone is stiff, a desire for Ifrit to just talk openly once more making it ache that much deeper.

But that was the old Ifrit. That was… the happier Ifrit. When all that she had to worry about was her homework assignments coming in on time and passing her Operator Assessment Courses with six stars...

"Try… try not to kill anyone, okay?" Eyja whispers, slipping away from Ifrit's shoulder, a cold emptiness left in her wake. She shifts uncomfortably, stealing a glance through cold, milky eyes, and Ifrit tries her best to ignore the panging guilt it sends through her.

"Of course. I'm the model of restraint and… what's the word?"

"Composure? Self-control? Mercy?"

"That one… mercy." Ifrit leans back into the seat once more, watching as Eyja lays back down. Ifrit throws the blanket back over Eyja, tucking it in at the edges like a cocoon. Eyja mumbles her thanks, but that is the end of that. Come tomorrow, they will see what was in store.

The caravan pulls to a halt, a blockade of uniformly squared-off black motorized wagons up ahead. Uniformed men stand in a line going across the road, and Ifrit doesn't doubt for a second that there aren't more standing around in the bushes beside them.

"What's going on, Iffy? Why are we stopping?"

"Stay in the truck."

"Iffy?"

"Stay in the truck. I've got this." Ifrit says firmly, reaching to the back seat for her burden. When she steps out, she waves warning to the following vehicles, for them to stay put.

A crack of the stiff neck, a shaking out of the muscles, a little stretch, and she strides further down the road, straight towards the men that she can see clearly carrying weapons.

"Halt! Do not approach this line!" Someone barks out at her.

Ifrit shakes her head, planting the shield into the dirt and leaning against it. She stands front and center, all weapons now trained upon her. No wand, but at least her shield had a focus; if she didn't have at least some focus, things get ugly when the Arts start flowing.

"Yo," She shouts, "you're blocking the road."

"Stand down and drop your weapons!" A Caprinae calls out from the line up. They all look relatively the same; button-up uniform, all trim and neat, reminds Ifrit of some of the more uptight operators from Rhodes Island. The one doing the yelling has some gold leaf on his shoulder, some of that fine fanciness that pointed to him being upper-crust. Well, woulda looked kinda fancy, except for that dumb cap on his head, like some… egg-head helmet or something.

"I'm the only one in this caravan that is armed, but it's just a shield if you can call that being armed." Ifrit calls back, "Everyone else is just a civilian."

The officer narrows his eyes, motioning for the other Gendarmerie soldiers to fan out.

"We heard reports that a caravan of Infected had destroyed a village. Care to answer for this crime?"

"What crime? The village is still there." Ifrit frowns, standing straight and placing her hands on the top of the shield. The officer seems confused, scoffing at Ifrit's words.

"Go an send someone down the road and check for yourself. We traded some decontaminated stuff for food, water, and clothes."

Why is she up here talking to this… prick ? This was an Eyja negotiation, this requires a delicate touch. The realization that she had fucked something up again makes the ire pump.

"Listen. I don't know what that other guy told you , but I can assure you he attacked us first. I'm sure you are just like everyone else and won't take an Infected's word…" Ifrit throws out, taking a stab at the Leithanian propaganda and pride, "But take my words seriously. If any harm comes to anyone in this caravan, there will be hell to pay. "

It feels like she says it normally, but for some reason, Ifrit's words take even a hard-looking dickhead like this officer aback.

The man does a few hand signs. Maybe he thinks that Ifrit doesn't know what he's saying… and he'd be right on that part, but she certainly knows that he's communicating something . It was stuff that was taught to her during Operator Basics, how to say without saying.

The Gendarmes stop their closing in, and one of them snaps to the officer's side real quick. Ah, so this one was their runner then? Yeah, soon as they whisper to each other, the nimble guy gaits off down the road back where the caravan came from, nothing but a cloud of dust at his heels.

"Will you and yours submit to searches?" The officer calls out, straightening up. Yeah, his posture wasn't as aggressive now, wasn't as ready to start blasting, and Ifrit was fine with that.

"That's up to the other heads to decide." Ifrit shouts before turning her head to yell back at the careeners that were clearly listening in despite the pressure of soldiers surrounding them.

"Oi, Leif or whoever, go get the heads and see if it's cool for these… fine soldiers to go through our stuff." Ifrit snaps; Eyja might not have her hearing aide in, and frankly, she wanted Eyja to just stay put in case this was just the old "kill them while they're unarmed" trick like the Kazimierz's tried to pull.

"And you," Ifrit turns back to the officer, who jumps a little at her voice aimed at him again. Not a good look for a commanding officer, must be new; wars tended to drain the competent manpower first according to ol' Dur-nar; rest her soul. "Make sure your men that are doing the search are properly suited up. As much as I'd love to say we run a tight ship, there's contamination for sure."

That sends a rush of red through the officer, and Ifrit can't quite tell if it's anger or embarrassment yet. She'll see in a second…

"Keller, Joseph, Horst, and Adler, kit up in hazardous material suits." The officer calls, and four of the surrounding Gendarmes fall back to their blockade and disappear behind one of the wagons.

"Safety first, Officer…?"

"Sandor."

"Well, now that we're all amicable, Officer Sandor , tell me a little bit about what you've heard about us?" Ifrit grins wide, leaning against her shield again. It's edge bites into the dirt-and-gravel road, the focus within thrumming quietly, waiting for the surge.

"We've received reports of a group of armed Infected moving over the border. After we were contacted by a… concerned citizen , we deployed to apprehend you… err... - them - We did not want a Reunion resurgence in our lands, you see."

Ifrit spits on the ground the moment the good Officer Sandor mentions Reunion. Her phlegm boils on the ground, sizzling in the dirt. It gets a raised eyebrow out of the man- probably not used to seeing such crude behavior in such a civilized society .

Footsteps behind Ifrit, hoof-cleated boots. It relaxes Ifrit, but makes Officer Sandor perk up once more. More curiosity that it was a Caprinae woman approaching than it was suspicion of someone new. Eyja gropes the air for Ifrit helping to sell that this was a pitiable group. Who could shoot on a blind woman?

"Ifrit, the caravan leaders agree to the search." Eyja says, but Ifrit can tell that she's throwing her voice that little bit out for Officer Sandor to hear as well. Yes, they were all amicable, peace-loving, law-abiding members of civilized society. All except for one .

"There you have it, Officer ." Ifrit shrugs, making a show of hefting the shield like it wasn't made for her, like she didn't know how to use it, "I'll be watching your boys to make sure they don't get themselves infected on accident. Me and my friend happen to be experts on Oripathy, you see." Ifrit points her thumb at the emblem on the back of her coat as she turns. It might mean nothing to the outside world anymore… but to her, to Eyja, the game piece still meant something.

"You did great, Iffy." Eyja whispers, clinging to Ifrit's arm as they make their way back to the lead truck, the one that still has the symbol of Rhodes Island blazed upon its doors. Paint faded, covered in mud and dust, but still it stands out as a symbol.

"Feel like I coulda been… I dunno, nicer?" Ifrit scowls at her own words. No… if they needed nicer, it would have been Eyja talking from the very beginning. Somehow… Eyja always seemed to know exactly when to let Ifrit take over, and when it was her measured touch that was needed. Perhaps… being the student of the Doctor had that bit of them rub off of the studious girl when she was young.

Ifrit will be honest with herself -and only herself- that she was jealous of Eyja in that way. Eyja was kind-hearted, she was pitiable, she was more open to the Doctor and in turn the Doctor was more open to her.

Shit, and Ifrit could barely keep herself from burning their books out of anger. She couldn't help but give herself a self-deprecating chuckle as she tosses the shield into the back of the truck. They'll search Ifrit and Eyja's vehicle first. Lucky for them, the original container for Ifrit's wand was serving as the truck's fuel tank, her wand little more than a strange looking hose-bit and nozzle.

These Leithanians are old-fashioned casters. Still use sticks and bones tipped with Originite for wands and focuses. Didn't even check Ifrit's stuff for focuses, didn't try to see what was Art's sensitive. Ifrit put her legs up and out the window as she leaned back, waiting for them to finish their little run-down. They paused when they found Eyja's old staff, but the focus had long been ripped out of it- Ifrit saw to that.

"Iffy, if they're not arresting us, then do you think they'll let us in?"

"Or they'll turn us right around." Ifrit shrugs, "Either way, no one has to get burned, right?"

"R-right."

Barely fifty in the caravan, all it takes is an hour and some change to get everyone patted down. By that time the runner returns, most likely giving a wonderful rendition of what had happened yesterday to the good Officer. Everyone except Ifrit watches with bated breath. They converse, the Officer calls up some sort of weird box-thin with an earpiece and starts speaking into that … gods what was this? Didn't they have regular radios here?

And Officer Sandor beckons Ifrit forward.

Eyja goes to the fore instead, turning on her hearing aide as Ifrit follows behind her with shield in hand. Of course, his eyebrow perks at this new curiosity, until Eyja speaks with the most sing-song kindness imaginable;

"How can we be of assistance now, Officer Sandor?"

"I was speaking with the Sarkaz before-"

"And I am the other half of our representation, for when we are sure that no harm will come to us. I am blind, you see, can't quite tell if the people we are talking with are pointing weapons at us." Eyja speaks honestly, and that honesty seems to strike a chord with the Gendarmerie. The officer shrinks slightly, perhaps the guilt of having his men treat such kind people as threats? "My name is Adele Naumann, I believe my records might still be with Leithania? My parents were researchers in Natural Catastrophes and Geology at Vienne Royal Institute."

"Ah… yes. I have heard that name from my little sister… she studies at Vienne Royal."

"Ah, well I do hope her studies go well! What is her field?" Eyja delights.

"Eyja, is now the time for chitchat?" Ifrit whispers out the side of her mouth.

"You show that we are righteous, I show that we are kind." Eyja whispers back before engaging with Officer Sandor some more.

Righteous? Funny word, Ifrit prefers being called strong . Fucking strong .

Burn-down-her-cell fucking strong.

Melt-a-core-city fucking strong.

Burn-this-shitty-inhospitable-uncaring-world fucking strong.

"That's what you'd use your strength for?" Saria whispered in her ear, "To just give up and burn it all down? I thought the Doctor taught you better. I must assume that I was wrong."

She can feel the needle in the back of her neck, feel the cold rushing through her system. She can't move her arms, she can't reach out, she can't even open her mouth to plead or apologize.

"Subject RLDD-Zero-Three has been neutralized. Returning it to the containment lab."

Saria… why was your voice so cold? Saria? Saria no! She'd be good again, she was good! Just ask the Doctor! Just ask Olivia! Just-

"Then use your strength for the greater good." Saria's voice is stern… but it's like Ifrit used to remember. Warmth there, a spark of hope…

A spark of hope in Eyja that has her ears twitching with excitement when Ifrit snaps from her hallucination.

"Thank you, Officer Sandor!" Eyja clasps her hands together, as if her prayers had been answered by the gods.

Ifrit knows there is no gods though. Ifrit knows there is no permanent happiness- only little dinghies floating in a sea of shit, slowly leaking air.

"Let's go inform the others!" Eyja exclaims, grabbing Ifrit's hand and tugging her back towards the caravan. The Gendarmes had all stepped back, milling about their motorized wagons, clearly all shooting the shit and waiting around. Just what had Eyja told them to make everyone so… relaxed? Maybe she was a witch that the rumors painted her as.

A crowd gathers, the caravan's heads closest though the others lean and peer, eager for good news when they see just how happy their "lady" is.

"Officer Sandor is going to put us in for relocation at an Infected enclave!" Eyja tells the group, voice melodic. There is audible excitement, relief, joy in all except Ifrit. It is to be expected; Miss Ifrit was the prickly one, the unsocial one, the pragmatic one. That was a polite word she had heard used to describe her once. Better than calling her a bitch like she had heard some say, or a demon .

But the frown stapled on her face was not one out of caution. She feels the whispers coming in on the wind, and she excuses herself from the small celebration. The only one that would drag her back, that would make her stay and take in all this exhaustingly transient hope was Eyja, but the caravan's savior was now bogged down in the joy, dogpiled with the congratulations and praise for her negotiations.

Ifrit slinks away successfully, hiding in the truck, staring out the dirty and cracked windshield at the Leithanian emblems on those wagons across from her. Familiar. Hauntingly familiar-

"Leithania euthanizes their Infected." An operator says. Female voice, loud, angry .

Ifrit had overheard it when she came to the Doctor's office, clutching the replacement book to her chest. She couldn't help but hear, couldn't help but be curious.

"Some consider it a mercy-"

"A mercy to some, but it's still inhumane, Doctor!"

She recognized that voice from somewhere… one of the team members from the Wolumonde op… but she couldn't put a name to the face. She remembers that she had asked them if Leithania… if Leithania was the place everyone said it was.

"They're the only place open to Infected refugees currently."

"Only on the outside! I did digging, Doctor. They squeeze what they can from the labor and taxes before shipping them away to be snuffed out."

"But do we know where ? I need credible intelligence to make a plan."

"They have three feeder enclaves that go to a place they call the Garden. But Kal'tsit will never approve-"

"She will. As long as it's not a Rhodes Island operation."

"But Doctor-"

Ifrit shakes the hallucination loose.

Why? Why now? Why these fucking memories now ?

Why couldn't she hope for once, dammit!? Why couldn't she ever feel some fucking relief!? Why is she the one that always has to shit all over everyone's hope and happiness? The passenger door slams shut, Eyja's warmth next to her. Of fucking course Eyja shows up before Ifrit can gather herself.

"What's wrong, Iffy?"

Always so concerned. Always so careful and caring. How much longer would Eyja's patience for her friend's bullshit last?

"We can't go to Makko." Ifrit whispers, trying to choke herself but unable to stop. Of course Eyja's frown is sharp and deep.

She doesn't… she never knew. No one had the heart to tell her, since she had just been a girl like Ifrit back then; not even her beloved Professor. She was… isi too fragile to know that the home that she loves is just as evil, just as cruel and uncaring as the rest of the world. They gloss it up, they put on a pretty mask and dance around the issue, but that made them all the more insidious.

"The caravan… we can't keep this up for much longer, Iffy. They others will break off soon if we don't find someplace. As long as we go with them… we can keep them safe. You and I are enough." Eyja speaks in stern opposition of Ifrit. The pain, the determination… it tears at Ifrit's heart more than anything.

"You can't use your arts, ever ." Ifrit says firmly. Eyja still smiles, hearing between the lines of Ifrit's words; they'd go, but Ifrit was to be forever on watch, forever vigilant. Eyja probably assumed that that would only be until Makko proved itself to be as idyllic as they had heard, then Ifrit would begrudgingly go along, maybe even get comfortable there.

Ifrit was willing to try. Gods be damned was she willing to give it a shot, but the world had a way of proving her right time and time again. She so desperately wished to be wrong for once .

The truck bounces and bumps before rumbling to a crawl as they crest a ridge leading into a valley. Eyja couldn't see it, but the town just down the hill certainly is a quaint little thing. Farmlands ringing the brown and greys of buildings; housing blocks, a park, even some taller buildings, maybe even businesses.

But it was stationary, sedentary, vulnerable to a catastrophe coming through. The first sign that Leithania didn't give a shit. When Ifrit sees is the towers that shoot up through the valley that she knows its all looks. Still a good distance to not be suspicious to the inhabitance of Makko, but they were most definitely Gramophones. Ifrit sees it , the invisible boundary that kept the Infected in, the rest of Leithania out . Even more ominous in the distance was a plant or factory of sorts, quietly pumping a dazzling violet haze into the air. The Gendarme wagon guides the convoy into the town, down a main through street. It is almost a quaint, quiet town. Modest homesteads of logs, a general store, some sort of businesses… far more than what that other village had.

And there are the people.

People that stick their heads out from windows and doors to take a peek at the menagerie of vehicles rolling down their main street and coming to a stop in the village square. A mix of surprise, curiosity, and fear .

They pull into a layered ring around a large fountain, carved in the image of those damn towers… like they were something to be worshipped. Something that the people of Makko shouldn't fear.

Everyone exits their vehicles, gathering at the base of a wide stairwell leading to a large stone and mortar building. There, a Caprinae stands at the top of the step, staff in hand, long robes of some obtuse order shrouding him. A Speaker, a sort of Government official according to Eyja. The Gendarmerie forms a loose circle around the caravan again, blocking off the side-streets, keeping them all bottle up in one spot.

All nice an easy to cut down if they need too, huh? Ifrit tenses, even as Eyja holds her steady. If anyone so much as raises a weapon to harm anyone, Ifrit would burn this whole fucking place to the ground…

"New arrivals! This is Makko, a protected Infected Enclave! You are safe here." The Caprinae Speaker raises his staff, the sleeves of his robes slipping, revealing the black, gleaming Oripathy crystals dotting his arms.

The crowd mumbles in surprise and excitement. A collective relief. The voices, they weren't even whispering.

They were being governed by an Infected? This place must really be a haven! They must really understand the pains of Infected! But the voices in Ifrit's head… they aren't so optimistic. That place… that place where Infected were truly free was Rhodes Islands. If there were any other option, wouldn't the Infected had flocked to it?

"We ask that all new arrivals register here at the town hall. All require a medical examination before being assigned housing, and all of-age residents require to have an occupation within the community to earn your residency." The Caprinae speaker announces, "If you are unsure what occupation you can assist with, there is an aptitude test that comes with residency registration. Please, if you will organize yourselves and form an orderly line, we may begin examination and registrations."

Order amidst chaos. Relief on the surface of so much anxiety. Hope blanketing confusion. All these mixed and conflicting emotions, and all Ifrit can do is try and put on a neutral face as she lines up alongside Eyja. The Speaker is going down the line, speaking briefly with the others of the caravan, lingering longer to talk to the other heads of the caravan. Answering questions, glancing back towards Eyja and Ifrit in the back.

"Iffy. You'll see." Eyja clutches tighter to Ifrit's arm, like her optimism would somehow shine through to Ifrit's soul. Just for Eyja, Ifrit tries her hardest not to spit at the feet of the Speaker as he approaches them.

"This must be Lady Eyjafjalla and her Sarkaz bodyguard then?"

"Ifrit is my closest friend." Eyja frowns before Ifrit can even fire off her contempt, "I would appreciate if you thought of her as such."

"Ah… my apologies miss… Ifrit was it?"

"Yeah. Ifrit." Makes things simpler, not using her real name ever again. That burned up alongside all the operator files.

Burned with Olivia.

"I heard from the others that you are sort of the… spiritual leader?" The Caprinae speaks with measured words, slow in cadence, voice bound with authority. His face is leathery and old, sharp ice-blue eyes baggy but alert. The fact that an old codger like this can still be alive despite his Oripathy… well it was a good sign, maybe.

"I suppose you could say that -eheh." Eyja giggles quietly, seeming shy and modest when Ifrit knows that it is all a show. She is really laying it on thick, isn't she?

"It is commendable, that you lead such a group across so much wasteland and kept them together." The Speaker bows slightly, though he seemed to take notice of Eyja's blindness, pondering just how he could convey the respect without her seeing.

"It was our creed, back on Rhodes Island. We look after the Infected as best we can, no matter who or where they were from." Eyja says loudly. The others in the caravan knew , but they never really knew what Rhodes Island was about. Ifrit had given up trying to explain it, and Eyja only told the most lofty bits. That little bit of information piques the Speakers attention, him leaning in that little bit more upon his staff.

"You were a part of Rhodes Island? Now, we've heard mixed news about that mysterious little landship and its fate… but I myself know a bit more." The Speaker teases, "I know more of the truth than hearsay regarding the pharmaceutical company. Were you patients there?"

"Patients and employees." Ifrit snappily answers, making her discomfort all the more clear for Eyja. "We are no strangers to earning our keep."

The speaker regards Ifrit's words slowly before nodding, a smile creeping onto his face like a originium slug.

"Well, I am sure that we will find accommodating positions for Lady Eyjafjalla and yourself, Miss Ifrit. If you were indeed former Rhodes Island employees, I'm sure that you can work wonders for Makko soon." The Speaker bids a quick farewell as the pair ascend the steps into the town hall. A large atrium, slick marble, chairs and tables set up as people fill out paperwork and pass them to official-looking folk before disappearing into one of the side halls. They try to separate Eyja and Ifrit, only to meet Ifrit's ire and Eyja's calming words- that would be something the people of Makko would all have to get used to real soon.

Documents, writing stuff- ugh . Ifrit can barely read anything, but she does her best to read it outloud for Eyja. She does her best to ignore the stares, the judgement at her struggle to pronounce properly, or even sound out words. It is all for Eyja's sake though, she could bear it for Eyja.

By the time Eyja and Ifrit finish their paperwork, almost everyone else has moved on. Curiously, Ifrit doesn't see any leave the way they entered, but soon she and Eyja are ushered down one of the side halls. More of the same, more stone walls, more cold doors, more Gendarmes standing watch.

And two people in lab coats, masks covering their faces, goggles shrouding their eyes. Starched clean white, exactly like the white suites from before .

Rhine Labs white suits- the ones that had put her on the slab, the ones that had stabbed her full of holes, pumped her with things that made her head fuzzy and body searing hot. The ones that burned and died before Olivia… before Olivia had tried.

"Iffy… it'll only be for a second, okay?" Eyja gives Ifrit a squeeze, pulling her from the haze immediately.

"Y-yeah. Meet you out here when you're done." Ifrit managed to croak out, watching as Eyja takes one of the doctor's hands and is guided into the room next to Ifrit's.

"Miss… Ifrit was it?" The other Caprinae doctor looks Ifrit up and down, her eyes no doubt lingering too long on the tail and horns. "This way, please."

Not a white, sterile room with too-bright lights. No hum of machines. No slab with restrains waiting for her. Just an office, computer, desk, chairs… kinda like the Doctor's office.

Except it was far too cold.

She sits, strips down like asked, though her two coats seem to get a little more attention, at least until her shirt comes off. The doctor is clearly fascinated by the Oripathy crystals on Ifrit's torso and arms, but she doesn't say anything else besides.

They draw her blood, right on the scar tissue of countless other draws from so many years of medical treatment. It doesn't have to be analyzed long before the Caprinae doctor nearly stumbles away from her device. A look of terror on her face, like Ifrit was going to explode any second now. Well, she just might still.

"I know I'm supposed to be dead by now. Still kicking though." Ifrit rolls her eyes as the doctor frantically scribbles on her notepad. "So what am I at now doc? Point-sixty units per liter? Seventy? Or have I hit the full whole number now?"

"...Sarkaz blood this volatile?" The doctor mumbles, "You came from where, again?"

"Rhine Labs, employed by Rhodes Island after." Ifrit says as she throws her tank-top back on. She points to her dirty, scuffed ID badge that is still clipped to her Rhine Labs lab coat as she throws its comforting embrace back onto her shoulders. The doctor's eyes are wide with surprise before it crumples into a frown.

"Rhodes Island? They were the terrorists that-"

"Reunion were the terrorists. Don't get the two mixed up." Ifrit cautions, trying to fight back the fire that boils its way up to her throat. "We helped people when no one else would, even if that meant fighting our own."

The doctor frowns deep still, subtly scribbling something with her offhand while she regards Ifrit. There was supposed to be more to this examination, right? Surely they couldn't be done after just seeing Ifrit's Originium blood content levels, but the Caprinae doctor excuses herself quickly when she sees Ifrit watching her intently, and she takes the wide berth around the room from her. She mutters something about Ifrit staying put, but is out the door before her words leave her lips.

"You best hope for your sake that you are doing the same." Ifrit calls after her, pulling her familiar black-and-blues on as the door slams shut. It is only when she is shrouded by her past does she feel whole.

And that was something that she would never give up. Not in a million lifetimes. Not in a million burned corpses.