She tosses and turns, but in bed -a real fucking bed for once, but it's still not enough to ease Ifrit's mind. All the thrashing doesn't wake the tiny woman next to her though. Addie… Adele… she always sleeps like a brick. Has the benefits of being blind and deaf though, Ifrit'd muse in more quiet moments that they'd get running the caravan. Shit, Addie could sleep through the night-runs through the Badlands, when the truck'd be bouncing all over the damn place.
This domestic shit though?
Addie maybe, but not Ifrit. Certainly not when everything feels off. She pushes herself out of bed, the whispering ghosts mercifully quiet, the taunting demon not looming over their bed like it had during their tense evening meal. Just sitting there, grinning wide and knowing.
Ifrit breathes out, feeling her heart palpitating in that worrisome way. Her eyes adjust to the moonlight though, the pale white that leaks through their bedroom window, marveling at how much clearer it is when not filtered through a dirt and sand-blasted windshield.
And then the pang, that cold shiver that runs through her system. Loneliness, fear, anger, anxiety- Ifrit instinctively turns to her right, and there is the bundle of Addie beneath the sheets. Quiet, peaceful, unmoving.
Unmoving.
A bolt of worried lightning, a sensation of every muscle seizing up like she had been tased by Liskarm's Arts. Without care to if Addie really was sleeping or not, Ifrit yanks back the covers.
Black crystal greets her. Sharp geometric edges outlining what should have been Adel's tiny frame shrouded in her pink pajamas. A twisted mockery of life, the subtle visage of Adele in the rocks, from what would have been her rounded cheeks, to the sharp cut of her nose, to the curl of her horns.
"..." Ifrit tries to speak, but all that leaves her throat is a strangling wheeze. With trembling hands, she reaches out for Addie.
Cold, like glass.
"A…Addie…?" Ifrit manages to gasp, wrapping her fingers over what should have been Adele's slim shoulders.
"Addie… c'mon, this isn't… funny. " She manages to croak, fingers tighter around those harsh crystalline edges. The rock cracks, crumbling into toxic dust beneath Ifrit's grip. Instinct and training pounded into Ifrit's memory tells her she needs safety kit- the rebreather and sealed mask, the airtight suit, the puncture-proof overcoat…
But she wants to breathe that airborn death as well. Addie's final mercy for a tormented soul-
" Iffy, I'm here with you." Adele's ghostly voice lingers thick in the air like the Originium dust that is beginning to spread. It joins that choir of the damned in Ifrit's head.
"I'm here, I won't leave you ever again."
Ifrit watches those particles dance, circling and swirling with the air's flow… or perhaps with Adele's spirit. They beckon her, ask her to do what she planned on all along.
"Iffy…"
Ifrit takes a deep breath in, feeling that toxic sting burning its way in, clogging her nostrils, clinging to every surface on their way down her throat and into her airway…
"Iffy!"
Her body convulses, trembles, her world shaking itself apart. Breaking, cracking, the weight of it all simply… leaving her, like her spirit was drifting away, finally.
…
…If…fy…
… "Iffy…"
… "Ifrit!"
Loud. Annoying. Why the fuck wasn't she dead yet?
"Ifrit!"
"Just let me die already." Ifrit's voice cracks, throat dry and hoarse- but not from Originite dust.
"Never!"
Warmth embraces her, wraps Ifrit up tight in that strangling, overbearing way.
Like how Olivia would hold her during the nightmare. Fuck, she was a frown-ass woman and here she was being treated like a fucking child. She would have been insulted, would have heated her body to send them scurrying if… if the embrace didn't make her feel safe. Ifrit lets out a ragged exhale, her lungs burning in anger and frustration- she had been holding her breath for who knows how long.
"...Iffy?"
She knows Adele wants a response, some acknowledgement that Ifrit is all fine now, but Ifrit is not. She never could be completely "fine". Instead, Ifrit lays her arms over Adele's, feeling the bumps and abrasions of their Oripathy, and presses Addie's arms in tighter.
Selfish, worrying, but fuck everyone and everything else right now. She needs this.
And though she'd never actually thank the sadistic and fucked-in-the-head gods that made this world, in that twisted and prideful moment she did thank whatever cruel thing made Addie blind; she'd never have to see the tears dripping down Ifrit's cheeks right now.
Alarm, beeping, annoying…
Morning, curtain drawn to let that stinging light in, the smell of food drifting through the cracked bedroom door. Food- real food cooked on a real fucking stove. They had a stove.
The question of how Adele was even cooking while blind was for another time, because whatever it is smells good enough to drag Ifrit's ass out of bed. A proper kitchen, with real food, and an actual bathroom to boot- one with running water. No more shitting in a hole, no more splashing about in a pond or river and calling it "good enough". An actual damn shower, something that Ifrit had taken for granted back on Rhodes Island. Scalding hot too, just like how she liked it- let her know she still could feel something. Like how it ran down her skinny frame, flowing around the Oripathy crystals that jutted from her arms and belly like a river coursing around rocks. Long, oily hair that'd take at least two or three washes to fully clean out, but nothing could save the singed ends of it- maybe she could get Adele to cut it for her now that they had time for such frivolities.
She towels herself off in front of a mirror that hangs next to a dresser that the two must share. Still skinny, still half-starved, but not gaunt- muscle in all the right places that spoke to what Ifrit's jobs usually were for the caravan. Hadn't lost too much since her time as an operator.
And behind her, set out on the bed, is the new clothes they had been sent. Looked like a uniform, some drab olive-brown slacks and matching button-up shirt that made even the stiff, starched, and painfully white uniforms of Rhine Lab more appealing. She pulled on a sports bra- not questioning how they'd gotten her measurements, before reluctantly hopping into the new linens. Hopping in was an apt description; the stuff was baggy on her, and not in the way she liked. Ifrit wound up rolling the pant legs up to her mid-thigh, leaving a big, puffy ring around them; did the same with the sleeves of the shirt too, left the Oripathy crystals that dotted her limbs clear for all to see.
Not comfy at all still, but at least that shit wasn't brushing up on the open wounds, made it all worse in the end when they did. It'd take a while to get used to this, and going through the drawers revealed that really, that was the only style option that they'd have.
Well, at least her and Adele had a little bit more, something that her friend saw fit to remind her. When Ifrit grabbed her Rhodes Island coat from the bed, something else slipped from beneath.
Ifrit's old choker had long outgrown her, to the point where she wore it as an armband instead… but sitting at the edge of the bed was a new bit of cloth. A short, muted grey tie, a bit drab to go with the rest of the ensemble… but what hung from the tail of it made Ifrit choke back a little.
Olivia's feather, still in as pristine condition as when she had left it in Adele's care. She holds it carefully in her hand, like it was made of glass, before tucking it away in the pocket of her coat.
She didn't know how the fuck to wear a tie.
So she pulls that Elite's jacket over her shoulders, feels that heft and weight to it. Sure, it was armor-lined, had those protections that she'd needed over the years, but with the new addition, it carries even more weight than before. Significance, consequence, legacy… Ifrit's hand runs over that faded logo, the dulled blue band, the memories of Rhodes Island that couldn't die with her.
"Iffy?" Adele's voice calls from the next room over.
"I'm up."
"Good. Remember-"
"-I'm meeting with Ambrus." Ifrit finishes Adele's reminder, trying her best to hold back the wretch in the process. There's food on the table when she pushes herself out of the bedroom and into their modest living space. Adele is sitting patiently, bowl set opposite of Ifrit's seat. Same dull uniform as Ifrit's, but a little bit more tailored to her small stature, but she's still wearing what made her Eyjafjalla- that old worn, white shawl of hers, and the black-and-blues of Rhodes Island. It certainly lifted Ifrit's spirits knowing that her best friend hadn't fully shed what made them who they were, hadn't completely given over to this new and unproven place.
"What is he going to make me do?" Ifrit asks, but her words make Adele wince, hands going instinctively to her ears- her hearing aides? She got them fixed?
"Sorry." Ifrit mumbles, taking her seat and shoving a mouthful of oats to keep herself from hurting Addie again. Hard to control your volume when you've been speaking the same way for years. It'd take some getting used to. Shit, that phrase was going to be Ifrit's next couple of days, wasn't it? Or weeks, or years.
Hopefully years.
"Work." Adele says slowly, cautiously, ever aware of how one simple little word could spark Ifrit.
But Ifrit just grunts, shoveling another mouthful in, delighting that there was even some powdered white sugar and fruit in the bowl- and probably not the berries that if you mixed up, would make you shit yourself. Yeah, Ifrit had no right to question things now if they have it this sweet, especially after the shit she had pulled on day one of their new lives in Mako. Of course Ifrit would be indebted, and of course someone that seemed as manipulative as the Speaker would want her under thumb… so hopefully he had some sort of work that Ifrit could do well enough. Maybe clearing some trees out, or hunting some dangerous beasts out in the woods, hell Ifrit would even take burning trash, anything to help her let some of the pressure out, get her mind off of everything.
"Iffy?"
"Ya?"
Adele smiles, a small giggle at how Ifrit spoke with her mouth crammed full of food, all despite Olivia's best efforts to teach her table-manners.
"We're safe here, okay?"
"'kay."
Adele's eyes are closed, but Ifrit can see them moving beneath the lids, scanning Ifrit for the truth. The truth though? The truth for Ifrit is that she didn't trust this place- too clean, too nice, too convenient.
But for Adele's sake, she was going to try.
Adele- Addie was starting to look like her old self again. Brighter, more real smiles than those forced ones. Though she was still just as diminished as Ifrit, she's standing taller than before, no longer hunched over by the burden of responsibility, of having to carry so many peoples' hopes. The caravan was no longer their duty, and they could finally live like how they used to- or at least a fleeting fever-dream of how they used to.
Adele pulls that unkempt wave of her auburn hair back into a ponytail before she digs in too, eating with an appetite to match Ifrit's. Practically scarfs it down with the same fervor, except she doesn't talk with her mouth full. It's a quiet moment, both like and unlike those peaceful times around the campfire. A good memory from the road, despite all the other shit that happened. She'd hold onto that one, maybe it'd help her get used to all this.
Meal over, dishes cleaned, Adele hovering in her usual place just behind Ifrit's right, ready to hold on if there were any difficulties moving about their little cabin- except she seemed perfectly at home here. Wasn't much to trip over and bump into, there was only the kitchen attached to this living space. Besides the dining table, there was only a fireplace and rough-roven rug beside it. Adele hadn't moved everything from the truck over yet, then.
Maybe she has some time to do that so Addie wouldn't have to, and by the front door she finds their shoes- a mix of old and new. Ifrit settles on old though- her beaten and worn black-boots, part of her old uniform that withstood the ravages of travel. She pulls them on, the soft leather wrapping perfectly around her shins. Her gloves too, giving her some semblance of her old self; a mix of an operator and… whatever this new job of hers was going to be.
She'd give it a shot though, and for a rare moment the voices are silent, letting Ifrit truly chew on this sensation alone. Adele's soft touch on her shoulder pulls her back though, and helps Ifrit through the front door.
The morning light is even brighter than usual, a wake-up slap that has Ifrit wincing and snarling at the sun, but what could she do- it was the fucking sun.
"We're at the edge of the village." Adele says, naturally unphased by the sudden onslaught of light. When Ifrit's eyes adjust and she blinks away the spots, there's Addie, smiling just as bright. "We have to talk a bit to get to town though, Originium fuel is tightly rationed."
"So they drained our tank for their own, huh?" Ifrit sighs. Sighs. Not growls, not hisses, she stamps down that particular spark of hers. The reward was seeing Adele relax, and boy is it a reward.
"We won't need it- think of it as giving thanks for accepting us."
"Or tithe-"
Even though Ifrit held back the anger, she can't hold back the sarcasm. Doesn't pierce Addie's good mood though, and together the two move to the truck. Ifrit gives the old steel burden-beast and affectionate pat. The thing had proven to be as stubborn as Ifrit, and that she could respect. Their savior, their freedom, and their home-
She'd never let anyone touch it, even if it was now little more than an immobile relic. Everything inside was mostly untouched, unpacked, and together she and Adele dump most of it into the living room. One last bit though, and Ifrit moves to the boot of the truck. The refuse there had been moved, at least the stuff that had covered the thing she was looking for. Popping the hatch, she grabs hold of it, but pauses for a moment.
A twinge of that paranoia that just couldn't be shook has Ifrit glancing around, that once muted situational awareness kicking back in. Edge of the clearing, good amount of distance to the treeline- fenced by just a wood railing. Not a prison, yet. Rows of similar cabins lining the hard-packed dirt road that all headed inwards towards the heart of the valley. Adele had been serious saying they were at the edge of the village then.
"Neighbors?" Ifrit asks.
"No, the closest are still a ways in. Most people choose to live near Mako's center-"
"Good."
Ifrit grabs hold of her burden and pulls it free. The weight… it's still there, no more lighter despite her ever-growing returning physical strength. Adele "watches" but says nothing as Ifrit inspects it. The focus was gone, the jury-rigged facet for Originite chunks empty, but there was only one other person besides Ifrit who knew how to pull them out without fucking up the shield. Adele seems ready to speak, ready to defend herself, when Ifrit quietly and reverently puts the shield down, resting it against the bumper.
Yeah, no use getting mad about it now. Only came natural that the people of Mako would want to protect their own from newcomers- couldn't have a potential rogue caster going off in the middle of town. Ifrit was self-aware enough for that, at least. Eyjafjalla's… Adele's staff was next, but Ifrit had neutered it long ago, after… after Addie went completely blind. She still hands it to Adele, watching as her best friend clutches it to her breast. No more than an oversized walking stick, but Adele loved the familiar just as much as Ifrit.
And the final check; Ifrit beats the floor of the boot, pounding the sides of the bottom-hatch until they pop loose with a thick puff of caked dirt. The tank to her old wand was still there, still hooked up as the truck's fuel can, with the nozzle piece unmolested too. Just like the last "inspectors", completely untouched since it never had its focus. Ifrit doubted that these country-bumpkin soldiers knew what a Columbian-built super-weapon looked like to begin with.
"You don't need it." Addie whispers from right behind Ifrit. That soft, comforting hand on Ifrit's shoulder while Adele places her others on the edge of Saria's shield. "We don't need to be heroes right now. Not yet, and hopefully… not ever again."
Ifrit takes a deep, sucking breath in and out, weighing those words before nodding. She lets Adele helped her put the shield back in the boot, covering it with one of their old, worn out blankets. She listened to Addie talk about how they could mount all their old Rhodes Island gear on the walls, perhaps even fasten Saria's shield to the doorway as a way to keep her spirit protecting their new home…
But Ifrit didn't need the reminder when she had their ghosts, did she? Inklings of whispers as she and Adele start towards town, their voices incomprehensible as long as Addie was near, but they still want Ifrit to remember. She listens to Addie instead, letting her best friend's brightness glow honest and unfettered as she speaks rapidly of the community here. How the caravan leaders all fell in line, the relief of everyone to finally be safe, for their hard journeying finally ending. How everyone had found their place while… well Adele dodges around the subject, Ifrit knows what she was going to say: "While you were in holding."
Everyone's got a job to do now, the tests back on that first day making sure that they had the right jobs for the right people. Farming, carpentry, tailoring, baking, whatever they needed, they tried to fill all so that the community kept itself sustained.
Hearing Adele's amazement and excitement stuck that dagger in though, made her question just what Mako would have her do, considering the only thing that Ifrit really know how to do was kill people.
"Speaker Ambrus has a job for you, though. I think." Adele says brightly, trying to inject Ifrit with that same intoxicating bit of hope she was on.
"You sure put a lot of trust in the guy."
"He used to be a lecturer at my old academy; not one of my professors though, his field was-"
"So it's favoritism." Ifrit interrupts bluntly, the whip of snark too unconscious for her to hold back.
"Yep!" Adele grins back. Shameless, unapologetic, but heartening all the same to Ifrit. She can't help but crack a smile at Adele.
"About time you lightened up. Look at that smile." Her friend teases, giving Ifrit a gentle little bump.
"I-I'm not!"
"Mhmm?"
"You're blind! How can you tell anyways!?"
"So you were smiling?"
Ifrit snarls, but it's all hot air, and makes the small Caprinae woman all the more smug in her victory. It's a moment of levity that Ifrit holds close to her heart, making the horizon that looms ahead a little bit easier to digest. The ivory spire in the distance- the Gramophone that kept the settlement safe and in check, and even further beyond in the valley was that massive, blocky-looking facility that interrupted the staccato silhouettes of the forest. It is still gently puffing out a haze from some smoke stacks that dissipates into the air above.
By the time Ifrit could really make it out though, the pair were already at the interior to Mako. A brisk walk then, a nice warm up if Ifrit had to say something positive about it. The wood cabins gave way to actual brick-and-mortar bits. Wouldn't stand up to a catastrophe, but it leant a sort of… concrete feeling to the village. They passed by one that had a hanging sign shaped like a shoe, another with a needle and spool of thread, a shop who's open door leaked the warm scent of fresh bread. As they passed by, Adele waves and smiles, being all cordial and polite before she'd grab Ifrit's coat again.
How could she tell where they were when she was blind? How could she know where they were even going?
"It's just like my home town." Adele says wistfully, taking another deep breath of the bakery's goodness. "All without the walking stilts of course, but it's all the same around Leithania."
"Must be nice." That is all Ifrit could say as she bit her tongue before the sarcasm could wiggle it's way into her voice.
"Mhmm." Adele hums, pulling closer to Ifrit until she nearly clung onto her arm. "Bakery, washers, cobblers, general goods, pharmacy…" She points to each building as they walk with… a general degree of accuracy, but mostly on target. It's clear she doesn't need Ifrit guiding her, but she still clings all the same as they make their way to the town hall. Shame and guilt slither their way from the back of Ifrit's mind, dig their claws in and hijack her body. She heats up, her muscles tense, and Adele has to push her up the steps and into the entrance hall. Just a small squeeze from her friend is enough to make it taper, for now.
"Miss Naumann and…?"
"Ifrit." Ifrit answers the moment she sees the desk-jockey's frown at her.
"Miss… ' Ifrit '... the Speaker has been waiting."
When the secretary points them down an adjacent hall, its clear that Adele wasn't clinging to Ifrit's arm for her own peace of mind, but to actually keep pulling Ifrit along. A blind Caprinae leading a Sarkaz, each dragging step more laborious than the last as they approach those fancy double-doors.
And Adele stops, giving Ifrit that small shove forward.
Like when Saria had pushed her into the testing range, "wand" in hand and tank strapped to her back.
When Olivia nudged her forward to greet the Doctor when they first arrived on Rhodes Island.
Or when the Doctor towered behind her, giving her that wordless nudge towards that classroom door…
She doesn't need that push, just a deep breath and a moment to let all that anxiety flush from her.
"Try not to burn the office down." Adele jokes, but of all the people in Mako, she knows.
"Yeah, I'll try to keep it all in."
"No excuses." Adele's voice rings with that sternness of their mutual "teacher", and it strikes that chord in Ifrit's heart.
"No excuses." Ifrit echoes.
Doors pushed open by Adele, and Ifrit steps past. The clack, the click, door shut tight behind her- not that she is going to turn to run… or anything like that. Nope, just one unstable, weaponized Sarkaz and an elderly looking Caprinae man.
"Miss Ifrit, welcome. Have a seat." Ambrus motions to a chair that sits in front of a wide wooden desk, the whole scene brightly lit from the sunlight coming in from the east. It frames the Speaker in an almost heavenly glow. The dubious bit in Ifrit's mind can't help but question it this was all purposeful theatrics, part of a show to make Ambrus look like the bigger, more benevolent man than he is-
But she is still biting her tongue, holding back the vitriol as she watches the Caprinae study her closely- just like how the white-coats would…
"How are your new accommodations?"
Ifrit grits her teeth, shoving her hands into her coat's pockets.
"'s fine I guess. Better than a cell."
The snipe doesn't make the old man flinch nor frown, just a knowing nod out of him. Even bitterness and belittle couldn't make him bite- yet, but Ifrit can only hold back so long before she'd snap her own tongue off.
"Not one for small talk, that much is agreeable." The Speaker smiles thinly. There is no contempt there though… just a certain… tiredness. "Straight to business."
"Let's." Ifrit manages to relax somewhat. At least the Speaker could read the warming airs in his office- and they certainly weren't from the sunlight or the heater. Ifrit could respect that much at least.
"As you know, everyone in Mako has a job, one that helps keep the community running as self-sufficiently as possible-"
"-but we have no place for a devil like you-"
"-but because of the… circumstances at your group's arrival, you never had the opportunity to take the occupational aptitude test."
Ifrit had a good chuckle at his choice of words. Had to give it to the old twist-horn, the man knew just how to talk, probably how he got the fancy "Speaker" title in the first place. Could dodge the landmines, avoiding outright pissing Ifrit off- only one person on Terra had that kind of ability anymore.
"Probably fail it anyways." Ifrit shrugs, but instead of the expected frown and frustrated sigh at her self-deprication, the old fucking fart smiles instead.
"I think you sell yourself short, Miss Ifrit." Ambrus pulls some paper from the surface of his desk, glancing at it as if he was skimming. "Your friend Miss Naumann and I have been discussing your particular specialties, as well as the formal occupational training you received at Rhodes Island."
"You got stuff that needs burning then?"
The Speaker smiles once more, lopsided and more concernedly… knowing. It's that smugness that bugs Ifrit, but still not enough to set the fuse.
"No, not quite. The Gendarmerie handles our self-defence for what the Gramophone cannot. I was speaking more of your occupation in Rhodes Island's critical infrastructure."
"Critical infa -wha?" The damn old goat spoke like the Doctor did… big annoying words, spoken with such confidence and assuredness. It was an insult to their memory, a poor mockery of someone that Ifrit respected-
"You worked in Rhodes Island's power plants, did you not?"
"Yeah, I kept the energy flowing… "ee-fish-ant-ly"? I think that's the word Closure used. Yeah- "efficient" sounds right." Ifrit nods, the nostalgia keeping her frustrations at bay for the moment. Question is where the remembering the past would bring the ghosts out of their hiding spots in the back of her mind or not.
"Good. Miss Naumann said you had a knack for energy flows, particularly with Originium and Arts." Ambrus' smile… Ifrit doesn't feel slimy and gross when she sees it, but she still feels there's something off about it. It's not that unconditional kindness that the Doctor had, or that mature knowing of Olivia's. There's nothing to pin, nothing to grasp onto, and that unsettles Ifrit the most.
"So we've found the perfect role for you-"
"-and it's the perfect role for you, Ifrit. Focus on the lines, on the flow of energy. Whenever there's a clog, a slow down, a bit that's just not running fast enough to keep up with demand, you use your Arts to push it through." The Doctor instructed calmly. They pointed at a stange tube coming out of some pump, a humming green coil that doesn't glow as bright… and shoved at it like a damn idiot. Ifrit might be stupid, but even she knew you couldn't phsycially touch that kinda stuff.
"See, even someone like me can't to it-"
Self-deprecation, a shrinking of their competent self to cheer Ifrit up, encourage her to try. She knew what they were doing, but it… soothed her anyways. She had stepped up to the machine, ran her hand over the coil, felt the flow of it, the heat and power that coursed just beneath, like how the Arts would flow through her own blood.
And she guided it along, pushed it through some unknown stoppage. The machine glowed brighter, the parts clicked and clunked faster than before, and the Doctor applauded her. Sure, they laid it on thick for Ifrit, but she never hated that kind of praise if it was someone she respected. Anyone other than Olivia, Saria, or the Doctor though…
A clap of the hands breaks the reverie, pull Ifrit back to this awkwardly humid office.
"Excellent then. I'll have you attend orientation at the Crucible with a few others from your caravan."
People from her caravan? That brings her crashing right back down to the muck and mire of reality. Interacting with people. People who have already formed very strong opinions about Ifrit- seen what Ifrit was truly capable of. That taint would never leave her.
"Sounds good. Earning my keep, yeah?" Though Ifrit's voice is measured, her stomach is twisted so tight that it feels like she'll crumple any second from now.
And the Speaker hesitates a moment -just a moment- but it's enough for Ifrit to pick out something off.
"Your keep… as well as reparations for Officer Farkas-" Ambrus pauses once more, watching Ifrit intently, like a boiler worker watching the pressure gauge toeing the red line.
Ifrit sucks in a deep breath, hoping that the fresh rush of cool air would help temper the heat in her, except this damn office was hot too. "What does "reparations" mean?" She manages to growl through gritted teeth. The Speaker can't see her hands, but he must certainly hear her bones creak beneath the pressure of hypertension muscles.
"Your pay that a regular industrial worker gets will be cut, with part of it paying for Officer Farkas' treatment and retirement-"
"So I'm working to pay for my fuckup."
"...yes."
"Makes sense." Ifrit pushes herself from the seat, spinning so that the Speaker can't see her face, can't make out when she's just about ready to crack. Just get out of here, get it over with, go find Addie and just… try and let all this anger fade.
But something about the Crucible sounded familiar. The ghosts whisper again, but they're muted- why were they so muted now? The memories and hallucinations were often so intimately intertwined, and so much anxiety wove between the two made them indistinguishable sometimes.
"...what about Addie- Adele?" Ifrit manages to ask, casting a glance back at the old man. He brightens a moment with that sort of prideful, greedy glint to the eye, like someone just found a hundred-thousand Lungmen note on the ground.
A spike in her heart, a shortness of breath-
"They… separating… you… purpose…" That deep, cruel voice. Dulled though, like it was speaking through a wall, mercifully separated enough that those barbs didn't dig into her.
"They'll… snatch her… take her… from you…"
Reflexive response, muscles taut and body rigid, fangs bared at the doorway. She tells herself to stop, to get outside of her own head for a moment and listen.
The Doctor was the one who taught her how to listen-
"Miss Naumann's education and area of expertise is sorely needed in Mako. She offered to work as our Catastrophe Messenger-"
Ifrit spins, eyes wild, the surge working its way into her arms, but Speaker Ambrus is unphased, merely holding a patient hand out- the same sign that the Doctor would use to… tell her to wait…
"But I denied her. Mako needs an upper-grade school teacher, one who has collegiate experience for our more gifted students. She can pass on that knowledge, wouldn't you agree?"
"A teacher?"
"Yes, for a younger generation."
Younger generation? Shit, Addie and Ifrit were barely in their twenties, and they were being considered "old" now? Oripathy ages you differently though- a black dust that slips faster through the hourglass than just regular sand.
"If she can handle me, she'll be good with kids." Ifrit manages to joke, a dry chuckle as she metaphorically stabs herself in the gut. Before she could suffer any more of Ambrus' forced pity she makes her escape back into the hall.
Adele isn't there waiting for her, and more to her surprise, another Sarkaz is leaning up against the wall. The guy is towering, just like most of the Sarkaz Ifrit's met-
And killed-
-dressed head to toe in the same drab threads as everyone else she's seen in Mako, except instead of the Rhodes Island prestige that drapes from Ifrit's shoulders he's got some dirty cover-all on, unzipped all the way down to the crotch to air out the obvious humidity and sweat that cakes the clothes beneath.
"Ah!" He jumps in surprise, both of them staring at one-another like they'd never seen another Sarkaz before.
"You uh…" He checks a clipboard held in one massive hand, fumbling for a moment as he flips through the pages. Ifrit gauges he must have been a merc at one point, judging how he was built like a brick-shithouse, and here this guy was bumbling before a woman half-his height and easily one-third his muscle-bound width.
"Ifrit?" She tosses out, watching him run a finger across the page, eyes darting nervously about. If her new boss was a Sarkaz, she could probably hold some of that vitriol in; at least her people weren't quick to judge others.
"Yeah, got you here… Iff-rit." He brings the clipboard up to his face, squinting real hard. "You're… an energy-engineer yah? You take the job?"
"I guess." She answers, shoving her hands into her pockets again. Usually she'd fiddle with her pill bottle, work off some of this uncomfortable energy, but she just has to settle for picking at her fingernails.
The Sarkaz shrugs, satisfied with that half-assed answer. He motions for Ifrit to follow as he just starts marching back out. Thankfully the lug doesn't say anything else either; no words needed to be hashed between two that both have the gist of things. The only time he speaks is when he manages to put that tough-guy persona back up, grunting a quick "Thames". Yeah, Ifrit thinks she can get along with "Thames", but that sense of solidarity and calm melts when they exit the town-hall and see the group that waits at the bottom of the steps. Four from the caravan- Luft included. Ifrit sucks in a sharp breath, holds it in, prays that she'll be wrong, but Thames stops in front of their little herd.
"All of you new-folk follow me. I'll show you the tram we all take to the Crucible."
The herd hesitates when they see Ifrit tailing Thames. Fear, contempt, that undeserved sense of superiority… and not all of that is aimed at Ifrit this time. At least Thames has his back turned, has the benefit of not knowing this particular asshole and his group of circle-jerk buddies. He was still marching along at that mercenary's pace, talking about tram schedules and how they shouldn't be late, something about having to walk to work if they did…
But all Ifrit could hear was the grumbling, the discordant whispers behind her- and not from her Oripathy. The disgust and contempt for Ifrit bled over as a hatred for all Sarkaz. Little dig at Thames though, that had Ifrit clenching her fists and biting her lip. The kettle was boiling over-
"Any questions?" Thames asks the moment they reach the tram platform, spinning to face the group. The herd scatters from their little huddle in that suspicious way that makes Thames raise an eyebrow, at least until Luft raises a hand.
"What is it that you do?" The smug dickhead asks, his voice laced with that smarmy pitch that makes Ifrit want to smack him upside the head. Thames though… the big guy matches that tone with his own particular smugness.
"I'm a production line chief. Technically your-" Thames points to the Caprinae fuck-boys, "-boss."
Of course, those shocked looks all turn to Ifrit next, stabbing at her with dumbfounded, wordless questions for Thames to answer.
"She's Energy and Engineering, don't worry about her."
Grumbles and frowning, lips pulled so thin that they looked like gaunt masks. Thames gives Ifrit a glance, sharing a shrug with his fellow Sarkaz.
"What happens if we miss a shift?" Ifrit asks, trying her best just to distract herself.
"Don't get paid for the day obviously, but you get knocked down a pay grade for every day. Oh, and you gotta explain to your line-buddies why they had to pull double-duty because you weren't there filling your spot, right?" Thame's voice sharpens to a blade as he booms over Ifrit, directing all that force into scattering the whispering huddle once again.
And it was like that the entire tram ride in, but at least the ride distracted her enough to not melt them down. The clack and clatter of the tracks, the rush of air through the open windows, the trees whipping past, and above it all that ominous structure looming as they closed with it, still puffing out that haze.
At least Luft and his idiot-brigade shut up at the sight of it too- the distance of it from Mako not doing justice to the size. A mobile platform, walker stilts tucked beneath the actual facility like a burden-beast resting on the ground. The tram station sits beneath, multiple rail lines that all meet here. No, now that she has a good look at it, the Crucible is less like a burden-beast and more like a fat, grey spider sitting at the center of its web. No matter how hard Ifrit strains her eyes, she can't see down the length of the other tracks, but as the group piled into one of the rickety elevators and started ascending, she can certainly see the hints of more Gramophones peeking out amidst the distant treelines. Other settlements like Mako, probably.
But what exactly that means, Ifrit didn't know, but given the size of this place compared to the population of Mako, it only made sense they needed more employees. She turns to Thames, wanting to ask what exactly they make here, but the moment she opens her mouth is the moment the elevator slips into darkness.