A/N: So, am I back? Did I find some magical reserve of inspiration? Is is just months of preparation and constant writing? No. No it isn't. I'm not back. Not fully. I'm not writing at 100%, all the time. I'm only updating so fast right now because I'm in that awkward buildup phase of a book that I can never get the hang of. If all this feels disjointed and rushed, it's probably because it is. This is probably just a bunch of flash moments, and It'll definitely pass. I'm not going to be in top from for a while, and don't expect these speed uploads to go on forever.
"C'mon, get up. Let's do this again." Nemo crossed her arms as she stood over Nunnally, who was on her arms and knees.
She coughed and spit phlegm onto the floor, panting from overexertion. Sweat dripped down her face, leaving her slick and cold.
Even in this limbo, this world between worlds Nemo inhabited, she could be exhausted. She stood back up, wiping off her mouth before turning back to Nemo.
"We're making progress. Try again. Don't just feel their emotion. See it." Nemo snapped its fingers and another three figures, weaved of gears and with a white mask for faces, appeared. Red shapes flicked across the masks, filling in facial features.
The red veil in Nunnally's eye returned, this time on command. Entire days could pass in this shard of C's world, whatever that was, and only hours would pass in real life. This place housed their minds, while Nunnally's body slept in reality. In here she could stand, and run, and jump. In here, she was as strong as anyone else.
They had worked on controlling her Geass, making it work with her will. Bidding it to come out, even for a second, had been arduous and painful, but eventually Nunnally had control.
The figures fell into more human poses, walking around. Two of them stood rather close, seemingly whispering to each other. The other lagged slightly behind, detaching itself from the group.
"Can you see it? Tell me what's going on. What are their emotions?" Nemo paced around the white marble floor.
"I-I…" Nunnally squinted. Colours swarmed around them, too faint to recognize a single shade. She focused, willing the swirling clouds to materialize into a more solid form. Between the two talking there was… pink? Red? Orange? It swirled around, too faint and mixed to tell. The last one was also too faint, was it red? Brown? Black? She pounded her fist against the wall beside her.
Her eyes burned, tears starting to come out of the left. Every use took so much out of her. The colours started to focus, coalescing into solid halos instead of swirling storm clouds.
"Those two... Are in love. Possessive of something, and… happy?" She replied.
"Good. What about the third?" Nemo smirked.
"I see… more love. And-and something else, something black and red and orange. Anger?"
"Not quite."
"Jealousy then?" Nunnally replied.
"Yes. We'll work on connections later. You can let go now." The automatons continued to walk in a wide circle.
Nunnally collapsed as the Geass faded away from her eye. Panting and coughing once again.
"We're going to have to work on your stamina." Nemo walked over to her. "Now, try putting emotions into them. Try… love in that one," It pointed to one of the two that were near each other, "and see if you can direct it towards the far one. Oh, and no talking. Just Geass."
Nunnally shakily stood up again. "Okay."
Directing emotions with her voice had been easy. Once she could control the activation, carrying emotions with her voice had been easy. But simply directing emotions into people, That was hard. Nunnally could barely even attempt it without breaking down physically. Rejection of the emotion was far more likely as well. No trial of direct manipulation had worked so far.
Geass appeared again, covering her eye with red light. Nunnally grabbed hold of that pink halo around one of the automatons, adding to it. The effort made her head spin. There was ringing in her ears, her heart threatened to beat through her chest.
Thoughts, I need to add thoughts. Loving thoughts of that of that one over there. She yanked on the halo, trying to pull it over to the lone figure. It refused to budge, and she pulled harder.
Loving thoughts, loving thoughts. She used like a wedge to pry the pink field free, and it slowly came loose.
Loving thoughts, loving thoughts. Her throat was dry from panting, Her stomach curled. Her head felt like it was stuck in a vise.
Loving thoughts, loving thoughts, lovi-
Nunnally let go and fell forward, blood spilling from her nose as she puked. The smells of iron, bile, and acid filled her nose, but she didn't turn away. She couldn't. She was too tired.
"Tsk," Nemo crouched over the fallen girl. "Is this because of me?" It muttered to itself. "I knew I should have picked a better candidate." It looked at its own hand. Not normal. Even for a code bearer. It should have its own form, not forced to take on that of its contract, forced to live inside of another mind. It wasn't fair.
Nunnally slept soundly, unconscious from her prior effort. She would wake from this dream soon enough.
It looked at the automatons. The one lagging behind turned into a group of two, the one forward, now left behind, silently yelling at them. It smirked yet again. Its queen was definitely rough around the edges, but there was potential. A great deal of potential.
Nunnally woke up from her slumber. Her eyes, bleary from rest, gave her cloudy vision. She instinctively tried to stand up, only for her to lean over slightly while no response came from her legs. She was almost sad to be bound in her wheelchair again.
Nunnally remembered the first time she woke up in the hospital. Her sight gone, her legs bandaged and numb, her back oddly tingly. They said that several bullets passed through or ricocheted off her lower spine. They tried complicated terms like axons, spinal infection, and nervous tissue in ways a seven-year old could understand while she was on morphine, but she didn't listen. Nor did she care. All that mattered was that she couldn't move or feel her legs. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't even make her toes wiggle. Even through the painkillers and opiates fogging up her mind, she panicked. Being so helpless, so totally useless made her scared. Would her sister abandon her? Would anyone care for a blind, crippled girl in Britannia? SHOULD any of them?
Eight years ago now, that was. She had almost forgotten what walking was like. How grass felt between her toes, how much it hurt when there was a rock in her shoe. She definitely missed it, but it was long in the past.
She stretched her back. Even though her fatigue in Nemo's limbo left her the moment she returned to her own body, sleeping in a sitting position for many an hour left her slightly creaky and tired.
From outside the door to her room she could hear Kallen and Milly outside, probably cooking. Their voices were muffled through the bedroom door, and Nunnally realized how dark it now was. She rolled her way to the light switch on the wall, flicking it on. Her room was sparse, most of her belongings were tucked away, unused. The multitude of gifts from her sister, ranging from ornate jewelry boxes to simple little trinkets laid in her drawers. She had unwilling to pull them out, even now. Her clothes were neatly packed away, courtesy of Sayoko.
Her focused turned to the mirror on the dressing table. Her reflection stared back at her, unflinching, determined. She beckoned, and the red glow of geass came, filling the eye of both her and her doppelganger behind the glass pane. Something was different about the look. It was harsher. More determined and less innocent than the blind girl a year ago. Lelouch would have disapproved.
She made a fist with her right hand, and brought it down on her knee, just above the kneecap. Nothing. Not even a twitch. Her legs might as well not have existed in the first place.
Kallen slumped back in her office chair, brushing her hair back down. The office heater was on the fritz again, and the humidity was starting to get to her. She loosened another button on her shirt as well as her tie, hoping for the sweet release of sleep, which was more and more likely to happen at this rate.
Almost the day after the terrorist attack, donations and sympathy rolled in from every direction. Many commented on how "horrible of an experience it must have been," and "how terrifying it must have been, having to deal with those barbaric hostage-takers.". The money came in, a much appreciated boon to their funds. Recently it had gotten worse, arsons and sabotage escalating as construction continued. A bomber was apprehended before he could blow up the foundations of a new apartment building just yesterday. It was only going to get worse.
Needless to say, Kallen played along with the sympathy, fabricating the stories of courage in the face of death, defiance against adversity, and the like. Sure she was scared, but she had been a soldier, a warrior, a knight. The sickly girl with a core of iron that galvanized the people into helping those worse off was a fabricated image, but not without truth behind it.
Much like Lelouch.
Her thoughts drew back again to the mysterious girl. First a princess, then an exile, then a student, then a terrorist leader against the country of her birth. It was an odd story, to say the least. As much as Kallen doubted her motives, one thing was clear. Lelouch hated Britannia. That was the truth to Zero, that was what allowed her to empathise with them, to craft a following around her. A cult of personality, almost. Something in the way she spoke, how she crafted her speeches and words, that made them want to charge in headfirst, no matter the odds or the orders. She was a true leader, better than anyone else.
Kallen was knocked out of her thoughts by Ken stepping into the office. She had an open door policy. No need to ever knock.
The secretary was sweaty, more than usual. His collar drooped and his shirt stuck to him in odd places. His brow was shiny and wet, and he was breathing heavily.
"Miss Stadtfeld," She bit back the urge to correct him, "T-there's a call for you. Line Four. It's the Baronet of York."
She smiled lightly, quickening the pace of her own breathing. No need for him to think she was less sick than she made herself out to be.
"Thanks," She answered, "and go take a break, you look terrible."
"A-ah, thank you, Miss Stadtfeld, but I'll get back to my work. I've got plenty of water, a-and I can't just leave all the work to the others." He sheepishly smiled back before quietly making his way out.
She pressed the speaker button on the desk phone, along with the appropriate channel. With how disheveled and hot she was, she was glad that he hadn't requested a video call.
"Miss Stadtfeld, I hope this finds you well." The loud voice at the other end of the line was quieted and restrained by the capabilities of the phone.
"Yes, well, mostly. The heater in my office is decidedly not working today, and in my condition I'm not likely to stay here for much longer." She used the practised formal lilt of proper speech, drilled into her by her stepmother's etiquette classes.
"Oh, well that's a shame. I'll have to get one of my people over there right away to fix it."
"That's very gracious of you, but I shouldn't take away from your rebuilding of your manor." She replied. At some point the sympathy that the elite could pull off went from welcome to gratingly annoying.
"Oh, feh, that old place? I'd been planning on renovating for months now! I've just had the perfect opportunity to as of late. It's no bother. Anyways, on to business." As much as the voice didn't change, the tone of speech shifted quite clearly to Kallen.
"I'm planning on holding another event, something extravagant. I'm thinking of holding a full scale charity gala, performers and all." The voice was optimistic, excited almost, as if it were the perfect plan running around his head.
"So soon? What about the terrorists? The protests?" She answered. Even now there were still many who didn't like SAZ construction, and recent events have only increased their numbers.
"That's the beauty of it, Miss Stadfeld. That's exactly why we need to hold something, something big. We need to show that we're not scared. That we won't be cowed by a terror attack. We'll do something big and extravagant in the heart of the city. Safety in audacity, my girl." He paused, letting her take in his proposal.
"And what about security? I mean, even with all of this, we're going to need protection, right? We don't know whether there's a group with enough resources to attack us again. Who's going to pay, or heck, arrange that?" Kalen posited.
"That's the best part, my dear. I was talking to Viceroy Lambert directly over brunch just yesterday, and he decided that it would be perfectly fine for him to make an appearance, directly!" The man sounded quite giddy over the phone. "He said would provide security detail for the whole event. Military security detail."
Kallen was honestly surprised. She had yet to meet the new Viceroy, and from what little she heard down in her end of the grapevine he was more of a political moderate. With sway and favour from the top authority in the country, it would grant the building of the SAZ and joint living zones legitimacy in the eyes of many of the rich, powerful elite.
She whistled in approval. "Do you have a date set for the event, or a location?"
"Yes I do," The man was practically beaming through the phone, "I've got invitations printed and groups booked. It'll be a week and a half from now, at Babel Tower."