Rhodes Island arrived at the mission site right when it was projected to. Arriving at mission sites on time or even ahead of schedule was part of the duties of the navigation and propulsion team, a team of twenty-four employees of Rhodes Island whose strict duties involved navigating the land ship and keeping it moving unless otherwise needed. That crew would get a few days to themselves while the combat operators of Rhodes Island would be working on the security contract at this mining and refinery plantation bordering Iberia's main territory. It would be a short mission, keeping in line with Rhodes Island's policies on security contracts — where they would operate as external security in exchange for the refueling of the main reactor of the land ship before moving onto the other obligations that Rhodes Island would need to fulfill closer to Lungmen.
This, of course, meant that it was time for combat operations to begin. The names of those on the first shift of security operations was read off — Skadi heard her name among those requested in the ready-room in the next thirty minutes. This meant that she would need to actually get dressed, and prepared to engage in a real fight. Something that she wasn't particularly looking forward to today. She was far more occupied with the book she had been reading. But this was part of what it meant to be a combat operator for Rhodes Island. She set her book aside, taking note of the page number she was on, before stepping into the restroom to freshen up. Once she was done in there, she stepped back into the room of her dorm, which was absent of any Laurentina. Skadi suspected that she had been whisked away on some work assignment aboard ship early in the morning, and that's why Skadi hadn't seen much of her today. But she didn't know, nor had she seen Laurentina to ask. She had too much else to worry about, to spend too much time idling, wondering where her lover was. She'd be back, she always was. And besides, if Laurentina wasn't back by the time Skadi returned from this first shift of security — she could always ask around to see what had become of her.
First in her preparations, came the tying back of her hair. Which of course meant brushing it into submission, before eventually tying the end of the massive ponytail with a specially-made hairband to keep it in place. Then came her combat pants — ones that looked rather impractical to those fellow operators, but were what Skadi had found to be the most comfortable for the long stretches of combat that she was used to. Her blouse followed, buttoning from the top down, flaring just around where it rested on her hips. Then, finally, slinging her cloak around her shoulders, and buttoning it closed. Done. She was finally dressed for combat, and had just enough time to sling her weapon case over her shoulder, and head up a few decks, and forward a few frames in the ship in order to reach the briefing room where she was expected to be in just a matter of moments.
She left her room behind, weapon-case slung over her shoulder and bouncing against her back as she walked. Forward the few frames to one of the central staircases of Rhodes Island, and then up the two decks to just outside the ready-room, where the other operators, and the Doctor themselves were waiting. It was custom for the Doctor to oversee, if not directly command the Operators deployed on any particular security mission. And if the Doctor wasn't in direct command? It was the little Cautus girl who would issue orders over the radio, or in the rare cases where both the Doctor and the Cautus girl were occupied? Kal'tsit would give the orders. Skadi didn't know what would happen if all three of them were unable to take direct command of a security deployment. Maybe another elite operator with tactical acumen would step up, or perhaps the leader of the deployed operators would be chosen to command from the field. She wasn't entirely sure, and wasn't particularly of a mind to find out either, it sounded like a hassle.
The briefing was short, just simply initial deployment details, buddy-pairings for in case the deployed operators would need it, and rules of engagement. Which were, as always, "if attacked, fight back, and radio it in." Skadi noted all this, as she normally would and always had, before standing up to follow the rest of the Operators out of the room, her weapon case slung over her shoulder once again.
The Operators all went up to the top deck of the land ship, to where a waiting heli-craft sat, its rear door open and waiting for them to board, to shuttle the squad to the designated operations zone. And shuttle it did. It wasn't an elegant heli-craft by any stretch, more of a box with winglets that had in-line propellers, but it served its tasks well enough, and was happy to be of use to the squadron.
The ride was quiet, punctuated only by the thrumming of the propellers, and the rattle of loose paneling from a recent maintenance overhaul that had missed a couple bolts on the interior lining. All the operators sat in two lines, one line along each lateral wall of the heli-craft, waiting for the signal to deploy out the way they entered the craft, through the cargo door. They all sat, and this was the first time that Skadi had a real chance to take in all of the face that were present. There was that Lupine woman — the one who always seemed to be the bodyguard of the Doctor, and now seemed to be the squad leader — the pair of senior Blacksteel transfers — the Vouvire and Vulpo. There was green-haired Archosauria, who Skadi recognized from the medical staff. A red-haired sankta who was fidgeting with her gun, and trying to not throw "looks" in the direction of the Lupine woman. There was the green-haired Oni from Lungmen, who seemed scary, but every other time that Skadi saw her that wasn't now, she was with the smaller Lung woman, and didn't seem that scary after all. A pink-haired feline who seemed to cower at every noise the heli-craft made and held a staff that shimmered in the low-light situation they all sat in. And then, finally, a blue-haired, beanie wearing girl, who sat with a strange looking gun between her legs, looking out the nearby window, and not paying attention to the idle conversation of the operators nearest to her.
The lights of the heli-craft went out, and were replaced by a red light, shining from above the cargo door, a signal to all involved, to get ready to deploy. The Oni lady stood up, as did the Lupine woman. The rest of the passengers were quick to follow. Shortly after the red light shone, the cargo door opened, whipping everyone's hair around in the wind that was kicked up inside from the still-moving craft. And then, eventually the craft set down, and the red light turned green, indicating they were all clear to disembark. They did, those closest to the door exiting first.
The ground beneath Skadi's boots is brown, the color of dirt-blasted rock and dry lands that would not sea water in the ways that those lands closer to the shore might. This land was stark, bleak, vacant of life in the way that the high plains of Iberia would know, or even the harsh life of the Ursus territories, even those in the far north, would understand it. This wasn't land that was meant for her kind to stand on, so far from the sea and so far from the life-giving water that blessed great swaths of the continent. Yet here she stood, boots planted firmly in the soil, crunching over what little weeds and plants did grow here.
She was the last one out of the craft, and shortly after she was, the cargo door began to close, and then the thrumming of the rotors intensified, as the craft took off again, and flew its way back towards the land ship. Before long, it was merely a blip on the horizon, its rotors silent over the distance it had flown.
There was a ping in Skadi's ear.
"Operator Skadi, please proceed with the deployment plan." The Doctor's voice spoke to her through the ear piece she'd placed there.
There was no need to respond to the raspy voice of the Doctor, just merely comply. The sensors and drones of Rhodes Island would be enough to see that she had heard, and was obeying the directive. Weapon case in tow, she began her deliberate walk towards where she had been indicated to deploy during the briefing. She knew she would make it in plenty of time, well before the first enemy would deign to poke its head out of the terrain and try to attack her.
The terrain was rough, deep canyons from old, dried-up river runoff. There were visible, wispy roots from what plants did grow here, peaking through the walls of the canyon. As she made her way deeper into the paths and further from the drop point, she became more and more convinced that something was watching her. An uncomfortable feeling, one that wasn't unfamiliar to her. She'd had the feeling before, back when she'd first come to Rhodes Island, and the feeling of being watched was around every corner, in the dining hall and even for those first few nights inside her newly assigned room. But this time, it felt more intimate, like being watched by an old friend, not knowing for certain that they are there, but knowing the feeling of their glance all the same.
Something whispered to her. Something from the Deep, from inside of her that was familiar and told her where to go, what to do next. It had been a part of her for a long time, and generally, she could ignore. But this time she couldn't. It told her where the slug's nest was, where the incoming man with the blade was. When to draw her weapon, and when to stop because one of her allies was about to fire on the spot that she was about to step. There was a call from behind Skadi, she turned to face the voice that called at her. It was the pink-haired feline from the drop-ship. She waved, and called something from the top of the canyon; something Skadi couldn't quite hear. Something that sounded like an apology, if you took that apology and spoke it through water, recorded it, reversed the resulting recording, and then played it back again through water. Something about the mere thought of water sent a shiver down Skadi's spine. She impulsively spun again, and drove her now drawn-blade into the flesh of an orignium slug that was about to pounce on her. The weightiness of her blade cutting clean through the slug, carving it in two.
She took a deep breath of air, breathing in the scent of the land, and of the now-carven slug. Feeling as if she'd not breathed in minutes; gulping down the scents of fresh air — she wasn't sure what had been keeping her from breathing, or even the sensation that she hadn't. Whether it was a mere reaction to the idea of being surrounded by water, or simply losing track of herself in the flow of combat as she experienced it. She breathed, normally, or at least as close to normal as she could force herself. It hurt, like her lungs were filled with with water. Feeling as if the water had displaced the air she was breathing was sending shocks of pain through her chest and into her limbs. But there was no pain, just the sensation of it instead.
But she breathed all the same, doing her best to keep her breathing level, despite the sensation of pain that permeated her lungs.
The voice was familiar, she knew what it was. Constantly eating away at the back of her mind, it told her what to do, how to fight, where to step and how to survive. She didn't know when it started being more than dormant, just that it started driving her. It wanted her to survive just as much as she wanted to survive. A thirst, a pressure, from deep within Skadi, demanding her to survive. She had no choice other than to comply, both nature and instinct demanded it. This isn't to say that she didn't know what the voice was. Who it was, what it was calling for, eternally eating away at the back of her mind for. She was well aware of what it was, and how it affected her. She dare not say its name, never admit to anyone that it was there, influencing her actions. For even then - for every action that the voice influenced, every time it drove her to act out of what would look like to anyone else - instinct, it was still her doing the action. It was still her action, her decision to act, and the consequences of her actions that she faced. It wasn't the voice having taught her these things, instead, it was simply interacting with her latent power as an Abyssal Hunter already.
Skadi was still the one breathing, the one acting, the one swinging her sword, the one loving and the one living. Anything else that the voice was doing, it was merely that — a voice in her head.
Skadi was the one in control. The one living her life, walking the path that she'd always walked. She'd always been destined to live this life, she thinks to herself. That she was always destined to come to shore, to become known as a walking Catastrophe, and to be considered one of Rhodes Island's elite. To have found what she had of this life and to turn it into something special, unique to her and her experience. Something that no one else could have or take from her. Yet, in this moment, she couldn't help but feel that same doubt she had felt in Sal Viento. The one that ate at her, and would continue to eat at her, to make her question her own History — was it really her own? Was she merely a puppet, living a life that she wasn't in control of. Something or someone egging her along this path, knowing all the while that she would listen. She hated this feeling, the questioning of even if her love for Laurentina was preordained in such a manner that she had no control of or over it. She knew, innately that this wasn't true. That she had control over her life, in how it played out, in how she loved her, and in how things would continue in her life. Whether things were preordained or not, it didn't matter — because in this moment, and in every moment, Skadi knew that there was love for her, that there was care and respect for her, not for some concept that she was playing along to.
It was her life.
Yet, despite all of that, in this moment, Skadi couldn't tell if it was this voice, herself or something else that was urging her to move, to swing her sword. To get up from the ground, to listen to the voice of the Doctor in her ear, trying to bring her back to consciousness. The pinging that replaced it, the high-pitched shrilling that replaced that pinging.
She didn't realize she had hit the ground, just that she was suddenly there, face-first in the dirt. The smell of dust and sun-dried weeds filled her nose. She coughed, once, twice. Then gagged as something came up from her stomach and through her throat. She didn't hear the sound, so much as felt how it slid out of her mouth. Meaty, and wet. Tasting faintly of her own blood and of the Sea. Her mouth, now vacant of the thing she had coughed up, tasted of salt, and of water. Of something foreign to her, but that which still felt oddly nostalgic to the back of her mind. It reminded her of the Sea, of Home, of her long-dead parents, and of the familiarity of things that have long since been lost to her, lost to the tides and currents. She was afraid to open her eyes to see what it was that had come up from inside of her.
She didn't will herself to sleep so much as sleep washed over her, against the shrill noise in her ear, trying to get her back to consciousness. There was a distant, low hammering that she could feel against her cheek as she rolled her head to the side, trying to turn away from the thing that smelled too fond to her. Pointing her face in the direction where the hammering came from. She managed to open her eyes slightly, to see a flash of familiar green, and a staff. Part of the back of her mind was aware who it belonged to, but once again, couldn't remember the medic's name… She casted a spell of sorts — a burst of healing magic, thinking that Skadi was in some way injured, and that's what she had collapsed from. The Archosaurian girl had no way of knowing that it would be pointless to do so.
Skadi's consciousness began to truly fade as she heard a peppering sound from just beyond her consciousness, the sound of a Sankta's firearm, as she defended those Operators surrounding Skadi, who couldn't muster the strength to bring herself back to consciousness. At least the screeching noise in her ear piece had dissipated, as she was surrounded by the operators trying to evacuate her from the battlefield. A battlefield that was rapidly becoming overrun with slugs and wildlife.
Skadi didn't hear the thrumming of the heli-craft as it raced back to the operations area to retrieve her, loaded with medical staff.
Skadi didn't see the panicked face of Laurentina, as she did her best to stay calm once they had carted Skadi onto the heli-craft, and took off back towards Rhodes Island.
Those medical operators who had been on Rhodes Island for long enough knew of Laurentina. Or more accurately — knew of, or were friends of Specter. She had been in the medical bay, undergoing treatment for her condition, for her memory atrophy and personality condition. It wasn't uncommon for her to be there now, undergoing screening of her infection, and how it was progressing. No one had seen such a progression of oripathy, specifically concentrated around the spine and the spinal fluid. Meaning that Laurentina, in her current state was among those whose infection was of special interest for both medical reasons, but scientific reasons. So of course it would be logical that she was well known by many of the medical staff and operators. Including the ones who had carted Skadi into the med-bay the few days prior, after she had collapsed during a mission. Laurentina hadn't been there, she had been asked to be an observer for the mission by the Doctor and Kal'tsit, who were still suspicious of circumstances, especially given the fact that the dream that sparked this whole chain of events, was set in the same location that the current security contract was playing out. Laurentina wasn't entirely sure what the Doctor was playing at, what they were planning to have done with sending Skadi on the first shift.
But it was clear now, that something was wrong with her. Something that no one quite knew how to describe.
When she was taken into the medical bay, they ran vitals on Skadi. Blood pressure, heart rate, blood sugar, blood oxygen levels — the physiological works. Everything was normal. From the Rhodes Island's drones perspectives, it looked like she merely blacked out where she stood during a lull in combat; so there was suspicion that maybe she had an unseen injury, or perhaps there was some sort of unknown poison interfering with her body's ability to operate normally. A full blood panel was run, a computerized tomography scan was taken, just in case she had some sort of concussion or other unseen injury that was causing her problems with waking up after her episode. Nothing the medical operators, even under the guidance and suggestion of Doctor Kal'tsit — found anything amiss. She'd simply blacked out, and hadn't woken up yet.
It was twelve hours before Laurentina was allowed into the medbay to see her Skadi. Well past the "lights out" hours for most operators aboard Rhodes Island — and well beyond her own normal sleeping time. But for Skadi, she would do anything to make sure that she was okay. So stay awake she did. Waiting until one of the junior medical staffers told her that she was okay to enter the med bay, and walked Laurentina to Skadi's bed, where she lay, hooked up to various machines that were keeping an eye on her, with an almost stereotypical intravenous bag dripping into a tube that was needled into Skadi's arm. Keeping a constant flow of electrolytes and other nutrients flowing into her body to make sure that despite her state, she was still being properly taken care of. Laurentina hated seeing Skadi like this. It felt wrong, seeing her so helpless. It wasn't uncommon for Skadi to come down to the medbay for tests or testing that needed to be done on her strange physiology compared to the land-walkers of the rest of Rhodes Island or even that of the other Aegir aboard ship — but it was still strange to see her like this now. Asleep, hooked up to machines, and for all the world looking like she was napping, rather than under some kind of affliction that was keeping her unconscious.
Laurentina, for all the good in the world, didn't have a melody in her throat while she sat next to Skadi's bed, in a nearly uncomfortable chair that one of the nurse operators had fetched for her. It had a kick-out leg-rest, and would lean back if she wanted it. But all Laurentina wanted to do, was crawl into the bed next to Skadi, and do her best to comfort her from beyond the realm of awareness. She didn't know what could possibly be wrong with her, but there was still part of her that felt somehow responsible. She wasn't there. She was nearly two kilometers away, aboard the landship, watching her beloved fall to the ground due to some unseen affliction. She had practically torn through a bulkhead door to try and get to the medical transport in time before it left, and was barely restrained by the medical staff from carrying Skadi home, for all the good it would've done either of them.
For all the world, Laurentina felt just as helpless as Skadi looked to be.
That night, the medbay was silent. It stayed silent, with the comings and goings of the night-shift operators, even with the visitation of one of the following shifts of combat operators needing to come in and get a minor cut looked at and treated. Everyone seemed to know what it meant to stay silent, to stay away from the sorrowful Laurentina, as she kept her silent watch over her Skadi. No one bothered her until morning — when one of the nurses politely, and timidly asked Laurentina to move to the other side of Skadi's bed, so she could replace the near-drained IV bag. Laurentina, with bags threatening to form under her eyes, nodded, stood up, moved her chair, and sat down on the other side of Skadi. Patiently watching her face for any indication at all that she would wake up.
This is how Laurentina spent the next couple days. Barely sleeping, barely eating anything at all, asides from the nutrient bars that would sometimes be left at the foot of Skadi's bed, when Kal'tsit would come to personally check on Skadi's condition. They were quiet exchanges, where Kal'tsit would take mental note of the vitals displayed on the screens around Skadi's bed, and then ask Laurentina if she needed anything. Laurentina would always shake her head no; but Kal'tsit would leave behind a nutrient bar all the same.
Laurentina would eat the bar, dutifully. Realizing the folly in not keeping her own strength up for the sake of her beloved. But that didn't detract from how she spent her days. Life went on, aboard Rhodes Island. The operations for the Security Contract continued, and both Skadi and Laurentina were not assigned to any further shifts for the contract. The Doctor kept special note to keep anyone who might spend too much time around in the medbay, assigned to occasional shifts. To not only keep their minds off of the state of Skadi — but the lamentous state of Laurentina. The Doctor also realized the folly in trying to separate Laurentina from Skadi at such a critical juncture, despite Amiya's protestations. When it came to Operator assignments, the Doctor's word was final.
Rhodes Island moved on from the site, well before Skadi woke up. Laurentina wasn't even sure what day it was or how many it had been since Skadi's collapse.
But when Skadi did eventually stir, Laurentina was in a fugue state, just between falling asleep and staying asleep. But the motion in the bed Laurentina leaned against was enough to snap her awake.
Skadi groaned, like someone had hit her over the head; and she rubbed her eyes with bare hands.
Laurentina shot up like a light, and stared, dumbfounded, at Skadi.
"Skadi?" Her voice teemed with excitement and relief that hid the sorrow that she otherwise felt. There was even the inklings of a melody, long since having vacated her throat in the time since the dream that she'd had, almost ten days prior. "Are you—?"
"Mm…" Skadi groaned, her head pounding from dehydration, "Where am I…?"
Laurentina's heart raced in her ears, and she struggled to find the right words to describe the relief she felt from seeing Skadi's eyes open, and the joy from hearing her voice; even though Skadi's voice was closer to a rasp than its usual tenor. She knew what she wanted to say, but couldn't find it in herself to just simply release all these feelings at once. Even a melody wouldn't do. It was just simply a relief to see Skadi move, to see her awake again.
The remainder of the day was filled with nurses and doctors, and even the Doctor and Kal'tsit coming to visit to check on her. Some part of Laurentina was surprised, but not shocked to see the Doctor in their full, traditional attire, silently watching Skadi as she answered Kal'tsit's questions. There were none given by the Doctor directly, instead Kal'tsit asking questions about Skadi, from Skadi. Ascertaining her mental faculties, and seeing if she had any memory as to why she had passed out.
All the while, Laurentina felt a strange sensation from Skadi. Something that was akin to friendliness, fondness, but also something more intimate than that. Like she'd woken up with a specific mood — but there was no indication to that at all. Just looks, and the slight tilt of her head as she would watch Laurentina watch her back. Like someone observing Laurentina for the first time. It was strange to feel such a sensation from Skadi, someone who would otherwise be completely familiar with her.
Eventually, the Doctors and Nurses all went away, leaving Skadi and Laurentina alone with a cup of water for each of them. Laurentina took careful, measured sips — while Skadi simply stared at it for a while, before looking at Laurentina as she sat next to her.
Skadi opened her mouth to say something — and a sound came out, but then she made a face like she'd said something she didn't mean to. She frowned, which turned into a scowl, before trying again, making eye-contact with Laurentina as she did.
"I missed you."
The way the words were said, sent a shiver down Laurentina's spine. It wasn't so much the content of the words, or the arrangement. But the strange familiarity of the words, how they were said, the context in which they were said, and the fact that it had been ten days since Laurentina had last heard anything of the sort from Skadi, that sent ripples of joy through her chest. But, there was still that strangeness, to the familiarity — something that Laurentina couldn't quite place, something that made the comforting words feel more foreign than they were probably intended to.
Laurentina opened her mouth to respond.
"I missed you too, Skadi." She said, smiling as best she could, taking a small sip of her water again after she had said those words.
It was another hour or so before Skadi and Laurentina were allowed to leave the med bay. Laurentina barely had seen a clock, but had the sense that despite having just woken up, all Skadi would want to do, was sleep. So they retired to their room. Laurentina changing out of the clothes she had been in for the better part of the last ten days, and helping Skadi change into something more comfortable than a medical gown. They took time, before resting, to detangle and brush-out Skadi's long hair.
In the low light of their room, moonlight pouring in through the window, did the strands of Skadi's hair remind Laurentina of slivers of moon rock — simple, elegant, and shimmering in the sunlight reflected from the lunar surface. Skadi, for all her exhaustion, still found it in her to find a melody, gentle, yet catching in her throat, to hum while she worked the brush through Skadi's hair. It took time, more time than possibly any other brushing she had ever done for Skadi had taken. But it was a simple act of love. Something she could do to take the effort off of Skadi's back while she recovered from her extended hospital trip. Laurentina forced the melody from her throat anyways, doing her best to not sound strained or forced at all while she did. Skadi, once finding the melody herself, hummed along, and sat — back facing Laurentina, as she watched through the window the slow progression of the land-ship across the terrain. Laurentina's eyes were closed as she worked her fingers and the brush through Skadi's hair. There was no need to see what she was doing. The familiar action was enough to just simply work through her hair.
Eventually, the task of brushing was complete, and it was time for bed. Skadi let Laurentina tie her hair up again, to keep it from tangling again overnight, and then, without much prompting at all, crawled into bed with Laurentina. Taking her usual spot, furthest from the wall, she waited for Laurentina to get comfortable first, before herself pulling the blankets around both of their shoulders, and snuggling up close to Laurentina. Nose pressed into the crook of Laurentina's neck as she did. It was a simple act, but one that but Laurentina's mind at ease. There was something so intimate, so familiar about the act of her lover moving closer to her, snuggling up against her and even intertwining her legs with Laurentina's own, that it felt natural — like the sensation that Laurentina had felt earlier, was completely misread. Laurentina kept the melody from before. Wrapping her arms as best she could around Skadi's shoulders and lacing her fingers into her hair, to scratch gently at Skadi's scalp, giving the most reassuring, and comforting of touches. That she was safe, that she was home, and that most of all, Laurentina was there for her. Something that she couldn't give Skadi while she had been in the hospital. Something that felt ten days overdue. Eleven nights since the dream that Laurentina had where she'd seen Skadi's form so twisted and inhuman compared to the girl who was now in her arms, beginning to snore gently against Laurentina's skin.
It didn't take much longer for Laurentina herself to fall asleep after Skadi started lightly snoring.
Now, falling into a much deeper sleep, Laurentina felt more at ease than she had in the past several nights. Truly at comfort and at peace with her situation, now with the girl she loves in her arms. She drifts into a deep sleep. Its a dreamless sleep, something of a blessing in of itself. She doesn't have thoughts, just a pure blackness that is comforting to her. Even through her sleep, she can still feel the breathing of Skadi against her skin, and the feeling of her fingers lightly tracing along the curve of Skadi's scalp. Trailing down along her hair, giving a gentle brushing to her hair that was more intimate than what she had done earlier with the brush itself. Her fingers were more intimate than any brush.
Laurentina slept, more soundly than she had in the few moments she had managed to doze off in that med-bay chair. And was quite content.
When she woke up, she wasn't greeted with the familiar light of the sun. Instead the moon was further down in the sky, inching closer to the horizon. When she opened her eyes, the room was still dark — but there was an impression in the mattress where she was expecting Skadi to be, her arms wrapped around the shape of her that she thought should be there, but now that her eyes were open, Laurentina felt the absence persistent. One that sent a quick twang of pain through her heart, and a more sustained twinge of panic through her mind. She nearly shot up in bed, until she caught the glinting of something in the room. Moon-like silver, shifting the light from the moon as it slid ever closer to setting on the western horizon out of their window. In the sill of the window, sat Skadi. Her eyes locked, gazing out of the window, at some distant object that slid past on the horizon, or just beyond the horizon itself. Laurentina watched her for minutes that felt like hours, simply as she sat in the window, wearing practically no clothes at all, and bathed in moonlight, with her hair draped down her back. There was something elegant about Skadi, that Laurentina couldn't take her eyes off of her for. She couldn't name that thing even if she tried, so instead she watched as the minutes rolled past.
In those minutes, in the silence of their room, Laurentina could hear the sound of the life-support vents shuttling air dutifully into the room. Keeping fresh air in, and used air out. Eventually, that system — as it always did. Cycled in the morning, switching from the backup supply, to the primary supply to anticipate the higher workload that came with morning, and as operators roused themselves from sleep and into more active states. States that required more fresh air.
It was a quick cycle, no more than a few seconds whenever the cycle would happen. But it plunged the room into silence that otherwise wouldn't have been. And that was when Laurentina heard the melody that came from Skadi's lips. It was faint, practically evanescent in the mere seconds that passed during the cycle of the life support. The melody was familiar, haunting, and it flooded Laurentina with emotions she hadn't felt in so long, that there was practically a new form of nostalgia that was associated with it. But with that nostalgia, came terror. It had been so long since she'd heard the melody, but she had heard it before. Yes, it was familiar, in the way one's favorite melody would always be haunting the corner of one's mind — or the lullaby a mother would sing when you were a child would stick with you for the rest of your life. This melody was one that Laurentina knew that she would know for the rest of her life. No matter how long that was. It was a melody that haunted the edges of scary Aegerian fairy tales, and were used to keep the children from acting out — that the Seaborn would come, singing a melody, so recognizable that it would send shivers down the spines of unsuspecting adults if caught off guard.
It was that melody that came from the lips of Skadi, so faint that Laurentina wasn't entirely sure that she had heard it at all.
It was the melody of the Sea.
It was the melody of We Many.
Of Ishar-mla.
There is a special place in Rhodes Island, a contaminant lab, one that was very rarely used, but was secure, hermetically sealed and containing its own atmosphere, completely isolated from the rest of the Rhodes Island and its atmosphere. There is something about this lab, one that's so rarely used, that makes it remarkable in Kal'tsit's mind. She remembers every time she has ever had to suit up in a biohazard suit, bearing the armband of the Medical department of Rhodes Island, poking or prodding at whatever it was that required such a secure location.
This is one of those times that Kal'tsit is sure she'll remember for the rest of her life. Suiting up, wearing attire something similar to that of the Doctor — made of plastic and polymers that are designed to not let anything foreign in, or anything internal out. She doesn't mind the attire, at least for going into a place that contained samples and biological contaminants that which could make her sick, or something worse than sick. Kal'tsit isn't unused to being mere inches or a puncture away from illness or death, but still, part of her mind muses about this while she secures the visor and hood about her face and head, in order to enter the lab. There's a soft hissing as she secures the visor, the self-contained atmosphere of the suit sealing itself in polymer and plastic.
Each step she takes towards the lab from the ready-room, the uniform she wears crinkles and makes noise not unlike every time the Doctor themselves moves. As she moves towards the airlock, there are no windows to the lab, no portals or screens to see inside. No concept to those unfamiliar with the lab, of the size of it.
Kal'tsit presses her ID code into the key-pad on the external door of the airlock to the contaminant lab, and the airlock door makes a sound, before eclipsing open. Kal'tsit steps in, and presses a button to her side, cycling the airlock. Replacing the atmosphere with pure nitrogen, before eventually equalizing it with the atmospheric content of the lab beyond. Once this cycle is complete, the interior door to the lab opens for her. A soft chime ringing through her suit's radio, tuned to the same frequency as all the other suits that would be used in this room — and even the PA system of the room itself. There's no need to waste the space on speakers in this space.
Inside the lab, the harsh lights cast from the ceiling, gives the entire room an incredibly harsh, sterile feeling to it. Kal'tsit knows that the reason for that is to make sure that there's even lighting all throughout the lab, so that there are no uncanny shadows that might hide secrets that would otherwise be found. But it still harsh to her eyes. She steps into the lab, and through the visor of her attire, sees the Doctor, a Senior Medical Operator, and then finally the Doctor's bodyguard. All wearing attire similar to that of the Doctor, and all but the Doctor wearing armbands designating what departments they all were from. But she doesn't greet them, instead moving over to stand alongside them as they all stand around a screen, watching as the Doctor themself, works through a microscope, on some sample.
"What is it that needed my attention?" Kal'tsit asks through the radio of her suit.
"Because I'm not sure what I'm looking at, Doctor Kal'tsit." The Doctor's voice returns to her over the speakers in the suit. Raspy, and eternally scratchy. Even through the radio's short-range static, the Doctor's voice sounds raspy. "Texas, explain what it is you found."
"After Operator Skadi blacked out, and my partner and I moved to secure her location, I noticed something." The Lupine woman motions as the lab table in front of them. A fairly large petri dish containing what looks almost like a miniature lung, covered in pockmarks of red, blue and black. If Kal'tsit looks at it through the corner of her eye, she swears that it seems to be pulsing lightly in the harsh light of the room. "I initially was going to ignore it, but then noticed the trails of saliva coming from Skadi's mouth, leading to this… Thing..."
The Doctor doesn't look up from the microscope, using some form of manipulator to prod at the sample that is being inspected.
"How did it end up here?" Kal'tsit asks, meaning, in particular, the contaminant lab.
"Because it breached the containment we'd initially put it in." The Medical operator explained. She's a green-haired Archosauria, one that Kal'tsit was sure had also been on the deployment with Skadi. "We initially kept it in the med bay, but once it breached its containment, I had it immediately moved to this lab.
"Who knows about this?" Kal'tsit asks.
"Those here, the operators on the mission with Skadi would be aware there was a… Something that we brought back with us. But no one's asked, and the rumor mill doesn't have anything about it." The Lupine woman explains. "And the one medical operator who moved it to this lab."
"They're all under a gag order about any contaminants regarding Skadi." Kal'tsit practically snaps. And Texas nods. "But what makes this particular sample so odd?"
"Because even a sample, cut away from the primary sample, is proliferating."
"Define proliferating?"
"The sample is biological in nature, but it isn't alive by any stretch. There are no organelles. Initially I thought it was a single-celled organism that somehow had invaded Skadi's physiology, but that wouldn't explain proliferation. If it was unicellular it would simply not proliferate. But it is." The Doctor calmly explains. "It's doing so right now." The Doctor takes the sample that they're examining with the microscope, and removes it from its resting place, showing it to Kal'tsit. "This was a sample no more than a millimeter across."
"It's almost a full centimeter." Kal'tsit marvels at this, "Where is it deriving its energy for growth from?"
The Doctor shrugs and replaces the sample to the microscope. "That's what I was hoping you'd be able to help us out with."
"Another thing as well…" The green-haired Archosauria interjects; "While we were trying to figure out if it was unicellular or not, I did a genetic typing." The medic grabs a nearby stack of papers, handing them to Kal'tsit who takes it with a gloved hand. "And despite having remarkable molecular resistance, and nearly foreign genetic markers, it did nearly match, all but say… Two percent, Skadi's own DNA."
"And you're sure about this?" Kal'tsit looks over the top page of the stack of papers — a result printout from one of the genetic analysis machines in the lab. "Because if that thing is part of Skadi. We've got major problems, Doctor." The Doctor doesn't look up from the microscope, as they continue to manipulate the sample. "Has someone asked Skadi about this?"
The Archosaurian shook her head; "No, we've not asked, nor has she. We don't think she's even aware that she coughed up the damn thing."
"That would make sense. She was blacked out, she had no idea where she was initially when she woke up either, nor any idea how long she was out for." Kal'tsit mused. "For now then, we'll keep this under wraps, none of you are to talk about what we've talked about here, or about this Thing that we're investigating. Understood?" Kal'tsit's mannerisms took upon an air of command that she wasn't unused to giving, but felt appropriate given the circumstances. The two others who were present nodded in agreement, before turning to leave for the airlock. Leaving just the Doctor and Kal'tsit alone in the contaminant lab, while the Doctor continued to apply different stimuli to the sample underneath their microscope.
"This is bad." Kal'tsit affirmed. The Doctor nods from underneath their suit. "This is obviously seaborn flesh, but it came from Skadi. Who knows how long it had been growing inside of her before she coughed it up."
"But maybe not the worst case."
"An operator spontaneously collapsing and then coughing up seaborn flesh isn't the 'worst case' to you?" Kal'tsit snaps at the Doctor.
"No. Because part of it would mean her body has rejected this thing. And extracted it through whatever means it could." The Doctor explains. "We just now have to keep it under study, to make sure nothing happens to it."
Kal'tsit stands in awe. "You're denying the obvious truth!" Kal'tsit hisses at the doctor.
"I'm trying to keep hope." The Doctor slams their hands against the lab-bench, and stands. Kal'tsit has never seen the Doctor this upset before. But here they are, having had slammed their hands into the workbench, and standing up in anger. They take a deep breath to look at Kal'tsit. As they turn, Kal'tsit recognizes the posture, the tone in the Doctor's voice. The sense of dread inside of it — she'd heard it once before. A long time ago, during Babel. The tone of someone who knew what was coming, and was powerless to stop it — yet was clinging onto what strained hope there still was, that the situation would turn out differently than the obvious way it looked to. "You know what's coming now, the same as I do. The only difference is that am not willing to give up hope about it."
There's a silence between the two, as they stand in the contaminant lab. No noise between them, or over the radio. Until, after a moment's thought, does Kal'tsit speak up. "Where's Skadi now?"
Skadi stands on the upper deck of Rhodes Island, clad in her traveling clothes. Clad in Red. Wind blowing through her white hair, listening to the breeze across the deck and the distant rumbling of the treads of the land ship far beneath her feet. At her feet, lays her case, inside of it is her weapon, and some supplies that she had cleverly tucked away along the foam lining of the case.
She knows what is happening to her, knows it all too well. And knows all too well that the end of herself is coming as she loses more and more control to the influence of Him. She hates it. Resents it. Abhors that this is the life that she's been given, and that its being taken away from her because of something that she didn't have any control over. She hates that this is the mere consequence of her birth, of every decision that she's ever made along her life's path. She hates that she has been given this life, this miraculous chance at living — one where she has had many joys, and yet many pains. Only for it to be slowly taken away from her. Not even as the result of a long life. Instead of a short one, filled with pain. But even still, there was still love, and good things that happened to her, that made this life worth living.
She hated how it was all being taken away from her. Rhodes Island, her family in the Abyssal Hunters, Laurentina — all of it. Being taken away from her slowly, painfully.
Fine. That's how it would be anyways. There was a better way to go about this. To spend the final weeks of lucidity she was sure she'd have. The ones where she was sure she'd feel her sanity fray at the edges, until finally it call came crashing around her, resulting in something happening to her that was a fate worse than death. To have her body, her personality, her very essence — subsumed by Him.
She reached for her case, which lay propped against the handrail that she stood next to. And slung it over her shoulder. She knew that the journey ahead of her, to reach her destination, would be long. It would be lonely — but now, looking out across the landscape bordering the Iberian's territory — it felt impossibly so. Especially knowing what she does about what will be at the end of it all.
She steps up to the handrail, case still slung over her shoulder, and takes a deep breath — before stepping off and away from Rhodes Island for the last time.
The fall was more graceful than anyone who would've been watching would've thought it was. Skadi landed on her feet with nary a sound, and leaving behind nothing but footprints as she walked away from Rhodes Island, as it left her behind on the barren landscape of the territory just outside Iberia, rumbling softly as she watched it disappear into the horizon and then out of view. With it, left Laurentina, and countless others who Skadi would miss with all her heart, but knew that it was for the better to not be near them when she would finally lose control.
It was fortunate to her, that she didn't have to travel far in order to reach her destination. It would just be a few days by foot to reach the shore, and then there she would be. At the place that would be the least suspected place for her to go, given her situation. A place where no one would bother her. And a place where she could bother no one.
A place where she could rest in peace, with her dignity intact.
She walked across the Iberian plains, having entered the territory of Iberia, and avoiding any of the in-land territories, heading instead, in a winding path that took her more directly to the sea, than it did towards any markers of civilization as a sane person, stranded without a land ship would. This was by design, and almost by urging from somewhere in her body. Something that gave her an instinct towards the sea, as much as the smell of it indicated that she was headed the right direction. She traversed the lands of Iberia with no one bothering her, and bothering no one else as she made her way across sun-glazed plains, and soft, rolling hills painted in the moon's glow. There was no one else out here. No one to bother her, or question who she was or where she was going. That made things easier for her. The fewer the people, if any at all who knew where she was going, the better.
On the final day of travel, she stirred herself awake just before dawn, and on that northerly wind, the scent the air carried was so familiar that her eyes threatened to well with tears, despite the clenching in her heart at the memories that came with the smell of the Sea. The memories of home, of a time of peace that she could still remember, if not faintly at the tip of her memory. Yet, the more haunting fact, was the primacy of the sense of home, of belonging, that was associated with the Sea. She couldn't tell if it was more of her, or more of Him that made her feel such a way.
She continued on that day, and by sunset, had reached the remnants of the village of Sal Viento.
The village itself was completely abandoned, even by Iberia's Penal Battalion. Which was once again, fortunate for her, for the entirely same reasons as before — to bother no one and to be bothered by no one. She wondered idly if the young girl she had met, the last time she was here, was still alive.
It was already well into being dark by the time she had reached the cathedral, and inside it was nearly pitch-black. She didn't mind. She could see just as well as if it were day. And the calling from inside her had only gotten stronger as she had made it closer and closer to the Sea with each passing day. Until now. The feeling was practically ravenous now.
She didn't need light to find her way to the staircase she had descended so long ago. Or to descend the stairs to the carved-rock chamber below Sal Viento, where she, Laurentina, and Gladiia had fought the Bishop so long ago now. When she had first begun to question if her life was really her own. It felt fitting, to return here, now that those doubts were coming to fruition, becoming reality. As she descended the staircase, there was a support that she passed, keeping the loose rock above from falling and caving into and onto the staircase she stood on. She gave it a swift, decisive kick with her leg, severing the support on the right side as she passed; rocks crumbling from above, and giving her just enough time to move the few sets of stairs that it would take to get free from the cave-in area.
She had sealed herself in.
As she descended further, the walls of the staircase became more and more light. Glimmering, and shimmering in faint blues along the walls, before the staircase walls themselves opened up, and she was descending along the spiral, into the massive chamber in which she had once fought the Bishop of Sal Viento in. There was no corpse, no remnants of that fight, nothing to indicate the foul thing that had happened in here, so long ago.
She wasn't sure, now that she was here, how she was going to set about to her final task, now that she was in the space, sealed in and with no hope of escape. The roof of the chamber was too far up to secure the rope that she had brought with. She'd have to make do with the staircase. Once she'd decided to go through with it, that was.
She didn't decide to go through with it all that night. Or any night, or day. She couldn't tell how long she'd been down in the karst beneath Sal Viento. There was no sense of time this far beneath the waves. Just the shimmering, eternal blue of the light refracting through the water surrounding the karst. She lost track of days. She paced the karst, mindless and aimlessly for what felt like days at a time, before eventually succumbing to exhaustion. She tried her best to ration her food out for as long as it would take to eventually steel her nerves to go through with it.
When she was especially bored, she fidgeted with the rope, trying to find ways to secure it so that it would be tight enough for its task. Or simply tying and retying the requisite knots to get familiar with how they would feel to make under her fingers when the time would come. Eventually, even the thoughts about how morbid it all was slipped away from her in the cyclical nature of her days spent under that eternal blue light. Her days were mostly quiet. Sometimes she would hum to herself. Taking special care to not linger on melodies that would be better suited for two singers. There was a sorrow in her melody, she knew there was. But there was nothing else that she could do to bide her time. So sing she eventually did. There was no worry about air down here, no worry about running out of water, just the worry of running out of food — but even then she wasn't entirely sure that would kill her either. She wasn't entirely sure that anything would kill her, if her body was to slowly become anything like those terrors. Or even like His own former body.
There were days where she swore she heard knocking coming from the staircase, from the cave-in. She tried her best to ignore those sounds, and when she couldn't she hid away as far as she could from the staircase, cowering in a corner like there was a terrible beast coming down for her.
Nothing ever came of those noises. No rescue, no one searching for her. Part of her was happy, the other part was horrified.
Sometimes, instead of sing, she would scream until her voice went hoarse, and there was the iron taste of blood in the back of her throat. When that would happen, she would end up on the floor, hands around her own throat, resisting the urge to claw away the flesh that surrounded where the pain was, in an attempt to stop the self-inflicted pain. She would cry silently when the pain would subside enough and she could move her larynx without much pain.
One day, after waking up exhausted, having slept an indeterminate amount of time, and having sealed herself into the karst an indeterminate period ago, she realized she was ready. That there was nothing stopping her anymore. That even her self-inflicted pain started to flow from a place of self-interest and preservation rather than that of sorrow.
She was ready. There was nothing left that was holding her back from doing this, from going through with it.
She had her final bit of the supplies that she had rationed out. The most food she had eaten in the last few days, or whatever they were. She wasn't sure anymore. There was no doubt that Rhodes Island was still looking for her, but she figured it was unlikely that anyone would ever find her down here. They probably didn't even know where to start looking.
Eventually, it was time.
She assembled the make-shift anchor from her weapon case and some rocks, tied the loose end of the rope to the handle of the case, giving it the impression of being more than a makeshift anchor. The other end, she sat atop the stairs and hummed to herself a mourning song that was stuck in her head, as she tied her own noose.
She finished, and lightly tossed the tied rope over the stairs, before descending the stairs to where the noose hung gently, swaying in the light draft that always propagated inside the karst.
All that was left now, was to slip it around her neck, and kick the make-shift stepladder out from under her own feet.
She took the gingerly step onto her stepladder made of rocks, and balanced herself there for a moment, looking about the karst, before closing her eyes, and reaching for the noose. It was trivial to slip it around her neck, and to tighten it just enough that she wouldn't slip out of it once she had finally resolved. Part of her, the part she assumed that she had either lost to Him, or was the remaining bit of self-preservation left; screamed at her, demanding her to stop what she was doing, and instead return to the cycle that she was living in, in this karst. She ignored that part of herself. And slid the noose ever so tighter so that it was uncomfortable on her neck.
She was ready.
She stepped away from the stepladder, and felt the snap of the rope as it tightened into place. She wanted to gag but nothing would come out of her mouth. The pressure against her throat is immense, and painful, almost more painful than when she would scream her throat bloody, but this time, the pain only got worse with each passing moment. She had no way of counting how long it would take for darkness to wash over her, but as her traitorous body flailed in shock and pain, she did her best to count the moments it took for her body to eventually give out. It should only take 180 seconds of air deprivation for her brain to black out, maybe closer to 210 for an Aegir who didn't hold their breath.
She made it to five-hundred before she felt her neck snap.