1.5
"A cult victim." He frowns. "Lacerations, dehydration, starvation, sores, welts, bruises, choking, swelling, branding... And a significant amount of signs showing evidence of other pointless torture. And that's just what my eyes can see, to say nothing of my instruments."
The girl doesn't respond, still staring at the man with a wary gaze. She's seated on a bed, in a clean, disinfected white room. There's a variety of medical instruments around, and the girl has positioned herself so that my Clasher-self is directly between her and all of them, half hiding.
"I honestly didn't think there were any non-cultists left on this planet, other than us." He mused. "You're quite fortunate you were found, do you know that?"
She continues staring at him.
He sighs, then reaches over to tap at a console. A few moments later, a recess on the wall opens, a small cup inside. The cup itself is filled with golden liquid, and the man takes it, holding it out to the girl. "Here."
She doesn't move to take it. Her eyes simply flick to the cup, and then back to him, staring in suspicion.
"It will make you feel better." He said, swirling it slightly.
Her eyes narrow.
I reach out, taking the cup in three pincers. One pincer on the other hand shifts, changing into a spoon-like shape, and I dip it in, drawing out a small amount of the golden fluid.
I turn, offering the small amount to her. She, in turn, looks at me, looks roughly where my face would be if I had one, before hesitantly opening her mouth.
I tip. She swallows, clearly considering it. When I offer the cup again, she takes it, and starts to drink it, several slow sips.
He tuts. "Can't talk and still better at convincing people to do things for their own good than me. That... That cuts."
She looks back at him. And then she blinks, her hand coming up to her cheek.
With a golden glow, the scarred brand on her begins to twist, burns giving way to renewed flesh. On her neck, over her body, small lacerations and bruises begin to fade, disappearing even as we watch. The swelling over her other eye begins to recede, purple-black turning back into pale, but significantly healthier skin.
As I listen, I can hear her breathing get a bit easier.
"What?"
"Ah, so you do have a voice. I was wondering." He smirks. "Feeling better?"
She glares at him, bringing her hand up to her throat. She rubs, carefully feeling the skin. She opens her mouth, and her voice is... halting, at first. And still a little quiet. "What was that?"
"Nanobot mass combined with a bioregenerative solution." He answers, clinically. "Fixes most wounds, primes the body to receive nutrients en masse, and will help you with a quick recovery." He smiles, a bit more softly. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? You don't have to answer them, if you don't want to."
She stares at him, but after a glance at my Clasher-self, answers. "Only if I get some questions."
"Easy." He nods. "Let's get the basics out of the way. I am Doctor Adrien Berin. I am the Chief of Medical Operations of Sanctuary, and therefore the person that those ones-" He gestures at my Clasher-self. "- go to bother whenever they pick up a stray. Like you, for example." He smiles again. "So how many of your questions did I just answer?"
She stares at him as if he's strange. Which he is, so she's not wrong to do so.
He chuckles. "Let me guess. You have three more; 'What is Sanctuary?', 'What are those guys?', and 'What happens now?'."
Her eyes narrow, a little more cautious. Seeing that, he dips his head, grabbing a chair and pulling it over. He takes a seat, adopting a notably more serious and gentle expression.
"Sanctuary is our home." He says, slowly. "About the only portion of this entire planet that's safe from Empyrean incursion. It's the last bastion of true civilization left." He smiles. "As to 'What are those guys?'... There's a lot of answers I could give, not many of them particularly satisfying. The most important thing, I feel, is that they are the saviours of every single person in Sanctuary, yourself now included."
She blinks.
"I'm going to take a guess." He says, looking at her. "You were... a part of a tribe. A small one. Not much more than your family and a few others. You wandered around with the few scraps of technology you had left, trying to eke out a life. You were probably hounded by the corrupt and mutated the entire time, always only a few steps from death." He sighs, straightening up. "And then... hmm. Your tribe ran into something. Probably a large group of cultists, and you alongside most of them were captured. Cultists did as cultists do, and enacted rituals and corruption on all of you. Many of your fellows died, but you... Not you. Sheer defiance and a will to live let you survive, even after everything the cults did to you. Then, these ones found you,-" He points at me, again. "- killed the cultists, and took you with them to bring you here."
Her eyes are wide.
He nods. "Yeah. Thought so." He stands up, moving to the console again. "'Round here, there's a lot of people sharing that story. Not everyone. A good amount of the kids that are running around in here were born here, and haven't known that harsh life out there. Some of the older people have been here since before the Bright Night." He taps at the console, and again, the recess opens. There's another cup, but this one contains a steaming, light brown liquid.
He offers it to her, smiling. After a moment, she takes it, sniffing it.
"That's a nutrient slurry mixed with chocolate for flavour." He explains. "Drink up, kiddo. Your metabolism will kick into overdrive pretty soon, and you'll be quite hungry."
She looks at him over the drink. "Not a kid. I'm fourteen."
I'd have pegged... maybe 10, to be honest. Malnutrition at work, I guess.
Adrien just shrugs. "And I'm forty eight. You're a kid to me."
She frowns at him, but takes a sip. Her eyes widen, and she quickly begins to drink.
"So..." He begins. "What's your name, girl?"
She swallows, before answering. "Juliana."
He nods. "Well then, Juliana. It's nice to meet you."
He directs a glance at my Clasher-self, still unmoving. An eyebrow raises, and he looks back at the girl. She's looking down at the moment, focused on her drink. It means that she doesn't see his eyes flash with the same blue light that emanates from the core of my Clasher-self, from so many other of my bodies, and from his own chest.
He raises an eyebrow, seeing, for a moment, into more than just the physical world. Which means he can see the armour wrapping around her soul, the life lingering within.
He knows what it is. After all, he, like so many others in Sanctuary, are no different.
"Hmm."
She looks up, but by the time that she has, his eyes have returned to normal.
"And as for that final question..." He considers. "I make sure you're as well as I'm capable of making you, and then... I think we can find a place for you here in Sanctuary. If the Shroud brought you here, you must be quite something."
She looks up. "Shroud?"
"That's what we call them." He shrugs. "Now, finish your drink. We can get you some real food after you're done, how does that sound?"
She promptly tips it back, swallowing the last. Adrien chuckles.
"Some clothes, too." He notes to himself, before smiling.
"Welcome to Sanctuary, Juliana." He stands up. "It's all we've got left of a sane and good world."