Proxy One (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theosen) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-06-28 01:46 am
theosen) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-06-28 01:46 am
Entry tags:
ashes to ashes
Who: A Proxy (theosen) and a Doctor (gaveherwings)
When: June 29th, late evening.
Where: Skye Medical Center, delivery floor.
Summary: Like creator, like creation. New life is a curious thing to behold.
Warnings: Proxy One.
[ It's a trip he's been meaning to make.
For the last few months, he's simply been existing, hiding himself away from the sun, only to prowl when the darkness finally comes. The creatures out there, as much as he can tell what they are, have somehow managed to resist all his attempts to tamper with them. It's the thing he wants most too -- to understand this place so he can deconstruct it and escape.
It's not to be, though, or at least not from that avenue, and it's only on a whim that he chooses to come here. It's easy to bypass security, to make himself something other than he is to slip past others' notice. He could pretend to be human, of course, and assume a shape more readily tolerable to the eyes. The idea repulses him, though, so it's in his natural shape that he chooses to visit the nursery.
A tall, dark figure more monster than truly human, he looms over the newborn babes, in plain view and yet still unseen. He will not be noticed unless he allows himself to be. ]
theosen) and a Doctor (gaveherwings)When: June 29th, late evening.
Where: Skye Medical Center, delivery floor.
Summary: Like creator, like creation. New life is a curious thing to behold.
Warnings: Proxy One.
[ It's a trip he's been meaning to make.
For the last few months, he's simply been existing, hiding himself away from the sun, only to prowl when the darkness finally comes. The creatures out there, as much as he can tell what they are, have somehow managed to resist all his attempts to tamper with them. It's the thing he wants most too -- to understand this place so he can deconstruct it and escape.
It's not to be, though, or at least not from that avenue, and it's only on a whim that he chooses to come here. It's easy to bypass security, to make himself something other than he is to slip past others' notice. He could pretend to be human, of course, and assume a shape more readily tolerable to the eyes. The idea repulses him, though, so it's in his natural shape that he chooses to visit the nursery.
A tall, dark figure more monster than truly human, he looms over the newborn babes, in plain view and yet still unseen. He will not be noticed unless he allows himself to be. ]
no subject
(Sitting home, waiting for dawn, when Franz will stumble in with stories about the travesty that was the latest Lion's Gate wedding reception, with another to set up for at 3...)
And as it turns out, it is a slow night at the hospital after all, plenty of time to wait around with his pager and look occupied.
Or...
This is something he never tires of. A routine that should get old after two years, a novelty that should wear off, shouldn't it? Most of the nurses on this floor know him as the young doctor who stands behind the viewing glass, off to one side so that he's not interrupting, not in the way. Dr. Yumeno stays apart from families and friends who stand cooing and oggling, faces pressed against the window as they point out theirs, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his expression always a mix of melancholy and awe.
There are five bassinets filled with swaddled newborns tonight, with two others in Intensive Care, the rest are empty and waiting. Still....production happens so much faster here, citizens are born in such greater volume than Romdeau. It's almost frightening, just how little is planned out for them at this stage.]
no subject
It's the thing that strikes him most, how fragile and puny they are. He marvels and yet is somehow sickened by it -- by the fact that it was for things like these that he was created. To sustain and aid them until the advent of the inevitable end.
He stares down at them ominously, and yet for all that their race disgusts him, there's something curious about them that lessens his rising ire. These babes were all born naturally, produced in a female womb rather than designed in an artificial manner. These are true and complete, and though he can never forgive the sins of the Creator and his fellows, he cannot help but wonder at the life that lies before him.
His brow knits, and a clawed hand brushes lightly against a bassinet. It's a surreal thing, so bizarre it seems almost a lie, when a few pudgy fingers bump against his own. It coos, soft with a hint of gurgling. He tilts his head, strangely intent despite himself.
It's only when he looks up again that he realizes he is no longer alone.
Daedalus Yumeno. ]
no subject
From form to function, every step controlled, every detail scrutinized, all balance maintained.
Daedalus knows the miracle of the future, how the human race is given rebirth within a calculated cradle of life, predestined to exist under a dome which is doomed to fall. Life which is unable to sustain itself, otherwise.
And here is humanity, perfected in its natural state. The imperfections in some of them could not be made more plain, of course- this baby on the right is born to one shapeshifting parent, tagged for observation in case it decides to turn into something else. The one of the far left? Has a third copy of chromosome 21.
The tiny girl with her hand in the air, clutching as if grasping at an invisible object?
That one was born to a pair of empaths, expected to develop the same talents herself. Her mother's labor was an emotional ordeal on all sides. Daedalus is reminded very briefly of Shiroe Rei Seki, and smiles wanly.]
no subject
He eyes the doctor, the foolish little cog who thought to make himself a Creator, and he envision what it would be like to snap that fragile neck. Too easy is what it would be, and little satisfaction thereafter besides.
Looking back down at the cradle, he notices the frown on the child's face -- scrunched with unnatural displeasure. After a moment, he quietly withdraws hand, concealing it once more within the folds of crimson clothing as her face slowly relaxes.
Finally, he turns his head, the only move he makes as he stares at the slender human outside, his eyes unnaturally bright.
There's nothing behind Daedalus, not even a shadow, but he'll feel the ghost of clawed fingers on his shoulder nonetheless. ]
'Daedalus Yumeno.'
[ A soft yet grating whisper that no one else will hear. ]
no subject
He would prefer that company to the one attending now.
This is a voice that chills even deeper at his bones, draws up an instinctive terror. This is the moment he has been dodging and dreading.
The reason he was driven to discover means of destroying Amrita Cells, why he designed those bullets... after knowing that beholding the truth was too much for Regent Donov, and witnessing the capacity of a Proxy's power-
Was it not a very human thing, to guard himself against meeting his maker? Especially when through his work, exceptional and radical and tantamount to all other productivity in the dome, he had come to know every detail, down to fragment of delicate winding proteins that composed her, a face which would draw their remote creator forward.
His eyes widen at his own reflection in the glass, and Daedalus straightens with a rigid fear that trembles into his fingers.
He thinks again of Donov, dumb and speechless. Of Re-l's account of seeing the Proxy, face to face and with a hand at her mouth, unable to say a word. He thinks of Monad, hanging broken, and then of all the vulnerable children of this age behind the glass.
The doctor turns, heart in his throat and throbbing in synchrony with the Pulse. He gazes into an empty hallway, opens his hands, and dares to answer.]
Yes. I am. What do you want with me?
no subject
He can all but smell it, an instinct so pure and base there is no mistaking what is. It would be easy to feed into them, to shatter the poor doctor's mind, and send him screaming into the night.
It's a malicious impulse, spurred by a streak of sadism he has nurtured along with bitterness. Reason wins out, however, as it so often does. The night is still young, and to destroy such a resource would be wasteful indeed.
Eyes still bright, he fixes the other with his stare, the veil slowly lifting, as he moves towards the glass. Like smoke and water, he passes through to the other side, a shadow and no more that only Daedalus can see. ]
'Follow me.'
[ Down the hallway to an abandoned office, he'll make his intentions known. ]
no subject
He has heard the call of his maker before, in the thin whispers of insight that slid into dreams or pensive moments in front of his console screens, like a spark of madness or stroke of genius, guiding his fate. He once sought out answers aggressively, until the truth proved too much, too late to recoil and shut out those vast and terrible revelations.
Flying too close to the sun was perilous, and coming too near to the truth proved not so liberating for Daedalus Yumeno, in the end.
So this not the first time he followed the command of his damning Creator. He had responded to the call, far away as a star through the thick of a blank, blank void, watching blood and water swirling away down the drain. And She had heard him also.
That is a world and an existence two years gone now, startlingly fresh in this moment. He knew it would come eventually, after all. That he had been lucky to evade the Proxy's attention for so long. But there is no fighting it now, is there? The doctor shuts his eyes, looses a resigned sigh, then opens them again.
He watches the shadow take form, and so he turns from the glass as if turned by the aimlessness of his own will, following at a pace that could almost be mistaken for lazy drifting, as easily as one should follow their own red threads of fate.]
no subject
It is something he does not care to discuss, the failure that was written into his design, and though he shared such things with his shadow, he's unlikely to do so again.
Even so, as he passes through the door itself and waits for the doctor to enter, he finds he has a use for this citizen of Romdeau yet.
He stands in the corner, a dark shadow more than a figure given form. He never needed to show Daedalus his face to achieve the ends he required, and that hasn't changed.
Only faintly visible in the half-light, he waits for the other to speak. ]
no subject
So he shuts it gingerly, never turning his back on the shadow. The latch clicks in place, with a finality of committing himself to the personal encounter he'd never wanted.
What had the regent said, in his hour of appointment? Was it a formal affair? There's a strange, conflicted feeling- being torn away from a new life to stand face to face with the old.
There is nothing to do but open himself to more truth.]
Why are you here?
[Daedalus asks simply, remarkably understated.]