Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on Apr 26, 2023 14:43:26 GMT -5
“Assassin.”
Thus Gray introduced his craft. And it was by far one of the least surprising things in the room.
Fingers split like twigs on the doctor's hands. One became two. He had broken fingers in more pieces, true, but these were functional, articulated, just like the doctor herself, and they scuttled into Nina's wound like the world's most competent spiders. Something in him felt dizzy, and he realized that the craving lingering in the back of his mind for whatever poison remained in the vial had suddenly ceased.
He moved to the window; eyes like washed-out ice intently reflected the rain-dappled street, and all the shadowy alleys leading into it. Only few people ran along with coats and upturned baskets over their heads. Turning back, he let Anastasia manage the operation, and occupied himself with managing the patient.
Free from the pain, Nina had let the end of the cloak slip from between her teeth; her breathing grew regular. Asleep? He held the girl's wrist to ensure she had not simply succumbed to shock. Nevertheless, something within the patient acknowledged that she had been hurt, and so every now and then her body longed to curl around the injured arm. Gray rested his hands on her shoulders to keep her motionless. Every now and then, when her consciousness flickered behind her eyelids, he had just the right words to soothe the exhausted girl. In the meantime, he watched the doctor at work.
He realized that before stepping through that door, he had already labelled that arm as lost.
Once or twice, he debated interrupting. It was when the doctor put strange, foreign bits of blue-tinted flesh inside the wound, and stitched them with the patient's own. His lips trembled imperceptibly. 'The blood-rot is going to eat her alive,' he thought. He had lost an apprentice on a hospital bed already. Yet the art Anastasia had shown so far, the precision that he expected to break under the strain, just like an acrobat on a tightrope, yet somehow never did, worked against his better judgement to keep him watching.
At the end, when the last stitch was done, Gray had only one word:
“Exquisite.”
For no poison locked in the cabinets of that room, or any other room, ever since poison was invented, was quite as cruel and heady as hope.
He stared at the doctor. Alden and Bella had been reflections – people similar enough to himself to assure him that in this new world, he was not entirely alone. But Anastasia had just shattered, with her craft, the expectation that this new world had nothing new to offer. Yet that craft could be dangerous, when paired with that shining curiosity...What exactly had the woman seen in the wires?
“Guardian?” Gray repeated. “I am guarding her, I suppose. Nina can decide what she wants, once she is in a position to do so freely,” he said, with a tilt of the head, eyeing the doctor as if he were trying to see into her soul, “and I shall witness it. But I can tell already you that without her life, the wires would be a much plainer sort of magic.”
His eyes flickered to the street outside.
“I would appreciate if Nina could be hosted here until she recovers her strength.” He spoke. “There may or may not be people trying to do her harm.” The Tower could keep out a small army, but trying to carry Nina through this weather and high tide would harm more than help. “I will be around to deal with potential trouble, but a modicum of privacy may help prevent it.” The man bowed slightly.
“And in the meantime...” Gray mused. “Would you perhaps want to talk to the one who crafted the wires?”
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on May 6, 2023 18:36:17 GMT -5
Assassin? She had no need for an assassin, that was the antithesis of her profession, and somewhat of an affront to her very existence. Yet, he seemed so willing to help. Fascinating… These thoughts did nothing to interrupt her work, he was not there to harm her nor the patient, until that happened his profession was no business of Anastasia. She had more important things to worry about.
Besides, assassins worked efficiently. That meant more specimens for Anastasia to collect when her craft could not undo Gray's work.
Anastasia went quiet as Gray looked into her eyes as if searching for something. She curiously tilted her head to the side as she stared back into his, unblinking. In Anastasia's eyes - outside of the obvious mismatch of brilliant green and bright blue - Gray would indeed see that spark of life inside them, that brightness that came with that passion for life, perhaps even more so than the average person, but a soul? That would be debatable. Perhaps there wasn't an obvious one. Perhaps there were so many that they just seemed to blend together.
"I was going to suggest the patient remain for observation," Anastasia finally says with a nod. "I am confident, certain, sure, that my work will prove successful and she will regain full use of her wrist, it is unwise to relay soley on my well placed confidence." Her smile remained unwavering as it had the entire time she had been operating. "There is a bed in my office reserved for those in far more critical conditions, but we are lucky to not have any such patients with us. I will have a guard posted outside and you are welcome to remain inside with myself while I perform my duties."
Do no harm was in her blood, it was part of her very existence, but she had her methods to ensure the safety of her patients. There was no denying that.
The offer to speak with the one who made the wires caught her interest and her head tilted the opposite direction to the side she had before. Wires. A tower? She did indeed have questions. "My curiousity continues to grow," she comments as her head shifted back to it's neutral position. "Are you implying that the wires are your work? Then I have more questions than I previously believed."
With that, she stepped to the nurse and spoke in a quiet tone to her before the nurse calmly left the room with a nod. "Yes, I would like to speak with you further," Anastasia said as she looked back to Gray. "But first…"
The nurse returned with an old gourney, followed by two other nurses and parked it beside the bed. Together, along with Anastasia, they carefully lifted Nina onto it so as not to disturb her.
"If you would?" Anastasia asked as she took up position behind the gourney and allowed the nurses to guide her out of the room. "Come along."
While the head doctor's office was on the floor above, Anastasia had been adamant that she wanted hers, once granted, to be on the same level as the infirmary floor. It allowed her to be among the first on the scene when an emergency came in, where she excelled above the vast majority of the staff, which she owed to her unnatural nature. It was a short journey from the operating room to her office, passing the infirmary floor and down a short hall way, where they were joined by a New Isran regular she had sent for, who took up position by her office door.
Her office was meticulously clean and somewhat bare. There was space for three bookshelves but only one had anything on it, and even then it was only half full. Medical journals sat tightly together across three shelves, and on the one below it various bone specimens, including some sort of predator skull, two fully assembled bird skeletons, and what appeared to be a bone with several preserved coral pieces attached to it.
Her desk sat in a corner, in front of a window, its shutters closed right, and had neat stacks of paper and quills, amongst other small trinkets and supplies, but they were all neatly organised, as if they had never been touched, but the stack of reports on a nearby cabinet displayed otherwise.
In the opposite corner to the door, was a hospital bed, one specifically designed and requested for those who needed Anastasia's constant attention. Beside it, a comfortable chair and a small bed side table, on which sat a candle and it's matching holder.
That night, Nina had the honours, and as such she was gently lifted from the gourney and placed onto the bed. Without speaking, Anastasia gave her one last check over before nodding contently and lifting the blanket up and over her torso, but keeping her recovering arm out.
"She will rest for quite a time," Anastasia said as she walked the nurses out. With a few quiet 'thank yous', she closed the door and locked it behind them. She turned and gestured to a comfortable chair near the bed for Gray to sit, if he chose to, then she walked to the hooks that sat on the wall near her office door. "I do not finish my shift, watch, time… hm. No, too vague. Shift. Until morning, but I will remain regardless. Her condition fascinates me more than sleep does."
She undid the buttons down the side of her doctor's gown and slipped out of it, then hung the slightly bloodied clothing up. They would be collected later at her request, whereas normally she'd have delivered them to be laundered personally. This left her in the outfit she had been more known for - the brightly coloured, circus acrobat's looking outfit. It was light, breezy, and considering the various patches, colours, and eccentricity of it, fitting for such a woman. Most notably however was how much of her quilted skin was revealed by the outfit, including swathes of stomach, back, arms and legs. She was covered in different colours, from head to toe, each held in place by scars and perfectly placed stitches. Finally, and perhaps mercifully, Doctor Vulpin had done a good job of making sure the pieces that went into constructing Anastasia were matching in proportion and shape.
"Thankfully my father built me to be as efficient in rest as I am in work," Stasia continued. "I need very little of it to operate efficiently. He found sleep to be a waste of potential time, but eliminating it entirely was not something he was able to overcome before he recovered what remained of my original body…" She trailed off for another moment after removing her gloves, then she began to examine the stitching that had healed and faded from the magic, leaving a seamless shift from one shade in her wrist to another.
Troubling…
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on May 13, 2023 18:19:07 GMT -5
Following the surgeon into her office, Gray felt as if the room folded around him like paper, and all that was left standing was one single shelf. He stepped forward and reached towards it for his poison.
“Books,” he spoke, once the rest of the healers were gone. “You have books.”
'Impossible.' He drew a fingertip across the spine of a volume. From the corner of his eye, he checked that Nina was still breathing. He clenched his fist.
'Control yourself,' he thought.
He turned, taking in the room – furniture, hiding places, potential weapons. He would have to break in later. When his gaze reached the doctor, he paused. She reminded him of a circus performer – or perhaps an exhibit. Something made. Something broken, then rebuilt. What had happened to her? Pity about her small frame, he thought. Uniformed people with masks were typically the easiest to impersonate. He slipped Everything Ends Here off his shoulders, and sat down in the chair by the bed.
“ 'She is not actually Vulpin.' “ Gray tilted his head towards Nina, as if to indicate the words had been hers. So, Nina had probably met the Vulpin the elder. “Curious.” He commented. “She seemed to have such a good opinion about – I assume – your father.” Yet not surprising. Nina couldn't spot evil when it was making her breakfast. Gray kept staring. Despite the doctor's near-nakedness (an Isran habit he hadn't quite gotten accustomed to), it was the mask that intrigued him most, perhaps because a man in his profession was drawn to secrets. How much do you have to break someone, he wondered with professional curiosity, before they refer to their previous self as the 'original body'? “It must have hurt to be changed so much.” Almost imperceptibly, Gray's flat voice became softer...kinder. “Do you remember anything from before? You mentioned...memories.”
He made a note to find out where Vulpin the First's office was. He may have to kill him. For Nina's sake.
“I was made, too.”
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on May 17, 2023 18:53:43 GMT -5
Stasia sat behind her desk without looking up, instead her focus remained on the healed stitches along her hand where the magic within Nina had arced to her. She traced it with a patchwork finger, and while her regular grin remained in her face, it seemed smaller somehow. Something concerned her greatly about what had happened.
She contemplated remaking the scar and wound, then restitching it, but then the logical part of her brain took over. What use would that be to anyone? Her own concern was not worth putting herself out of action. Self harm never entered the equation, she had accepted that one day she would have to operate on herself.
"Medical journals," she commented as she finally put her hands on her desk. Her hand felt odd against the wooden surface, but she'd get used to it. "I have no use for personal literature in my office. At work. In the infirmary. No, only for patients, and those books are what we have found for children. My littlest patients require more than mere medical care when they are here. Very delicate in both body and mind. My only regret about my form is that it scares them at first…" She trailed off for a moment then blinked her brilliant eyes back to the present. "It takes time, as all things do." She gestured to the books, bringing the subject back around. "I would offer to let you borrow them, but I am afraid that these books are crucial in training my staff. Nurses. Doctors. The orderlies. Without them, it would hamper their progress, and in a place such as this island that could prove fatal to some. They do not leave the premises." She seems very sure in that, and considering her unnatural abilities, that may be more than just a rule.
She tilted her head to the side as she watched Grey curiously examine her. He was not the first, and not the last, so she made no effort to hide herself from his eyes. She was, after all, constructed in a certain way, there was a marriage of function and form, and she felt no need to cover that up. Modesty was one of those new experiences to her that she learnt in her first days, but not one she felt was necessary in private.
His fascination with her mask came as no surprise either. She had never been seen without it, which had only created more rumours, but she never wasted her time on that sort of thing.
Before she could speak, however, Grey's words came forth. Her grin faltered a little as he continued, or perhaps Nina continued. Both of them? Perhaps they were more symbiotic than she had previously thought.
"I… am a Vulpin," she said, concern edging into her voice. Had she heard that right? "She has met my father? Recently?" She paused and looked at her healed hand again. "Then he was not executed as I had predicted. Curious… fascinating…" She seemed distracted for several moments, new considerations flooding her mind. Her plans may very well be possible after all. There were rules she had to abide by now, that was true, but she had already broken the laws of nature with her very existence… she would need to consider this further. She looked back to Grey, her composure regained. "I am glad she had a good opinion on my father. Saviour. Rebuilder. Hm. All work. I prefer father. I am glad he lives, it would be unjust to rid the world of his genius. He did create me, after all." She looked to the door, knowing that the guard was standing right behind it, and it was hardly thick enough to fully muffle their speech. "However…" she looked back to Grey with a new meaning in her eyes. "I am not allowed to discuss or have anything to do with my father, by order of the mayor." Naoki, no doubt, but her eyes told a different story. She wanted to know more, just… not there. "So that must be the end of it."
She then winked, something that still felt alien to her, but she knew it carried social meaning. It would not be the end of it.
"It didn't hurt at all," Anastasia says. She was highly augmented, she could likely hear a pin drop. "In fact it was quite the opposite when I woke up in this form." She leaned back in her chair and gestured to her patchy body. "It was euphoric. I have spent a lot of time considering my first few days, and I have come to realise that nobody would remember that feeling, if they had it at all. I remember the world becoming real as though I had fallen from a trance, and how my lungs filled for the first time with the breath of life. How the blood filled my veins and how my heart started beating." She took a moment to remember those feelings. The first memory of her consciousness. "Of course my brain was fed oxygen and blood, it had to be preserved while my father rebuilt my body around me, but it was only when I was brought back to reality that my body began to properly function." Then she shrugged. "So, no pain. Just life."
"My memories…" That brought her pause once again. "I could tell and show you everything about my body, I understand all of its secrets, from my head to my toes, and every race that went into my construction. My father's journals are extremely well documented, and I have studied them and myself time and time again. But my memory remains a mystery, even to myself."
"I believe my first memories to be that of my previous life. The true Anastasia, the source of my brain." She stood and stepped over to her book shelf and pulled a sketchbook from a lower shelf. It was her own, not her father's. "In the time between when my father brought life to my brain and when my consciousness began, I had memories. Memories of fear, pain, and anguish. Drowning, specifically, and the horrors beneath the waves." She stepped back to her desk and started flicking through the pages. Many pages were labelled 'recreated', diagrams of all sorts, mostly of anatomy. Those that did not carry that label seemed a lot more detailed and heavily annotated, Anastasia's original work it seemed. She was quite the artist.
"I believe that is how the original Anastasia died," she said as she finally came to the page she was after. It was a sketch of a mangled woman's torso, torn apart from the right hip to the left shoulder, exposing bone, organs, and mangled flesh. Half of her face seemed at rest, as if sleeping. She may have once been considered pretty, if not for missing the other half of her face. "This is how my father found me. The previous me. The one that existed before Anastasia." They looked nothing alike, even with the mask on it was obvious that the patches did not match the sketch.
She left the page open and sat back down. "All that remains of this woman is my brain. Somehow, despite the damage, it still functioned and my heart still beat. The pious among us would call it the will of the gods, but my father had other theories. Regardless, it was why my brain was chosen to become me, Anastasia." The finger that rested on the page gently moved along the sketch's cheek as she spoke. "But I have no clear memories of this woman."
"That is why they are confusing," she continued, looking from the page to Grey. "I will have short flashes of memories when I do something to trigger them. When I see a certain sight or experience something new, I will have a memory of something similar. When I felt the cool, fresh morning air on my skin as I walked through the forest, or when I felt true joy and laughter at the first town dance I was invited to, or when I had sex for the first time in this body, memories of similar experiences came to me. They were flashes, they came and went quickly, but they felt real, and their experiences became my own."
She took a small breath and thought for a moment. "It's… hard to explain accurately. None of them are clear who they are or who they belong to, but I am the sum of my parts. These memories are a part of me, and they have given me abilities and experiences I did not think I would have. I am no longer that woman on the page. I am all of these people." She held out a patchwork arm and gestured to the patches, each formerly belonging to someone who had long passed, but had become warmed again as part of Ana. Stasia finally took a long breath. "I apologise for talking so much. It's rare that I get to discuss my findings… not many ask the right questions."
She relaxed into her chair, but the excitement remained in her eyes. "The memories that I had during the operation were more… vivid. Longer. Clearer. I believe that the arc of life magic, as you called it, may have interacted with what remained within the tissue, the parts that make up my body. The layman may consider them the remnants of the soul trapped in the tissue, the accuracy of which could be called into question, but it's a good analogy. I believe that the magic awakened or strengthened these 'souls' and brought their memories to me. It is… truly fascinating, but it is something I will need to consider further, when I am not looking after a patient nor entertaining a guest." She gestured to Nina and Grey respectively. Anastasia's look lingered on Nina for a bit as she spoke, but she seemed satisfied so far.
She looked grey over after his last statement. Feminine, yes, but certainly male. An interesting choice, but what interested her more was his build. "Made," she echoes. "Like me." She hadn't had the pleasure to meet anyone like her yet. "Not quite. You seem… whole. Not salvaged, like myself." She pondered that for a moment. To be made up of one body must have been… boring. She enjoyed her patchwork existence and the mysteries it created. Oh well, she enjoyed his look regardless.
She took a moment to put two and two together before speaking again. "Though we were both created, we are opposites," she finally said. "I was salvaged from hundreds of sources, you seem created from one. I was created to save lives and to heal. You were created, I assume, as an assassin. To kill." She tilted her head to the side. "Fascinating, yet unsurprising." Anastasia would have loved to let her mind wander, but she quickly stops herself with a realisation. "I apologise. I meant no disrespect. That observation is one of human nature and motives, not of either of our purposes."
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on May 29, 2023 9:38:54 GMT -5
“She may have been confused.” Gray explained. His head tilted minutely towards to patient, to indicate the pronoun. “Earlier it did not seem like the right time for inquiry.”
'I know Vulpin. This isn't him,' Nina had struggled to say. To warn him. Wrong, perhaps, like many of the things people said when under the touch of pain. And useful just the same, in being just close enough to reality that it would get others speaking.
Such as Anastasia Vulpin. Intriguing woman. Gray made equivocal, eloquent noises when asked for more details about her father. He didn't know. Not before she told him. Yet he kept his options open, and smiled when she winked.
“As you say.” Why, yes, he would love to defy Isra's ruler and uncover some dark secrets that could get him killed.
That is where power came from.
The doctor shared so much. Even without his prompting, or his charm. Not that, Gray debated while joining her behind her desk to look over a painstakingly accurate sketch of a drowning victim, that he could use his charm anymore. He slurped up words. 'Exsanguination'. 'Innervate'. 'Sternocleidomastoid-' oh tsch, the page turned. A shudder went down his spine. Once, this had been his ideal – to see someone broken down so thoroughly that he could understand them at their core.
The fact that the doctor was sharing that freely could only raise his suspicions.
“Interesting. I wonder if the cold water helped preserve the body...you should tell me at some point what a xygen is...” Gray was in no hurry. They had the night in front of them, until someone broke down the door. He didn't expect the guard to do much, but at least it might reassure the doctor over sharing the room with him.
“All living things have an aura.” Gray pondered over Anastasia's explanation of her memories. “In my research, it tends to flow in the human body in a manner largely dependant on nerves and veins, though not exclusively.” He twirled his hand. “When there is too much of it, that can manifest as magic.” Magicians tended to have lopsided auras. It was usually stronger in their hands, or other bits they used to focus and channel it. Gray mused. “I have heard of pieces of soul being broken off, stored, or carrying memories.” Nina was carrying part of his soul – not that he would volunteer the information. Gray narrowed his eyes. “Yet I do not remember ever hearing of a case like yours. You might want to talk to...” he gestured towards the bed. “Later. She might be the best at sensing magic in the whole known world.”
Anything that ensured the doctor would not murder Nina. He hadn't fully discounted the possibility of Anastasia Vulpin being an impostor just yet.
Strangely, real or fake, the doctor did not seem...disgusted, with his presence.
“Torture. Espionage. Execution. Indeed.” He nodded. “At some point, I fancied myself doing your job, but simply at a larger scale.” He gestured as if to encompass a nation, gestured with surgical precision. “Extracting information. Cutting out infection. Making sure that everything is in its place.” He felt that old craving for bloody perfection, and though another could not hear the nostalgia in his voice, he could. “It is, I suppose, fields in which failure is considered unacceptable that people are made – to different degrees – rather than simply taught.” There was a glimmer in Gray's eyes. “Which does beg the question of who does the considering.”
He pondered.
“It is perhaps ironic that the worst failures, as well as the greatest successes, share the quality of not reacting quite as their makers want them to. Would you feel your purpose changed any, since you...awoke?”
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jun 3, 2023 17:37:14 GMT -5
Anastasia’s grin pulled at her cheeks a touch at the mention of the cold preserving her brain. “Astute observation, Mr. Gray,” she says with a confirming nod. “That is one of my father’s, and by extension my own, theories on how my brain came to be so well preserved. Well kept. Alive.” She paused for a moment, deciding if all three of those could be used to describe it, then blinked as she let the moment pass. She had to get better at that. “You would be surprised what I find along the beach that can be salvaged and reused on cold nights. Many remain stored until needed.” Another wink, this time of her blue eye. What did she have squirrelled away? She’d never tell.
She listened intently to how Gray described memories as an aura, the first mention of which forced a blink and a slight quirk in her unnatural grin. She had never seen it as such before, but instead of protesting she listened, knowing full well that perspectives were never the same. “An interesting way to view a soul,” she said as she looked over her many patches. “As an aura - an extension of the latent magic found in all things. I’ve never considered them to be separate, but the theory makes sense…” She blinked again, then crossed her hands over themselves on her desk, recognizing she was about to be carried away. Regardless, she made a mental note to explore that theory, especially with someone in tune with magic in the conventional sense, unlike her own. She looked to Nina and gave a small nod. “I will pick her brain about it when she is well.” Another blink. “And by that I mean discuss it with her. One of those terms I’ve picked up recently. I recognise it could be misconstrued given my profession.” She could very well pick a brain, but not this time. “I would consider it payment for saving her arm.”
When it came to discussing his profession, she tilted her head slowly to one side, which to some felt a bit unsettling, but to those used to Anastasia completely expected. Her very nature was odd, of course her mannerisms would follow. He considered the actions he described to be similar to her own? “Fascinating…” she whispered as he spoke, unable to help herself. Though, she understood what he meant. “If you viewed the scale of… a city? Nation?” she thinks she understood that right at least. “As a body, then perhaps we aren’t so different. Cutting things out to ensure the health of the subject.” She gave a curt nod. “I understand what you mean. I may not agree, but it is only a matter of perception.” Her grin grew back to its normal (or as normal as it got) size. “However, it draws an interesting parallel between us. If I may assume - people view you positively as an attractive man, but would be horrified at your nature as an assassin and painbroker. On the other side, people are horrified by my quilted appearance, but value my nature as a healer. Fascinating, no?” She tilted her head the other way now. “There is more to a book than its cover. While you may be my opposite in profession, it does not bother me - as long as I remain untargeted and you do not shed blood or pain in my infirmary or home.” Her pupils seemed to sharpen a touch at her words. Was there a thread laced in there somewhere? Perhaps not.
She leaned back in her chair, considering his questions. Fields in which failure is considered unacceptable that people are made. “Who does the considering is simple - those who are able to make their ideas reality. There is no divine spark in our creation, no deity deciding who we are or what our purpose is, only genius people with ideas many would consider to be insane. My father considered human life to be inefficient, especially those who would be called upon in times of need as healers, thus I was created. Salvaged. Remade. It truly is that simple.” She rested her hand on the sketchbook she had brought down, fingers tracing over her own name. “I am a testament to one’s attempt at pure human efficiency.”
She looked from the book back to Gray. “I am, or perhaps was, my father’s greatest accomplishment when I was reborn, but I was not perfect. While human in shape, many parts of me that were considered inefficient are gone, unneeded, stripped away. Many may consider it a lesser existence, but while parts have been taken, many have been added, such as my fingers.” She split her index finger in two as she spoke, allowing them to move freely before they slipped back together almost seamlessly.
“So…” She sat back up straight. “No, I do not think my purpose has changed. I was designed to be an efficient healer, to be ready to perform surgery at a moment’s notice, and save lives. It was never expressly written in my father’s work, but I suspect I was also created to assist in creating more like me, but if we consider only what my father has written - I am fulfilling my purpose.”
“What has changed, however,” she continues. “Is who I am as a person, or a collective of persons, depending on your understanding of who I am. My father could have created an automaton only capable of taking instruction - he chose not to. Instead, while my profession was guaranteed, who I would become was to be a great experiment, one that would last a lifetime, or several if I am willing. One that I continue myself to this day, and one that I find fascinating, especially how one’s experience shape how you see the world and how the world sees you. As a bonus, I am also in the process of discovering my own likes and dislikes, excitements and fears. I believe some are pre-existing, waiting to be rediscovered. It has been a… fascinating and exceptionally fun journey.” There’s that tug at her grin again, and a genuine spark behind her eyes.
She reached out and gently tapped Grey’s hand before she spoke again. “Do you consider yourself changed? Evolved beyond just being a weapon at the whim of someone else? Are you enjoying what life has to offer outside of your base function as I have?” Her pupils dilate a little in excitement as she speaks. “I have never spoken to anyone quite like me before until you, I apologise if these questions are invasive. I am fascinated by the possibilities, and I have many suggestions to share if you are exploring like myself.”
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on Jun 7, 2023 13:53:52 GMT -5
There was a pause. Then Gray chuckled.
It was a soft, silvery thing, like a barely-worn coat hidden in the back of a drawer, that he wasn't quite sure fit him anymore, or if it had ever been his.
“I would enjoy picking your brain.” He said, curling his lips in the slightest smile. “In a likewise fashion.”
Too daring? Yet Anastasia spoke, almost as if it mattered not that he'd forced his hand, her hand, by pretending to be human, almost as if she was not afraid of what he was or what he could do-
“Though you might not believe me, I do value life.” He said.
Fawn. It was one of the basic human responses to danger, was it not?, asked the numbness in his chest. Meet danger; try to please it. Yet Anastasia spoke with such confidence, that he could almost believe she had been made without fear... In her eyes shined a joy for life that he had lost between the gears of the clocktower, and that light only made him want to step deeper into her mind. She asked him a question.
“Changed?...” He pondered.
“I suppose. My original role was to die, in order to train my master's intended heir. As you can see,” he leaned forward and whispered past the flat of his hand. “I have failed quite terribly at that.”
There was a glimmer in his eyes.
“My next role was to be a weapon. As my lord was about six years old at that point, I dared conceive that my sharpness,” he tapped his temple, “should also apply to guiding how I was to be used as well.” Oh, how full of himself he'd been. So focused on his mission. Not realizing, or not caring, what giving a child absolute power would do.
“The problem with thinking, is that it's a drug. Too much of it kills you. Who you used to be.” Gray spoke. “One day you ponder, is truth meaning, is meaning truth and oh, by the way, if I got a hundred accountants and a tax reform, wouldn't they do eighty percent of my work just the same?”
No. The answer is no. They'd do it better.
“I had a lot of free time as a result.” He said. “I quite enjoyed books.” Then: “Once, I ran away with the circus.” And, “Poisons, I quite favour poisons.”
It was more honesty than Gray had resorted to in longer than he could remember.
“I suppose, in general, I have grown fascinated by seeing how people react, including myself.” He mused. Glanced at the doctor. “Recently, one service which I have started providing is massage, shall you ever care to try a new experience...” He left it up in the air.
“And yes, I would quite welcome your suggestions.”
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jun 8, 2023 12:48:14 GMT -5
“That can be arranged,” Stasia says with a slight amusement to her voice at the thought of brain picking. “I’m enjoying our conversations so far, Mr. Gray, and I rarely get the chance to discuss these sorts of things with the layman.”
If there was any fear in Anastasia she showed no signs of it. Perhaps it was her somewhat artificial nature, or the fact she seemed to be able to repair damage that would otherwise be fatal, but there was only a joy of life behind her eyes. One day that might be grinded away from her as it did for so many, but that day hadn’t come yet.
She listened to every word Gray spoke, finding the man fascinating in most ways. He might have been a cold killer, once a weapon for someone with more power than sense, but at least he’s interesting. Anastasia had tried to improve her bedside manner since she started her service upon the island, but most people were just so… so… uninteresting. Boring. Normal.
“Kills you? No,” Anastasia says, considering his words and rejecting them aptly. “If there is one thing I’ve learned from my current, short existence is that people evolve - constantly. There is no killing of the former self, only evolving from them. Thinking of such things only connects you to the deeper self, following these lines of thought wherever they go can give you a better understanding of who you are.” She stops and mulls something over quietly, restructuring her words, then nodding in satisfaction that she chose the right ones. “I have done that constantly and I’m pleased with the results.”
Her expression changes ever so slightly at Gray’s description of her free time, from an understanding grin which shifts when mentioning her circus, then it shrinks at his mention of poison, her way of showing seriousness. “I look forward to hearing about these things,” she says. “My clothes appear to be from such circuses apparently, and I have a keen desire to know more about the local poisons, both so I may administer appropriate antidotes to those infected by the local fauna and flora, and to know if they have any medical properties.”
“Now a massage…” Anastasia leans back in her chair and shifts slightly, feeling the muscles up and down her spine and across her shoulders move as she diagnoses her own stiffness. She’s as limber as ever, however… “I will take you up on that,” she says, her grin returning to normal. She didn’t need it, but it sounded interesting. “Another time, of course, but it sounds like an interesting experience. I hear some of the nurses complain about their back pain and their desire for such services, its got my curiosity.”
Ah, her suggestions! She leans forward again, grinning ear to ear with a slight giddiness in her eyes. “Oh I have many!” she says. “Some may only seem relevant to me and my form, but regardless. Have you ever stopped, closed your eyes, and just felt?” she asks. “Feeling the sun on your skin? The wind in your hair? Checking in on your various senses and focusing on each one? Listening, smelling, tasting. It clears the mind in ways I have never felt. I also spent time discovering how many of my patches warm differently to others in the sunlight.”
“Attending the port’s many activities too,” she continues. “I have made many friends this way, and met people from all walks of life with different stories and experiences to tell. Such as the Av’ who lives outside of town. Dour, grumpy lady, but extremely resourceful. It took some time, but I would like to think we are on good terms. Some of my medical supplies are locally made by her.”
Then she blinked in surprise. “Oh, and sex!” she exclaims, sitting upright. “As part of my self discovery, I have been figuring out what and who I am attracted to. I see many naked bodies in my profession, but they are strictly for medical purposes. I am still unsure of the extent of my attraction in social, private situations. I know I enjoy the company of the average male, but I am interested in exploring other possibilities.” Her grin only grows as she speaks. “I have yet to find interest in the concept of romance, it has so far eluded me, but the physical excitement and intimacy of sex is something I enjoy greatly. I would highly suggest that.”
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on Jun 11, 2023 13:52:10 GMT -5
He struggled to keep up.
He would pause before he spoke, fixing Anastasia with his icy eyes, in a manner that many would find unsettling, that few would break under – that he struggled not to break under. A simple discussion – yet he needed time. She spoke of sensation and senses, and he knew very well of sensation – of what happened to sensation when brought to the limit – beyond the limit.
Pain. “So many kinds.” He spoke. “I find it challenging to enjoy the moment sometimes, for it reminds me of things that no longer are.”
Even now, he carried on his shoulder the imprint of a leaf, and its sharp nettle-like burn never faded. A small pain to help control memories of the greater. Between that and the numbness, borne from the way everything felt muted in comparison, he was surviving. Yet Anastasia spoke of more. Of living. Of growth. He supposed he ought to be thankful. He'd read of a woman who had never be able to see or hear in the same time again after she'd been broken.
Anastasia spoke of sensations and bonds and sex.
Gray stared.
He felt overwhelmed, trying to understand the subtext – there was always subtext when it came to intimacy, he knew. His expression remained flat, yet he took even longer to answer. It occurred to him that the doctor may have found him attractive – or at least wished to imply she did – or at least wished to sarcastically- His thoughts tangled
“Sensation is one thing.” He eventually spoke. “Bonds are quite another. The closer you are to someone, the more vulnerable you become, is it not?” He brought his gloved hand up to her face, lightly brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Why, you might be grabbed in an alley and have your face broken in,” he flicked the nose piece of her mask, “simply because of talking to me for too long, and the perpetrator thinking you carried information. General 'you',” he specified, but not really.
He pulled back, maintaining eye contact.
“That would be such a pity.”
It really would. Like dropping a kintsugi masterpiece onto the ground. It was not his world, and since awakening he had done little that would attract the described animosity. Yet Gray's fear had kept him alive for so long.
“Which is not to say,” he heard himself saying, “that such things are wrong. You seem to have a very direct way of enjoying the world, and I find that admirable. I do wonder...” He mused. “Have you ever been afraid that your lack of experience might place you in danger? How old, actually, are you?”
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jun 11, 2023 15:55:56 GMT -5
Anastasia doesn’t seem bothered by his icy stare. In fact, most people thought her own staring to be unsettling, especially as she’d made an unfortunate habit of tilting her head to either side during conversation. She didn’t quite understand why she did it, perhaps it’s a leftover tick from her construction. Either way, if she was disturbed by Gray’s presence, she didn’t make any indication of it. To the outsider it was just two freaks having a moment.
“There is nothing to do but live in the moment,” Anastasia says through her usual grin. It may have sounded cliche, but it was something she genuinely believed in. “Especially now that the world is over. All we appear to have is our island and those on it. Fellow islanders. Citizens. Civilians?” she ponders for a moment before coming back to reality. “The past should remain where it is, in the past. We have long lives to look towards.”
She didn’t so much as flinch when he reached out to touch her face. Her skin is soft and smooth for the most part, marred only by the long, bisecting scars that bordered each different colour that made up the tapestry that was Anastasia. Her grin tugged at her cheeks at the sensation, then she blinked when the front of her mask was touched. She’d never quite felt that sort of tenderness, not that she could remember. The only surprise was that it came from Gray, she hadn’t expected someone like him to reach out like that.
“Sensation and bonds are not one and the same,” she says, raising a hand and placing it atop Gray’s. “From what I understand they are often combined, but they are just as easy to separate.” She lifts her hand just a touch and draws a circle around the top of Gray’s. “I have yet to figure out the bonds people forge outside of friendship - that I understand and have been enjoying. To be perfectly honest, for now I am uninterested in anything further. Anything beyond friendship seems all consuming and obsessive, I have no time for such things.”
She then rests her hand on Gray’s once again. “So I enjoy just the physical sensations of things such as sex, and I ask for nothing more in return emotionally, only that it is done with someone I consider a friend. To do so with strangers seems like a social faux pas, as I understand it.” Considering how the evening had been going, she’d certainly consider Gray well on his way to being a friend. They had their similarities, and she could speak to him about things nobody else understood. “Hm. Perhaps a slight bond may be socially required. How… prudish.”
“And if I were to… have my face broken in, as you put it,” she says after slipping her hand from Gray’s and sitting back in her chair. “I would simply repair it. The body is just a tool for the mind, it is entirely fixable. Need I remind you, this brain once belonged to someone who may have been devoured by sea monsters?” she quirks a brow, but it’s mostly obscured behind her mask. “And I am capable of defending myself. I was taught to do no harm, and medically speaking I uphold that oath. Were my life in danger, however, is another story.” She hadn’t had to defend herself just yet, but she knew for a fact she had many warriors inside her, their memories floating around for the right time to surface.
“While you may have a point that a friendship with someone of your perceived reputation may be dangerous,” she continued. “Does your reputation precede you? Even after the end of the world, on an island of misfits and refugees? Perhaps you are clinging too tightly to the past. There is a rare opportunity here, one where you can begin anew, hm?” She’d know, considering she didn’t even know who she once was. There may be people on the island who knew who her brain belonged to, but she’d long since decided that she was - and is - Anastasia Vulpin. While others may live on in her, their names would be laid to rest in the past.
She listened to his last statement and found her grin tugging at her cheeks once more. In that moment, he understood her, that was certain. “There is no better way than the direct way. I do not find it efficient to… beat around the bush. To use innuendo. To be unclear. If I am asked a question I will answer honestly and directly. If I want something, I will ask for it. It makes life much more simple, and simplicity is key to the situation we find ourselves in. It is the same for experiencing life’s little joys and foibles, and the wider world around us.”
“No, while I do have fears, I have never been afraid that my lack of experience might place me in danger,” she says, giving an example of being direct. “It is something I have considered, but ultimately I employ logic and common sense in everything that I do. It has not led me astray yet.”
“As for how old I am…” she stared for a moment, then looked out the quickly darkening window, really considering that. “It is unwise to ask a woman her age…” she said in a quiet voice, one that didn’t entirely seem her own - the accent was more refined for a brief moment. Perhaps a memory slipping through. She finally looked back with a grin back on her face. “I am made up of people of all ages,” she finally says. “I believe my brain is in its late twenties, from my father’s sketches and descriptions. As an amalgamation of all these people…” She then shrugs. “I have not been keeping track. Doctor Marks may have noted the day - he was there when I awoke. Perhaps… close to a year? Over it? I am unsure. For certain when the infirmary was just a large tent.”
She sat back up again and held out her arms, allowing Gray to get a good look. “My design was not left up to chance, it was designed for purpose. Considering my nature, it was imperative to ensure my patients are as comfortable as possible with myself from the word go. Hence, adult and female. Slightly more disarming than a cobbled together man, apparently.” She let her arms rest on the chair’s. “While it may be a small mercy, perhaps, considering my brain is that of a woman, it would also fit into his experiment to see how I would develop as a person.”
“I am enjoying your questions, Mr. Gray,” she says, still grinning. Most people just ask what she is, not how she came to be or how she thought. It’s refreshing. “And we will have some time before your ward is ready to be moved. Please, if you have any questions, do not be afraid or uncomfortable to ask. If I have the answer, you will know it.”
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on Jun 21, 2023 13:33:03 GMT -5
“Such a hurry to bury the past,” Gray teased. “Were you not all for continuity and connection of the self? Or is it a matter of convenience, rather than truth?”
Truth was a fiction. Between solid stepping stones of fact, it grew soft like wax the more you looked at it from different angles. That gnawed at Gray. He wondered if Anastasia felt the same. Yet teasing is hard when one uses the same tone for everything, from 'onigiri on a stick, please' to 'tell me where you hid the money'.
The doctor didn't seem to mind that.
Her touch lingered against the back of his glove, and Gray felt his mind drawn to it. Almost shyly, the man's eyes lowered, briefly checking that her other hand was not currently stabbing him with a poisoned needle. She pulled back, then reached for him again, as if to assure him that she wanted to be there. The touch of a woman – no, more. The touch of someone who desired him. A flick of the wrist, and his fingertips folded through hers.
...Maybe it was all in his head.
“I empathize.” Gray raised his palm as if to stifle objections. He knew obsession, though not in the way most people did. But he could appreciate beauty, in body and mind. “Still, even the most superficial bond carries its dangers.” He mused.
He wondered who put her up to it. Trying to change him, perhaps?
“My, now, would it not be a man shallower than this piece of paper,” Gray said, picking up an empty page on the doctor's desk and coquettishly fluttering it before his eyes, “who discarded his life's purpose for a pretty face?”
He racked his brains. It couldn't be Alden – not a chance. Isra's former spymaster had caught a severe case of The Morals, quite terminal. The Empress Mayor? Rumours of her background suggested she might not be above using sex as a tool, yet to assume she cared that much about a nobody she'd never met would be as preposterous as involving the settlement's irreplaceable doctor in the scheme. The doctor herself? The most likely possibility. And the one that scared him the most. Gray supposed he was not the stupidest thing that he'd seen people try do because of libido.
He didn't like that idea. It unsettled Gray to be faced with things too good to be true. Even her openness to questions...
“That would be so much like an interrogation, wouldn't it? Better not encourage my terrible habits.” Mirth shined in his eyes. Maybe. “Please, call me Gray. Let us trade questions, and talk no more now of things that cannot be.” He spoke, aware of the door to his side, of Nina in the bed. As Gray moved away in turn to retake his seat, he checked that his protege was still alive, still sleeping.
Left behind on the doctor's desk, there was a piece of paper with three numbers scribbled in a corner. Paper was expensive, and Gray tried to be considerate.
A date, two days away.
A question mark.
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jun 21, 2023 18:49:36 GMT -5
"What is best for some might not be for others," Stasia quips as she parries his argument. "I do not have any memories of my past, not ones that I can recall willingly. Being able to quickly bury mine it is as convenient as it is a simple matter of shrugging my shoulders." Her grin doesn't fade as she speaks. "And in a land like this, where we can start anew, the truth can be buried with it. While I believe in the truth and find little reason to think otherwise, your truths and memories are nobody's business but your own, there is little reason everyone you meet must know every truth about you. A thousand truths are lost when the memories that carry them are gone, after all."
She speaks slightly softer as their fingers entwine, something she wasn't expecting but she found welcoming. Her fingers rest against his in a strange, comfortable embrace. She felt no reason to pull away, and in fact she reaches up with her free hand and gently pressed a finger to his chin. "And it is not my pretty face that I'm concerned about. It's this one." She taps his chin once, then pulls away. "The decision is yours. Forget the past and forge a new life, or let the past and the people and things that dwell in it continue to influence you." Her hand gently squeezed his for emphasis. "But there is an expression I heard recently. If you look for trouble, you will find it. By that logic, if you don't…" she merely shrugs. "You may escape it and find a new purpose. A purpose you have the liberty to choose."
Her hand rested against his as she sat back. "But these things have nothing to do with me, regardless of your thoughts of my 'pretty' face, as you put it." Her grin never faltered, which made it difficult to see through to her emotions, but the sentiment still carried in her voice. She felt pretty neutral about it all. "I can see the burden you carry, I think you can put it down, but whether you do or not, I will be here, in my infirmary, enjoying a life I have decided for myself where my various pasts hold no dominion even if they do fascinate me." Her hand squeezed once more. "And my door is open to you… Gray." That felt strange. Like she was making a friend. Was it the right place to? By then, it was far too late to think about these things. She had made a friend. "Should you need or want my company."
Her hand slipped from his as she stood and walked away. She slid her hand back across the table and examined it for a moment, reminded of the healed scars that now blended her patches in one spot. She rubbed it gently, her mind now mixed with concern, enjoyment of a nice moment, but also… hm. Something else. Like she was suddenly missing something. It subsided as she noted the marks on the paper and slid it towards herself. Ah, a date. Two and two made four in that moment as it clicked. Her eyes flicked to Gray for a moment before she picked up the pencil from her desk.
"An interrogation would imply a lack of willingness on my part," she said as she wrote on the other side of the paper, cognisant of saving as much space as possible. "I think many are scared to ask me questions, but not you. I appreciate that. Please, feel free to continue asking - build a new habit of asking questions instead of demanding answers." She gave him a wink, reflecting his own jab at his nature.
She tore the area from the paper, carefully in well measured lines, balled it up, then lifted it in the palm of her hand. She aimed then flicked the small piece towards Gray's centre mass.
A time, followed by a window, an upwards arrow, and a W. Upstairs window, west side, after dark. If she understood Gray as well as she thought, she knew he would be a little less comfortable going in the front door in broad daylight.
"And in a world like this, anything is possible, Gray."
She sat back in her chair, hands gently clasped as her thumb went over the healed line. "Anything."
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on Jun 28, 2023 12:38:50 GMT -5
A silvery thread of saliva glistened down Nina's cheek. That told Gray that the girl was genuinely sleeping.
It would have been a rather strange conversation for her to overhear. Given the surgery and the way her magic had burned her out like a candle, however, he expected her to be out of commission for days. For how long, Gray wondered, had the wires strained to keep that girl alive before he'd even found her? Before he had spotted that cultist awkwardly shuffling in the bushes near his cave.
He would need to get food for Nina later. His fingers clenched against the armrest. If he took from the provisions stored for winter, again, she might actually cry.
Perhaps two days' time might be too soon. Yet he continued his game with the doctor, bowing down as if mortally wounded by the paper projectile. When he straightened himself, the message vanished between his fingers as if by magic. He would read it later.
“There is always a choice.” He said. “Always has been.”
“Do not assume that I am some misunderstood figure in need of a second chance.” Gray clarified. “I might make different choices in this land. I will. That does not guarantee you will like them.”
He enjoyed their conversation, yet there were...moments. The way she assumed his difficulties felt too risky – too soon, if ever. The Master of the Clocktower never had burdens. Not any that anyone else should be able to tell. Else – death. Yet he found that he enjoyed the doctor's open confidence, her independence. Anastasia Vulpin would not tie herself into knots for any man – and in his old world, that was as perverse as her interest in sex, or her skill in surgery.
“At the same time, I can behave. You have made your rules very clear. I appreciate that.” It was like a breath of fresh air.
He was still unsure of what the doctor's real intentions were. Information, most likely. About her father? Yet the doctor played the long game, and let him ask the questions. Oh, did she think he did not know? Inwardly, he smiled.
Questions a person asked could their nature almost as much as answers. But two could play this game1.
“Do you believe that there is an external purpose which led to all of us being here?” After a moment, Gray asked. A white eyebrow raised. “We have all died on the endless seas, some say, and now we are in hell – or, occasionally, in heaven.” His equal tone suggested he favoured neither of the options in particular, but then again, it never changed. “Many have reported gigantic hands carrying a censer in the clouds, just before spotting land. I have heard of ruins, their style quite unlike anything else known, which hold similar paintings. Traces of a civilization of which nothing else remains.” Gray let his words linger. “What are your thoughts on this? And, potentially related though not necessarily so, is there anything you value spiritually...” He looked at her. “Anastasia?”
1Or perhaps, Gray debated, he was simply playing himself.
|
|
Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
|
Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jun 29, 2023 18:54:20 GMT -5
Atasia stifled a little giggle as she watched Gray's reaction to the little ball of paper. She then blinked in surprise. She'd never done that before. Fascinating…
Her expression behind the mask softened once more as he spoke. There was something slightly amusing about his assumption that she wanted to, what… fix him? As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to fix. Only missed potential in clinging so hard to a life that no longer existed.
"I don't have to like them. To approve of them. To find them acceptable. Hm, no…" she paused for a moment, then snapped back to reality. She'd been getting good at not letting her mind wander over her own word usage, but it still happened on occasion, much to her annoyance. "As long as you understand that you have options, it's your choice which one you choose. I shouldn't factor into them, even if we do become friends." Her grin never faltered, even as she folded her strange hands on her lap. "It's clear that I don't understand the path that has brought you here, but I understand enough that you will make the choices that are right for you." She then gestured to Nina. "And your ward." Letting go of the past and rejoining civilization felt right, but she'd said all she could on the matter. He understood her. She understood him, and she was perfectly fine with that.
Her grin tightened a little at the mention of her rules. In the infirmary, there was no other option but to follow them. "And I appreciate your good behaviour, Gray," she said. "All this talk of choices, but that is all I can really ask of you." At least, in the infirmary. All she could ask of him may be put to the test otherwise. "As I said, if I want something, I will be clear. It's extremely important within these walls, as I'm sure you know."
There was another pause as they sat with their thoughts, something neither seemed to either notice or mind. Both were intellectual, that much had been made clear, coupled with social tendencies far beyond the norm. It was something Anastasia found refreshing. People seemed to have an annoying habit of filling every break in the conversation, speaking without saying anything, but Gray seemed to pick his words carefully and with intention. It actually made their conversations far more gripping to the patchwork woman.
Or perhaps it was his cheekbones. As a flesh shaper, she found them spectacular.
She rose from her seat to peer out of the window just as the next question came. The sun had long gone down, leaving them only in the light of the moon that has started streaming through the window. She hadn't even noticed until just then, having been completely enraptured by the man who sat across from her. Outside there was little to see, just the stars above and darkness below, so as the questions were asked she closed the blinds, plunging them into darkness until she lit the little lamp that sat on her desk. It was enough to see, but low enough that it would not bother Nina.
Besides, her eyes were designed to be far and beyond the normal, and she expected Gray's to be no different.
"No external purpose," Stasia said, without needing time to think about it. "As far as most are concerned, myself included, I did die on the seas, but there was no offer of heaven or hell for me." She gently sat back down in her chair, the lamp's light flickering and glinting from the smooth surface of her mask. "People claim to have seen many things, but are unable to explain it, perhaps out of ignorance and a lack of education, or the emotion of the moment. So, they turn to their deities and beliefs." She pressed a hand to the bare section of her chest, between the folds of light cloth and silks that made up her revealing gymnast's garb. "I hold no such beliefs. I have no qualms with people for their own, but I have not led a life that involved religion or gods or the great beyond. Only medical science."
There was a light shrug of her shoulders as she sank back into her plush chair. "I could be wrong, there might be some divine presence that looks over us and decides our fates, but I choose to believe that isn't the case. Otherwise… what's the point? If we are predestined to do something, the whim of a god somewhere beyond the realm of reason, why bother making our own decisions? That sounds incredibly…" she searched for the right word for a moment. "Boring. Dull. A waste."
"So, in the spirit of going full circle, I live for the now. I'm unbothered by gods and demons, only wounds and bruises. My fate is my own." She gives a short nod at that. Yes, she had been remade and sculpted by a mortal man, but he had no control over her. Why would she allow someone incorporeal to do the same?
She placed her elbows on the chair's arms and interlocked her fingers in front of her mask in thought. "As for the ruins…" her eyes flicked to Gray's. "Everyone on this island had their own civilizations razed in great cataclysms, where only ruins remain. Civilizations rise and they fall, I think the same thing happened here."
Then she furrows her brow and her grin falters for just a moment. "Hm. But they all failed at once. I had not considered that until now. Bizarre." She thought about it for a good few moments before coming to a conclusion. "In a world of magic and great power being wielded by mortal beings, there are too many possibilities to consider. Perhaps a terrible spell went awry. Perhaps the world's magical winds shifted directions and decided a reset was in order." She looked to Gray again. "Perhaps this happens in a cycle, and the survivors create stronger civilizations from the ashes."
Her head tilted to the side. "You've done it again, Gray. I am once again fascinated by you." It was genuine too, nobody made her think in these sorts of ways. "Perhaps there's something to gods and deities. Perhaps the world works in cycles. Perhaps it's just bad luck. Ultimately, I have no memories or anecdotes to create an informed opinion. So, if you asked me for a conclusion?" She sat up again. "My conclusion is that the end of the world that was sits firmly in the past. My life is in the present and the future, in a land that is neither heaven nor hell. A time and a land of endless possibilities."
She gave a slight chuckle. "If we were in heaven or hell, I would have been broken up and the pieces reformed back into the people that created me, there would be no Anastasia Vulpin, and we wouldn't be having such an enjoyable evening together, despite the circumstances." Her eyes shifted a little as she tilted her head and looked back at Gray. While they were usually wide and slightly unnerving, they seemed… relaxed for once. At ease. "And I am quite enjoying your company as Anastasia."
|
|
Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Gray on Jul 5, 2023 17:02:51 GMT -5
Darkness. Then, flickering lamplight lit up the doctor's mask
It was the little things, the way she seemed to know her way around the room by heart, that Gray found soothing.
“All at once...” Gray repeated, his mind ringing with the steps of of civilizations falling. “Concurrently. In the same time, yet also not quite, for time is a most curious thing.” His mind went silent for a moment, terrifyingly so, for he had known much about time, and yet he could no longer hear its pulse of gears. A sharp pain went through his head. “Among the Imilla, if rumours are to be believed,” he continued smoothly, a hand on his temples, “there are people who have landed here from across a thousand years of their old history. Perhaps more curious, quite a few others besides seem to remember subtly different histories.” His index finger sketched something in the air. “As if time itself was not a straight line.”
He folded his fingers. “A net?” He pondered. “To catch us? Yet if the strongest civilizations are picked, what are they?” Gray asked. He had always been fond of questions, even before learning to use them to go around his bond of always telling the truth. “Are they the hunter-gatherers,” he asked, “who could survive given nothing more than a rock and a stick? Are they societies like New Isra, struggling to preserve knowledge that might be useful in the future, even as the effort to so nearly breaks them? Are they warrior-types who break everything that stands in their way? I do not believe it is an easy question.”
He pondered.
“Yet even if it hasn't been asked, it may be answered.” He spoke.
One day. Yet in the here and now, the more outrageous thing was that Anastasia hinted at enjoying his presence. The woman had a bright view on life, despite her profession giving her a front seat to the new world's dangers. However, Gray could not afford to forget the old. Not as the descendant of a lineage that for hundreds of years had been stuck in a loop like a broken gear.
“I had believed the new world underwhelming,” Gray admitted, “for its severe lack of books should surely lead to lacking conversation.” How could he ever explain to Anastasia the wonder of a great library? Hundreds of thousands of volumes, waiting quietly in perfect order. Books simple written to catalogue other books. People who might spend years of their lives simply to illustrate a single volume. That could never exist here. Still...“I have been proven wrong.”
|
|