New Isra
Committed
Roleplay posts: 71
Biography: This account represents the NPCs and locations associated with New Isra!
Allegiances: Isra
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:30:20 GMT -5
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Post by New Isra on Nov 7, 2022 0:12:45 GMT -5
Toward the center of New Isra's fledgling settlement, not far from the Infirmary, and adjacent to The Residence of Dr. Marks, sits this house. Sitting comfortably at ‘average’ size, it is a fine house for most needs. The upper floor contains a master bedroom and another, as-of-yet empty room, that could become a guest bedroom, a study, or perhaps just a storeroom. The lower floor is mostly one room, with the sitting area separated from the kitchen by a short bar. If one desired, they could convert the downstairs into a shop or workshop, and do their living (minus cooking) upstairs. The entire thing is a bit sparsely furnished and almost entirely lacking in decoration at present, but with some more furniture, some sanding, and a bit of TLC, this house could become a home. The nameplate on this door refers to Anastasia Vulpin but reads merely as "Anastasia". |
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jul 13, 2023 17:01:31 GMT -5
The moon hung lazily in the air above the town of Port Argentium, casting its pale light over the rooftops of the small, freshly built houses. At this hour, the vast majority sat quiet and dark, the residents deep in their slumber after a long day of hard work. The dead of night cast its stillness over the streets around them, the air carrying only the sounds of the distant waves, the gentle breeze through the nearby trees, and the steps of a guardsman’s boots as he made his nightly rounds, quietly grumbling to himself about the night shift.
Otherwise, not even the mice stirred at this hour.
One house remained the exception, however, and one nobody batted an eye at any more. The residence of one Doctor Anastasia Vulpin, the chief surgeon of the town’s infirmary. Her neighbours had grown to understand that she kept odd hours, and many even suspected that she didn’t sleep at all, so the light in the downstairs parlour and the upstairs bedroom flickering through the closed blinds wasn’t cause for a second look.
Not a long enough look to notice the open window on the building’s second floor at least…
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128 
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Jul 23, 2023 10:31:54 GMT -5
In the moonlight, the middle of the stone road seemed flecked with silver and bone. Its edges were deep in shadows, only revealed by the glow of the watchman's lamp as he walked past. There had been rumours of strange hounds and of people disappearing in the night. No one else could be seen. 'Seen' being the operative word.
Perhaps thirty paces back, Gray followed the watchman. He was cloaked in darkness, which is to say, he walked blind. He was guided only by the flickering light ahead, and by his memories. The assassin stepped over a cobblestone he knew to be missing, nearly stumbled over something soft and meowing, and took out his own lamp – a faint, cold thing – only for brief moments, when the frenzy of building around Port Argentium had rendered his path unrecognizable. He finally stopped by the corner of a house with lit windows. Even without going to the door to press his fingers against its nameplate, he knew that it held inscribed the name of his target.
He touched the wall. Good brickwork, but the hurry of the construction had left the occasional gap in the mortar. He looked up. The top floor slightly overhung the street, and was supported by a set of downwards-angled beams. A knife flashed in his hand, and with its help he hoisted himself up to the wooden rafters so swiftly that the watchman did not even turn.
He waited. Crouching with his back against the wall, the man went through his mental checklist. Weapons, he thought. The great executioner sword strapped to his back was perhaps, as one might say, overkill, but Gray felt wrong without it. Glass windows, he thought. Should be easy enough to break. A small gift, he thought. He patted his chest. Enemies? He pressed his ear on the wall, to check for signs of life. Signs of other people checking their weapons. Waiting for him. An ambush was not what most people expected when being invited on a date, but Gray was not most people.
His date was not most people, either. Though she may have been built of many people. Either way, Anastasia had foiled Gray's plan to break in by outright inviting him to. Remembering that caused Gray to grin in pain, as if he'd bitten into an overly sweet confection. He'd debated picking the front door and making his way to the upper window that she'd mentioned. Technically correct. Yet something told him that in dalliances such as those that may happen that night, trust was important.
He went over the plan multiple times, while the silence and small sounds of life around him abjectly failed to sound any more murderous. A cat meowed oddly in the distance. Gray crawled easily through the inverted triangle of the support rafters. Just above the space where the brighter cobblestones below hinted at the window above, he leaned away from the wall, supporting himself with one hand, and with the other threw upwards a rope with a curved metal claw on one end.
There was a clink of the glass – 'fool!', Gray thought – but the rope caught the windowsill. He was through the window and rolling on the floor with the climbing claw in hand faster than you could say “No, Mr. Gray, I expect you to die.”
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jul 26, 2023 16:40:47 GMT -5
The streets outside remained silent save for the distant footfalls of the lone guard, and soon even they faded into the distance. Nobody knew that Gray had even set foot outside, save for an upset cat who had likely already faded back into the shadows themself.
It would be immediately obvious that Gray had found himself in a bedroom. In one corner opposite the widnow was the standard, slightly larger than single bed, which had been made up very neatly. The sheets were the same as the others rationed out to every other household nearby - an off white colour, stitched in places where it had to be salvaged, and with a deep blue woollen blanket above the mid-sheet, which saved the occupant from the warm, but itchy material. The pillows were once again standard, but one stood out, one that looked hand stitched. It didn’t match the bed at all, with its colour being a mix of yellow and orange swatches, each one decorated with a different pattern, but the ‘thank you’ stitched into the front of the pillow was clear as day. It looked quite a bit more comfortable than the standard pillows too. Beside the bed sat an end table with a drawer in its top, which supported a cup, a small jug of water, and a lantern that lit up the room.
Beside the windows that Gray had clambered through, sat a desk which had clearly been moved to the side, as if someone had been inspecting Gray to arrive via the window. The desk itself seemed entirely unnoteworthy, not like the desk in Anastasia’s office, which had been inlaid with all sorts of patterns. The only thing of note about the desk was the stacks of paper and the three books atop it, all of them sporting Anastasia’s handwriting. Most were covered in medical jargon as she’d put her thoughts to paper, and some were far more hastily scrawled and not in a language that likely anyone would understand. Upon closer inspection, it would seem more like a strange type of short form.
The books seemed well maintained, the first being a book of stories that Stasia had somehow gotten her hands on, and atop that sat a small notebook that seemed to match it. Inside that were page numbers and references, along with several notes of Stasia’s own thoughts, even if it were fiction. The next book was just like the ones in her office, full of medical information and sketches of body parts and innards, as well as the doctor’s own observations.
The final booked seemed tied up tight and given quite a lot of care by the looks of it. Anastasia’s personal journal, if the ‘personal property of Dr. Anastasia Vulpin’ written along the spine was anything to go off of. It certainly wasn’t a medical journal written to educate, as most of her other books were.
Opposite the bed, in the other corner, sat a well crafted looking wardrobe, its doors sat just above three large drawers. It didn’t seem like the standard collection doled out to the masse as the town’s houses were built, but instead looked hand crafted by a professional. From the intricate designs and excellent joinery, anyone in the know would recognise it as the work of the elusive, grouchy Av’rae woman who lived out in the forest. She often took orders for projects as a trade for the town’s wares, so either she and Stasia had crossed paths, or her goods were as good as money to the townsfolks.
One of the doors was open, revealing the clothing inside. It looked like Anastasia’s eclectic taste was not exclusive to her gymnast-like outfit, which had been tossed into a small basket beside the wardrobe by the looks of it. While her regular outfit was purposely made to be as colourful and revealing as it was, her other clothes seemed to take inspiration from her quilted skin. She had a few dresses hanging up, each made up from scraps and salvaged cloth from several other pieces of clothing, but - like her - they all seemed to fit together and all appeared tailored to suit her. Nobody in town would try to do something like that with salvaged clothes, at least not that well. Had she managed it herself? Regardless of who did it, they did quite a marvellous job. The same could be said for the various other shirts, coats, and trousers that were hung in the wardrobe.
A few subtle scents hung in the room to anyone perceptive enough to notice. The scent of clean laundry, which most people smelled of given how everyone got their laundry done by the same team in town, and the slight scent of dust on the bed’s blanket. There was also that scent that lingered under it all, a vague clinical, medical smell that seemed unique to Anastasia, likely from her work.
But there was also something else lingering through the air. The door leading towards the second room and staircase sat wide open, with light shining across the wall from the stairway below, and the scent grew just a touch stronger when approached. The smell of… flowers? But not the normal kind, the kind that had been refined, almost artificially manipulated. Soap perhaps?
Whatever it was, it came from the next room, but no sound went with it. The only sound was the crackle of a fire down on the ground floor, as well as the light swishing of a pencil and the rustle of paper.
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Jul 30, 2023 4:26:55 GMT -5
Something was wrong.
Gray stood up. He brushed off cobwebs off his shoulders, and pulled out a rag from a sleeve-pocket to clean the soles of his shoes. That, and the climbing claw, were neatly folded and tucked away. He moved by the wall, mindful that the lamp not project his shadow outside, and looked around. Anastasia's position could have made the woman one of the richest inhabitants of Port Argentium. Yet her home's furnishings were simple, merely outlining the little touches of her personality. Good. Those were the details that could best be used against a person.
Appreciative of craftsmanship, including of the written word, Gray noted. Dedicated to her craft, but not obsessed. Connected to the people around her, yet not obviously 'involved'. All sorts of little secrets hid in plain sight, such as Anastasia's potential fancy for beautiful clothing, which could have remained forever obscured under the standard hospital gowns. Yet there was something obviously wrong with the place, that sent Gray's gaze lingering back towards the window latch. He may be forced to break out, or in, later, under less ideal circumstances. Still, his feet carried him forward. The closed door, and the scent, twisted his guts in a way that made Gray suspect the problem.
No one had tried to kill him yet.
Down the stairs he went. He stepped close to the wall, just over the wooden rivets, soundlessly. His frame seemed to flow. It was a strange colour, his cloak, at once sufficiently dark to hide blood splatters, yet drab enough to be almost forgettable. And there was perhaps something more to it, as the assassin had been known to walk by people in broad daylight without them noticing.
Downstairs, he approached the source of the sound – Anastasia? - and tried to glimpse what she was up to – writing? drawing? inscribing a sacrificial circle dedicating his soul to the spirit world? In a moment of pause, he would reach for something at his chest, and take out a small parcel from between the overlapping folds of his kosode-blouse. It was a bunch of hay tied with sprigs of fresh mint.
Gray pulled his hood down. His his sunburn had faded since Anastasia had seen him, his hair had been freshly washed, and his eyebrows plucked into shape. His black boots, though cracked with wear, had been given a new shine with a touch of grease and wax. Silently, the man left the small parcel within Anastasia's reach.
Inside the hay, there was a bundle of waxed cloth, tied with a cord. Inside the cloth, there was a small piece of honeycomb, soaking in honey. Among its usual gold colour, some of the still capped hexagons glimmered a deep blue.
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Jul 30, 2023 8:40:22 GMT -5
As Gray made his way down the freshly built steps, quieter than a mouse, more of the downstairs would be revealed. Along the back wall was Anastasia’s kitchen, made up of a basin and bucket, a wood burning stove, and ample counter space that stretched the width of the room. There were two bowls and two plates neatly stacked on a shelf under one counter, and two glasses sat to the side of the counter, all clean and pristine, and there wasn’t a morsel of old food to be seen on the spotless counter or basin. The counters stretched from the opposite wall to the pantry that sat underneath the upstairs hallway before the stairs. The pantry door was open, revealing the inside to be barrel save for the town’s standard ration basket that sat half full on a shelf. Many had outgrown these ration baskets, with things steadily starting to improve, but not Stasia.
Beside the stairs sat a small table with two chairs, one had seen quite a bit of use, but the other had small specs of dust sitting on the seat. Stasia must have been a creature of habit. In the middle of the wall opposite the stairs was the house’s fireplace and chimney, and in front of it two worn, but rather comfortable looking chairs with a small table between them. A fire gently crackled, illuminating the room where the oil lantern, sitting on a thin table under the one of the front windows that flanked the front door, couldn’t reach.
The downstairs seemed as spartan as the floor above them, but it still had its odd charms. In an old, worn frame that sat the window featured a child’s drawing. It appeared to be a small girl standing on some squiggly grass, holding hands with a woman who had been drawn with every colour the child could manage to find, and they both appeared to sport large, red, exaggerated smiles. At the bottom, in barely legible handwriting, was a simple ‘Thank’ and, though one attempt had already been crossed out, ‘you!’. It was the only picture in a frame inside the bottom floor, and one that had been placed with great thought.
Though the rest of the walls were bare of pictures for now, Stasia had taken the time to place a small bunch of wildflowers that gave the air a slight flowering scent, placed in an old, cracked vase that sat on a shelf on the wall between the fireplace and the front window, with the rest of the three shelves taken up by several books, many in disrepair and the others seemingly hand bound recently.
Most importantly, however, was the woman who sat in one of the comfortable chairs before the fire, wearing what appeared to be a patchwork robe. Some parts of it were sampled from plush, fur-like material, some just basic, unnoteworthy swatches of colour, while a few appeared even slightly sheer, revealing the faint colours of patchwork skin below. The masked woman sat with her hair down, freshly brushed and drying, and without it being braided and wrapped around her crown her hair hung down to her chest in long straight strands that curved around her mismatched ears. As Gray grew closer, the smell he had found in the room above grew stronger, the smell of lavender and soap. Judging by her drying hair, it was clear the woman had just bathed.
Her right leg was crossed over the left, slipping out of the patchwork robe at her lower thigh, and atop the quilted skin of her knee sat a sketchbook, with a matching pencil in her free hand. The page showed an almost statuesque woman, with long flowing robes and an elegant expression like one would find on a statue in a capital city. In fact, that’s exactly what the impressive sketch looked like, but it was hard to put a finger on which city.
As Gray brought the package from his shirt, Stasia lifted her cracked and worn pocket watch from her robe pocket. “You are exactly on time, Gray. Punctual. Precise.” She put it away and turned her head just as the package was placed. “Welcome to my home. Please, make yourself comfortable.” She gestured to the seat beside her before looking at the package. “...oh!” It took her a moment. “A gift? This is… unexpected, but appreciated.”
She closed the cover on her sketchbook and placed it on the table beside the package and shifted her legs so she could sit upright. With eyes of fascination shining from within her mask, she placed the package in her lap and began to gently unwrap the waxed cloth and straw beneath. Then her strange, unnatural grin stretched further along her cheeks as she regarded the prize within. “Honeycomb. How delightful!” She wicked just a small amount of honey from the end with the point of a discoloured finger and examined it in the light of the fire. The golden hue shifted and swirled with the fire behind it before she placed the blob on her tongue, which until now had been hidden behind her mask. Thankfully, it was in one piece - though it was blue. “Mm!” She looked to Gray with a grin as she bundled the honeycomb back up again. “Thank you, Gray, this is unexpected. I have never tried honey before, and I have always been curious.”
She stood, allowing the robe to straighten around her form, and she gently carried the honeycomb to her bare pantry, where she quickly found a shelf for it. She looked into her ration basked with some thought. “I apologise that I cannot reciprocate. I hadn’t thought to get any snack or any gifts of my own. You are welcome to partake in some of my rations, if you would like?”
The woman plucked the basket from the pantry and placed it on the dining table, should Gray wish to sample any of the dry, mostly tasteless, but nutrient packed foods that sat inside. Then she approached the man again. “Thank you for coming, Gray. I feel we may speak a little more freely here in my home. Liberally. Without restriction.” She paused for a moment, was that correct? “Hm. Yes.” She took a moment to look the man over before her grin tightened at the corners. “You’ve cleaned up your eyebrows and hair,” she stated, matter of factly. “It looks… better. Nice. Handsome? Hm.” She took a moment to consider that, then with her grin remaining genuine, spoke. “Yes. Certainly.”
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Aug 1, 2023 14:19:44 GMT -5
“Thank you.”
“May I prepare your rations?” Gray asked. His eyes darted across the pantry shelves. Not even a pan. So...frugal. “I believe cooking might bring out new tastes.”
Should his offer be agreeable, the man would pick up the basket and empty it on the counter. So fragile, he thought, picking out a ceramic jar. Paper-like edible bark floated in thin soup. So unbearable fragile. Perhaps Anastasia had more reliable access to food than he, maybe even nicer items than most of the country, judging by her generous allowance of lamp oil. But her fortunes were inextricably tied to New Isra.
What else did he have to work with? He opened the top of a small black pot. Porridge. A staple of Isran joke culture in the way it could contain just about anything, including bark scraped from the lumber yards. He tasted it. Some millet. Potato. Not bad, if a bit under-salted. Hazelnuts on the side and, wrapped in leaves, a whole roasted fish. One boiled egg. One small onion, one pepper, and a handful of berries, some of them still green.
“The rations are well designed to last a day, two. However...” Gray said, turning the pot over one of the plates. “This limits what they can express in terms of texture and taste.” The porridge plopped out in a solid mass. Next, his black leather gloves came off.
He hung the pot on the standardized hook over the fire, skinned the fish, and threw the tough skin in to cook. While it sizzled and crisped, releasing oil, he peeled and cut the onion, part of which he threw alongside. When had that dagger even appeared in his hand? Paper-thin roundels were now flying from the edge of a tiny red pepper slipped from his sleeve, releasing an eye-watering scent as they too fried. He swallowed a few. That was his medicine. Sometimes one needed both pain and euphoria, but now he went light on the pain.
The hazelnuts were placed by the fireplace in a perfectly straight line, to roast. The pile of porridge was sliced, diced and cubed before it could beg for mercy, while Gray asked Anastasia to please stir the onions. From some of the branches left as kindling left by the fireplace, he made skewers, and on them layered porridge cubes, fish, onion and sweet pepper. A rub of the salt that he carried around as trade item. A thin drizzle of honey, and lamp oil.
While a pleasant scent began to drift, Gray returned to the soup. He picked up the sheets of white bark and sliced them further, into makeshift noodles. These, together with the light herbal broth they had been in (basil? thyme?), he dropped into the pot, over onions ranging from golden softness to crispy brown. He thickened the soup with the remaining porridge and fish, and topped it with some of the greener berries, smashed between his fingers, for a tinge of sourness.
A spicy, hearty soup, steaming as Gray poured it into a bowl and topped it with two halves of boiled egg. Campfire-style skewers, placed onto a plate, with a few berries scattered around for effect. Hazelnuts, still crackling. For himself, the man only kept a little bit. “Just to check that I am do not poison you,” he said. He had already eaten.
“You have a talented tailor. It really fits your style.” He pondered later, once they were seated and comfortable. By now, his executioner sword was resting, sheathed, against the table edge; his boots had been placed out of the way, together with their associated daggers. His eyes were resting on Anastasia. That fur, together with the fine gauze...“It must have required some impressive stitching skills. I know someone like that...”
He gazed long at her.
“Nothing will happen if you do not want it. Do you understand?” Gray asked. “I am not quite clear on why you may have been put under watch, or how constrained your freedom is.” He paused. “I understand that you may welcome an ally who is...shall we say, less bound by the rules of Isra.” He toyed with the sides of a roasted porridge cube. “But though I cherish imagining touching every single patch of your skin, this will not sway me in other matters. Am I clear?”
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Aug 1, 2023 15:23:49 GMT -5
Prepare her rations? She wasn’t sure what he meant by that at first, they were mostly already prepared, but she nodded with her strange grin anyway. To her, her rations were nothing but nutrients, she didn’t really think too much of the taste or texture normally. She didn’t feel it necessary to take more than she needed, not with the town’s population being largely undernourished even after some time, so she stuck with the standard rations and didn’t complain. She felt no need to!
Still, she watched curiously as Gray worked, cooking up a storm before her as she sat in her arm chair. She took a few moments to take her long auburn hair in her hands and began to twist and pull it into a long braid, then with the help of a few pins she tied it up around the crown of her head, keeping it out of the way in her usual style.
Her time as an audience member was only a brief respite however, as she was quickly recruited for pot stirring duties. She took up this duty with enthusiasm as she began to stir, watching the broth turn and churn, noting the various scents that wafted up from it. “Fascinating…” she said in an almost whisper, her attention shifting constantly between the pot and her friend’s work with his blade.
“I have no real need for texture and taste,” she finally said as he worked. “The island doesn’t have enough for me to spoil myself, so I continue with what I need. Thankfully, one of the many efficiencies my father had in mind during my body’s creation was nutrient absorption. This ration pack would normally last me closer to four days.” She didn’t seem to mind that Gray was using a lot of it. She’d still make it through those four days regardless with everything being cooked up before her.
Finally, the two were sat together at her dining table, a direction she hadn’t imagined when she had invited him to her home. In fact, all she had thought about was a talk without prying ears, less so a cooked meal, but who was she to complain? She curiously lifted one of the two spoons she owned and sniffed at the soup. The slightly spicy, rustic aroma filled her sinuses with such smells that it tightened her grin with joy. “I believe I can trust you far enough to not poison me. And if you did… it would be a fascinating entry in my latest medical journal. “
She deposited it in her mouth and let it flow over her tongue, reaching every donated, blue taste bud. “Mm!” she finally exclaimed behind a closed mouth. She swallowed and grinned once more, two rows of pearly whites, almost perfect if not for the one noticeably longer canine tooth on the top right of her smile. “This is marvellous,” she said, dipping her spoon in the soup, then going for the kebab Gray had made with her kindling, which only made her eyes swell with joy. Such tastes, she didn’t think these foods could ever be used in such ways. Cooking was something she’d never really had much curiosity in, but her mind was certainly considering it then.
“Tailor?” she asked, her head listing slightly to the right in that slight curiously bizarre way that she had about her. She looked at her gown and her grin tightened once more. “I have no tailor, though I am flattered regardless. Other than the outfits you have already seen, I have taken to creating my own clothing from the still useable scraps I can find. It may surprise you to hear that some people will dispose of clothing or rags for the slightest bit of damage. They have more than enough to keep me clothed for a long time.” She placed her hand on the table and lifted her sleeve, revealing the stitched skin beneath. “Good stitching runs in my family.” Was that a joke? Her tightening grin might indicate it. She was getting good at the whole social business!
Then Gray spoke once more and her head listed to the other side, but it quickly dawned on her. Amongst the clarity and truth of his statement was an admission of something a little further, intimate even. It was unexpected, but Stasia couldn't help but think - should it have been? Her mind went back to their previous discussions and the topic of sex having been brought up. She had invited him to her private home shortly after. It made sense!
“I do not do what I do not want to do, Gray,” she said, lifting the kebab once more, preparing another bite. “I understand that completely. I was not brought back and gifted new life to do what I do not want to do.” She took a bite and chewed it as she considered his words. “My freedom is… interesting,” she admitted. “I am free in most senses of the word, that is certain. For the most part, I can go where I please and do as I please, with the understanding that what I want to do and where I want to go are within the expected boundaries of societal morality. Which they are, I go where I am needed, and I do what I enjoy - healing those who need healed.”
Another bite. Oh so delicious, it certainly was a treat for the patchwork woman. “There has only a few restrictions levied on me so far. You may have already gleaned that I cannot seek out my father, I cannot speak to him in any shape or form, I cannot attempt to break him out of wherever he has been taken, I cannot provide him anything, nor may I visit him. I am to consider him gone, non-existent, perhaps even dead, and there is nothing to be done about it.” She seemed nonchalant about these things as she held the kebab in her mismatched hands.
She then looked to the doors for a moment and placed her skewer back down on the plate. She stood and walked over to ensure the door was locked - it certainly was, and deadbolted to boot - and then made sure the shutters were the same. The light might slip through the cracks, as Gray had seen from the outside, but they were indeed in privacy. She soon returned to the table with her friend.
“But these were rules handed down by a woman who was not elected to her position by the general population.” She sat and picked up her skewer once more. “A former empress with riches beyond measure. Having said this, however, she would likely be elected to leadership if the people of this town had such a choice - so it is not worth a second thought. Regardless, she arrested and took my father away for the simple crime of insulting her, thus, and I wish for this to remain between us, I see her as a tyrant. An effective tyrant, yes, but a tyrant nonetheless.” Another bite. So good. So good! “And I have no mind for politics, my place is to heal her subjects, so my opinions on our leader are entirely pointless.” She placed the skewer down once more. “My point being, I have no real interest in following those rules because they were created from an event that I found to be unjustified.”
This time she took a spoonful of soup as she collected her next thoughts. “The other rules imposed on me were rather simple, and ones that did not necessarily have to be said. No creating any more of my kind, even if I am more than capable, and no reanimation.” She twirled the spoon between her fingers with a dexterous grace as she spoke. “Which is preposterous. To rip people from death has no place in the morality of being a doctor, and it is beyond my abilities regardless. I have no way to save the dead, my abilities are limited to pulling people from the brink and keeping them alive. Those who can bring back the dead…” her grin faltered for a moment. “They have no place in my infirmary, nor my presence.”
Her grin quickly returned to full size, however. “I fear we have strayed slightly. While I do welcome an ally who lives outside the laws of this town, it was not my intention on our friendship. I find you fascinating as you are, Gray, and I do not wish to manipulate you in any way, with my words, or otherwise. Your wishes are very clear,” she said, then reached over and placed a hand on his, the grin tightening at her lips. “Very clear…” she slipped her hand away, but she made sure to let the touch linger as her hand moved.
“I can assure you, given your situation and general liberty, I would like to ask questions and nothing more,” she continued. “Ones that would get myself in trouble, yes, but they would not put you in danger. I would like to know what you know of my father, such as where you saw him, and if he is alive. I have… things I wish to discuss with him. Improvements that I cannot do myself.”
Then she leaned back in her chair slightly. “I can assure you, I had no real expectations surrounding your answers, and they will have no effect on the possibility of counting my patches.” Did she just flirt? “That is something I had not considered when I invited you here tonight, but it is something I am now… curious about.”
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Aug 5, 2023 13:31:55 GMT -5
Gray enjoyed seeing Anastasia's face. The way she lit up when biting into his cooking, as humble as that was. He enjoyed making people react, whether it meant smiles or throat-tearing howls of pain. It assured him, on a deep level, that though he was different from most people, he could still pull their strings.
...he could still mess up, just like them, as when using up too much of the food. He swallowed that fact with the soup.
He listened carefully as Anastasia spoke of the leader Naoki. “I have heard similar statements,” he opined. From Nina, but one did not betray his informants. He listened as the doctor spoke of her father. And he thought.
“If but a few questions could lead me to your father, someone is being guilty of incompetence,” Gray mused. “Anything more, I cannot afford to do. Not with everything on my plate.” Such as surviving. With Nina still recovering from her injury, it was on him to get the food. Carry the water, collect firewood, and all the tasks she had so thanklessly done. His eyes sharpened. “At the same time, I cannot afford not to.” It could have been Nina who had been 'vanished'. It might still be.
How much could he share?
“There are cracks in this country.” He started. “Vulpin, the elder, might not be the only person who disappeared. A couple of vagabonds, low-lives, have...vanished, though the causes have not been identified.” His pause hinted at something more than falling into the harbour. “And there is the curious case of the stone used for Naoki's mansion, for the dykes as well. No one knows where it comes from.” The man's voice lingered. In the land where every old lady knew someone who knew someone who worked on a logging crew and had a job for you, that was unnatural.
Gray raised a finger.
“Now. I have no evidence to support the fact that Naoki is running a work camp, and even less that your father is in it. For all I know she may have made allies with elusive fey people with a penchant for mining.” He also knew that rulers were faced with tough choices. Would banishing the discontent and the useless to an out-of-the-way place be a choice that the empress of Isra would resort to? “But if your father is still alive, there is a high chance his skills have been put to use.”
Things that Gray could not bring himself to call gears were spinning behind his washed-out eyes. It was the job of men like him to find the weaknesses of nation from their strengths. For New Isra, it had to be the marvellous bureaucracy which allowed the equitable distribution of food.
“The hospital must have an accounts book.” Gray spoke. “Supplies, coming in...going out. We are looking for specialized deliveries to an unspecified place, or to a faraway place which does not actually exist – that, I can check – or to things going missing.” He shrugged. “Though that could be just plain theft.”
He watched the woman's reaction.
“I will not ask you to put yourself in danger, but could you make it easier for me to...perhaps come across such documents? I believe Nina might need a check-up in a few days.” He trusted the girl to carry his messages.
Trust could be such a bittersweet thing.
“Do you trust your father, Anastasia Vulpin?” The hand that the doctor had touched, Gray raised to his face, the back of his fingers resting on his cheek. “As I believe you've touched upon, people like him do many things because they can. What if he considers you a flawed prototype that needs to be re-made? Your care for human life, a weakness of your superior form?” Gray sighed. “Such a loss, that would be.” Perfectly good ally gone down the drain. “I will help you, because it serves my goals, and also...” Gray reached out and stroked Anastasia's hand. “because I owe you for your sacrifice.”
He remembered warning her about the risks of magic. Yet Anastasia had still operated on Nina without gloves, because her patient needed the increased accuracy. The stitches on her hand had faded.
“Were you to find him by other means, I would be reassured if you let me know before meeting your father.”
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Aug 5, 2023 14:17:50 GMT -5
As Gray spoke, Stasia’s head listed to its left, her brilliant blue and green eyes wide and fixated on his with absolute focus, her grin ever present. To anyone else, it might be off putting, but those closest to her know its just one of her funny little quirks.
“A conspiracy…” she gently said under her breath as she listened, gears in her own brain turning and churning out hypothesis after hypothesis. He made interesting analogies that Stasia would have liked to analyse, but she didn’t directly interrupt, only letting the tail ends or final thoughts of her musings slip from her lips. Cracks. Corruption. Already? Former empire, unsurprising. Did the size of the town require such cloak and dagger yet? If at all? Did they already have enemies? “Fascinating…”
Stones? She hadn't thought of that before, it wasn’t her business how the town was built, only that her infirmary was fit for purpose. She had barely even taken any consideration to her home until recently, when a guest had asked why it was so spartan. She hadn’t been offended, but she too began to notice it. She blinked once, then twice as realisations dawned on her. “Forced labour.” Isra wouldn’t be the first to employ such means. But her father wasn’t a physical man, he was a man of science and knowledge. What good would he be amongst the vagabonds? She had her suspicions. Those suspicions were somewhat confirmed on Gray’s mention of his skills being put to use. “...flesh golems.”
Her eyes flicked to the side for a moment and her head shifted to the other side, thoughts streaming across her brain as she considered those words. Did she have brothers or sisters? Siblings? Kin? She had toyed with the idea, but she never considered it herself. She couldn’t reconstruct a body to give herself a sibling, it was against the laws that shackled her, but she also dared not remove memories from an alive brain. Not only morally, but physically, her brain appeared to be the perfect specimen for imprinting - the memories gone before she had been rescued. At least, that’s what her father’s journal had said. “I may have family…” she softly cooed.
She quickly snapped back to reality when Gray mentioned the infirmary. Her head tilted once again, back to its original side as she listened, but her grin seemed just a little less tight. Much to consider so far… “I have up to date inventory manifests,” she says with confidence. “I overlook them myself, anything coming in, anything used, and anything going out. Exported. Requisitioned.” She paused… yes, accurate. “Nothing goes missing, not under my eyes. But things are requested by an authority higher than I and… I suspect higher than Doctor Marks. He is a dear friend… I do not believe him to be…” what was the word she wanted? “...complicit - if your hypothesis is correct.” She folded her hands on the table with a strange grace. “I think I understand what you are suggesting,” she continued. “I will review the export logs and, while I am doing so, rejected requests for supplies that I know for a fact were in stock. Things that were not life or death but… still curious.” She nodded again, her mask and carefully braided hair not shifting for even a moment. “I am expecting Nina soon.”
That question… did she trust her father? She pondered it for a long moment. “...No.” Came the answer. “My father is capable of great things. As a doctor I trust him with my life. As a person, no, I do not know the man beyond the night I was awoken and his subsequent incarceration. He and I are not alike, he will do things because he can, my moral base as a doctor, one created for saving lives, not experiments, is far higher.”
But then her eyes focused and her grin tightened. “I am almost flawless.” She said it with such confidence, as if she had proof. “And I am no prototype. I am the culmination of years of research, I perform my designed functions and exceed them. The only flaw in my design, in my father’s own words, is that I still need to sleep - albeit very little. Otherwise, I am the peak of efficiency, to my fingers, to my eyes, to my stomach, and to my lack of an appendix or internal reproductive organs. Anything that was inefficient about the human body has been mostly solved for myself.”
She stood and stepped across the room, her feet almost silent against the normally creaky floorboards, but not because of her grace or weight, but because she had mapped the room in her mind time and time again. She knew what boards made the least noise. She traced her finger over a handful of the books on her shelf and pulled one from the bunch, then flicked through it. After finding her page, she returned to Gray and slipped the book before him.
It was a journal written in handwriting similar to Stasia’s, but certainly not hers. They described the success of creating Stasia’s body, how the internal changes had taken extremely well. The only concern was if she would awaken, and become the surgeon Vulpin Sr. needed to assist him. The one who could carry on his work, if needed.
“My care for human life is designed as such,” she continued. “As well as the lives of anything sentient. It is what makes me an effective surgeon, I will do everything in my power to save a life, to create fixes that will last a standard human lifespan. This is not a weakness - this is the culmination of determination and the will to defy nature. I have adapted it to fit the description of a surgeon, this much is true, but I am as I was recreated to be - and I am very proud of this.”
Anastasia certainly knew more about herself than most people. Her confidence could not be shaken - it wasn’t in her programming, so to speak.
“I will not be going anywhere, not by my father’s hand,” she concluded, her hand shifting to embrace Gray’s with a caring touch. “I can only be improved with my own designs.” She looked to her hand where the stitches had healed into a flawless shift from a small patch of green to a slightly tanned caucasian. It was something she had spent many hours of pondering over the past two days. The flesh had healed all over her body, she wasn’t at risk of falling apart and her stitching had become cosmetic by that point, but to heal without scarring? Without a guiding groove to replace or repair? It felt… limiting.
“We doctors must sacrifice if we are to be… efficient. Effective. Exceptional.” Was that right one fitting? According to her patients, perhaps. “It is one I would make again without hesitation. I am here to save lives, and any damage to myself is… repairable. Negligible. Acceptable.” To an extent.
Her hand squeezed Gray’s for a moment as several thoughts collided in her mind, giving her pauses for thought. She processed them one by one, putting the majority to rest. There would be a time and a place to consider the endless possibilities that arose in her mind, but sitting there with Gray was not it.
She placed her free had atop Gray’s, sandwiching it between two patched palms. “I will,” she said. “But only if you promise me you will not harm him. There is much I wish to discuss and… I have use of his skills.”
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Aug 14, 2023 12:10:06 GMT -5
“I cannot promise you that.”
A pleasant scent enveloped Gray as Anastasia leaned closer. The journal lay open by the side. Her hands were around his hand, where he could see them. He leafed back through the last moments in his mind, from the scandalous glimpse of a shoulder-blade, to the way the woman's movements as she turned around did not hint at picking up a hidden weapon. He wondered if she could hide a scalpel in the invisible grooves between her half-fingers. The delightful rustle of paper settling teased his ears.
“If he is a danger to my country, or to an ally, I will act on it.” Gray explained. “In this case, I would do my best to avoid harm; reduce it, when unavoidable.”
Just like Anastasia, Gray had his priorities. Vulpin the elder was not one of them. Neither was the younger, for that matter. Yet though their goals may have differed, there was a strange feeling in his chest as Gray acknowledged their similarities. This remarkable woman, too, saw her meaning as a process; what she did, as opposed to what she was. The latter could be sacrificed to a greater goal...and Gray had come on the other side of that, not remembering enough of his previous life to be able to argue either way. He felt a sharp ache. She'd spoken of 'improvements'.
He wondered if she was right about the flesh golems. Or whether the mind was bound to see what it wanted to see.
“Is it not frustrating?” He pondered, with a tilt of the head. “To have people around you so flawed and friable and frail? In comparison.” His cold eyes twinkled. “Weak, in ways you are not.” He smiled. “People like me.”
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Aug 14, 2023 13:02:18 GMT -5
Anastasia’s eyes winced just a touch behind her mask, but she knew Gray wouldn’t quickly change his mind, despite how much she’d have liked him to. “If,” she says with some sort of finality. “The only danger he posed was to egos, which is why he was arrested. Its possible he can do harm with his talents, but I have to believe he would not use them in such a way. You will not need to harm him.”
“Not until I have spoken to him, and if the work I have planned can be done.” She gave Gray’s hand a short squeeze. She needed her father, if only for one last operation. After that… it would be up to Vulpin Sr.
Her expression softened once more. She harboured no ill will as she understood that it was Gray’s nature to think the worst of people who could be potentially dangerous. If anyone tried to get her to stop saving lives she certainly wouldn’t comply, so she could not ask it of others and instead she could only hope that her father didn’t do anything drastic.
Her hand remained on Gray’s, not wanting to let go just yet. Despite her creator and his reputation, Anastasia continued to prove that she had no ulterior motive for asking Gray to come over. There was no secret plan, no hidden weapon, just a woman who wanted to spend time with her new friend. So far, that time had been greatly enjoyable.
“People are not weak,” she said as her grin tugged at her stitched cheeks. “I am still made of flesh and bone, I still carry the same weakness as everyone else - I am just as frail.” She let her head tilt slightly to the side as she continued. “I am designed. Unnatural. Created. There was room for improvements and they were done. Nobody else has had that luxury, and I think no less of them for it.” Her hand squeezed again. “I think no less of you for it.” Her head tilted again, matching Gray’s own tilt. “Flaws are what make people natural. Normal. Interesting. And while I am almost perfect in my design and function, I still wear my flaws on my skin.” Her thumb gently stroked along the length of Gray’s as she spoke. “Not frustrated. I celebrate the flaws I find in others as I hope they do for my own.”
Her grin tightened once more. “I wonder about your own flaws, Gray,” she says. “As well as your perfections. I may never know what lies inside, but…” Her eyes looked him over for a brief moment. “I am curious about what may be hidden on the outside.”
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Aug 16, 2023 15:53:01 GMT -5
“If.” Gray agreed.
It was in the assassin's nature to consider last resorts, before most people even took their first steps. So he had been trained. Yet in so being, one naturally gravitated towards what was most familiar to them. It was taking the rest of his lifetime to walk beyond this circular path.
To see world for what it was, rather than what he expected it to be.
He could tell his answer had hurt the doctor. 'Foolish child.' He inwardly sneered. 'Caring for one who only ever saw you as a scalpel.' Yet that was just the story he wished to tell himself, of rescuing another in the way he had not been, and being hated all the more for it.
It was not this story.
Anastasia's hand brushed past his, and that seemed to erase all the plans Gray had written down in his mind. 'Not a child.' Like a thunderstorm had been Bella, threatening to unravel almost as fast as she unravelled everything else; familiar, but Anastasia, here, now, was warm and bright. Her words were fire and wit. Gray stared the woman in the eyes. Was he misunderstanding? What may be hidden on the outside, she asked... But there was an obvious answer to it.
He grasped her hand.
“Swords.” Gray spoke. His mouth twitched in a smile. He shook his free hand in a gesture of self-depreciation.
From his sleeve, dropped a long needle-like blade. He stared at it in disbelief. Placing the weapon on the table by its tip, he rested his chin between thumb and forefinger. He winced deep in thought, while seeming to unscrew a miniature dagger from his ear. “Many, many swords. I am like a pincushion, really.”
Looking at Anastasia, very slowly, he winked.
“I am...Not used to the rituals of this country. Its signals.” He struggled. He pulled back from her.
Gray's hand rested on his chin, in thought. Then it slipped past, fanning down his neck, and in the gap between the lapels of his kosode-top, pulling down the fabric until his collarbones were just about visible. Unlike the Isran tunics which were pulled over the head, his outfit was more like a cloth jacket. Although tied at the belt, it was loose enough to be pulled down to his waist with just a bit of fiddling around. So was the lighter-colored undergarment he wore beneath. Perhaps the easiest way to guess intention was to test. In the most abstract, that was what part of his job had been about. Gray reached towards Anastasia.
“If you are not afraid I'd cut you, would you kindly help me with this?” Gray whispered.
He knew not where he was going. But he knew what she would find under the fabric. The hollow space in his mind.
The white scars of a whip crossing his back.
The old brand on the back of his neck, its jagged edges shaping a gear that sunk into his flesh nearly down to the bone.
And the old bruise, the colour of gilded copper, that shielded nearly his entire chest.
Himself.
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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
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Aug 16, 2023 16:22:18 GMT -5
“Swords?” Anastasia asked as she leaned back, allowing her hand to drift back across the table. His large sword was in the corner, where he’d left it… then she tilted her head and blinked as the first knife slipped from his sleeve and then to the table. “Oh… fascinating…” she softly cooed. She should have expected that.
What she didn’t expect was the knife behind the ear. Was it sleight of hand? Was the knife actually embedded in his skin? That was something Stasia was intrigued to find out, just where and how many knives and swords did he have on or in him?
Most importantly, would she get pricked?
Her thoughts shifted again as he pulled away, then her eyes danced along his form as more of him was exposed. “I am still to figure out the rituals and signals of this land as well,” she said through a toothy grin, and her eyes went from his exposed collarbone to his eyes once more, “But you seem to understand my own.”
She stood at his request, holding no fear. She saw no immediate danger in Gray, though she likely should, but ultimately she saw more in him than others would. At least, that’s what she thought.
She walked around him, feet gentle against the floor and her robe swishing ever so slightly against her legs as she stepped, until she stood behind him. She hesitated for a moment before she answered. “If I may touch you… yes,” she said in a quiet tone before her gentle hands gripped at the edge of his clothing.
She allowed Gray to guide her and take the lead, understanding that it may not be the most comfortable situation for him considering what he’d reveal of his past. Allowing someone who he may very well still consider a stranger to assist him in disrobing showed Stasia more than his words could. Slowly she pulled away the layers of cloth until she got to bare skin.
Her eyes danced over the sight of his back, her eyes darting from feature to feature. It wasn’t as she’d expected though… perhaps she should? “May I…” she asked, holding out a hand to show him her intention, then moved it back towards his back. Her finger gently traced along the largest of the scars that decorated his back, part of her feeling sympathy, but it was overpowered by her doctor’s mind, examining it and considering possibilities.
“Whip…” she said in a very small voice. The depth of the wounds, the shape and size, it all matched to injuries she’d seen… hm, not in new Isra though. Perhaps a past life? Curious… still, she took her hand up and looked to the brand at the base of his neck. “And branded…”
She didn’t reach out to touch the brand. It looked… not quite right to her. Fresh, but not at the same time. It took everything in her power to not poke and prod, to not diagnose it. She had to remind herself that she was not a doctor at that moment, but a friend, and potentially a little more.
Instead of reaching up, she slipped her hands around Gray’s sides and pressed her palms to his front, then pulled herself in close. He’d feel the material of her robe against his back, then the mixture of warm skin of her cheek, cut in half by the cool, smooth sensation of her porcelain mask against his shoulder as she held him close. With the doctor in her quelled, all that was left was sympathy. “You deserved better,” she said in a warm, gentle tone, just under his ear.
She stood, holding the man for a few moments, basking in the mutual warmth of their bodies. Her hands remained on his chest, pressing gently against his skin, and her breath danced gently against his back… but then she slowly pulled away, allowing her hands to drag along him. One slipped down his arm and into his hand as she stood beside him. Her eyes danced along his form for a moment, confirming her own suspicions, before she looked him in the eye.
“Come with me,” she said in a small voice, her grin still clear as day before she started towards the stairs, guiding him along.
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 128
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Aug 19, 2023 17:33:58 GMT -5
It was a confidence game.
A bit like music, a touch like go, the two players were finding their rhythm. “Please,” Gray encouraged. Anastasia helped pull off his sleeve. Feeling her breath on the back of his neck was at once terrifying and erotic. Sex was pleasurable, he remembered, and a cold look at his numb self had told the man that it would be good for him. So he had come here. To use and be used.
He wondered if Anastasia's patches would feel different to her when touched.
The human body was a marvelous landscape of senses. What caused the most pain also commonly brought the most pleasure. There were strings at the surface waiting to be plucked, and there were dangerous strings leading deeper down. Anastasia whispered in his ear. Acceptance. Companionship. Gray exhaled. Soft. Cold. Woman. The man reached behind him, and drew his fingers through her soft hair, holding her close in turn.
It was all part of the game.
He allowed himself to be dragged up, and slowly nodded to Anastasia's invitation. Once, he would have regarded any feelings as a pox on his mind. Now, they could be useful...But one had to understand very clearly how other's strings affected them, in order to cut them if necessary.
In order to kill, if necessary.
He followed the woman up the steps, and the patchwork robe fluttered over her heels in a most delightful way.
“Two hundred thirteen.” Gray spoke. “Plus-minus thirty. Your patches. Estimation based on average size and distribution.” There was a certain spark in his eyes. “Disappointingly, the stochastic method is not very precise.” He would reach for her hand, and bow to kiss fingertips, knuckles, wrist. His touch lingered. “May you indulge me while I toy around with some...significant digits?”
He might ask for some experimental replicates later. For science.
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