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Who: Angela Ziegler (

valcurie) & Anemone (

winddaughter)
What: A young girl comes in for a medical consultation. Sounds simple enough.
When: The afternoon after Mercy was contacted.
Where: Thesa Station
Warning(s): Probably body horror? Medical stuff too.

( Arriving about half an hour before the appointed time, Mercy takes this time to set herself up a bit in the canteen. She grabs herself a cup of tea--black and bergamot based, just like what she was used to at home, when coffee was too much and before she found herself elsewhere in the world--and cracks open a new notebook to jot down some of her thoughts about the young woman who asked to meet her. She had come across as skittish, self-conscious, and definitely afraid of something. In light of what Mercy'd seen among the other refugees recently, there's a niggling suspicion on her mind which she cannot dismiss: that this is more than a general fear of doctors. Anemone may have a justifiable reason to be scared of someone even remotely like whoever may have subjected her to experiences which were unspeakably traumatic.

If that is the case, she will just have to try to do what she can for the girl. Already what she intended to do, but she would truly exert herself to give her the care which she deserved.

Closer to the appointment, she gets herself a fresh cup of tea and continues to write, though every so often she looks up to see if there are any pinked-haired girls who might be looking for her. She also tucks her hair back behind her ear, crosses and uncrosses her legs, and dusts imagined bits of dirt off her pristine white suit.

When she sees Anemone, she will, instead of standing up, smile and beckon her over with a conscious wave of her hand. Not getting up to greet her seems like the best choice. She can still leave, if she wants to. Mercy won't force her to meet with her against her will. )

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[She's glad she chose the afternoon as the meeting time. It gives her the entire morning to fret around her room, pacing a hole in the floor, to panic and over-analyze. Anemone, though she has yet to ever add anything herself, is always checking the Network. So, of course she saw the woman's post.

Gene therapy. Her mind keeps circling around it. Ziegler can't possibly know about her already, right? No one knows. Anemone's kept tight-lipped about it, and there's a lot stranger people around here than herself.

Still, Anemone's never felt so self-conscious about herself. Not like this.

She almost wants to skip the meeting entirely.

But no. No. She knows better. Her ailments aren't just going to go away if she ignores it, and if she can find a solution... She should examine her options. Even if she had her medication here, she doesn't know if it would really help her, not without an outlet for that... "restless" energy.

She sighs, and teleports from her room to the station without another thought of doubt. It's easier this time than it was when she went with Junpei, and she's glad she already had the practice. She retraces her steps through the station to the Mess Hall, finds the woman after a scan or two of the room, and approaches with a fake shroud of confidence, bowing her head in greeting.]

Doctor.

( If only Mercy had thought to mention most of her gene therapy experience had come from treating and stabilising the therapy other scientists had subjected gorillas to. Maybe she could have left a better impression? But, her message had already been long enough as it was; also, it wasn't unfair for people to be cautious about someone who was capable of the practise. Mercy had seen plenty of people use it for less than benevolent causes, especially in parts of the world with less stringent and invasive codes for moral medicine.

Whatever ends up happening, though, Mercy has a lot of experience dealing with all manner of patients. Nerves and trauma and hesitancy are nothing new.

Her smile is easy, and she bows her head in turn. )

Hello, there. Would you like to take a seat? ( She gestures vaguely--it could be at the seat across from her, or the seat next to her. ) If you'd like something to eat or drink, I'll get it for you.

[She shuffles her feet a little before accepting the seat across from her, startling at the offer.] Oh um... just a glass of milk is fine? I ate earlier. [But evidently they're out of milk at the house. Thanks, Akechi.]

One moment, then. I could use a refill myself! ( With that she gets up, crossing the canteen with quick steps to take to her to where she needs to be. She's left her notebook on the table, the page it's turned to written primarily in German with a smattering of English; translated, it amounts to a rather dry recounting on what she knows about her patient so far, which is basically nothing. Just a general description of her symptoms and a list of other symptoms to ask about, including sleeping patterns, light sensitivity, and heart health.

When she returns, she sets down a white ceramic mug of reduced fat milk before Anemone, before retaking her seat with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. )

All right, then. Let's start with something easy. How old are you?

[Easy. Right.

She takes the mug and holds it between her palms and stares at it like it's some weird safety blanket. Come on, Anemone. You went into this knowing the cost.]

Seventeen.

( So young... She manages to keep her face from falling, but her voice and smile have something strained about them when she speaks again. She makes a note, and hopes, however unprofessional it is, that it's not something too complicated for her to treat. Which is always possible, if she's even able to figure out what's going on in the first place. )

Do you know how long you've have this condition? Is it something you were treated for during your childhood?

[She's silent as she puts some real thought into it.] The majority of my life. It was... milder when I was younger. [She only just started to understand why. She thinks it might be milder now, too, but she keeps that to herself.]

( All right, she writes a few more things, weighs the information so far, and then give Anemone a neutral look as possible. She can't, however, help some tightness around her eyes. ) I don't know what they were giving you, but... Did they ever tell you what you have? Some kind of immunodeficiency disorder, or a hereditary disorder passed on by your parents?

Chronic conditions like this are usually the result of some kind of genetic disorder. Maybe your parents didn't have it, but someone else in your family? A grandparent or an aunt or uncle?

It wasn't. [It slips out before she can really catch herself. Her hands tighten around the mug for a moment, and then her expression takes on a very... blank look. There's such a thing as too careful, but she's not thinking of it right then.] It... wasn't from my parents. And they never gave it a name.

[She takes a sip of her milk as a distraction.]

( She definitely catches that shut down, a sudden blanking like that an obvious sign of some kind of coping or self-defense mechanism. Poor child, she thinks, she wants to reach out and lay a comforting hand on Anemone's shoulder. )

That's all right, then.

( A short pause. No, it really isn't actually. Mercy has no idea if she's gotten too close to something, or if she just touched upon something too sensitive that's tangentially related. ) Is there anything you can tell me about your family's medical history? Anything at all.

[She tenses, just a bit, at the touch, but she doesn't shake it off.]

They were in good health, I think? I... [Her shoulders slump. It's hard, realizing everything she doesn't want to say. Every time she hits a roadblock, she finds just another complex path of her life. How bad, really, would it be to tell someone? But to unfold it all... especially to a stranger who knows nothing about Anemone's world...] There was a war. They didn't fight, but they were still in better health than most. But they died. When I was really young, before my... problems.

( Mercy give her a squeeze, hoping to convey something of the comfort she wishes to give, before leaning back. They are making some progress, finally!!

And this, this a feeling she knows all too well. He voice quiets, her face softens, her eyes are downcast for a moment. ) It's hard, I know. I lost both my parent when I was young, too. To a war in my world. It took me a long time to feel like I had a family.

( Then, to not dwell on such sadness, she forces a smile. ) So wherever you went to live next, that's when and where your problems started? Do you remember roughly how old you were?

I... [And explanation is on the tip of her tongue. She wants to talk, but then she's thinking back to when she was young. She looks at her mug and for a moment thinks about a Compac Drive and she pulls her hands away from the mug and into her lap.

She bows her head.]

...I'm sorry.

( A psychologist she certainly isn't, but Mercy leans in anyway, drawn in by Anemone's retreat. She wants to reach out again, she really does, certainly more than she is now, but she has to be careful in such a delicate situation.

Not that she will treat her she as fragile. As too brittle to treat least she break. Calmly, gaze level, she asks: )

What do you think you have to be sorry for? You've done nothing wrong.

I know you need to know this stuff, but I... I've never spoken with anyone about it, and I don't... know if I can.

[She looks up and for the first time, meets Mercy's gaze without shifting away. Anemone's eyes are unique; there's only one that matches them, and she's in stasis. Purple irises, red lines through the middle of both her pupils. Certainly not human eyes.]

( Mercy's quiet for a time, observing Anemone's eyes, but attempting to use some subtlety so she's just not staring. The unique and striking colour of her eyes she'd thought were just something to be found in her world, but--the red lines? They seem artificial to Mercy, something added, and not by nature. )

Can you tell me why you can't?

I need to know as much as possible so I can help you, but I can't force you to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to help you. I promise: whatever you tell me, will stay between you and me, even if you're not technically my patient yet.

( She offers a softer smile, attempting to reassure. )

[Her gaze falls away again. It was only a matter of time.]

...Because I don't want to remember.

[She wishes she brought someone she already kind of trusts with her, but then they'd hear all this too. The one she needs might never wake up, and if he had been awake, she probably wouldn't be in this mess anyway. She'd just send him to find her help. He probably knows more about her condition than she does.]

No one here has ever even heard of the Scub Coral.

( Of course, she's going to have ask what that is now, and what in the world it has to do her not wanting to remember her own history. Obviously it's something pretty awful or traumatic, so Mercy gives it a few moments before pressing onwards again.

Leaning in: ) Is it something you could tell me about?

[She kind of hoped Mercy would ask. It's the only way Anemone might be able to tiptoe her way through this: focus on the true beginning. And history is something Anemone can do. Something to get her talking without as much hesitance.]

They were lifeforms that came to Earth a really long time ago. Millennia ago. Their first interaction with mankind went really poorly. [As she talks she makes normal eye contact with Mercy. She's finally... expressive.] See, they could only communicate by merging with other life around them. And eventually they scared humans off the planet, because as they merged with parts of the planet itself, they grew so large. Humans took it as aggressive action.

[She has so many different sources. It's disgusting how Dewey manipulated everything. And why.]

Humans eventually came back though. They thought it was a different planet entirely because of how the Scub changed it. The Scub got cautious though this time. They didn't want to scare humans away, but that's... not a story that's my own.

[She hesitates at last, a stillness in her. This... this is where she needed to start to lead up to. Her history, not the planet's.]

I don't know why, but I guess people started to want to know more about the Scub? I can't explain it. I really can't, but I guess... some of us just... became connected to the Scub. Mentally. They called it Desperation Disease, because the people that had it were catatonic, and the people around them were... desperate to find a cure. But there wasn't one. It wasn't something to be cured from, but no one understood the true nature of it.

[Even she doesn't remember, not beyond the fuzzy sense of a... library.]

...So. [Unsteady breath.] My parents were still alive when I... "got" the disease. I don't know how long I was in that state. But when I... woke up from it. [Something sharpens in her gaze. Deadly.] I was with the military. [She makes eye contact and she smirks. Under the table her hands are shaking. She's three places all at once and her mood is fragmented and she just wants to be distant from all those places. Her voice is colder when she finishes:] I was different and that's when my problems started. [And then she snaps her gaze away once more, so quick that her hair moves with the flow. She clenches her teeth down hard and tries to swallow down the aggression that is no fault of Mercy's.]

( At the beginning, Mercy's interested. Then, when the girl across from her starts to actually emote, she becomes immersed, her attention absolutely rapt as the story begins to unfold. Although it's an utterly alien version of Earth's history compared to what is her own, it's not something she finds completely discountable from the start. Unlike tales of gods and creators and plagues with fantasy-esque names. There is a very familiar human element in it to which she can relate.

Of course, when she speaks of lifeforms merging, the story starts to sound like fantasy too, but not for long. It occurs to Mercy that there's a very likely scientific explanation for this: whatever that merging involved, it involved a restructuring of their human hosts on the most fundamental of levels. Something has altered her DNA. If it's unstable, that would account for her symptoms, and a whole slew of others she might not even know of.

Mercy's hands go stiff in her lap. If not for the thickness of her gloves, she'd be drawing her own blood. Slowly, she unclenches her fists.

Though Anemone may be looking away, she keeps a calm gaze trained on her. She speaks very deliberately. )

I am sorry that they forced you to fight. That they exploited you in the way that they did.

But...I may also know what's causing your condition. Though whether I can fix it here, with what I have available to me...I will do my best. However, this may involve having to study you. Would you give me permission to do such?

[She doesn't blame the Scub Coral for anything. Probably if they shaped her into a Coralian, she'd be fine. But it was humans that did this to her, and that disgust for those people will always be with her.

...

Nothing takes the wind out of her aggressive sails like the word study. She winces. She was always being studied. That was how they kept track of how she interacted with the Scub while fighting, they observed her--they hardly sat down and asked for her opinion about her well-being. They didn't care, she was just a weapon to be pointed in a direction, and after she was no longer useful to them, well...]

...I recognize the difference. That you're trying to help. But... [But.] I don't know if I can stomach being studied anymore.

( But, she understands. Gently, she leans in towards Anemone, placing one of her hands gently on the table. )

Would you be all right with me monitoring your condition, then? And any progress you may be making, with check-ups, and some tests. Only the ones that I really need to give you.

[It's refreshing to have an option. To not be forced into the only solution that may or may not be Anemone's livelihood. She's not used to it.

This? This is something she thinks she can agree to.]

Yeah. I'd be alright with that.

( Well, it's the least she can do, isn't it? Give her agency. Especially when Mercy's somewhat unsure of she's actually going to be able to do, besides her best. The practical answer--and what will do the least amount harm--is to address this by a combination of working with the skills she's confident of, and to gain the co-operaiton of Anemone. Otherwise, there is no point in pursuing possible treatments. )

Super. ( The German word for it, expressed with such feeling it goes right through the translator. After taking a moment to write down the gist of the important details, Mercy does something a bit odd: she takes off her left glove, and begins to remove the white nano-weave armour fit so snuggly to her skin. )

Now, the treatment I was telling you about? I actually give it to myself everyday. To heal me, but also to help keep my cells healthy. It is in my suit, if you'd like try it?

I... still kind of want to see it, first? [She's not sure how she feels about that sort of thing... in her?] And I... [Find herself in an odd point.] Would prefer having someone I trust with me if I try it. ...Um. No offense.

Well. ( what she can do is take out a small amboule from her bag. it is filled with the rich gold of her serum. she sets it on the table, indicating that Anemone may pick it up and touch it if she wishes. )

I can't provide the person you trust, of course, but here. You may also see its effects on me presently.

[She does pick it up to look at it, because there is that part of her that isn't scared that this will be another one of those things in her life that takes a turn for the worst. She's interested in new things like this.]

I can... call someone later. [There's options. Junpei would, of course, hands down, but she doesn't really want him... to know about any of her problems. Akechi is vaguely aware, but that makes him even less of an option. ...Rhys though. Loathe as he might be to be called it, is probably the older of the people she's gotten close to, and that should help, right?

She's just not sure if he'd agree. She's awfully good at keeping people at arm's reach.]

( And, if she does become scared or overwhelmed, Mercy is here to offer a hand to hold. )

Would you like to schedule another appointment then? We could consider this a consultation.

( Smiling, now, she places her glove and sleeve on the table, just in case, and folds her hands into her lap while she waits. There is no need to hurry this decision. )

[This woman is too nice for her. She really doesn't know what to do with it. Accept it eventually, one day, maybe.]

I-If you don't mind. I'd hate to have wasted your time, but I... [She chews at her lip a moment.] Needed to meet you first, before I asked on anyone else.

[She looks like she wants to say more, but she doesn't seem worried, she's simply trying to process her thoughts. And there's caution.] If I was able to get the medication I used from home, would you be able to study it? It was an injection. [And for the first time, as she's been very careful to hide it, she moves her hair from the left side of her neck to show the injection port.] But I don't think it... would be good for me here, even if I had it. I'm just a bit interested to know what it was.

( It would be nice, of course, but Mercy won't push for it. However, she does need a basic level of trust to get the co-operation she needs to actually help Anemone. )

No, of course not. Getting a consultation first is fairly standard procedure. A good relationship is based on trust. You needed to know if you could work with me. I could say the same.

( At the request, though, her head tilts and she gives it a moment's consideration. It would help her understand the girl's condition, no doubt about it. She's just not sure if she can promise it in a timely manner. ) Yes. I am also interested in knowing what exactly it was they gave you. It may take awhile before I could get any conclusive results, but I would be glad to do it.

Okay. If you say so. [She nods.] That's fine. I'm not sure if they'll be able to get it for me, but they seem open to requests.

[She thinks about timeframes.] I could probably reschedule next week? I want to be able to give time for the person I bring to figure their own schedule out. My job is at least relatively flexible with its work.

There's no harm in asking, of course. And I figure you won't just go giving it to yourself.

( Smiling again, she starts to put her arm bit and glove back on. It only takes her a few seconds to reassemble herself when she's put her mind to it. ) Of course. In the evening, then? I'm afraid my daylight hours will mostly be taken up.

[She might give it to herself under different circumstances, but she hasn't... needed to fight, so she hasn't needed that extra focus. And even then... the thought of having it again makes her uncomfortable.]

That should be fine. We'll make it work one way or another. [She won't run away from this. ~~Probably~~.] I can... call you?

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always fun trying to figure out what a character actually knows

and i thought it was bad ~99% of my canon's material is non-canonical

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sorry, I've been sick!