Night 55: Disciplinary Therapy Room 5 [M-U for Edgar]
When faced with the unknown, men fell back to one of two choices: to understand what lacked and come to a reconciliation or to exterminate. More often than not, the latter proved to be the more popular choice. The unknown, after all, was a terrible factor in regards to risks. As far as humans were concerned, the unknown was a monster capable of deeds unimaginable. What better way existed in controlling a monster's presence than by ending its life altogether?
One civilization, however, had formed a marriage. A compromise of habits, unifying the institutions of science and magic as a way to control the beast called the unknown. Aptly named "Magitek". Aptly brought about by the lifeblood of Espers as an attempt to come to an understanding.
It was beautiful, imbued with a sense of irony and distortion, fascination and madness. It was flawed, but she wanted to recreate it.
Preparation required for the procedure had long since been finished. The doctor was simply waiting now; it was only a matter of seconds before the subject would regain consciousness. Unfortunately, a far cry from the present. King Figaro might have dealt with less impatience when it came to waking in a woman's presence, but the doctor was an exception. She needed his audience immediately.
Therefore, as opposed to standing at a distance, she leaned against the table strapping Edgar in place and with a quiet hum, brushed a lock of hair from the man's temple. Enough of this, and he would wake soon. She was certain.
One civilization, however, had formed a marriage. A compromise of habits, unifying the institutions of science and magic as a way to control the beast called the unknown. Aptly named "Magitek". Aptly brought about by the lifeblood of Espers as an attempt to come to an understanding.
It was beautiful, imbued with a sense of irony and distortion, fascination and madness. It was flawed, but she wanted to recreate it.
Preparation required for the procedure had long since been finished. The doctor was simply waiting now; it was only a matter of seconds before the subject would regain consciousness. Unfortunately, a far cry from the present. King Figaro might have dealt with less impatience when it came to waking in a woman's presence, but the doctor was an exception. She needed his audience immediately.
Therefore, as opposed to standing at a distance, she leaned against the table strapping Edgar in place and with a quiet hum, brushed a lock of hair from the man's temple. Enough of this, and he would wake soon. She was certain.