Hesitating only a split second at the other girl's knowledge of his name, Vincent darted to Elena's side. Vicious stab wounds in her chest and legs were bleeding profusely, whole strands of shorn hair plastered in the thick fluid that seeped through her shirt.
She had a pulse but was barely conscious, hyperventilating, probably in compensatory shock by now. The hypovawhatever shock training of so many years ago was flying fast and furious through his mind, and like a kid trying to recite a slew of answers on a test Vincent's thoughts were moving almost too fast for to process.
Working furiously at getting both her shirt and pants out of the way of the wounds, the crisis too dire to spare her any modesty, he paused for a moment and tore off his own shirt, using the strength his metal arm afforded him to rip at the tough fabric, tearing it into strips.
"Both of you!" he ordered, "give me your clothes and get me spares from somewhere, anywhere." He needed to bandage and get her covered, warm, and the bloodsoaked clothes she'd been wearing were out of the question.
So much blood lost, and he had no way to get her any more.
"Should I save time and just assume this is your fault, Valentine?"
Hojo had been carefully keeping himself under the radar, taking the time to orient himself in this new environment. He still didn't know as much as he would have liked(for instance, how he'd gotten there in the first place still eluded him), but he was learning to make his way around the facility, and that was something.
It was the sound of screams that had him curious enough to venture down the F hallway.
"In any case, yelling at her is unlikely to slow the bleeding, which seems to be what she needs. Assuming you're trying to keep her alive, of course." His eyes had flicked over the two other people present; the tall, blue-haired man in particular did not escape his notice. He looked like he might be the only threat besides Vincent. "Who are your friends?" Nothing like trivializing the situation to piss off someone you didn't like, especially if said person was too busy saving a life to properly retaliate(at least without risking the girl).
Dias cursed quietly under his breath. Too much, too much of everything - too much interference, too much blood, too much panic. How could anyone concentrate or accomplish anything useful under these conditions?
He tossed his severed sleeve to Vincent; then, as an afterthought, followed with the rest of the shirt. River seemed, for the moment, to be looking right through him - later, perhaps, he could brood over that, but one of Dias' better qualities was his ability to focus on what was important. He'd angst when he found an opportune moment to do so, not before. Until that time, all that mattered was that River was upset and not paying him any attention, which meant that asking her to help gather supplies probably wouldn't be as useful as simply fetching them himself. So, without any more time wasted - and one brief but diamond-tipped glare in the direction of the man in glasses; he hadn't even processed what the man had said, but no one who simply stood and watched while a girl bled was anyone Dias approved of - he stalked away, through the nearest open door. He returned a few moments later with an entire borrowed sheet pulled from a bed, handing it wordlessly to Vincent.
Since Vincent seemed to have taken over the bandaging aspect, Dias turned to Elena. "This will hurt," he said, as gently as he could. He didn't elaborate further; anticipation would have made it worse. His hand moved with alarming speed, yanking the scalpel out of her shoulder, and then grabbing the one in her thigh and jerking that one out as well. He doubted pulling them out could do any more damage to her than had already been done, and they'd need to be removed before her wounds could be dressed in any case.
After a moment of looking at the bloody scalpels, pondering what to do with them, he offered them to River. "Better than pens," he observed, with his usual lack of wasted words.
Everything was part of their plan, part of their scheme. She heard their voice, she heard their prayers, and she followed the routes that they commanded her to take. This was that route, that path they envisioned and demanded she go down. It was a path full of pain and agony, full of screams; but the fear and apprehension she cared nothing for, not even when she came up directly behind the gathered group and saw with their eyes.
Their gaze always made her feel so warm.
Manah smiled, though it was unfitting for a six-year-old girl.
"What's this, what's this?" she spoke, voice dancing with a melody only she heard, "Don't leave little Manah out, let little Manah see!" It wasn't a moment after that she stepped around the man in her way. Dias, she gathered his name was, but gave him little attention other than that. They didn't want him, not now. Maybe later, but right now they were only interested in someone specific.
But it was hard to tell in this group, especially since her bond had begun to waver and her commands blurred. She didn't want to notice though, so she continued to put her faith in what she heard. If she loved them, she could hear them. If she loved them, they would come back to her. .. right? Believe, believe. Just believe in that love, nothing but the love.
With her hands behind her back and her crimson eyes locked onto another pair, she found him. Or at least who she thought to be 'him,' this was the man? A follower gone astray perhaps, someone who rejected their love. A traitor to their cause? A traitor to the Gods? Manah began to sway on her tippy-toes, smile broadening as she rocked. For now, she remained silent, just waiting beside Vincent.
"It begins where it ends." River had been listening to Vincent's commands, paying him every bit of attention until they'd arrived. She accepted the scalpels Dias handed her. Better than pens. Maybe.
First the one with the bloody hands. The professor.
Then the other. The other was wrong, and River could feel it. It was all too much, all too loud as things that weren't hers crashed against one another in her brain. She screamed and fell back against the wall.
Elena needed her, and she couldn't stop crying.
"The genius likes to play in the dark where no one could see. They all knew it was unholy, but so long as the result was useful, they let him play," she whimpered, eyes wild as she stared at Hojo. "You're a liar. You're a liar, and you'll get what you deserve!" River's voice heightened to a shout as her gaze shifted to the little girl. "Go away. You're not wanted here. Go away! I can't..."
And then it came. Dark and broken and violent all at once. It tore apart pieces that were already at wore, scorching her mind and tearing through the flimsy barriers.
"They took him. They'll cut his hair and rip out parts of his brain that don't suit them, just like they did to me. Piecing together a puzzle that doesn't fit just because they want to make something new." River clutched head as her words came out in strangled gasps. Too much. Too much.
The bandages he'd wrapped around her thigh were already bleeding through, and it was all he could do to tear as much as possible. He'd managed to staunch her shoulder and cover her with the blanket, but if the scalpels had nicked the femoral, and they very possibly had, she was done for.
He reached out, cupping her face with a bloodwarm hand to keep her awake. "Stay with me," he hissed, hand forgiving but jaw clenched at the sudden voice behind him.
Kadaj had done this. The apparently Sephiroth clone had done this and now the other girl was out of control, Hojo was gloating and the sound of everyone filling the hallway as Elena's pulse failed was just too much.
Vincent never yelled, but it was just too much.
"Everybody shut up!"
Her eyes fluttered closed, and he listened for breathing.
"You can't. Keep your eyes open." Hojo walked over to the bleeding girl, kneeling next to her(on the other side, across from the Turk) and checking her pulse absently. It was there, weaker than usual but she still had blood, and enough to detect fairly easily, so he was decently sure she wasn't as far gone as she seemed. In quite a bit of trouble, certainly, as that was quite a lot of blood... Hojo shifted the girl slowly so that she was lying on her back on the floor, pointedly ignoring the ranting brunette.
Her sudden outburst had disturbed him just a bit more than he was comfortable admitting. There was no way the girl could have known, for one thing, and for another... well, she did know, and if she knew there was no way to know who else knew. Just like Valentine to go and tell anyone who would listen, the scientist figured with a light scowl. That probably had something to do with his being in the Institution at all, though he should really have remembered being carted off. Besides, Hojo didn't feel crazy.
In any case, there were more pressing matters. With very little regard for the wounded blonde's personal comfort, Hojo took the wounded leg and lifted it, bending the knee manually so it would be easier to hold up. He gestured to Vincent. "Turk. Hold this up, keep the wound above her chest." He then started picking through the torn scraps of cloth.
Dias...honestly wasn't sure what the hell was going on anymore. First the little girl, too cheerful and somehow cold when faced with a heavily bleeding woman and a crowd of ominous strangers...then River having a meltdown...and then Vincent, cracking under the strain and screaming at the rest of them. At least the man in glasses, radiating disgusted efficiency, finally moved to help.
Between Vincent and the man with the ponytail, there really wasn't much Dias could do for the blond girl - had Vincent called her Elena? - personally. But there was River, and that little girl...
A little girl River seemed alarmed by. Dias made a note of that, although he wasn't sure what to make of it yet.
He moved over to River, putting his hands on her shoulders and purposely standing between her and the tableau in the middle of the hallway. All of them were feeling overwhelmed, and they weren't even being assaulted by the thoughts of other people; he could only imagine what it was like for River. Possibly, if she only had him to focus on, it would calm her down slightly. "River," he began, and then realized he had no idea what to say next. After a moment's hesitation, he left it at that.
Turning his head to glance at the little girl, still standing beside Vincent, he asked, "What are you doing here?" It wasn't said entirely unkindly, but there was a thread of suspicion in there that, if not for River's hysteria, he probably never would have entertained.
The Gods loved her, the Gods wanted her! They were there for her because she loved them, they didn't even care that she was a bad girl. They didn't care that she'd done bad things or that her brother was the one mummy loved! They didn't care that her brother was a good boy, they didn't care! The Gods didn't want Seere, they wanted her! Because she loved them, they loved her.
She was wanted, she was needed.
But what about this girl? Was she wanted, was she needed? Not the same, never the same.
"Broken," the merriment and amusement was far too high for someone who had moments ago looked as angry as she had, "I'm broken."
And so it began. River, pinned against the wall with invisible bindings that could not have been created by a human. River, watched with eyes that were unearthly, eyes that glistened red.
Now Manah could feel it, could feel them. So vivid, so alive. She smiled, slowly moving from her spot beside Vincent to come before River. The smile she adorned became queerer, but her actions and smiles were nothing in comparison to what was to come.
"I'm a weapon, just a weapon," Manah's voice lowered, deep, dark. The voice sounded nothing like a girls, sounded nothing like a six-year-old; it reeked of the same amusement, but somehow now it was cold, emotionless, dead. "Not her, she's dead. La la la la la, la la la la la."
"It's gone, it's gone. They cut it out. Their tool," slowly, the sound of the taunting, girlish tone that had been used before returned, "He doesn't want you, you know! You're a burden, you're a bother. Always lying, lying, lying; sitting, sitting, sitting. Everyone's in danger, the broken doll could kill. But she doesn't want to sleep."
The change, again it came so quickly, "Don't put me to sleep."
Zoe left her room and looked around, her eyes were greeted with the dark. It had been dark in her room as well, but she had gotten used to moving around in the dark during the war. She found her head slipping back to the way it had been during that time, calm and ready to be attacked from every angle. If this was the Alliance their tastes had sure changed, what happened to the bright lights and clean room and questions? If it was Niska why wasn't she just being tortured? Could this be something else? The sounds coming from further down the hallway distracted her though and she turned to get to them, moving carefully.
Stealth was still her friend, after all.
However all thoughts of not drawing attention to herself went away with what she saw when she came closer. Someone was hurt, badly, and there were people trying to help, a child and... River... Zoe's heart sank. River was not okay and River not being okay could only mean that things were very bad. There was some person with her too, someone Zoe didn't know and therefore couldn't trust.
"River?" she asked right off, automatically concerned of course. "Leave her alone," She said, almost growling, to the little girl, who was saying creepy things that Zoe did not want to deal with right now. River was acting in a way that Zoe hadn't seen since before Miranda.
Her mind put things in order, and though the dying girl was dying she had people helping her right now and Zoe didn't know her. As harsh as it sounded, to Zoe, River was more important.
She couldn't know. She couldn't, but she did. Horrified and frantic as she was, River could see that they weren't so different. They weren't just little girls anymore. Had they ever been?
She knew things she shouldn't know. They whispered secrets to her. Only she welcomed them with open arms, singing lullabyes and riddles laced with poison and a smile on her face. River wasn't screaming anymore. She was staring at the little girl, wide-eyed and horrified as she used the weapons that pierced her more than any.
"And they'll cast her out, throwing stones because they don't want to look in the mirrors behind them. Don't want her. Never did. Not even when she was whole. Burden. Bother. And she'll fly away on the wind, blown away by the breeze because she's more fragile and breakable then they'll ever know," her voice whispered, calm in a painful sense as she looked up at Dias curiously, as though wondering if he would be among them.
It was then that she saw her, another piece to confirm the reality of her missing puzzle. They'd all become whole together, missing pieces here and there but ultimately coming to be one. A family. A puzzle. It was the same, if you thought about it. As with Inara, River's eyes clouded over, a mixture of joy and sadness that another would have to endure the burden. She wanted to get up, but she couldn't.
"Zoe. I can't. I'm sorry," she almost whimpered, covering her eyes with her hands.
Hesitating only a split second at the other girl's knowledge of his name, Vincent darted to Elena's side. Vicious stab wounds in her chest and legs were bleeding profusely, whole strands of shorn hair plastered in the thick fluid that seeped through her shirt.
She had a pulse but was barely conscious, hyperventilating, probably in compensatory shock by now. The hypovawhatever shock training of so many years ago was flying fast and furious through his mind, and like a kid trying to recite a slew of answers on a test Vincent's thoughts were moving almost too fast for to process.
Working furiously at getting both her shirt and pants out of the way of the wounds, the crisis too dire to spare her any modesty, he paused for a moment and tore off his own shirt, using the strength his metal arm afforded him to rip at the tough fabric, tearing it into strips.
"Both of you!" he ordered, "give me your clothes and get me spares from somewhere, anywhere." He needed to bandage and get her covered, warm, and the bloodsoaked clothes she'd been wearing were out of the question.
So much blood lost, and he had no way to get her any more.
"Elena, stay with me!"
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Hojo had been carefully keeping himself under the radar, taking the time to orient himself in this new environment. He still didn't know as much as he would have liked(for instance, how he'd gotten there in the first place still eluded him), but he was learning to make his way around the facility, and that was something.
It was the sound of screams that had him curious enough to venture down the F hallway.
"In any case, yelling at her is unlikely to slow the bleeding, which seems to be what she needs. Assuming you're trying to keep her alive, of course." His eyes had flicked over the two other people present; the tall, blue-haired man in particular did not escape his notice. He looked like he might be the only threat besides Vincent. "Who are your friends?" Nothing like trivializing the situation to piss off someone you didn't like, especially if said person was too busy saving a life to properly retaliate(at least without risking the girl).
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He tossed his severed sleeve to Vincent; then, as an afterthought, followed with the rest of the shirt. River seemed, for the moment, to be looking right through him - later, perhaps, he could brood over that, but one of Dias' better qualities was his ability to focus on what was important. He'd angst when he found an opportune moment to do so, not before. Until that time, all that mattered was that River was upset and not paying him any attention, which meant that asking her to help gather supplies probably wouldn't be as useful as simply fetching them himself. So, without any more time wasted - and one brief but diamond-tipped glare in the direction of the man in glasses; he hadn't even processed what the man had said, but no one who simply stood and watched while a girl bled was anyone Dias approved of - he stalked away, through the nearest open door. He returned a few moments later with an entire borrowed sheet pulled from a bed, handing it wordlessly to Vincent.
Since Vincent seemed to have taken over the bandaging aspect, Dias turned to Elena. "This will hurt," he said, as gently as he could. He didn't elaborate further; anticipation would have made it worse. His hand moved with alarming speed, yanking the scalpel out of her shoulder, and then grabbing the one in her thigh and jerking that one out as well. He doubted pulling them out could do any more damage to her than had already been done, and they'd need to be removed before her wounds could be dressed in any case.
After a moment of looking at the bloody scalpels, pondering what to do with them, he offered them to River. "Better than pens," he observed, with his usual lack of wasted words.
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Everything was part of their plan, part of their scheme. She heard their voice, she heard their prayers, and she followed the routes that they commanded her to take. This was that route, that path they envisioned and demanded she go down. It was a path full of pain and agony, full of screams; but the fear and apprehension she cared nothing for, not even when she came up directly behind the gathered group and saw with their eyes.
Their gaze always made her feel so warm.
Manah smiled, though it was unfitting for a six-year-old girl.
"What's this, what's this?" she spoke, voice dancing with a melody only she heard, "Don't leave little Manah out, let little Manah see!" It wasn't a moment after that she stepped around the man in her way. Dias, she gathered his name was, but gave him little attention other than that. They didn't want him, not now. Maybe later, but right now they were only interested in someone specific.
But it was hard to tell in this group, especially since her bond had begun to waver and her commands blurred. She didn't want to notice though, so she continued to put her faith in what she heard. If she loved them, she could hear them. If she loved them, they would come back to her. .. right? Believe, believe. Just believe in that love, nothing but the love.
With her hands behind her back and her crimson eyes locked onto another pair, she found him. Or at least who she thought to be 'him,' this was the man? A follower gone astray perhaps, someone who rejected their love. A traitor to their cause? A traitor to the Gods? Manah began to sway on her tippy-toes, smile broadening as she rocked. For now, she remained silent, just waiting beside Vincent.
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First the one with the bloody hands. The professor.
Then the other. The other was wrong, and River could feel it. It was all too much, all too loud as things that weren't hers crashed against one another in her brain. She screamed and fell back against the wall.
Elena needed her, and she couldn't stop crying.
"The genius likes to play in the dark where no one could see. They all knew it was unholy, but so long as the result was useful, they let him play," she whimpered, eyes wild as she stared at Hojo. "You're a liar. You're a liar, and you'll get what you deserve!" River's voice heightened to a shout as her gaze shifted to the little girl. "Go away. You're not wanted here. Go away! I can't..."
And then it came. Dark and broken and violent all at once. It tore apart pieces that were already at wore, scorching her mind and tearing through the flimsy barriers.
"They took him. They'll cut his hair and rip out parts of his brain that don't suit them, just like they did to me. Piecing together a puzzle that doesn't fit just because they want to make something new." River clutched head as her words came out in strangled gasps. Too much. Too much.
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He reached out, cupping her face with a bloodwarm hand to keep her awake. "Stay with me," he hissed, hand forgiving but jaw clenched at the sudden voice behind him.
Kadaj had done this. The apparently Sephiroth clone had done this and now the other girl was out of control, Hojo was gloating and the sound of everyone filling the hallway as Elena's pulse failed was just too much.
Vincent never yelled, but it was just too much.
"Everybody shut up!"
Her eyes fluttered closed, and he listened for breathing.
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Her sudden outburst had disturbed him just a bit more than he was comfortable admitting. There was no way the girl could have known, for one thing, and for another... well, she did know, and if she knew there was no way to know who else knew. Just like Valentine to go and tell anyone who would listen, the scientist figured with a light scowl. That probably had something to do with his being in the Institution at all, though he should really have remembered being carted off. Besides, Hojo didn't feel crazy.
In any case, there were more pressing matters. With very little regard for the wounded blonde's personal comfort, Hojo took the wounded leg and lifted it, bending the knee manually so it would be easier to hold up. He gestured to Vincent. "Turk. Hold this up, keep the wound above her chest." He then started picking through the torn scraps of cloth.
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Between Vincent and the man with the ponytail, there really wasn't much Dias could do for the blond girl - had Vincent called her Elena? - personally. But there was River, and that little girl...
A little girl River seemed alarmed by. Dias made a note of that, although he wasn't sure what to make of it yet.
He moved over to River, putting his hands on her shoulders and purposely standing between her and the tableau in the middle of the hallway. All of them were feeling overwhelmed, and they weren't even being assaulted by the thoughts of other people; he could only imagine what it was like for River. Possibly, if she only had him to focus on, it would calm her down slightly. "River," he began, and then realized he had no idea what to say next. After a moment's hesitation, he left it at that.
Turning his head to glance at the little girl, still standing beside Vincent, he asked, "What are you doing here?" It wasn't said entirely unkindly, but there was a thread of suspicion in there that, if not for River's hysteria, he probably never would have entertained.
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She was..
She was loved!
The Gods loved her, the Gods wanted her! They were there for her because she loved them, they didn't even care that she was a bad girl. They didn't care that she'd done bad things or that her brother was the one mummy loved! They didn't care that her brother was a good boy, they didn't care! The Gods didn't want Seere, they wanted her! Because she loved them, they loved her.
She was wanted, she was needed.
But what about this girl? Was she wanted, was she needed? Not the same, never the same.
"Broken," the merriment and amusement was far too high for someone who had moments ago looked as angry as she had, "I'm broken."
And so it began. River, pinned against the wall with invisible bindings that could not have been created by a human. River, watched with eyes that were unearthly, eyes that glistened red.
Now Manah could feel it, could feel them. So vivid, so alive. She smiled, slowly moving from her spot beside Vincent to come before River. The smile she adorned became queerer, but her actions and smiles were nothing in comparison to what was to come.
"I'm a weapon, just a weapon," Manah's voice lowered, deep, dark. The voice sounded nothing like a girls, sounded nothing like a six-year-old; it reeked of the same amusement, but somehow now it was cold, emotionless, dead. "Not her, she's dead. La la la la la, la la la la la."
"It's gone, it's gone. They cut it out. Their tool," slowly, the sound of the taunting, girlish tone that had been used before returned, "He doesn't want you, you know! You're a burden, you're a bother. Always lying, lying, lying; sitting, sitting, sitting. Everyone's in danger, the broken doll could kill. But she doesn't want to sleep."
The change, again it came so quickly, "Don't put me to sleep."
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Zoe left her room and looked around, her eyes were greeted with the dark. It had been dark in her room as well, but she had gotten used to moving around in the dark during the war. She found her head slipping back to the way it had been during that time, calm and ready to be attacked from every angle. If this was the Alliance their tastes had sure changed, what happened to the bright lights and clean room and questions? If it was Niska why wasn't she just being tortured? Could this be something else? The sounds coming from further down the hallway distracted her though and she turned to get to them, moving carefully.
Stealth was still her friend, after all.
However all thoughts of not drawing attention to herself went away with what she saw when she came closer. Someone was hurt, badly, and there were people trying to help, a child and... River... Zoe's heart sank. River was not okay and River not being okay could only mean that things were very bad. There was some person with her too, someone Zoe didn't know and therefore couldn't trust.
"River?" she asked right off, automatically concerned of course. "Leave her alone," She said, almost growling, to the little girl, who was saying creepy things that Zoe did not want to deal with right now. River was acting in a way that Zoe hadn't seen since before Miranda.
Her mind put things in order, and though the dying girl was dying she had people helping her right now and Zoe didn't know her. As harsh as it sounded, to Zoe, River was more important.
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She knew things she shouldn't know. They whispered secrets to her. Only she welcomed them with open arms, singing lullabyes and riddles laced with poison and a smile on her face. River wasn't screaming anymore. She was staring at the little girl, wide-eyed and horrified as she used the weapons that pierced her more than any.
"And they'll cast her out, throwing stones because they don't want to look in the mirrors behind them. Don't want her. Never did. Not even when she was whole. Burden. Bother. And she'll fly away on the wind, blown away by the breeze because she's more fragile and breakable then they'll ever know," her voice whispered, calm in a painful sense as she looked up at Dias curiously, as though wondering if he would be among them.
It was then that she saw her, another piece to confirm the reality of her missing puzzle. They'd all become whole together, missing pieces here and there but ultimately coming to be one. A family. A puzzle. It was the same, if you thought about it. As with Inara, River's eyes clouded over, a mixture of joy and sadness that another would have to endure the burden. She wanted to get up, but she couldn't.
"Zoe. I can't. I'm sorry," she almost whimpered, covering her eyes with her hands.
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