closely | all of a sudden you're a hostage to things you thought you wanted

Good puppy.

[ pulling the cap off of the syringe, medicine pocket leans forward to pull at the neck of his the other's attire. the skin visible now, they place two fingers against a pressure point to check how well the veins are. they're unable to tell if the body is warming up quickly, but what they can tell is that his breathing has picked up. ]

Calm down, don't be nervous. Did you forget, I'm your friend.

[ inserting the needle into the other's neck without warning, they slowly begin to draw blood, their eyes shifting to see what color comes out. ]

And friends help friends learn new things.

Y — ( his word cuts off almost as soon as it starts, broken off with a half hiss half something he bites back until his tongue bleeds. the feeling of the needle pressing in is...familiar and unpleasant, makes him seize up in a way that's basically muscle memory at this point. nervous? he blinks, still a little stunned from the fall, still very disoriented from his own body fighting against him.

he's not nervous.

friend?

also no.

for a second he wonders if they are secretly from peil as well and then discards the ridiculous notion. the controlling types they are, they'd never deal with an agent like medicine pocket. the closest they would permit is probably the clone in line after 4 himself, but that's neither here nor there.

where the cravat has been pulled down, 4's skin lances with pink-red light, which would be pretty to anyone who doesn't know it's also a death sentence. yet, throughout everything, 4's expression barely changes at all. )

[ much like a dog, they focus on what's new and unpredictable by seeing the skin change color for a mere moment. is he like a chameleon but the ground doesn't match the color that his skin had showed, so what is that... medicine pocket tilts their head with a bit of confusion as they pinch at the skin to see what it'll do. ]

Why does your skin do that?

[ it's a simple question, one that could be easily answered, but they can only wonder if he would tell them. medicine pocket doesn't know anything about peil, they're from an entirely different place that only so many people know about. the foundation, a group that collaborates with humans in order to save both humans and arcanists from the impending doom that is time.

this is why medicine pocket is very much interested in this oddity that is the subject's skin, because what is that? once they drain him of enough blood, they pull out the needle from the other's neck as blood begins to bead up little by little. leaning forward, medicine pocket drags their tongue along the area, and it only takes a few seconds for the area to heal as through medicine pocket never violated them at all. ]

( there's a reflexive jerk of 4's body when pinched, a slight furrow to his brow. at first, he doesn't answer, not inclined exactly to be cooperative beyond what his weakened body has already allowed. he doesn't think he can be more surprised, which only serves to make him feel even more out of sorts when the needle is withdrawn only for medicine to lean in. if anything, 4 goes rigid underneath them, the confusion and shock a crosswire so palpable it's almost like one can see the strings tangle in front of them.

the light continues to flicker under 4's skin, irregardless, and an answer falls from him, startled out of him in the same fashion as tripping bodily over a rock in the road. )

— because...

( okay so it's not actually an answer. he stops himself. normally one with much more composure, he can't quite seem to re-balance himself in this situation. is it really because he's in a weakened state upon return? what other reason? maybe it doesn't matter. staying still, almost as if he's completely disconnected from the whole interaction, 4 stares up tiredly, gaze canting to the blood filled syringe. where medicine licked him, he feels nothing now and wonders at that too. )

— never mind. What are you going to do with that?

All sorts of stuff.

[ what falls under that umbrella would happen to be... as they said: all sorts of stuff. they're aware that the answer probably isn't enough, but why would an arcanist fill in all the gaps when it can be easily understood. why else would someone take another person's blood, it has to all be for testing, and if not that then those are human worries and problems the arcanist doesn't really care to hear about.

leaning back up properly, they continue to sit on their victim as they look at the blood with interest wondering if it too will shimmer before them much like the other's skin. ]

Are you sick?

[ now it's getting to the important parts where medicine pocket figures that it's not only blood they need, maybe a sample of skin would do something good for them too. ]

No. ( the answer is dull, polar opposite to the glimmer in 4's skin. it's true though; he's not sick, despite the permet shortening his lifespan. if one were to do tests on him as peil often does, they would find him impressively healthy if one were to ignore the effect of the permet. he explains nothing, feeling no need to. instead, 4 stares up at medicine and goes through the possibilities of where they come from, vetoing all of them tiredly.

what it comes down to is that he has no idea, and this bothers him almost more than his blood being drawn or a scalpel being brandished earlier.

slowly his eyes close then open, as if he's incredibly put-upon. which, actually, that is in fact how he's feeling beneath the overall dizziness and weakness. if medicine had found 4 a week later, he'd be back to regular form again, more or less, but they didn't, and so he finds himself in this situation. he sighs again. )

Would you please get off of me now?

( despite everything there is a distinct lack of urgency or fear, the slightly too-light green of his eyes as cool as is icy reputation. the blood that medicine pocket took does not seem alight the way the permet travels under 4's skin. )

Huh... Arcanum? No, I would have broke down something like this before. Your skin feels no different, even with the color teasing itself over and over... iridescence? Animal...

[ rather than answer his question, medicine pocket is focused on the challenge right before them. they want to understand what it is about the skin that gives it that glow, some arcanists simply have this ability, but there's nothing about their victim that screams that they struggle around humans. casually walking around as lifeless as they are, though there are some arcanists who have simply given up.

unfortunately, they are also simply emotional creatures down at their core— their feelings go up, and then they go down. ]

Shut up until I ask you a question.

[ don't bother them, there's science at work about the type of body the other has. the scalpel they had before will now find use against the crook of the other's neck, the blade cutting at the skin both slow and precise. medicine pocket's brows knit together during their focus, once against blood bubbling up from underneath. ]

I don't have anything to preserve it in, damn... my blood, maybe.

[ they're mostly talking to themselves now. ]

( 4 has no idea what arcanum is but he can make some guesses, not that it matters per se. what does matter: the scalpel against his neck and the faint hiss that escapes him, blotted out when he grits his teeth. the indifference shifts to something sharper, only to give way once again to confusion as he realizes medicine isn't even talking to him at this point.

as it happens, 4 is fairly good at receiving and obeying orders. but this is usually when said orders are given by his namesake or related parties. medicine pocket is none of these as far as he can tell, and so, even with his blood welling up again and the scalpel still to his neck, he says with a severe austerity, )

There's nothing worth preserving about it. The sample you already took will also be useless.

( he can't imagine medicine pocket needs a mobile suit pilot under their thumb, but even then, the blood itself would do nothing. it's 4 himself as a whole, as laughable as it is to him, masquerading under elan ceres' name his known "life". )

Didn't I say shut up?

[ talking while they're trying to understand the oddity that is this person's flesh is getting in the way of what medicine pocket does best. they're a genius, this is easily solvable as long as they have the proper utensils to see their curiosity through.

he did answer something for them but every piece of information about a person can be taught to them through just a single cell. the blood is worth it if only to say that the shimmer doesn't come from it, but maybe the heart or the brain.

they don't mind taking those. ]

You can't even do the simplest of things... if you want to talk, explain why your skin does that.

[ well, they're waiting as they turn their hand to proceed with the second cut, just a small square outline to peel off him. ]

( again, a twitch of annoyance, though it goes away as fast as it's there. he sighs. unconsciously, his body shivers a little, likely from further blood loss. peil took a lot the day prior besides, so it's no wonder he feels this weak. but it's frustrating. at the same time, despite the shivering, his body will seem increasingly hot, the lines of light under his flesh brighter too, aggravated by spikes of emotion. this isn't something even peil has seen in other previous clones. usually it only happens when the individual is piloting. in this, 4 is perhaps, a decent test subject but that all depends on the purpose. in terms of survival, if he knew that might be what it's for, he would laugh. well, maybe. 4 isn't given over to laughter, so actually, maybe he wouldn't.

he does answer medicine pocket, not seeing anything to be gained from refusing. )

It's exhibiting the aggravation of the permet in my body, but it's not technically the skin. You're just seeing it through — !

( he shifts a little bit underneath medicine pocket, but it's a frail attempt to throw them off at best, and perhaps not the best time since the blade is indeed still against his skin, but even 4's borderline self-destructiveness has its own threshold of patience. )

Of what?

[ it's a word they haven't heard before, their curiosity growing more and more as the body underneath them moves to dig the scalpel deeper into his skin. blood drips onto the floor beneath them both, the audible running drips is like ticking to them... when will it all run out? ]

It's something else... the vessels, whatever carries it, it's deeper... what makes it flow... hm.

[ medicine pocket blinks as they pull the scalpel out from him, tossing it to the side as they place both their hands on the side of his prey's head, and leans down so they're at least face to cheek.

if they had a tail, it'd probably wag by now, but instead they're sniffing him from the cheek, to his hair and to the neck where he's bleeding. ]

Come on, tell me, I'm listening.

( it's the disorientation and dizziness muddling into a blurriness of vision that all comes together to have 4 hesitating to answer. not out of stubbornness but out of sheer discomfort. his head is swimming. as it is, medicine pocket seems to have moved on from the question to talking to themself again, which in its own way is a kind of relief.

no sound, but 4's body jerks when the scalpel is pulled out. he blinks, trying to get his vision to focus, not quite successful, faintly turning his head only to feel hands on either side of it hold him in place. the feeling of medicine's face this close is hardly his biggest concern, but the sniffing is an action so utterly unexpected that 4 finds himself confused again all over.

the confusion is enough to put him off kilter enough to answer shakily, )

— ah...permet. An element. This body ... ( there are hesitations in his speech, because focusing is still a bit difficult, but he adds, still fairly calm and quiet,)...is infused with it.

( but it's largely dormant if it's not in a 'body' whether that's a human body or a piece of technology to catalyze its uses. certainly there are exceptions, but in 4's case, the blood that drips from his neck and the blood pulled into a syringe earlier will not exhibit any of the iridescent resonance.

because he's weaker than before, when he lifts a hand to try and just push medicine off it's entirely negligible but 4 is having a hard time feeling his limbs enough to tell. )

Element? Yes, element! That would make sense as to why the blood nor skin matter, it's the content that makes up the body. Oh! Oh! Like nitrogen and oxygen, ohh!

[ they feel a little stupid from having it said directly to them, but they're happy enough as they pull away with a wide smile. sharp teeth showing as they continue to be thrilled at the information, and they lean up to sit properly on him as the other lays on the floor.

the amount of fighting back has slowed down, and medicine pocket watches them properly now to see what's wrong. ]

Hm... aggravation causes it to stir, but that can't be it. What is the healthier way to make it appear?

[ maybe they should focus on how weak he is, but that's not as important as information.

what does catch their attention is the blood that's pouring, how much is leaking from them in an unhealthy amount.

they should fix that, but... ]

Come on, before you bleed out.

( medicine pocket is very good at catching 4 off guard. "healthier way"? if 4 were a different person (other than being, well, a different person literally), he might laugh. as it is, there are black spots breaking up his poor vision and so he hears medicine pocket at this point more so than seeing them. vaguely he can feel them still weighing him down as well, but it's secondary to their voice. )

...there...there isn't...one.

( whether or not medicine pocket believes him is not a concern, and he isn't trying to sound particularly convincing, indeed 4's voice remaining more or less the same this whole time. the main difference is that it's a little quieter now and a little stilted, the discomfort from the wound in his neck actually coming second best to the lancing of the permet through him, brightest along his arms under his sleeves, the sides of his neck, and under his eyes. some of the striations seem almost white rather than red. )

[ oh, that's not bad. then all they have to do is play on their nerves and their body will respond accordingly? interested, medicine pocket figures that the other has done their job in explaining very little, and the rest is what they'll look into.

digging into their pocket, they pull out a thin, clear tube with a needle at the end that matches the one that's connected to medicine pocket's own neck. they dig out a gun-like apparatus, hooking up the second tube to it as they push the needle into the other's neck on the opposite side of where they cut. once it's secure, they push a button on the machine that comes to life with a loud beep, and the blood that has been moving through the tube on medicine pocket's side is quick to filter into the opposite tube. ]

Think of it as a steroid, and a numbing agent.

[ that's what they're using their blood for at the moment as gloved hands search for needle and thread. they find the latter, but the former is a little harder to come across with all the junk in their pockets: tooth picks, needles, half-eaten dog treats, but when they do find the needle that is when they scoot closer up the other's body to sit on their chest somewhat.

medicine pocket waits for their blood to run through the other's system before they start to close up the area where they had cut him. ]

( to this, 4 says nothing. the minute struggle against it is little more than a convulsion. if his body is already not responding well to him, with a so-called numbing agent he imagines it will be even less cooperative.

whatever sensation of numbness it should cause is overshadowed by the boiling quality of the permet sharp and hot and suffocating. it's the permet more than the blood loss or the sutures that causes the irregularity in his breathing, little gasps more so than normal inhales or exhales.

if he were more coherent, 4 would raise a brow at the myriad of things that medicine pocket takes out of...well. their pockets. but since he isn't, there's only a slightly dulled expression contrasted by the glaring permet. depending on medicine pocket's own sensitivity, they might find that touching 4 is slightly uncomfortable (whether it's sitting on him or sewing him up), simply because the heat radiating off of him is exponentially above what's normal. )

[ call it a test, medicin pocket always experiments with their body to test their limits— this is no different, even with the nauseating heat that's wafting of the other. they aren't sure why their composition of their body is reacting in this way, but it might be from the blood loss.

they stay in place, a heavy exhale as they begin to finish threading the flesh together tightly in order to keep him from bleeding anymore than he already has.

if he dies then medicine pocket will be in trouble with their superior, the foundation aren't too keen on human experiments, and medicine pocket doesn't want to lose their job. then again, it's not like they'd know this person existed, and medicine pocket is only here due to their own interest. as soon as their job is done, medicine pocket slides off of the body with a raise of their brow wondering how long he'll overheat. ]

Should I throw water on you?

[ with a tilt of their head, they don't move too far since they're connected through the blood coming from their body into his own. ]

...that...won't be necessary.

( sweat beads across 4's skin, his forehead, down the side of his neck, the length of his rigid spine. he can feel the other tells of not being a perfect vessel: too elevated heartrate, tightness of chest, numbness that contradicts the burning everywhere. throughout it all though, because this is at this point par for the course, his expression barely fluctuates. rather, it's only when green eyes shift to focus loosely on the blood connection apparatus that there's a shift of look at all. still unreadable by ordinary standards, though 4 does find his voice again. )

you're not...human...are you?

( this could mean a multitude of things. for all intensive purposes, 4 isn't either or that's a question of ethics. a question that's unaskable given he's a breach of at least five policies and protocols. but that's neither here nor there. a clone is a clone, even if once, long ago, 4 wore a different face and name that actually belonged to him; it's not as though he remembers what those were anyway.

and...what medicine pocket is...what they are or who they work for...he has no idea but he's already asked so he waits, shivering through the persistent fever of the permet and the too ample blood loss, looking slightly paler for the wear. )

You can tell? Good. If you had called me a human, I might have had things to say.

[ not good things, but it's identifiable in their voice that they would have said something that would have been harsh by human standards. that's why medicine pocket isn't too cruel on their test subject, and instead tries to find points about this person that puts them above humans. ]

You can't be either, I've never seen this in a human before. Well, any of the fuckers I've checked.

[ testing the body is what they're good at, especially with how precise they are when dealing with the body next to them. they don't know what it is that swims through his body, but they're curious, and truthfully they want a sample to play with. how can they go about that? ]

You're more interesting than the rest... let's see, what does it say.

[ they click a button on the apparatus, and it's details go as following: it allows medicine pocket to see how much blood runs through the other's body, they're able to note the temperature, and even the erratic heartbeat. ]

( things like: so? and not that it matters and what would those be? all flicker in 4's head like a candle flame exposed to high wind. quickly blown out. gone like they weren't there.

of course, they were.

a slow shaky breath. the floor is colder because 4 is so untenably warm. not human? by all accounts, he should pass as one. the face he wears and the imperfect body his original body was remade into. human. down to its core. that erratic heartbeat should be steadier. this composure should not break.

for most purposes, it doesn't.

4 takes his time because he has no choice, experimentally flexing his fingers at his sides as feeling that isn't just heat returns. pain comes with it, like all his nerves remembering how to act like they were told. he's slowly sitting up by the time medicine pocket calls him 'interesting' and eyeballs that weird little tool of theirs.

faintly, 4's brow arches. even at that, it's quite subtle.

whether his legs will serve him right now, he's not sure, so he focuses on neatening the top of his uniform and adjusting his gloves as well, as if he wasn't just shallowly cut open and sewn back together. his eyes, not quite the right green to perfectly match the person he is trying to pass as, fall to medicine pocket's feet for no reason other than it's too much trouble to raise his head right now.

quietly, soft spoken, like it doesn't matter at all, )

I —

( i am human. even...

never mind. )

— ...how many others have you "checked"? Here?

( or elsewhere? why he seeks information, well, it's more natural than divulging anything about "himself" to them. across his neck, under his eyes, and hidden under his gloves and sleeves, the permet yet races like red moon webwork. alight with someone else's luminescence. )

You're the first one I came across, but I've never seen you before so duh, I'd be interested.

[ why would they bother someone else when they can play with him, much like a dog whose found the perfect bone in a pile. besides, medicine pocket is lucky as they've come across someone strange, their body just an oddity that hasn't been a subject that's popped up in the foundation.

and for a human to boot. ]

You'll become the base of what I should check for others. That's why I can't let you go.

[ their personal chew toy at best, and hopefully the other doesn't see a problem with it because it's not like they're going to change their mind at all. medicine pocket has decided this for the both of them, and it's why they're glancing at the areas where this weird light flashes at the boy's skin to try and find out why it's doing that. does it stem from the lack of blood, or is it trying to save the body? either way, it's such an interesting detail. ]

Do you belong to anyone?

( all of medicine pocket's other words blur contrasted by the last thing that they ask. an effect 4 experiences with certain words put together just so: the stone throne into a body of water, the ripple effect of it all. the problem: he is the stone throne and the water. it makes it difficult for him to parse, thorned and brambled by the convoluted nature of pretending to be someone else, for someone else.

and yet. it was ...for a reason. wasn't it?

to create a duplicate, triplicate, or a fourth, erasure of memories is a given.

but what the mind forgets the body sometimes remembers.

do you belong to anyone? medicine pocket asks.

for a split second, 4 closes his eyes and sees a small candle's flame, sees an outstretched hand of a new classmate too kind for this place, sees green eyes he's supposed to also have but sharper and a little deeper and with them the scent of those rare commodities 4 so quietly holds as precious: books.

do you belong to anyone?

well.

his mind settles, calms. in the quiet it takes the shape of one of the many laboratory rooms of peil. a table to be strapped onto, a chair to be secured in. the list goes on.

do you belong to anyone?

yes. ~~no.~~

when 4 opens his eyes again, his expression looks no different than normal. only the permet wreaking havoc on his weakened body gives anything away. )

You'd have to take it up with Peil Technologies.

( he offers neither yes or no in the end, and tells himself it's not because he doesn't know the real answer himself. at least, as far as he's concerned, that much is true. it is not as though he isn't replaceable though and he leaves that rather significant fact out, very aware his successor waits in the eaves for when 4 inevitably fails, dies due to the permet in his system, or is at some point deemed less than acceptable in his performance as "elan ceres". whichever comes first.

an attempt to stand proves futile. his legs fold beneath him instantly and the landing is jarring. he sighs. )

Hmph, annoying. But no one's here to hear your answer.

[ truth be told, medicine pocket doesn't care much for him as a person, but the body is so interesting them that they need to know. especially with how the other's legs buckle up underneath him, and he falls to the ground, the arcanist laughs as they make their way over to take a proper look at the other's face. ]

You're weak, and I'm a researcher, you have no choice but to rely on me.

[ while medicine pocket isn't a doctor, they find themselves close enough to make this call. it's not like they know what peil technologies is, perhaps that's where they work, but medicine pocket understand that too. they belong to the foundation, it's already rare for them to be able to leave since they never really allow laplace associates to go anywhere.

they're far too important for what they have planned, and without laplace they'd have no way to look into the storm or find a way to control it. ]

How do you feel?

( the trembles can only be partially suppressed. 4 keeps his head lowered and avoids medicine pocket's gaze. he's accustomed to being research but that does not mean he especially likes it. then again, if they caused peil trouble, wouldn't that be a bonus for him? unable to do so himself. the light of the permet doesn't die but the red overtakes the white in most places. to 4, it feels like he's burning from the inside, out, and his breathing struggles, though he tries to suppress that effect too. )

Less than optimal.

( an honest answer and also useless, as if he is a robot and not a person, however tampered with. removal of memories, rebuilding as someone else, given their history and their future to at least pretend to pursue, it would not be completely out of line to say that's close to what the clones resemble. but their bodies are human, if with greatly shortened lifespans and various other physical pitfalls. though there seems to be a distinct difference between 4,5,6, and especially 7.

well of all of them it's only natural 4 would be the most erroneous. he's a model preceding them all.

research.

still with his legs splayed under him, shoulders slightly slumped, 4 brings a gloved hand to his head. it hurts. a growing pressure. )

[ medicine pocket watches how this person trembles, how he bring a hand to their head, and for them they find some sort of thrill from it. down onto their knees again, they crawl closer over to him to invade his personal space. a headache is understandable, he would be in this position considering what all they've done to him. ]

I have all sorts of drugs for that, what's your limit? Or should I learn personally.

[ the latter is more so allowing medicine pocket to do whatever they want, it's hard for them to deny the will to learn. that's why they enjoy being a researcher, it opens valuable paths to explore, and they can't say this person isn't one of them.

a very rare specimen if they might add. a human but with an interesting detail, it's like exploring a disease and unraveling a brand new cancer — is it a threat or is it something easily ignored, either way, it's something that must be cut out. they wonder if they pester them enough can they find some way to harvest this odd part of them.

if it's no dna, surely breeding is out of the question, there's a lot of things medicine pocket has to think about. ]

Unless you want to suffer.

all of a sudden you're a hostage to things you thought you wanted

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)