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

[closely]

( open for messages, action, overflow. )

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[closely]

( 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. )

[alchemyware]

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?

[closely]

( 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. )

[alchemyware]

[ 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.

[closely]

( 4 considers the offers, including the offer to continue to suffer. he doesn't have the sense of humor of his soon to be successor, nor of the likely most successful version of the cloned image yet. what he has brought to the table for all of this is his uncanny strength in being able to handle certain machinery and tests that previous models could not withstand. one of them died barely out of his metaphorical test tube. not that it works quite like that.

annoyance flickers through him though it doesn't show on his face.

yet he knows pointing out he signed a contract with peil and not with medicine pocket won't mean much to them.

another minute or two passes before he finally lifts his head again, hand falling emptily to his side. red and white light glitters across his skin, like the body he inhabits might implode like a star if given the chance; maybe one day he will. to siphon the permet from him, well, if 4 could read the other's mind he would tell him he was sure it could be done if only because it was infused into him in the first place. but that was a long process. he has the grim and humorless amused thought: would it kill him faster to remove the thing killing him anyway?

food for thought.

head still throbbing like a caution, he replies with mild softness, as if everything is normal, )

I'm not sure what limit you mean. Or what 'learn personally' means.

( the green of 4's eyes seems, when he shifts the angle of his head slightly, almost lanced with gold. )

[alchemyware]

Is it that hard to understand? I'll drug you and figure out how much you can take.

[ the issue here is that medicine pocket makes drugs through their own body— blood, flesh, hair, whatever it is they have, it's being used. this is a talent and a risk that they'll take upon themselves, and since they've drugged up their body so much, it does make them curious if one drug might do the other in.

well, this isn't about them, but rather what's coursing through them. ]

It's like alcohol, you have to stop somewhere unless you don't care about living.

[ and everyone should know their drug limit, or maybe that's just medicine pocket because of what they're willing to do.

can't be helped. ]

I won't kill you, but aren't you interested? If not, then great, luckily this is about what I'm interested in.

[closely]

( there's quite a long silence, the sort of wordlessness some individuals might take as consent or at least deep indifference. 4 simply does not know how to respond, isn't sure if he's 'interested' even if there is a morbid curiosity. still...

there's the smallest furrow to his brow. )

The way you say it, it seems like you'll do it regardless of what my answer is.

( not quite flat in tone but edging on it, mild. as if 4 couldn't be bothered to care too much about his own well being. at the same time, it could be chalked up to pragmatism. in his current state, argument is suffice to say futile. if medicine pocket kills him it's just a movement across the board sooner than expected, that's all.

well. no.

there's something important he's forgotten, the most important thing in the entirety of what peil technologies removed from him long ago.

reason. reason to survive. reason to succeed where the first 3 clones had not.

but he can't remember, doesn't even know how he came to get himself into this situation or the other.

and then there's his more-or-less creator. there's the books in 4's room. there's afternoons of dance lessons. there's...something.

under his breath, less to medicine pocket than it is to himself,)

...I guess it can't be worse than the permet.

( well. probably. )