ph_logs | Supression Request: These Feelings [November Open]

Supression Request: These Feelings [November Open]

Who: "Slasher Face" Jean and YOU + 1 Closed
What: Jean fuckin' died y'all
When: Early November (before Voyage of the Hollow Men)
Where: Oak & Iron, the Community Board, Around Town, the Temple
Warnings: Discussion of death, Bad Feelings, likely shit from Jean's dark-ass canon, traumatic flashbacks, burning/scarring
Notes: Just getting on this early while I have spoons

Containment Breach [Oak & Iron | Closed to Zelda | CW Traumatic Flashbacks, Burning/Scarring]

Jean wakes with a start, and the phantom feeling of cold. Their clothes are ill-fitting butcher's slops, smelling incongruously of wet dog, and the uncomfortable sensation is almost enough for them to center themself.

Almost.

The sensation of burning starts immediately, and the contrast between their mind's insistence that they are freezing to death and the reality of the crawling heat against their left cheek draws a gritted sound of pain from their throat. Over the course of nearly a minute, a skull and crossbones is scorched into their face, and they have to take awhile to just breathe.

It's in vain. The tally mark comes next.

Jean has no idea that it's been exactly 24 hours, which means they're trapped in the inn; after all, it's well after dark. A familiar face might be needed to coax them out from under the table. Goddesses know the staff don't want anything to do with this.

Org Chart [Community Board]

Signup sheets go up on the community board, asking for volunteers for three emergency teams, just beneath a note explaining the idea.

To better effect emergency responses to the ongoing siege of Marrow Island, Comrade Jean (Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force) is seeking volunteers to staff and lead response teams which will coordinate on own initiative during notable crises. The teams are as follows: COMBAT TEAM: Directly combat curse incursions with a focus on harm reduction and pro-active containment; protect citizens and infrastructure through violent force. MEDICAL TEAM: First aid and triage, preventative care, bodymen. The grim work of aid during a disaster or surprise attack. COMMUNICATIONS TEAM: Detect and report emergencies, coordinate activities between all teams and citizens, swiftly and effectively transmit information on the disaster in a concise manner. Volunteers are encouraged to leave their names and phone numbers on the forms provided below, or to contact JEAN or MADAM PRINCESS ZELDA directly at their homes or anywhere in town. These teams are not sanctioned or sponsored by any existing organization on MARROW ISLAND and are strictly voluntary; however, JEAN is offering combat training to any citizen or Task Force member that desires it, regardless of volunteer status, during their shore leave between the hours of 6 AM and 1 PM.

[OOC Note: Feel free to leave a drive-by to just handwave volunteering, to seek Jean out in person for a thread, or even to attend training!]

This Meeting Could Have Been An Email [Around Town]

With the events of the festival heavy on their mind, Jean is making an effort to check in on friends, peers, and potential assets, not that those divisions are particularly clear in their mind right now. Did you make plans with Jean before the catastrophe? Here they are to follow up. Consider this the catch-all for That Thing That Was Plotted, but it's also the chance to catch Jean at the Oak & Iron getting their coffee, haunting the tailoring shops again with a distinct thought towards actually spending money on clothes, interrupt them grocery shopping, or otherwise gently find (and possibly hold) the nugget.

Fuck You, Pay Me [The Temple]

At some point when Jean feels like they've got ducks in a row, they come into the Temple of a morning to provide a strong contender for least reverent prayer in recent history. Curiously, they've washed up extra hard first, combed their messy hair and even shined their shoes, but...

Well. Jean doesn't kneel before the altar, and while their tone is quiet respect, the words...

"Your enemy seems to think you exist, Manager Kora, and that you have some manner of power, some stake in me. I fought too hard and too long to choose for myself only to end up here for reasons I couldn't control, and as amazing as that is...I don't work for free. Not ever again, not after the Library. I am not your plaything. If you want me as your employee...then we need to talk. And if you won't, kindly stop by the City, make an appointment with R-Corp to rent their cloning vats, and use them to go fuck yourself."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Your faction, Doctor?"

Just drive him out to the interstate and let him throw himself under a truck.

"Autobot," he says quietly. "I was created to serve in a medical capacity under the command of Optimus Prime, the rightful leader of Cybertron. But," he quickly adds, "In the absense of any Autobot officers or a Decepticon presence, my mandate to provide medical services to human allies and civilians takes precedence. Indeed, that would most likely be the case even if there were any other Autobots or Decepticons here. I am not a combatant."

Edited 2023-11-02 01:01 (UTC)

"There's some obvious flaws in that set of priorities, not least that we have peers that are not human. Have you considered the social fallout of your proposal?" Jean's voice softens. "...There are tensions among the clients. I've aligned myself with the Ocularum, and by paying for my upkeep you may be seen as associated. You'll make enemies of people who don't understand your dedication or perspective, enemies that may make it difficult for you to offer treatment where it's needed most."

Jean sighs heavily. "...If we're talking strategy, anyway."

"You're correct that I need to update my phrasing. That should have been, 'sapient allies and civilians.' It wasn't my intention to imply I'd exclude anyone on the basis of species."

He sighs heavily, reaching for the anesthetic. "Should I understand that there is no way to keep my contributions to your efforts secret? I wasn't aware tensions within the town were so high."

Edited 2023-11-02 01:47 (UTC)

"One person owns the mint, and there's no cooperation between her faction and my allies. Ms. Leeds may be a nepotism hire but she owns the relevant infrastructure - and I don't cut corners on job safety." Jean only doesn't shrug because the surgery prep is underway. "Your skills are a rare and vital resource. As much as I, hahaha, hahaha, ha, FUCKING CRAVE a central command, we don't have one. Being this cautious is annoying! And bothersome!"

"Oh dear."

Yeah, understatement. First Aid falls silent until the anesthetic is fully applied, thinking it over.

"Protocol dictates that I defer to local authority, except when acting to prevent immediate harm to a civilian or a fellow Autobot," he says slowly, unhappy with the answer even as he gives it voice. A few seconds later, he realizes why.

"However, that command was written to accommodate the situation on the ground, where we Autobots were uninvited guests. *We* -- that is, we newcomers -- are not uninvited. We were summoned by a higher power to provide assistance where civilian authority had already failed. Is in the process of failing."

Yes. This makes perfect sense to him. The locals couldn't lift the curse themselves, they need extra-dimensional help to do it. Therefore, where local authority interferes with newcomer efforts...

Edited 2023-11-02 02:16 (UTC)

"We need more information," Jean agrees. "About everything. I've recently received evidence that at least one of the entities identified as goddesses exists, or that a force acting in her name does." Professional caution only, Kora; they're still wearing the ring. "The Temple founds its legitimacy on this idea, but hasn't previously attempted to assert formal control. Nor has Ms. Leeds, to her credit, though her wealth gives her a great deal of de facto power. My own allies are unknown to me in many ways, which, hate that! Hate that a lot! So...caution."

"What sort of evidence?" First Aid immediately asks. "And, if I might ask, why did you ally yourself with the Ocularum? I know nothing about them, except for what I saw at Dr. West's seance -- and I was only there in a medical capacity."

Meaning that while he didn't precisely ignore the chatter and exposition, it wasn't a priority.

"Appropriate support was offered in a managerial capacity." There's that numbness. Jean prepares emotionally for some strange sensations. "As for the Ocularum, they have the technical knowledge needed to contain entities alive, which is better for research. The Madam Princess and I are placing our trust in the goodwill of our fellows for other vital operations."

"I see..." It suddenly seems ludicrous that they're having this conversation while First Aid stares at Jean's back -- but of course, the surgery takes precedence. Finish the task in front of you, medic; worry about everything else once the job's done. First Aid picks up the scalpel and begins to cut.

But he's still thinking about it. And what he's thinking is...

"I too would prefer to work with a central authority, if one could be found. Or brought into being."

"Mmm." Jean sits with that fantasy for a moment before proceeding to disappoint themself and, likely, First Aid: "I can't see a scenario where seizing or propping up such an authority isn't instantly destroyed by the success of the project, ironically creating immediate conditions of failure. Once the employees of the white-haired lady start choosing to return to life..."

"If the 'success of the project' is lifting the curse, then there won't be a need for us anymore anyway. I had understood that our presence here is intended to be temporary. Once we've fixed things, we'll either be sent back home or move on to whatever afterlife awaits us. But in the meantime..."

First Aid's hands work quickly, but gently, taking care of Jean's comparitively fragile body as if it were yet an extension of his own.

"An interim organization, one that practices true neutrality in its dealings with civilian factions, could expedite things considerably. Rival interests might be more willing to deal with a new group, made up entirely of newcomers, than they have been with each other."

"...I need you to imagine me holding up a finger in that sort of friendly-explanation way that teachers do," Jean politely pleads. "I have a small correction to your thought; the commission from the white-haired lady is to end the curse and restore the island. We are explicitly engaged in an economic and perhaps even social sense; the wholeness of the project does not merely cover the restoration of death. So while your idea of an interim group has a certain appeal...I grow concerned about leaving behind a power vacuum."

"Oh, you're quite correct. Hm..."

The tools in First Aid's hands making tiny clinking and scraping noises whenever they come in contact with Jean's implant.

"Circling back around to the topic of our earlier discussion," he finally says, "Am I correct in the understanding that if it became known that I was personally funding your efforts, it might turn Ms Leeds and her faction against me and by association, this clinic?"

"That's my concern, yes. More specifically...my concern is that a mission-first attitude will not be understood or appreciated." There's an upwelling of bitter laughter. "The ironic thing is, it's, hahaha, my home would understand you instantly if your existence there wasn't illegal."

"Oh, what?" First Aid laughs quietly. "Don't tell me your homeworld has something against mechanicals? Or is it the 'artifical intelligence' angle? There are people like that on my Earth too, but they're a small enough minority that it's safe to ignore them."

Thoughtful pause while his hands work.

"Are you certain that would be Ms Leeds reaction? Has she ostracized anyone before?"

"I am not certain! To my knowledge she has not conducted such an action! But given the vitriol displayed by Doctor West I can only imagine that competition for the resources we represent to the various factions may get...difficult."

...

....

SERIES OF DOTS

"...As for my home, the Age of Humanity is ascendant. It. Happened before my time. At some point many non-human things lived in the City, and then they were driven out. Those that would not leave were executed, hunted down in their hiding places and their homes and slaughtered. The creation of mechanical intelligence is still the highest taboo."

Hm, unfortunate! All of this is really...unfortunate.

"Well, I'm glad that you don't seem to have a problem working with me, personal conflicts aside." Jean hasn't struck him as xenophobic at all, but First Aid isn't going to ask any deeper discussions about that just now. He doesn't want to trigger another argument about their cultures, or get side-tracked.

"I'm really not a fan of the idea of this person trying to stop or punish me for spending my money where I want to," he finally lets his annoyance enter his voice. "I fail to see how she has the right. She might run the mint, but once the currency passed into my hands in exchange for my labor it became mine to do with what I will. It isn't as though I'd be funding illegal activity," he adds with a sniff.

"I don't suppose there's any chance you'd accept some of it now, secretly, and we can work out how to deal with Dahlia after you've finished your recovery?"

"...If you insist, Doctor. I can stay quiet about where the money has come from in any event." Jean's in a corner on this one with no choice but to accept food money (and actually spend it on food, which they must eat). Then, thoughtfully: "...Investments in the local farms might prove to be better long-term gains, if this is a broader concern for you. Can't argue about getting everyone more food, haha! To my knowledge, Comrades Eddie and Milo are farmers off the ferry, like us, but unlike a new political organization a developed farm can be handed off."

"Thank you," First Aid says with audible relief. "I'll look into the investment option, and think about the rest of the things you said."

He's nearly done here, actually; with the practice he got from the previous exam, installing the new gates is much simpler than removing the burned-out ones were.

"Despite our previous disagreements, I do want to work with you, Jean. It doesn't matter to me that we don't see eye to eye on everything. You were correct that my mindset is mission-first."

Edited 2023-11-02 06:45 (UTC)

"I genuinely can't express how much of a relief that is. I...am very lucky to have social relationships with people willing to understand. Not everyone does, or wants to."

"I think that's really too bad. You have your idiosyncracies, sure, but who doesn't? At least you don't constantly talk in rhyming couplets." Please, for the love of Primus, somebody give Wheelie a speech therapy module.

"Installation's done," he says quietly, most of the tension finally gone from his voice. Most of the issues they discussed will have to wait for another day, but at least in the short term First Aid thinks Jean -- his patient -- will be fine. That's the most important part. "Just let me sew you back up and you'll be free to go."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Supression Request: These Feelings [November Open]

By Tradition I Declare: Damn OCs And Their One Liners

cw: hyperbolic suicide ideation

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