ph_logs | Work Friends Are Like Prison Friends [October

Work Friends Are Like Prison Friends [October | Closed to the Ocularum]

Who: Agent Jean & Members of the Ocularum They Don't Know Well Yet

What: Post-Gala Follow-ups & Allaying Concerns

When: Early October

Where: YOU pick

Warning(s): Honestly hard to list but, y'know, Jean Things. Violence, corporate exploitation, discussions of brutality, depression & self-loathing, absolutely bonkers capitalist bullshit

Those members of the Ocularum who have recently joined, or whom Jean does not yet know well, find handwritten letters delivered to them. The writing itself is neat and professional, though at some difficulty; the thick paper bears the marks of scouring sand for the ink, indentations where spelling mistakes or sloppy handwriting from picking up speed has been destroyed and replaced with something the author deems more suitable. Still.

Esteemed Peer, You may recognize me from the recent meeting. I must apologize for not being at my best during that time; I offer no excuses. However, given the state of recent events, and especially rising tensions in Pumpkin Hollow, I am moved to correct my previous state of negligence. It would be my privilege, if you are amenable, to meet and discuss at a time or place of your choosing and explain whatever happenings at the Gala you deem in need of explanation, and answer questions you may have as to my intentions, qualifications, and background. Food and drink can be provided; time of day or inconvenience of locale are no object. Please send your reply via letter, telephone, or sending stone to: Agent Jean of Hyrule (pending), Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

CT confirms a time and place via sending stone shortly after finding the letter—in the evening after her shift, in the small garden attached to the side off her house in Northwest Hollow.

It's a small rectangular space, with a high wall. There's unused planter boxers; a tree with a home-made wooden target attached to it with dozens of knife marks; scuffs on the ground from other training; and a somewhat rickety old bench.

CT arrives a touch late, but not by much. "Agent Jean?"

Hm. Calling someone Agent again feels... anyway.

Jean hadn't really intended on attending in Cobalt Scar but the honest truth of it is after about an hour in the morning of the biting October winds they called their shot; the furry suit is, y'know, warm. So when CT arrives late, Jean's got their hands in their pockets, and they nod brightly to her inquiry. "Yes indeed, comrade! My pleasure, and my apologies; I don't think we've been formally introduced?"

That... is definitely one of the more interesting outfits she's seen. It doesn't visibly surprise her much, but she does almost slip when she introduces herself: "Ag— eeeveryone just calls me CT. Just CT."

"Ah. My apologies, 'comrade' was suggested to me as an appropriate and gender-neutral honorific." Look at them CT. The nugget is all guilty and sad now. "...Well! How may I be of assistance?"

CT's brow furrows momentarily like she's not sure what provoked the response, before it visibly clicks into place a second later— "Oh! No, that's— that's fine. I only mean that there's not another real name to call me. I realise CT sounds... sometimes people expect more to it. The gender-neutral thing is actually rather appreciated."

Visible relief, and with it a much more natural smile that shows less teeth. "I understand, Comrade CT. Honestly -" they chuckle, interrupting themself, and shake their head. "A friend thought 'Agent' was my given name briefly. The culture shock gets very interesting!"

Were she more open to sharing this detail, there'd be a joke here about how someone using her full Agent title always felt like being full-named by an authority figure. As it is, she just breathes a laugh.

"It certainly does. And you never really stop running into it, in a place like this." Too many people from too different places. There are so few people from a context anything like her own, it's... strange, sometimes. Anyway. "Right. So. The Gala."

They nod, just once. "The Gala. I will be frank, there are aspects of what happened that I am still investigating and will not share, mostly for the safety of others. My own safety is...not a concern."

On most other people that might be self-destructive behavior but this here is just confidence. Jean is unconcerned about their peers attempting to kill them. They're still fairly certain that in a straight fight, they remain the deadliest thing here.

"I understand that." As much as she'd prefer to have all the information at hand, she knows too well the sting of saying too much and someone else getting hurt for it. Though that knowing won't stop the faint itch. "I assume, then, that you did receive the weapon from a third party?"

"The weapon, and a mask. Both are currently being retained for study, though it is my intention to see them destroyed. I do not care to play with the devil's toys."

CT nods—study and then attempted destruction makes sense to her, in the circumstances, though she has quiet doubts about the ease of the latter.

"...huh. So you were able to replace your original mask with one provided in its place and... is that how you found Mendel?"

"Correct," Jean confirms. "The mask seemed to lead me towards him, a phenomenon with which I am familiar. I...cannot help but suspect that the hostile Manager Aster chose me as his instrument in this; certainly his political aims are convenienced by the death of his brother, and historical evidence suggests that fratricide is a normal behavior. In my ideal world more study could be done about the odd gender norms of infernal society but given the immediate needs of the situation, gender equality amongst demons is...not my problem."

The corner of CT's mouth quirks just a little, at that, before she continues along the more pressing line of inquiry. "I don't have any doubt that you were chosen personally by Aster, given what we know, but I assume you have more history that would explain why?"

"Other hostile managerial entities have identified me as of interest to the Prince of the Dark Feast, yes," Jean confirms. They are not proud of it; their voice softens, their eye contact breaks. "I am not entertaining offers of employment by hostile Management, nor have any such offers been openly extended. I...am not pleased by this turn of events, or at least not completely. Mendel did die! I do like that part."

"He used you," CT says, a bit more understanding leaking through into her voice than she'd usually allow. It's not entirely deliberate. "He knew you wouldn't agree to a traditional deal so he went through someone else, exploited the circumstances to get to you anyway. That... seems to be something of Aster's forte. I'm sorry, Agent Jean."

"It's appreciated," Jean murmurs. "But there's no use wallowing. Aster may be the best at playing this particular game; his dominion is the game itself, after all. In some sense, given that demons must feast on misery for their own profit and well-being, Aster is Prince of demonhood in itself. A cunning selection on his part, but it leaves him vulnerable in other senses. The trouble with being a parasite is that being noticed by your host is invariably fatal."

CT huffs a breath, picking at the scar across her palm. "You sound more optimistic about that inevitability than I am. I don't like that the only way we've succeeded in removing any of these figureheads from the equation is through the aid of another. I've never dealt with things like the demons before, but I've... had dealings with powerful people of other sorts, and even their apparent vulnerabilities only ever got me so far."

Jean spreads their hands philosophically. "I, while having similar experiences, have learned harshly that to touch is to be touched. The hostile management is vulnerable. I have no evidence for this, but...ha! Haha...consider it an act of faith."

For is Kora not the mother of rebellions?

The corner of CT's mouth quirks just a touch. "Faith, huh. Not sure I know much about that one these days."

"It's a new skill for me as well!"

CT's head tilts, "Mm. Is this a Goddessses thing?"

This provokes a certain amount of thought in Jean. Their thinking face is much closer to a normal human neutral; a faint frown, barely showing teeth, eyes roaming the little rectangle they're in.

"...No," they answer at last. "Not exactly. It's more...that I was the worst person I've ever been when I told myself that I could defer problems, defer the future, defer consequences, until what was in front of me was taken care of. One day at a time, but when I look back at those days...they're a smear of violence and atrocities."

CT makes a thoughtful noise, chewing at the inside of her cheek. Her own memories of the last few years are a blur of taking it day by day, balancing cold equations and trying not to face down how unsustainable it all was. It wasn't hope, it wasn't faith, it was stubborn refusal to face reality.

None of this leaves her head. Instead, she says, "I'm not entirely sure what the shape I'm forming of your world is, so far."

"Would you like the short version that is awful or the long version that is worse?"

Her brow furrows and she nods her head to the side. "Give me the short version first."

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BY TRADITION -

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By tradition I declare: damn OCs and their one-liners

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