Prompt 7 (Illuminating Conversation): This time of year there are lights hanging everywhere. They come in different colors, different styles, different patterns of illumination. You might not remember when it started, but when you looked at a display, you noticed the lights seemed to be flashing in a specific pattern. When you look away, you might be able to see out of the corner of your eye that they return to normal--but any time you look at them, they repeat the same unique sequence. It’s not just one light, either; almost everywhere you go you can find some light repeating the pattern. Is something trying to send you a message? Could it be Morse Code, or something else? A coincidence? Either way, you can’t seem to decipher the message and it’s getting to you. Especially because no one else seems to notice it.
This was probably the worst case she'd ever received, but Psilomelane was hardly in a position to say no. She was a Super Senshi that had been in her role for quite some time now, but showed no signs of improvement; this assignment was a test of her merit, a challenge to see what she could provide for the Negaverse that might justify considering her for growth. Otherwise, Psilomelane was an inert senshi with no team to speak of and no real ambitions that served the Negaverse.
She was aware that she looked like a lost cause, even if she was determined to be the opposite. Her job — the focus of much of her energy lately — wasn't one that yielded many physical signs of progress. It wasn't as easily quantifiable as something like treating a bacterial infection or draining a certain amount of energy. Sure, there were surrogate markers and self-assessment questionnaires and esoterically named systems intended to assign values to her progress with other agents, but those scores were kept in confidence. So, to the bold and the callous, she looked like a layabout.
Now she had a case in which she was out of her depth. It was a blessing in some ways, for she might be able to provide a previously unconsidered viewpoint from her position on the outside. On the other hand, she would have to do a lot of digging to understand this individual's lived experiences and point of view, then figure out ways to help disentangle the problematic coping mechanisms and replace them with something more fulfilling. Work like that required gaining some perspective, and with the person of interest presently indisposed, she had to focus on the emergency contacts. Of which there were many.
They were each already notified of the situation, so while she felt as though she was violating privacy laws that did not technically extend to the Dark Kingdom, she accepted that she had the right to reach out to them. First on her list was the contact that had been listed the longest — Kamacite, who already outranked her. There would be no compelling any of them, regardless of rank, but she felt she needed to be doubly aware of how her message may sound before she sent it.
Kamacite, Sir, she wrote in a tablet message, My name is Psilomelane. I was assigned a case and given permission to reach out to emergency contacts to begin collecting background information. Would you have a minute to visit my office? After she sent the message, she went back to the records she was given, which were woefully devoid of psych evals.
guine
Posted: Sat Dec 16, 2023 7:58 am
There was a while in which Kamacite felt as though he was useful. There had been a shift in those who were around, those who were being sent on missions, those who were being trusted with important tasks. He no longer sought out reassurances from General King Axinite, because perhaps he realized how futile it was to bother the man with the same things when the Sovereign had so many more important things to deal with.
Kamacite kept to himself, or lurked in the shadows as a tiny, many tailed fox youma, until suspicion prompted the need to teleport away. Collecting energy and assisting Axinite with his research seemed like a good use of his time at least. Keeping to himself also seemed like a good use of his time.
So when he received the message asking if he had a minute, he almost thought it had been sent to the wrong person. But no, he saw his name.
Anxiety flared, of course. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. But he also wanted to be useful. If he could help with something, surely it would be better than sitting around and watching the plants that had been left in his office try to survive the harshness of Negaspace.
Reluctantly, Kamacite sent a response of agreement, and then after making sure his robes were all gathered up around him, he teleported to the hall outside of the office she indicated. If he hadn’t teleported, he might have just decided against it all together.
A knock on the door, maybe too quiet for her to hear, and then holding his breath as he waited.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2023 5:18 pm
Psilomelane whiled away the time to the potential meeting with Kamacite by combing over the files that the medical team had given to her. Upon her first read, she noted that her new charge was a uniquely bad patient, but not in a manner of demanding extra care or being particularly overbearing. Much of the time, the staff noted self-inflicted injuries that were a result of trying to push himself too far too soon, and not understanding the risks of such actions despite being warned beforehand. Without being able to interview the person in question, she couldn't determine if it was a misunderstanding between the medical staff and the patient, or if it was willful ignorance, but it was something she made note of in her slowly expanding file.
She paused when she thought she heard a knock, but it was soft enough that it could have been someone shuffling around in the office next door. They would have needed to be fairly robust about it for her to hear it over the white noise, however. Instinct told her that she should check the door instead of brushing it off as someone bumping about in their office.
Marking her place in the files, Psilomelane rose with the ubiquitous jingle of her uniform. She crossed her area rugs in a few steps and unlocked the door, peeping out to find that, yes, someone was actually standing there. Someone that she recognized as the contact to whom she had reached out.
She was a little taken aback by how quiet he was, but she quickly put on a smile. "Kamacite?" She asked out of habit. She could never be too careful about identities and disclosure.
"Please, come in. Have a seat." Standing aside, she opened the door wide enough to admit entry to the Eternal. He was smaller than she expected, as if his senshi outfit ran just a little too big on him, but she said nothing of it. Maybe the cosmic tailor wasn't perfect, or he encountered some hardships of late that cost him some weight. There was no way to tell just on a glance, and he may not even feel comfortable talking about such a thing.
It was a small office, but she still managed a couple of choices for seating. There was a small loveseat with a pillow, a whale plushie, and an afghan throw laid over its back. Likewise, there was a small upholstered chair with a pair of arm rests and a back pillow. A narrow wooden coffee table full of scuffs and gouges held a few coasters for drinks, and otherwise functioned as a place to prop up one's feet.
Psilomelane herself sat on a stool next to her corner desk. "Any coffee or tea? There's also water."
guine
Posted: Wed Dec 20, 2023 6:53 pm
Kamacite wondered if he would regret this. The door was open before he had a chance to change his mind. Not that he hadn’t stood there for a few moments. She smiled at him, and he nodded politely, although he hesitated for a moment before making his way into the office.
He didn’t know why he was anxious. Other than the fact that he was always anxious. He tugged his robes around him, and shifted his hair so that it fell over his shoulder, and then tucked his arms into his sleeves before taking a seat as requested.
“I’m okay, thank you,” he nodded again to her offer of a drink. He was doing his best to be polite and hoped he could help her, but he didn’t know how useful he would be. He took a look around her office very briefly so as not to be rude and stare. He definitely did not prop up his feet on the coffee table.
“You said I was listed as an emergency contact for someone?” he prompted, his eyebrows furrowed a little with concern.
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Posted: Fri Jan 12, 2024 1:11 pm
The anxiety practically radiated off this officer. She felt it when he walked into the room with his robes cinched up around himself like safety blankets, permanently swaddling him to give him a sense of security. In exchange, she offered him a smile; she wasn't sure how reassuring it would be, coming from a stranger, but she felt she owed him something. He came out to her request, after all.
She rose when he declined a drink, and busied herself fetching some water from the carafe. She set it on her small desk after she had taken a sip, then reclaimed her seat.
"That is correct," Psilomelane began. Then she spared a glance toward the door, ensuring that it was shut, and that the blue LED light was on, indicating that her white noise machine that she so readily blocked out was still running. Privacy was assured about as well as she could assure it, short of checking the room and her guest for hidden microphones.
She opened her small file as she continued. "General-King Faustite was heavily injured during a fight and brought to the infirmary for it. I assume they reached out to you, since you are on his emergency contact list?" She tucked her hair behind her ear as she gave Kamacite the chance to respond; she didn't know how reliable the Negaverse medical staff was at informing emergency contacts of accidents and hospitalizations, but since Kamacite seemed confused, Psilomelane wondered if they did not inform him and only informed next-of-kin instead.
"I was asked to give him a routine evaluation when he was next available. In the mean time, I was wondering if you could answer some of my questions about him. I understand it may be a touchy subject, so if you need some time or would prefer not to, I will respect that."
guine
Posted: Fri Feb 09, 2024 6:09 pm
He knew about Faustite’s injuries. Had snuck around the infirmary disguised as a youma to observe without drawing too much attention. The medallion that lowered the power of his aura helped with that. People didn’t really care about youma slinking around as long as they didn’t get into trouble.
The fact that they were being brought up now had Kamacite’s shoulders slumping a bit with both relief and distress. Relief that it wasn’t someone else he knew and cared about who’d also listed him as an emergency contact. Distressed that Faustite was being evaluated.
“I can answer questions,” he agreed, his voice still quiet and uncertain. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being in a room with a stranger, but if necessary he could easily leave. He just didn’t want to be impolite while doing so, which tended to keep him in uncomfortable situations longer than he probably should allow himself to endure them.
He wasn’t sure what these questions would be, but if it would help Faustite… then of course he would be willing to do whatever he could.
