14054/Atlantean Awakening part II

Atlantean Awakening part II
Date of Scene:	06 February 2023
Location:	St. Luke's Hospital
Synopsis:	Nerissa awakens to find Ariah keeping vigil over her. Ariah calls in Nettie and the three discuss the Atlantean's future with... a snag or two.
Cast of Characters:	Ariah Olivie, Nerissa, Nettie Crowe

---

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    It had been quite an interesting evening. A strange crystal, an awakened warrior, and then a rushed recovery. A holding tank had been used, briefly, to help rehydrate Nerissa before her transit to St. Luke's. As of right now, she's been placed in a hospital bed, room secured by a certain witch, and isolated from other patients as much as safely possible to not disrupt day-to-day hospital operations.

    It's here where Ariah waits, and watches. The bed itself is surrounded up high by a series of small rubber tubes, water pressure providing a constant stream of mist down upon Nerissa. Given the state she was found in, it's atomized saline solution, diluted saltwater for the woman.

    Ariah herself has also circled the bed with a series of protective runes in the event her current charge awakens with hostility on her mind. And there she stands, like a stone sentry.

Nerissa has posed:
    Darkness. Unending, ceaseless, interminable darkness.

    Above.

    Below.

    All around.

    Darkness.

    It fills her vision, her senses, her absolute being, the void robbing her of everything within and without. Breath was an illusion, a biological construct designed to impart the sense of life, a meaningless sign of-

    She coughs.

    She didn't cough. She couldn't cough. Coughing was a nonexistent possibility in the dar-

    She coughs again. And again, and again, until her eyes bolt open and she sits up with an unholy gasp, before proceeding to hunch over and hack and wheeze, body spasming in fits of pain and expectoration. Once finished, she looks through bleary, tear-flooded eyes at her hand, and the clear slime that had clogged up her lungs for ages. A raspy sigh escapes her as she flops back onto the bed, eyes half-closed in fatigue.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Rest," Ariah states. She's not surprised to see the massive coughing fit happen, but she does move closer. Her staff is held in one hand, a cloth in the other. The small woman gingerly steps into the rune circle she'd made on the floor. Medical staff have been allowed to come and go, as necessary, but she's been very vigilant about keeping the floor from losing its protective wards.

    "Or wake, it is up to you... but do not push yourself..." she says quietly. Her voice comes cold and quiet, as it usually does, but she's speaking with sincere care. Not that Nerissa can understand her yet. Regardless, she carefully works to wipe the slime from Nerissa's fingers--barring being assaulted, of course.

Nerissa has posed:
    Her gaze lazily lingers on Ariah's cleaning, and while she does flinch at the contact, the aquatic warrior doesn't shy away. The fin-like ears on either side of her head prick up as the witch speaks, though it's obvious from the look in her eyes that comprehension is on a distant shore. Ever so gently, the action taking several moments and enormous effort, she reaches over a shaky hand and loosely grasps Ariah's arm. Her skin is smooth and cool to the touch, while the grip is so featherweight that even a baby could pull out of it with an unintentional tug.

    She isn't looking to hold the woman in place, only garner her attention for something. Something important, if her efforts are anything to go by. Her eyelids slowly rise up to fully showcase a pair of purple irises, both of which implore Ariah to pay attention, to watch, and see.

    With a nod she releases the arm and, although still trembling with effort, curls a set of fingers together as if holding a pen, making slow, methodical shapes in the air.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    In contrast, Ariah's skin is warm. She continues her efforts, but focuses on the motions drawing her attention. "Mmm?" she makes a noise with a clearly inquisitive inflection going with it. Her head tilts slowly, though. Her own eyes, mismatched in silver and purple, meet the pair of amethysts staring intently at her. She nods as well and draws back a few steps. Not just to give Nerissa the space she needs, but to also step out of the bounds of the protective circle--just in case.

    Then, the white-haired witch nods once again, "...go ahead..." she says quietly, eyes moving to follow the motions of those fingers.

Nerissa has posed:
    The stranger pauses in her movements, rolls her eyes, then takes a steadying breath and sits up, groaning the entire time. Her form shivers at the herculean task of simply sitting up, eyes clenched shut and teeth clenched in pain. After about a minute of panting, she opens her eyes and looks out beyond her bed to the runes encircling it, pointing to them with an unsteady finger. With a slow, meticulous pace she pulls her hand back, raises the other, and begins to mimic the motions of writing into her palm. A few moments pass as she struggles through the effort, before pointing one more to the runes once more.

    Perhaps she wishes for something to write with, and on?

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Ah..." Ariah says quietly. "My apologies..." she states. "I had thought you were able to write them in the air," she says this as if it means nothing special. Perhaps the small woman can do such a thing? Either way, she takes a clipboard from where it sits on one of the countertops and brings it over, with the flip-side of a medical form, and a pen. "..will this suffice?" she then asks.

    "I am afraid I do not have soft stone or metal and my carving tools here with me..." she offers up the tools.

Nerissa has posed:
    She gives Ariah a quizzical look, but takes the pen in her hand. Unfortunately, even in her weakened state, the woman's strength is still considerable enough to snap the pen in two, spilling ink all over herself. After a few confused blinks, she lets loose a long-suffering sigh and very, very carefully picks up the point half of her broken pen, setting the tip to paper-

    Crack!

    -and immediately piercing the clipboard like a spear through air. A chunk of paper and plastic fall on her lap as a pair of lips purse together in righteous indignation of such poor quality tools. But, in a show of great restraint, she slowly inhales through her nose, then out through her mouth, repeating the process over and over again until her shoulders loosen themselves and the rest of her body follows suit. Then, and only then, does she take extreme caution in drawing out a series of runes on the page, struggling to keep her hand still with each one. It's only after several tries does she finish the sequence, showing Ariah the paper and pointing to each line with the broken utensil, shaking her head at each until she reaches the last, at the bottom of the page, to which she nods a few times and holds it out to be taken.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah winces at the handling of the tools, moving to collect some water and a fresh cloth so that Nerissa can clean off her hands once all is said and done. She takes the remnants of the pen, the broken clipboard, and everything else really. "Here," she says quietly, trading for the cloth now. She looks the paper over, sussing out which ones are the actual complete set and which might just be a first attempt. "...oh...!" she makes a surprised sound, blinking at Nerissa.

    "...you... know this too...?" she asks, then shakes her head. She rolls a small cart over and lays the clipboard on it. "...well then..." she exhales slowly and lifts her hand. Power begins to flow through her, the runes underneath the skin on her arm she's using to 'write', and as she traces the symbols in the air, they hang. It's all in bright, blue-white energy, and the lettering lights up the room a little more with each one she adds.

Nerissa has posed:
    The short woman cleans off as much ink as she can while waiting for Ariah to finish the spell, grumbling to herself in a foreign tongue as the cloth gets more and more stained with ink. Once the final glyph is finished, all of them swirl together in a small, midair whirlpool of magical energy, before splitting off into a pair of streams aimed at Ariah and her patient. A soft light infuses them both as the spell comes to a close, the energies entering in through the base of their throats. Taking numerous deep breaths, she opens her mouth, and begins to speak.

    "Now that the," she pauses to cough, rubbing some leftover slime on the washcloth and smearing some spare ink on her face, "translation matrix has been put into effect, I would like to know both where I am and who you are. Judging from what I can remember upon awakening, the two of us did battle against each other. While the end result was my loss, I have neither been killed nor experimented upon, at least not to my knowledge, and can safely conclude that you, while perhaps not an ally, appear to at least not be an enemy, for the moment."

    She takes another deep breath before continuing, "My name is Nerissa, I am a Dreamwalker of the Eightfold Paths."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah feels the warmth filling her throat and likely her mind. She takes a long, slow breath, when the words fill her ears. Words she can understand. "...a curious spell..." she says quietly. Then at the questions and statements, she pushes the cart aside and steps closer to the bed. "I am Ariah," she says simply. No titles. Just her name. "You are awake in the year 2023, as per the Roman calendar. You are within the walls of St. Luke's Hospital, when you collapsed after we fought."

    She sighs and rubs her forehead, voice still soft and cold as always. "...I attempted to speakto you but due to the language barrier, I was forced to defend myself. It is regrettable but I was at least aware of it being little more than a misunderstanding. You were taken here after some time spent in a submersion tank." She gestures up to the mister that's running constantly. "Judging by my assumptions, you are in need of constant ... hydration."

Nerissa has posed:
    Nerissa's eyes widen in surprise, before she gives a slow, nearly imperceptible nod to Ariah's explanation. "I am a natural born citizen of Atlantis. Hydration is a key factor in our survival practices for navigating the surface world. I thank you for your consideration in keeping me alive, and for expediting the questions foremost in my mind before I even needed to breathe them."

    She shakes her head, but stops and puts a hand to her temple. "The fact that I am nearly eight hundred years into the future is... mind-boggling and flabbergasting, to say the least. Though I am quite thankful to have been found and met by a fellow practitioner of the mystic arts, to whom I extend said thankfulness. It is relieving to see that the old ways still thrive in the modern world."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Atlantis. I am familiar with the name. There are many who hail from underneath the sea on the surface world. But whether or not you are related to /their/ Atlantis seems... well. A question to me." Then Ariah shrugs, "...you were trapped in a crystal for some reason. And there is no need to thank me. I feel as if I was only doing what was the correct course of action."

    She considers her next words, "..for what it is worth, I am a rune witch only as a secondary. My body is a ... conduit for magic. I do not often cast spells with runes and symbols. It is... second nature to me, simply. And in this world there are many, many different ways of harnessing mystical arts. I am... familiar with a few groups... but I will not speak of them without their presence..." she explains quietly.

    "But I digress. I am one hundred years old, and I have been studying magic for eight of these decades... I am a soldier first and foremost."

Nerissa has posed:
    "Even so, I must abide by the rules of courtesy. I also hold no ill-will towards you for the situation we found ourselves in during that first meeting. It was, as you said, a matter of self-defense, not in the least way helped by my mental state at that time." She gives Ariah a somber smile at her somewhat deprecating comments. "Any talent, ability or skill in matters of the arcane variety are to be lauded, so long as they align themselves with proper ethics and morals." Her nose wrinkles at an old memory. "The world has an ill need of ill breeds, especially in regards to the various realms of magic."

    Nerissa stretches forward, arms and legs straightening out to their full, short lengths. "With all that said," she yawns, covering her mouth, "what is to become of me? Or rather, I should ask," her gaze shifts to Ariah, a serious, emotionless mask now firmly in place, "what is intended to be done with me?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Proper ethics and morals are always on a bit of a shift." sniff. "Since everyone's got a bit of a different stance on 'em, dependin' entirely on a muddled sort of hierarchy." comes the croak of a smoker's voice before she coughs to clear her throat as Nettie Crowe steps in.

    She's not a terribly imposing person physically, silver-white hair pulled back in a quick braid and pinned in place with a crow's skull (no worries, it's 3D printed) with a pin crossed through the orbitals. The young-appearing witch is wearing gray slacks and a gray jacket, with cream-colored shirt with some kind of ascot appropriately themed with black feathers on a black background, because of course she had to go to some official function and then got called. She adjusts her glasses a moment.

    "I would guess introductions are in order, duckies?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    By contrast, Ariah has been handling this since Nerissa was first found, and remains in her uniform of long, white and black coat and associated pants. "I appreciate that you are reasonable in this matter. I do apologize for use of force, but I am glad you see why it was necessary. You have been tended to, and I do not think your injuries were ... severe. But your dehydration was of much broader concern... I do not know what you require in terms of... long-term care as such?" she considers.

    Then there's a small shrug, "..what happens to you next is up to you. You will need identification. Or..." she glances over as Nettie enters. "Mademoiselle Crowe," the small witch states quietly, bowing her head politely and giving space to the woman next to the hospital bed. She kneels down and busies herself with dismantling the wards she'd set up. At least, a small portion of it. "This is.. Nerissa. She is rather... time displaced. Nerissa, this is Nettie. She is an old friend."

Nerissa has posed:
    The Atlantean carefully eyes both Ariah and Nettie with a calculating look, seemingly appraising more than her eyes can see. After several moments of silence she takes another deep breath and flops back onto the bed. "A record of my birth and those of the annual censuses should help to verify my claims. However, unless you have a living member of my temple in this world, I am afraid the process of identification will be rendered impossible. All I can do is claim to be who I am, regardless of the doubts others possess. My name and words carry little weight, if any, for the moment, and likely will maintain that lightness even should such records come to light."

    She turns her head back to the others. "If you have any questions, I shall answer them to the best of my ability. There is little reason for me to lie, but if you have the knowledge, I am willing to submit myself to spells of truth-speaking."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not interested in who the temples of Atlantis know you to be, or the weight of your name or factual truth like that. Records forged, bits of breath reshaped to other sounds, far more interested in who you wish to be after we've determined where a safe place for you to land would be." Nettie gives an oddly friendly smile. She steps into the wards, giving a nod to Ariah, and the old witch just gives a kindly smile to the Atlantean.

    "Are they treating you to your satisfaction here, poppet?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "It is more a query of maintaining government records, real or otherwise. I, myself, am in a situation where my... nature and immortality may cause... snags in things..." Ariah states quietly. "...so my identity is managed by those with the means to make adjustments to records..." she admits, by way of explanation. She lets Nettie take the reigns on the chatter for now, having no further questions for Nerissa. She does, however, spend the time needed to dismantle all of the mess on the floor. Stones and sigils and things. No sense in leaving any of it around.

    As far as the hospital goes, the room is at the end of a hallway, adjacent rooms empty, and largely out of the way and isolated. The saline feeding into the atomizer assembly seems to be full, so perhaps a nurse hadn't been there too long ago to replenish the supply of salty water for the bed-bound Atlantean.

Nerissa has posed:
    "I have recently awoken from a sleep of several centuries," she sighs, looking at Nettie tiredly. "It would be in my best interest to acquiesce in regards to medical, mystical, spiritual and psychological treatment. I recommend making contact with my Atlantean brethren for such experts, unless there are already such here, regardless of their citizenship or birthplace. As for who I wish to be," her lips curl into a small smile, "how can I be anyone except for myself? To be otherwise is a contradiction, or one possessed by malign entities.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Well she has a sense of humour intact, set to Sarcastic." Nettie murmurs with approval, and she gives a soft 'hum'.

    "I'm only friend to one Atlantean, and he's from before the land sunk into the sea, so while I have experience with Atlanteans, so I'm afraid I'm rather specialized." Nettie explains, busying herself a bit. She checks the salt water. She gives a soft 'mm' and then pokes around for any notes the nurses may have left around, wandering about here and there.

    "To be oneself differing from the definition of what bygone societies assign us. In my day, wearing my hair down like this would result in several men calling me particular names and my sole defense was either a man rescuing me or stabbing them in the knees with my hatpin."

    She gives a very toothy smile.

    "Worked well against those possessed by malignant entities at times as well." she offers a joke.

    "But you did not answer my question, are they treating you to your satisfaction?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I am of the opinion going for the knees is the preferred approach," Ariah says absently. She's on the far side of Nerissa's bed now, finishing her cleanup. It's careful but practiced work.

    The nurse did leave some notes. Namely security considerations and isolation measure, in case quarantine was necessary. Not just for patient safety should Nerissa get combative again, but in case she might have awoken with any centuries-old maladies. Also to protect Nerissa from current strains--if that were actually a concern. Patient consent required for any vaccination runs.

    Other notes indicate blunt object trauma across the woman's body, as if she had been smashed against a wall or something. Nettie will also find Ariah's notes, regarding the girl's abilities with powers similar to her own in the area of energy manipulation but with a decidedly aquatic bent. As in, energy... tentacles?

Nerissa has posed:
    She sighs heavily and closes her eyes. "Satisfaction is a subjective topic, and differs from person to person. Given that I continue to live, even with acceptable amounts of fatigue and pain, I would say that Ariah and whomever has seen to my care have all acted within acceptable boundaries, given their likely unfamiliarity with Atlanteans in general."

    A yawn escapes her, stretching wide her petite mouth and showing two sets of pronounced canines, one of each above and below. "Please excuse me, but I am quite exhausted. When my tentacles reach the limits of their capabilities and disperse as they did in my frenzy, the backlash is equivalent to having a limb being chopped off. As such," she opens an eye to look at the two, "I am experiencing what you would ascribe to be 'phantom pain,' equivalent to having each of my limbs being ripped from my body. Twice."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Ooch, that does seem a fair bit troublesome. Remarkable that you're keeping calm through the experience. I would have sedated you so that you didn't have that sort of discomfort, but I was typically a nurse to those waiting for the sound of Her Wings." Nettie had tilted her head a moment, lookig at the sharpened canines of Nerissa, and she purses her lips a moment, trying to recall if any of the more famous Atlanteans might have had such.

    Alas, as she said she was rather specialized.

    "Ariah, have you consulted the Atlantean embassy to see if they would like their citizen returned to them?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Unfortunately, I believe they did not wish to act upon her without consent or... enough knowledge of her physiology..." Ariah states, packing up her things in the bag she'd brought. She has a stone-faced expression, though she's certainly the one who caused the damage in the first place. Either way, Ariah nods, then glances towards Nettie, this time shaking her head.

    "Non, I have not. I wished to hear her take on the situation when she was... awake and able to speak. Given how I found her, imprisoned or stored within a crystal... I wished to wait on acting before she was able to explain. Which leads me to a question..." She fixes Nerissa with a pointed gaze, frowning thoughtfully. "...your crystal was covered in runes. What had not been worn clean completely had said 'cage'. Why?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Of course, modern medicine is run by lawyers and beancounters and not actual medical professionals." Nettie states with utter distaste, and she crosses her arms a moment.

    "... yeah, tht would be a bit dramatic for a nap, wouldn't it?" Nettie states, and she reaches into one of her pockets to pull out a silk-covered cigarette case, and removes a hand-rolled cigarette from it as she brings it to her lips -- she doesn't light it though.

Nerissa has posed:
    Nerissa closes her eye and takes a slow, deep breath, inhaling through the gill slits on her neck. "That particular spell was intended to capture powerful enemies of the temple and keep them restrained until proper action could be taken against them. Runic magic is... or rather, was, the specialty of our grandmaster. The temple was under attack," her eyebrows knit together in a pained frown, "radicals from the depths... a seaquake," the Atlantean's eyes clench in pain, teeth bared and grinding, "temple, collapsing, rocks, screams, a flash of light..."

    She starts to hyperventilate, eyes going wide and bouncing from one thing to another in a crazed act of pure fear. "NOTHING! ENDLESS NOTHING! ALL-CONSUMING NOTHING NO BEGINNING NO END NO SENSE NO BEING ONLY UNEXISTENCE!" Nerissa starts to yell and thrash in her bed, seemingly having an epileptic fit. Her body writhes in pain as if being electrocuted, limbs jerking from one angle to another in some macabre dance of torture.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I am, unfortunately, only versed in field dressings, sulfa powder, or morphine... and not to the dosages that may be more appropriate for... modern use.." Ariah states quietly. She frowns thoughtfully, looking to Nettie. "...Lydia was going to suggest that you host an apothecary class... for herbal remedies and the like. Some of us could stand to use the knowledge I would expect, myself included..." she trails off, turning her head to watch Nerissa.

    Her frown deepens, waiting for an explanation on why she was restrained as an enemy of the temple. And ends up getting more than she bargained for. She had just taken down all of the wards, it would take precious minutes, at best, to restore the barrier. The witch makes a nonplused noise and grabs one of the saline bottles on the nearby cart she'd left the clipboard on. "Cease, you are on the surface and safe now," she says in a tone as cold as ice and proceeds to just... rip the bottle's top off and douse Nerissa's head with it--in the hopes that the salty spray will help her come to her senses.

    If that doesn't work, well, at least she's not alone now.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "That's a thought, maybe after the next field trip we can--" Nettie begins, and she breathes out in a huff as Nerissa begins to break into an episode.

    "-- bollocks! The pull cord!" Nettie states. She was used to shellshock. She'd been working in trenches for years before the American WACs got to see it.

    Nettie bites down on her unlit cigarette, taking a step back before she puts on her gray gloves, and she reaches for Nerissa's hand of one arm, and gently pushes down on her shoulder. Pressure to try and ground her in the now.

    "Nerissa," the old witch says with a quiet, firm tone of voice "Do you remember your home? Can you describe it to me?"

Nerissa has posed:
    The water does nothing as it splashes on Nerissa's face, but after a few more moments, her eyes roll back and she slumps into the bed, having exhausted herself into unconsciousness. Her breathing, once quick and labored, soon slows to even and deep as she falls back into the land of dreams.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "...I can say with confidence that my first inclination was not likely the correct one..." Ariah says quietly, holding the now-empty bottle in her hands. "...I am not a field surgeon..." she then states, shaking her head and dropping the empty container on the cart. "I may re-assemble the wards, if only for her protection, at your advisement, Nettie..." the little witch says quietly, walking around the bed to be opposite the Crowe.

    "...this explains how she came to be imprisoned, non?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Quite all right, Ariah. Your talents lay elsewhere." Nettie replies quietly, making sure none of her skin touches the now unconscious Nerissa, and she looks back to Ariah.

    "Reassemble the wards. If you would like relief I can ask if one of the others wouldn't mind standing guard. I showed enough of a Leasgue presence at the administrative desk that they shouldn't question it... short of conjouring up Superman or the Bat or Wonder Woman we should be all right." she states quietly.

    "I'd like a note added to our communications board regarding miss Nerissa. I would suspect that the events leading up to her containment were... unpleasant at best." she remarks quietly.

    "If you need to step out, I can mind her while she sleeps."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Far elsewhere..." Ariah sighs and kneels down at the foot of the bed, setting to re-arranging rune stones and scattering silversand. Then she shrugs, glancing up for a moment to look upon Nettie. "I brought her here and I will shoulder the responsibility. I would not dislike some additional company, or at least, one or two good books. I was not able to bring much more than my supplies when the museum called me about the crystal and the runes..."

    She sets to work, musing absently, "...as this is also a hospital, there are some sympathetic souls on the nursing team who can bring me a meal should I require it. There is ample stock of blood in the stores and I do not need much to keep me.. hydrated.." she considers. "It will also allow me time to write a report on Nerissa's condition and how I found her. She had mentioned eight hundred years had passed... I am not sure who from that time would remain, unless they too were caged."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "And Atrun-Rai is from long before then. His Atlantean is hardly the same and mine's rubbish." Nettie replies, and she brings her hands up.

    "oynnestre bec!" she states, with her voice giving a little reverb.

    And a book appears in her hand. It's got a faded red cover, with gilt decoration on the binding.

    THis she hands over to Ariah.

    And of course should she open to the first page, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah, for the moment, does not open the book. Her hands are full, her fingertips smudged, as she writes and rewrites the symbols on the linoleum that will keep Nerissa safe from outsiders--and vice versa. "...it is... good that we do not have to speak Atlantean to her. She is versed in runes, and it is also a blessing that I can interpret them. It is not a talent I am able to... how you say... 'flex' these days outside of my own inscriptions..." she explains quietly.

    She stands up slowly and sighs, "...but, oui, I will keep vigil. If you find yourself with an abundance of free time, the hot cocoa from the other evening was.. exquisite. It may have been crimson as a jest, but I am, thankfully, able to appreciate mortal food without ... purging." Then she focuses on Nerissa, lips pursed. "...<Sleep well, princess of the depths>..." she murmurs in French.