daemonology: n; the study of daemons.

OH FUCK I MISSED SPICA’S BIRTHDAY SPICA’S BIRTHDAY WAS MONDAY I FORGOT

“Spica.” She repeats the word out loud, even though she knows all the other can hear are little trills and chirping noises. She’ll remember that name. She shakes her head at the question about her name. She was never given one other than Project Sunrise, and she loathed that name. It annoyed her really, but it’s not like she could object to it. No, she didn’t have a name, and she hardly ever had time to think of one for herself.

If she’s not here to hurt her, then that was good right? She put her hand up against the wall, against Spica’s. Her’s was so small compared to the human’s, and far more bruised. By the way Spica was talking, she could tell the other was repulsed at this place. It even showed on the others face, that along with shock and horror. She silently agreed with her. This lab was an awful place to be if you were a daemon. She wished she could tell Spica it was far worse than it looked, but until she learned how to speak human, that was impossible.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded in her ears. They were coming closer and she began to panic again. The MT Guard was making its rounds. She didn’t know what would happen if it found Spica here talking to her. She had to warn her somehow. She gestured wildly to the side, pointing down the hallway with urgency in her eyes. She only had a few minutes before the MT showed up! She didn’t know what would happen if Spica was found here but she hardly thought it would be good!

The little daemon chirps at her, and even if she can’t understand, Spica is aware that she’s responding to what she’d said. Good, good, that means she’s definitely intelligent, still aware, not completely ruined by these experiments. What experiments, she has to wonder? What were they doing in here?

She hears footsteps too, though after the little daemon does, and she freezes. “Oh, no,” she whispers. “Guards.” Of course this place would have guards! If any of the daemons were dangerous...oh, no. She stands hurriedly, but then pauses. “I promise I’ll be back for you,” she says solemnly. “I promise. I‘ll come back as soon as I can figure out a plan. And then I’ll get you out of here.” That said, she darts back off towards the entrance to the wing, trying to escape without being caught. 

And she kept her promise. It was a week or two before she could, but by that time she had everything prepared. Armed with her prize (and still reeling that she managed to actually pull off getting into the break room and updating her keycard’s security level to the maximum), she crept back into the locked wing, hurrying towards where the daemon girl’s cell was and praying she was still there. And thankfully she was.

“I owe you some congratulations, then.” He smiles in turn, genuinely happy for her. Spica hasn’t exactly been cagey about her preoccupations, but it’s good to know they’re finally benefiting her. “Few people get to pursue their dream projects, it’s good that you’re getting anywhere at all. Besides…” He glances over at the rat. “Everything big has to start somewhere.” Even if that somewhere is batch 76.  

There’s something almost entrancing about Spica’s lab, despite its confined size. It reminds him of a natural history museum, now that he thinks about it. Between the preserved specimens and the live tonberry, it’s a viable comparison. That’s exactly it. Some naturalist’s office, veiled in darkness between the nebulae of sunlamps – the image that conjures is fanciful, of course, but he’s secretly quite charmed by it. 

His own lab, pristine and minimalist, might seem boring when compared, but it suits his purposes well enough. Spica’s just happens to be a good break.

“So…” He leans in to look over the jars of samples. “Have you added anything new? Or has vaccinating rats taken up all your daemon-studying time?”

“Thank you!” She says with a bright smile, patting the rat cage and coming over to stand beside him. “It really is good. I didn’t think...this would amount to anything. Minister Besithia made it pretty clear what he thought of my work, so I thought it was a lost cause. But...if you keep trying long enough, I guess something good will eventually happen.” Perseverance was a good quality to have.

She looks at the samples with him. “Oh, yes, actually!” She says, moving over to another case and gently opening it, pulling a clear box out with care to hold it out and show him -- she looks very much like a proud parent, grinning wide, and it’s a little disconcerting, actually, considering that the object in the box is the slightly squishy, dark-stained eye of a hecteye. “I got this the other day, isn’t it amazing? I was in the middle of working with batch 75 so I couldn’t really examine it, but I should be able to have time soon. I can’t believe the hunter managed to get it intact!” 

not gonna lie, it’s really a miracle spica made it to where she is and managed to keep her idealism, compassion, and vision for doing Good and Helping People.

she kept all that intact, but at a price -- her self-esteem is utterly terrible, and she really believes that she’s the only one who cares about the work she does on a cure. and more so, that it doesn’t matter. that it’s only a silly pet project and a pipe dream, but she doesn’t give it up -- she’s silly and idealistic, but it’s something to cling to in order to make her parents’ deaths mean something. she really sells herself short when it comes to her work, mostly because she’s been half-convinced it’s worthless and she’s an idiot for pursuing it anyway.

not only that but her nerves are shot as well. she’s really usually shy and anxious and nervous dealing with...well, anyone but @gemiinae and @lysandi, for the most part. her two friends are okay, but anyone else? a mess of nerves and shyness.

“I said I would, sir,” she says, still a little shy as she enters and places the sheaf of papers on his desk. She’s printed them out herself, and they’re admittedly a little...less then completely professional, a little rumpled and held together by a green paperclip.

However, the contents of the proposal are the exact opposite of the slightly disheveled appearance of the papers -- she’s put a lot of work into it, and aside from a very detailed account of all her testing and results so far, she’s done a decent amount of math to estimate what she needs. 

(Though a thorough read-through seems to hint that she’s underselling herself a little; probably out of nerves.)

it’s kind of entertaining watching you squirm like that. what’s so great about him anyway? you’re clearly taken with him. for some reason.

you tell me. you’re the one in a flustered state, not me.

look am I not allowed to look out for people I may or may not consider friends?

you can do better

venatri scratch that: you DESERVE better

spica come back i need reinforcements

waggles eyebrows

She’s practically hyperventilating, her breath coming out in small whines. She wanted to get away, wanted to just curl up into a ball and hope to what ever god was out there that the human would just leave her alone. She didn’t want to leave her cage again, not tonight. She knew what that meant if she had to. More testing, more drugs shoved down her throat, more pain. She just wanted to let her pain from recent tests subside before she was subjected to more! She just wanted some rest is all! Just a little bit!

Before her tears could get any heavier the human spoke to her. It wasn’t that she had spoken, it was how she talked that got her attention to snap forward. The human’s voice sounded so… different. Far different that the harsh tones and the barked orders she was used to. This human, this woman, spoke so softly to her. Why? Wasn’t she one of the ‘doctors’? When the little Naga finally took a better look at the human before her she realized, she’d never seen this one before. She was a new face.

Slowly, she nodded to the other’s question. Yes, of course she could understand her. All daemons could understand human speech, but hardly any were capable of speaking back. She herself couldn’t talk in a way any human could understand, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t know what they were saying. But a question still remained, if this human wasn’t here to hurt her, what was she doing here? Slowly, shakily, she crawled forward, closer to the human. If what she said was true, maybe it was okay to get a little closer.

“O-Okay, good, you can understand me,” she murmurs. “Now listen, I’m not-- I promise I am not here to hurt you. I’m--” Her voice breaks nervously. “My name is Spica,” she says hesitantly, words distracted as if she doesn’t know at all what to say so she’s simply saying everything that comes to mind. “I’m a researcher here, but I had no idea there were doing this. No one-- I didn’t know--” Her voice cracks again. “This is awful,” she tells the little daemon. “Not even daemons should be treated like this.”

She reaches out and puts her hand on the cage, fingers spread. “Do you have a name?” She asks. “Something to call you...?” 

HEADCANON; SPICA’S LAB

Now since this was made via a room generator it has no Stuff in it, but this is the furniture set-up.

Now imagine that the whole wall of glass shelving is absolutely filled with daemon samples (the drawers beneath them are full of lab supplies/etc), the two tables in the middle of the room are the lab tables, and the two glass cabinets above the filing cabinets by her desk are full of bottles and jars and vials of chemicals and other things. File cabinets have all her research stuff in.

At first, she wasn’t paying attention. Hardly noticing anything outside her little cell other than the screams of her siblings. It was around the time most humans went away and didn’t come back for a few hours, leaving nothing but those metal guards to roam the halls. She really couldn’t tell time, just take a guess. When she did look up though, her yellow slitted eyes meeting wide brown ones, she all but bolted backwards until her back slammed against the cold wall. She held in a yelp as pain shot up her spine from the sheer force of impact. No, not again. She thought she was done for the night!

Panic was clear on her face as she stayed as far away from her cage door as possible. She couldn’t go through any more testing, not now. She would surely die if they tried! How was she supposed to survive anything more than what she endured today? Tears began to well up in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to force them down. They hated when she cried. Shocked her when she did. She wasn’t supposed to make a fuss over anything, they didn’t like that at all when she did. What was a human still doing here anyway? They should have all left! She knew this by now for sure! Why was one still here?

She gasps when the little daemon sees her, and holds her hands up and waves them nervously when it -- she? -- reacts with terror, slamming into the back of the cell and trying not to cry. She’s terrified, and trying to act like she wasn’t, which is probably worse. Did they hurt her if she cried? Oh, god, she’d never thought the Empire could do this--! They were terrible, yes, they hurt humans, yes, but to torture daemons like this, even if they looked human...to torture-- god, this was a whole new level of fucked up.

She did her research on samples, on pieces of daemons that were already dead! The only live sample she has is the tonberry and she wouldn’t hurt it, she wants to study it! Why would she-- she can’t conceive of this, this seems inhumane, like unnecessary...like-- god, this is awful!

“It’s-- it’s alright,” she says weakly, keeping her hands upraised so the little daemon can see she’s not holding anything. “I am not here to hurt you. I am not here to hurt you. Don’t be afraid. Can you understand me? I’m not here to hurt you.”