tongues & teeth.

Once she's up, he holds his arms out, focusing a moment to call the Lute to his hands. Despite the darkness of the alley, it gleams, catching light that doesn't seem to be there.

the light is handy. a product of this 'magic' he spoke of and better than any flashlight she has on her. well, had would be the more accurate description.

she speaks and he gives a soft hum in response, blue eyes meeting her brown ones. ❝ i have. ❞ anyone would be changed after what he had experienced. the constant reminders of all he had done wrong, all the things that would never be. the chances to meet people free of spencer's influence ⎛ the ghost of umbrella slowly fading, even if some ghosts stayed. he often dreams of william birkin in their days in school. he wonders if he will continue to endure those hallucinations now that he ... ⎠

❝ this place forces us to adapt. i have seen things here that i never could've imagined before- ❞ he looks away from ada and back down at the still hot tea before him. he raises the cup to his lips; enjoys the warmth that spreads through his body. ❝ you have also changed- years have passed for you when only months have passed for me. how peculiar. ❞

unspoken, of course, is the fact that time would no longer touch him. that such a human thing had been stolen from him long ago. it was something he would have to live with, just as all the other sorrows. it is something he has been learning to accept.

but it's different for those who are dead. this city was like a second chance and golden cage all wrapped into one seemingly idyllic package. but that's not important and he was right. she had sought him out for a reason, a personal reason.

wordlessly she slides the simple manila folder to him, it's contents being her own findings she's recorded since returning to this place– a need to keep a record. pictures of the black, gnarled infection that's growing on her own skin, symptoms she's experienced and learned of through her own contacts back home. as far as she's aware, she's the only one in this place with it.

typical.

" Raccoon City Syndrome. It's what the government is calling the mysterious affliction that's been killing off people back home. Coincidentally, all victims that have died are survivors of Racoon City. " no matter what anyone did– whether civilians or not– that city continued to haunt them, clinging to their shoulders like a monster that made its home in the shadows. " A mutation of the T-virus– it's been dormant inside survivors for years and for some reason, it's only gotten active recently. They suspect the virus adapted to the antibodies within its hosts over the years. That's why it remained undetectable."

She finds herself reminded of China. For her, it wasn't that long ago, about a year and some change, but she remembers the scene from that perch she'd taken in the quad tower. How Leon practically flung himself off that rope to rush to this womans side and body block a whole machine gun clip of bone bolts for her, and her only response was 'Just resting my eyes'.

This had that same energy, and she hums a bit in thought.

"Well yeah- You're only alive because I caught you. I don't think anyones surviving a fall like that." She grins, shrugging a bit before grabbing her sagging arm and starting to work it back into place. It sets back in quick, earning an angry grunt of pain from her before she eases back into the conversation.

ada had two options: drag herself up and leave, even though she was in no position to make a getaway or give something of an answer. she finds that she's too tired to bother running tonight.

" The Abyss didn't always exist." this once she doesn't mind giving information learned in her many deep dives. " Coming back from dying was more...sporadic. It could be hours or days or weeks until someone woke back up in there bed, perfectly healed, as if nothing happened with only their scars as a reminder." and what a painful reminder they could be. " Then there's that gallery attached to it. Months in this place where it fails and some poor soul is stuck down there or weeks. Surely you don't think that's all accidental, do you? You're smarter than that, Helena."

far smarter. there's a reason simmons had to resort to using her family to get the agent to do his bidding, a tactic that ended blowing up in his face in the end. she's never trusted this place, no matter how idyllic and simple the picture seemed. there was always dirt and grime beneath the surface, the light hiding that which lurked in the shadows. taking a deep breath, ada ignores the want to close her eyes. sleeping with a concussion was a recipe for disaster.

"Terribly sorry, I'm not one of the lucky ones around here who's got healing magic," Octavo says quietly. As she tests her arm, he looks around the dim street warily. Whoever did this might still be around, and he himself had only just recovered from his last injury. The bone might be healed, but the body remembered.

"Tch- Sure, if you survive long enough to buy one." She sighs, adjusting the woman on her shoulder a bit before finding a quiet spot in the alleys of Fibonnacis lowest level, setting her down to sit against a wall and crouch down in front of her.

Ada was lucky that she just happened to be in the area, having wandered that way to grab some new furniture for the new house, and saw the woman plummet straight down the center. Instinct kicked in after that, throwing herself over railings and descending levels as quickly and as safely as she could before she got close enough to snag her by the arm before she fully hit the ground.

Even Ada wouldn't have survived a fall from that height. She could survive a mild concussion from hitting a wall.

Though, Helena's right arm notably sagged a bit. The force of that catch really did a number on her arm, but she was moving despite it. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. There's a very prominent smell of acetone around her, and an intense heat radiating from her body, and yet she persists regardless.

"Just because Death doesn't matter here doesn't mean you should just throw yourself out of buildings like that, Ada, for fucks sake... What if it was malfunctioning? You coulda been killed permanently" She growls, checking the womans head over for any kind of injury. The ones from the glass were obvious, but head wounds were surprisingly a lot harder to spot.

She knows she shouldn't dote on her, but she's beyond frustrated, and that comes out as worried chastising. Ada could grill her later for it.

in her line of work, ada never expected to stay free of infection entirely. spain was a clear reminder of that and she'd rather never again have to experience the feeling of the plagas ever again. and yet that was almost child's play compared to this. and it's not something she could let helena know– not now, at least. the other woman was more than capable of handling anything that came her way and she saw proof of that in tall oaks and china. but this was different. her only saving grace was the slow progression of the t-virus.

and for now, that'd have to do. if she was lucky, the powers that be in this place could keep it at bay.

if she was lucky.

ada takes the tablets without complaint, popping them both into her mouth and swallowing in one go. the effects are instant– the pounding headache lessens to a manageable throb and her arm doesn't feel like it was about to pry itself off her body and run away. focusing is easier and the smell of acetone doesn't go unnoticed by her. rather than bring it up, she raises a gloved hand to nudge away helena's, ignoring a wince as those fingertips brush over a cut in her scalp. perhaps that was where the wet feeling came from. blood instead of sweat. figures.