#icarusburning

Icarus and the sun part 3

Me debating whether or not to make this post... You can see how difficult it was for me to decide.

How to escape the wrath of Big Boss in TWO simple steps:

Step ONE: Get a snake. The rarer the better and if it’s alive then EVEN better!

[ stares at over edge of coffee mug ] sure jan

Hey, tone down the sass. I wont have it.

Send me “What?!” for your Muse to discover mine just got back from the hospital!

The regular tapping of her leather shoes echoed through the hall of LIMB International, filling the disturbingly empty place with a sign of life. The woman’s eyes were closed, hiding her sensitve eyes behind thin and pale skin as the bright illumination of the place tried to burn its mark into them. Incomprehension, this is what she always felt when entering any medical facility, as this sterile, tortuting interior seemed to be a conspiracy against its clients - an universal code, an identifyer yelling right at you to always remind you where you where. No, she never understood why all those placed looked alike - perhaps it was supposed to create the sense of an clean, professional enviroment, to make people safe and trusting before putting their lifes into stranger’s hands. But to her, it was the opposite: Unnerving, creeping on her mind so much it made her skin crawl. Next time, she wouldn’t insist on coming personally or at least bring sunglasses she swore to herself.

The only balsam for her nerves and soul was the perfectly prepared tea she drank from her thermos, carefully so it wouldn’t be empty within seconds. Her oddly coloured eyes wandered from left to right, her thumb wiping along in a regular rythm as she ran through the files given to her on a tablet. Countless faces, one generic as the other like if she was looking at an army of clones.

Unsuitable. Unsuitable. Unsuitable.

Her temples pulsated in frustration, her jaw becoming more tense with each red mark she had to look at. None of the patients of this clinic turned out to be a potential candidate for their project. None of them had any remarkable irregularities like a slight resistance regarding DDS, no reduced need for neuropoyzne, no delayed treatment - and no dull lives they could easily be removed from without anyone noticing. And if someone manged to jump into the other pool, they kicked out for many other reasons. Substance abuse, undesired genetic tendencies, a too well connected life. The woman cursed to herself, unwilling to accept that no one in a city like Detroit would be a candidate, so she took another deep sip of her tea. This was unacceptable, their black site was supposed to be operational within the next 3 months and Robert and her planned to announce their space station in the next week at the local tech convention. They had to find someone, there was no other option, even if it meant they had to deviate from their original parameters and expect more negative results. If only they could fine someone with at least some degree of immunity, it was mathematically unlikely that there is no one. 

“And? Did you find anyone Miss Thorndale?” a sweet, a tiny bit too friendly, interrupted Gillian’s thoughts - to her pleasure. She turned around to look at the medical director of this clinic, a woman in her 40s looking like she just jumped out of one of the brochures layring around. A sympathetic, comforting face.

“It’s Mrs. now and no, to my dismay there is no candidate in this clinic.” The CEO gave the tablet back and placed her now free hand around the pocketwatch. The director’s face remained as it was with a hint of consternation, taking the words like a personal failure.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Thorndale, Mr. Darrow and I really hoped that we could find someone here, given by the sheer number of people we serve here thanks to Sarif.”

“I shared that hope, but we shouldn’t give up just yet. We are looking all over the world, we will find what we need in time.”

Gillian walked pass by the woman, planning to leave to return to her husband in the hotel. She placed her hand on the doctor’s shoulder, giving her an affirming smile. “I didn’t come here to just bump into a medical miracle. It’s alright.”

Without waiting for a response, the white haired woman walked down the floor leading to the exist, her right hand slipped into her jacket, touching the soft leather of her cigarette case. A smoke, this is what her strained nerves needed right now. Lost in her thoughts, already dreaming of a relaxing bath, she didn’t pay any attention to her surroundings and barely noticed how sh  ran into a man right in front of the glass doors of the clinic. Blinking, confused, she looked into the man’s face that was way too to familiar.

How many people don’t like you? I mean, I’d have to make a straw poll? I have no clue? Considering I have some pretty unpopular and salty opinions that I don’t necessarily shout off the rooftops, though also don’t hide if people ask me about them— I’d say there’s probably enough who dislike me, but I’m okay with that. I’m not here to win any popularity contests, I don’t pay attention to popularity as a whole, I just write, do my thing and have my substantiated opinions. If people like me, that’s awesome and I love them dearly and if people dislike me, then that’s entirely their right and I’m perfectly a-okay with that, I’m not everyone’s greatest fan either.

How many people do you not like? Carol’s on a new mission to call me out here or something (I kid, ily). But hey, I’ll be honest: plenty of people, especially on Tumblr as of a year and a half ago. I loathe the mentality around here now, which leads me to surely disliking a massive majority on here. It’s just constant walking on eggshells and if you slip up even once, you can get harassed off of this website over even minor misunderstandings (though I never condone bullying of any kind). It’s truly ridiculous and immensely saddening when I hear people who write fictional muses that aren’t exactly sunshine and roses— be worried that they could be mentioned or called out in some way or another. Just because someone writes a muse who isn’t exactly 100% sugar, spice and everything nice and is involved in controversial topics (incest, for example), does not mean the writer is any less of a decent human being, nor does it mean that they practice this topic when they’re away from their computer screen. But apparently, Tumblr doesn’t seem to share my opinion on this.

Have you ever rp’d with someone you knew for a fact was abusive but tried to give them a chance/to make up your own opinion on the roleplayer? Did they change or did you understand what people were talking about? Answered this one here, m’love.

                      it almost hurt. it’s hard to describe, switching consciousness like that. it was like panchaea. it was violently familiar, foreign, and terrifying. standing up, gaining her footing, it’s like a child trying to walk. there was only one place she felt she could go, and even then it’s a mess, she’s a bit nervous. considering all that had happened, adam helped her. she helped him, now she was in his apartment. she was seeing with actual eyes, as real as anyone else, she supposes. hearing the door click, she watches him.                           ❛ adam, hello. ❜