[network] @Enoch; No angels to turn back time [open] [Day 11/12] [eventual character death on 11]

[warriorscribe]

Day 11, night

[The recording's field of vision is too low, moving oddly - the tablet has been tied to his stomach as he walks down the corridors of the school. He turns for brief moments sometimes, the camera lingering on deepening shadows, which ripple wildly as they pass out of sight, but he does not slow, or stop. There is a mechanical humming sound that he doesn't seem to react to, either.]

I can't control my legs. I can't keep myself from walking. Whatever force is at play here, they can ignore our free will, and they do not want us remaining here.

[There is a note of fear to his voice, but his tone is determined, and maybe defiant. He has found something, albeit indirectly. When he is forced out of the school, he begins to run, changing direction the moment he spots the shed and leaning into the run, going as fast as he can. The recording continues for the rest of the hour, a whole lot of bouncing and the sound of his heavy breathing as he pushes himself to his now all-too-human limits, but to no avail. His breath ragged after a run that would have been inconsequential less than two weeks ago, he reaches out to open the door of the storage shed and, it being locked, slams right into it instead, staggering back and landing in the snow, unable to keep himself upright.

After many long moments of trying to catch his breath, obviously dazed by hitting the door, he speaks again, but not to the network.]

Helel, what time is it?

[It is 8:05 PM, says a strong, masculine voice very close to the microphone, in the pleasant computer-neutral tone of a digital assistant with no assigned personality. He says something under his breath, the sound lost in the rapidly-intensifying wind.]

Well... [he says to the network again after a pause, still out of breath from his long run.] I suppose that...

[He begins half-crawling, half-dragging himself off to the side of the shed, sitting against its side, not curling up as he should to preserve himself, but sitting with his legs straight out, the camera given as unobstructed a view as he can give it. He knows he's not likely to survive anyway. The hard run was taxing enough on his insufficient diet and sleep that between exhaustion and runner's high, there is a hollowly mellow sort of acceptance where the fear of death might have been.]

...I do not think I would get very far, in my condition, if I tried to find shelter now. Would someone mind speaking with me tonight?

[Even after he died, if there was anyone still watching, there was something to see.]

Day 12, afternoon

[It's quiet. It's stifling. There's an aura of wrongness crowding in on the fog of unconsciousness, and he takes a sharp breath and it hurts, a stabbing pain that shoots through his chest and he sits bolt upright. He just barely misses hitting his head on the top of the compartment as the drawer slides open and he falls out, body bag and all, onto the hard floor with a thud and a grunt of pain. Fumbling with his surroundings, he finds the zipper and yanks it down so hard it breaks, leaving him to claw the hole he made open until he's crawled his way out, a naked heap on the floor panting for air and looking around wildly like a rabbit sensing a nearby fox.

Though his initial fear eases soon, the suffocating atmosphere does not let up, and Helel's artificial voice telling him he should leave doesn't help. He silences the tablet as soon as he is able and pulls his gathered clothes on, his hands' trembling calming slowly as, little by little, he is made less vulnerable. The feeling of familiar denim on his legs does a lot to ease his mind, and soon he's doing his best to shrug off the feeling of not being welcome here and searching for anything of use. It feels like the place is trying to get rid of him. That means something, right?

But when he comes across the bathroom, he doesn't even get to discover the sinks run. As he approaches them, movement from an unfamiliar source catches his eye, and he starts, turning to face...a face he doesn't know. He opens his mouth to offer a greeting instinctively, and realizes in the split second he sees the "other" open his mouth at the same time that he's facing a wall. A mirror.

And yet, there is nothing familiar about the face in front of him. He doesn't know his own face.

He has to get out of here.]

Helel, video, on me. I need to talk-... [There's a brief pause, on which he opens the door and the assistant obliges, starting the network feed on a shot from just below his face, which is visible because he didn't even put up either the hood of his raincoat or his cloak over it, in his hurry to leave. He raises the tablet as he quickly walks, clearly shaken. The funeral home quickly disappears into the background of snow behind him as he asks:]

Everyone...do I look-...do I look any different to any of you?

[He pauses, as he realizes that sounds ridiculous.]

I'm sorry, I'll reply - and explain - when I've found someplace safe.

[All responses will happen in the early evening.]

Day 12, night

[It's getting fairly late, too, but Enoch is not even remotely tired. He's wound up tight and frightened from everything, especially since he's now had the time to review the video he'd recorded the night before. He'd died. He'd died, he'd seen the camera's rise and fall with his breath cease and stay ceased until he was moved.

So much for his assumption those who were heard from again were merely said to have died. The obituary with his name on it was both chilling and darkly amusing, considering he'd been dead less than a day. Less than half a day, even.

So he returns to the network, with a math book open in front of him, the tablet was tied to his body again so anyone on the other end was looking on with him, as if they were beside him. He desperately needed that illusion right now. Additionally, there is a jar of formaldehyde next to the book.]

Hello, again. I'm sorry for abruptly leaving before, but I...well, I looked into a mirror in the place I woke, and [his throat tightens and the remainder of the explanation is audibly forced.] ...and I couldn't...I didn't know my own face until I moved. In any case, I...I found some things. What can anyone tell me about this book? Or this substance? Both are quite unfamiliar to me.

Please, I- I need something else to speak of and I can't sleep. I'm sorry for imposing on your courtesy once more.

[There's one more statement, barely audible and clearly not meant for the network.]

I'm...I feel so...

Comments

video; @Nobody - 11, night

[promises_to_keep]

[Though he's only spoken with him briefly, Lea recognizes Enoch, and his expression falls a bit. He knows what this request means--he's heard it enough times already. Enoch had said yesterday that he was tired, that he needed rest, but Lea hadn't expected him to suffer such grave consequences so soon after. He hasn't spoken to anyone as they were dying, he hasn't been able to bring himself to watch it, but for some reason he's compelled to this time.]

Hey. It's me. I'll talk, I've got some time.

Find anything interesting today?

video

[warriorscribe]

[It might as well be audio, since the camera isn't on anything but the side of the building, his legs in frame, slightly tilted, indicating he's leaned on the side of the shed.]

Thank you. And I think so, yes...a book, meant to teach mathematics in...some rather intricate ways. I couldn't make sense of much of it, myself, though I didn't read it very closely. I would show it to you if I could get at it now. An interesting, if impersonal, way to teach.

[promises_to_keep]

Oh, huh. Man, I was never any good at math, really. My friend was always better at numbers than I was--I did better with languages, personally, and history.

How about you, you have a favorite subject in school?

[warriorscribe]

There wasn't anything quite like what I saw in there, actually. So everyone where you come from learns in large groupings like this? Where I am from, we are taught by our family, our priests, and apprenticing to learn our trades.

[He...kind of misses home even more, talking about it. He'd give anything for the desert sun.]

[promises_to_keep]

Ah, I see. Yeah, where I grew up, kids would all go to school and learn in groups. I guess it had its shortcomings, but we didn't have the resources to really teach everyone individually. Not unless you were like learning a skilled trade, or something. But just for basic knowledge and stuff? It was all taught in school. Usually from... about age five or six to about age seventeen or so.

Voice; ID: max; Day 011, Night

[feralone]

[Well this was certainly awkward. Max was fairly certain he wasn't the only one that was just startled by the sound at the door of the shack right outside the school. Then Enoch's video on the network? It didn't take much to connect the dots, actually.

Reluctantly, Max responds. It feels wrong not to at this point.]

Idiot. Why did you do that?

[That's seriously not concern behind the annoyance in his gruff voice. It's just not there to hear, all right! Don't take it the wrong way!!]

"Video" but more like voice because the camera's just on nothing in particular

[warriorscribe]

[He hears concern anyway, because he tends to see the best in people. There's a slight tilt of the feed to the side that suggests Enoch is leaning against the side of the building.]

I...ah, I forgot I couldn't stay in there overnight. It has so many intact rooms, I forgot it wasn't safe. I didn't realize it would force me out by taking control of my body, though...

[That was...creepy. Very creepy, now that he'd sat down and his moment of defiance seemed to have meant nothing.]

Perma-Voice

[feralone]

[Dumbass. He doesn't say it but he does think it. He took a moment to contemplate the implications though. That's not just creepy, that's down-right fucking insane. Terrifyingly so.]

Won't do that again. [Statement of fact that he guarantees true one way or another. Lesson learned. Or--]

[warriorscribe]

No, I...suppose I won't.

[There's an obvious shiver, strong enough to move the camera a bit.]

How...how do they have control over our bodies like that, do you think? I didn't feel any different while I was-...while it was- they were...

[...He doesn't want the answer to be anything close to the one form of losing control of himself he's ever experienced. He never wants to repeat that experience again. Never.]

[feralone]

I don't know.

[He didn't know of anything that could do that. It was too supernatural, mystical, magical, or even highly advanced technological feat that he couldn't imagine much less comprehend with personal experience. Nothing like that was available in his world. And if was some sort of hypnosis or biological chemical that was also way over his paygrade. He just did not have a single clue.

Which is why it was so frightening.]

day 012, afternoon - video - @claytonator

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton may have missed Enoch's message the night before (which he severely regrets), but he sure as hell isn't going to miss this one. He hasn't seen anyone come back after such a short time, and definitely not walking away from it at a clip like they're on a mission. Enoch knows where he is. Clayton does also, but he doesn't know where Enoch's headed. This concerns him a little bit, among other things.]

...Naw, you don't look no different t' me. How're you feelin'?

video (early evening)

[warriorscribe]

[Enoch is apparently a master at looking all cool and determined when everything behind it is made of misery and horribleness, because his pace is all about getting out of that place.

As promised, it's a while before he returns to respond.]

I'm sorry, I had to find shelter. I've returned now. I'm...well, I'm intact and alive. That's worth something, I suppose.

[He doesn't know this face. He doesn't know this face and he knows he should. It's almost sickeningly eerie.]

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton looks immediately relieved once he turns on the tablet's camera.]

Good--was startin' t' worry. You still feelin' off at all from this mornin'? Or wakin' up in general?

[warriorscribe]

Well, I...

[Clayton lost his recent memories. Hope lost her memories of her father. Bard lost his sight. He should not be ashamed of losing something, but it's something that could hurt someone else, not being able to immediately recognize them. He is ashamed of it. He is more reluctant to say it now, for the first time, in a relatively private conversation, than he will be when he has time to compose himself and address the network at large about it later in the night.]

...I don't know your face. I don't even know my own. I only know who you are because I can see the name you chose, and I know your voice.

[dr_unconscious]

Ah.

[Clayton doesn't understand what the big deal is at first. It might be kind of embarrassing at parties or something...well, no, hold on. Facial recognition is a big part of interactions. Not being familiar with someone's face breeds uncertainty in a relationship, makes conversations uncomfortable--he's heard of the condition where people habitually can't remember faces, in some quick case study during his classes, and just by looking at Enoch's expression and hearing the hesitation in his voice, ultimately Clayton doesn't need to understand the specifics in order to know that this is a Big Deal for him.]

[And that's all he needs. Clayton's brow creases in sympathy.]

I'm so sorry. I can't hardly imagine what that's like. You havin' any other trouble with memory, or associations?

voice @LELRIC

[armoured]

[Not another one.

It seems like every night now, someone is becoming trapped and they all have to witness their life slip away in the cold hours of the early morning. Al feels every one of them like a physical blow, each stronger than the last, stinging with the failure of himself to protect them.

All of the other times he could fall back on anger, even if it was unfair, that the person trapped outside had foolishly overextended themselves. He didn't even have that this time, as it's obvious that someone or something had compelled Enoch out of his only shelter.]

You--

[His voice breaks, but he forces himself to continue.]

Whoever did this to you, I-- I'll make sure that they're stopped.

[warriorscribe]

[The video feed doesn't move much, aside from the rise and fall of his breathing and the occasional shift in the snow. He's had to disengage from those sometimes not-so-final posts, himself, unable to bear to see someone die. It's hard enough just finding evidence of death. He's a lot like Al in this department, so prone to survivor's guilt.

But after having to make his own, he doesn't think he can bear not to reply, if he is saved.]

Thank you. But don't see yourself to death on my behalf. From the sound of your voice, you have far too many years ahead of you to waste them.

[Says the person who regularly puts himself in danger for others, himself. It's different for him. He's old, after all, older than any other man can ever claim. Alphonse sounds quite young. There is no way he's going to be okay with a child throwing his life away, especially for him.]

[armoured]

Maybe, but all of those years are wasted if I don't use them to help to the best of my ability.

[He can't just sit aside and let others fight and worry, no matter how dangerous and how much pain that path brings. He's an Elric, and they will never give up, never surrender, and never allow such massive injustice to stand.]

This place, and the people who brought us here, that's something I won't just let slip by.

[warriorscribe]

I wouldn't want anyone who wished otherwise to sit idly by, but please, if it comes to something life-threatening, do not throw your life away. Children should not have to fight in the first place...

[He doesn't know that there will be fighting. But if someone is deliberately holding them here, a struggle is certain to take place. And he knows Alphonse is always accompanied by the sound of armor. He clearly knows combat, or at least combat training. That doesn't sit well with him.]

[armoured]

I'm not a child, I'm fifteen.

[Because fifteen is all grown up. Besides, he knows that tragedy and danger don't avoid someone just because they're young.]

But even if I was, this place isn't a place that anyone can afford to let others fight for them.

Video | @DIO | night 12

[itsasteamroller]

[Well, that was fast. He might as well have gone to bed for the evening. And there's the textbook that he mentioned as well... But what's this about not recognizing his own face?]

Enoch. Can you not recognize other faces as well? Do they all look similar?

[warriorscribe]

Dio...

[He's grateful to be hearing voices he trusts, between him and Clayton. And at least with Dio, there is no fear of seeing a face he wouldn't know, since he never saw his face in the first place.

This is why his hands come into frame for a moment to remove the tablet from where it's secured against his body and set it down so they can talk to at least the images of one another's faces. Even if he won't remember his the next time he sees him.]

It's not...it's not a matter of them looking similar at all, no.

[He'd wanted to not speak of this subject more, it's why he'd changed it. But this is probably Dio's way of trying to help, he thinks. Still, there's obvious hesitation in actually describing what he's going through.]

I have no memory of anyone's face. I think of a name, but have no face to put to it. I see a face and even if it is my own don't recognize it. I...I don't know how else to describe it.

[itsasteamroller]

Ah. It might be related to face blindness... [He says that more to himself, mulling it over. What a strange thing to not have. Or was it taken? Taken implies that whoever's reviving them can control things to that degree...but why? Punishment for dying, maybe? It's incredible how something so specific and something taken for granted could be so unnerving when you don't have it.]

You're fine. That description works. Anyway, was that the maths textbook you telling me about?

[warriorscribe]

Ah-...yes, yes it is.

[He was going to ask what face blindness is, but the name is obvious enough on its own that his desire to get away from the subject definitely outweighs any curiosity he may have about it.

He holds up the tablet so Dio can see the book again. It's open to a random page. At first glance there doesn't seem to be anything of relevance, aside from the American spelling giving them a geographic clue that still leaves them with a big chunk of a continent to pinpoint themselves on. Not that Enoch would notice the difference.]

Does anything look useful to you?

[itsasteamroller]

[It takes him a little while to notice, but soon it becomes clear that this book was at least made in America. Not that other countries would even touch American textbooks, so there you go.]

Yes. It looks like we're in the States. That narrows it down a bit...

[And the Americans started using metric, apparently. Looks like Norfinbury isn't the only place that froze over.]