Neutiquam Erro



Scene Title Neutiquam Erro
Synopsis All the skeletons in the closets aside, a home is, in the end, still a home.
Date June 21, 2009

Primatech Research - Elle's room


One can't help but notice that there's a rather distinct lack of them, where Elle lives. Time is only indicated by the alien-green numerals of the electronic clock in the corner. 11:43; nearly midnight. Though— it might as well be noon, for all that daylight and moonlight play any role in this blank-faced room.

It's a contrast, considering that in years hazily past, 'home' had consisted of a solid chamber of glass. Inside it, a tiny princess in a flowing white robe had reigned. Charm bracelets and crowns? Nah. Medicine bottles and a perpetual IV drip, more like. Now: one of the agent's palms rests against a heavily shadowed wall as she stands there, manicured fingernails curling in resignation against the plaster. Pale light from the lamp on her nightstand illuminates her back.

In her own private section of darkness, her bottom lip curls. It's with abruptness that turns to face the middle of the room, her shoulders settling against the wall with a -thump-, slim arms folding petulantly across her chest. Some of her bangs flutter as she releases a puff of air through her mouth, eyes flat and staring at nothing.

Should she be doing this? More accurately, should she have done this?

Straight back into the dragon's arms, she had stumbled. Everything she had found relief from, if bizarrely and not entirely due to her own choosing. But— returning? Running right back to it? Now, that had happened precisely according to her own choosing. Somewhere on the long road between Phoenix and Primatech, a disillusioned alteration of heart had taken place. The decision had practically been made for her; she had just swayed towards it one final time. Accepted the facts, as far as she could make of them.

Something small and white flutters out of a pocket, and her arm promptly extends to pluck it out of the air before it can meet the ground. Her eyes narrow as she scans it swiftly, though she's already perfectly familiar with its contents.

Not that there's much, on that single frail sticky-note. Just the number Phoenix had given her to call as soon as she was ready.


"This is the life I know," she murmurs, a crackling blue ~flare~ from her own clenched fingertips making her blink. The stinging odor of burnt paper hits the air, unpleasant, its corners crinkling upwards into blackness. It isn't long before there's little recognizable left, only the numerals staying sharply etched in her mental eye. Her hand falls open, and a shriveled twisted thing falls out.

"Even with everything I know happened here—" The next inhalation makes Elle's breath catch. "This is my life. What I'm good at. If I leave, I'm not going to fucking have another." No matter what she's been told. Her lips thin, and if there were little more light, the pensively resolved look in her eyes would become more visible.

Bare feet pad restively across the floor. There comes the sound of blankets shifting, being pulled and let fall into place. A moment later, the blonde flumps into bed, gazing broodingly at the ceiling, silence close around her. It doesn't happen right away, but eventually, her eyelids do close. Her breathing takes on a more regular quality, the rise and fall of her chest steadying into quietness. She turns her body sideways, facing the wall.

On the floor, a last, infinitesimal spark burns out its life atop a blackened twist of paper.

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