*Video feed begins.
The camera makes a sweep of the archaic splendour of the PRETA dojo before settling on the center of the tatami-floored room, where its only occupants stand. Dressed in a black tight-fitting bodysuit, Celia is adjusting the settings on an inert combat AI.*
Live subjects aren't ideal for practising with blades. The blood makes a mess of the floor.
*Her fingers run over a sequence of buttons on the AI's exposed control panel; it lurches into life, a blinking green light indicating it's passive status. Celia steps back, pausing to tie her hair back before drawing her new blade. She spins it in her hand as she bends her knees slighty, adopting a combat posture*
AI, activate.
*The AI's status light switches to red as it draws a blade in each hand and mirrors Celia's stance. It makes a clumsy thrust towards her, which she calmly avoids by repositioning her back foot.*
All goes to plan. I went to see Kimmi last night. My, that girl has good taste; her apartment is beautiful...
*The AI makes a quick one-two thrust with both blades. Celia shimmies left to right before countering with a fast upwards jab towards the AI's solar plexus, the blade in and out of its silicon flesh in a split-second*
...as is the way her mind works. I knew she was the right person to go to.
*Celia grins, warming up now and bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watches the AI carefully*
I mean, what use am I at interrogation? I have no patience for all that blubbering and wailing. I like straight talk.
*She suddenly lunges forward at the AI; the automaton moves one blade out to successfully block while countering at Celia's exposed side with the other. Celia grabs its wrist with her other hand and sidesteps, using the AI's momentum against itself. It stumbles forward, exposing its back; turing with it, Celia plants the point of her blade in the base of its neck*
Fortunately, Kimmi knows exactly what to do. Her methods are ingenious; I would never have thought things through with that much detail myself. I'm certain that with her help, I'll find this Governor Brond and find out exactly what happened between him and my mother... and where she went.
*Celia withdraws the knife from the AI, making a quick adjustment to its proficiency setting. It turns back to face its organic adversary, whirling its twin blades in a lethal arc.*
The thought of finding out what I need to know, working closely with someone I respect and settling a score all at once is an exciting prospect. I hope I can return the favour to Kimmi in some way in the future.
*Her grin broadens as she sinks into a semi-crouch, watching the AI's movements as it advances on her. She plants a hand on the tatami and strikes out a low kick to the machine's ankles, sending it off-balance and interrupting its vicious arc of steel. Seeing a gap, she springs forward but is caught by a lightning-fast backhander, sending her reeling. She recovers quickly, grinning through blood-stained teeth and breathing heavily*
Hmm, now that's more like it.
*She sweeps a few loose strands of hair back behind her ears and rolls her toned shoulders, settling back into her low stance. The AI charges her again, flailing both knives in an intricate and random web, making its timing much harder to judge. The lithe Brutor makes a feint to strike at the face, forcing the machine to raise both blades protectively, exposing its lower body. Celia brings her knee into its groin and realises her error just as the AI brings both blades to her throat, the gleaming edges resting gently on her skin*
Heh, okay, you have nothing to hurt down there...
*Celia backflips, catching the AI's chin with her heel as she brings her legs over, making it stagger backwards and drop one of its knives. As it stoops to recover its weapon, Celia pounces and brings her own knife down onto the outstretched hand of the AI, pinning it to the tatami. Despite it being helpless and prone, Celia relentlessly continues her attack by leaping onto the machine, pinning down its shoulders with her knees and wrapping her hands around its throat. Within seconds, its respiratory system hangs out of a mass of shredded silicon. She pauses, gasping, apprearing to be gathering her senses.
Her face goes pale as she slowly stands to her feet, her eyes fixed on the gaping hole in the AI's throat. Her voice trembles*
Just how my mother killed my father...
*She takes a deep breath, backing away from the broken machine, a haunted look in her eyes*
I can't escape it, can I?
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-09-09
2009-08-29
Net Loss
*Video feed begins.
Celia leans back in her desk-chair, deftly flipping a fine-looking Matari combat knife from hand to hand. She spins the blade with each pass, its highly polished edge catching the light with a brilliant flash.
She stops abruptly, the hilt gripped in her hand as she examines a thin thread of blood on her finger*
So sharp...
*Her gaze shifts to the camera; her eyes flat, her expression neutral*
I was looking forward to the Skyhook relaunch party. The prospect of seeing Milo again, catching up with the Ghosts and meeting new contacts had me quite excited. Things didn't go to that plan though.
*she runs a hand through her hair, looking back to the blade*
Whilst at the party, I was informed of the death of Newt Rex, former PRELI CEO and a man I counted as a friend. An incident in the old Skyhook venue before the move, it seems.
It doesn't feel right, losing one of our own on home turf.
*Celia frowns in concern, chewing her bottom lip*
I don't know if anyone else was involved or responsible, but if they are... well, the Family will no doubt deal with that. Besides, I have too much on my plate right now for a diversion.
*She ponders a few moments, then nods to herself resolutely.
Holding the knife closer to the camera, she continues*
This is his legacy to me. It's rare to find such a well-balanced and sharp blade, even in the Republic. A thing of real beauty.
*Celia pauses as she lights a cigarette and sinks deeper into her chair*
I think I understood Newt. We both struggled with drink, for pretty much the same reasons - to forget. The man had his own demons he was trying to escape from and drink deals with all that, I know for a fact.
*she absently spins the blade on its point across the smooth black-marble desktop as her face darkens, grimacing*
Such a poison. It left my father lying in mud without a windpipe. Weak, spineless layabout... he got what he fucking deserved.
*Her voice grates with undisguised hatred.
She pauses to take a deep draw and exhales*
Newt was a better man than that. He knew the dangers and had tried his best to get himself dried out. The knife-fighting was his escape from the bottle. I was so impressed when he told me he was getting into it and fighting in the league; such adrenalin and excitement, not to mention the prize money!
*Celia smiles wistfully as she looks down at the blade again*
I'll miss you, Newt Rex. I'll honour your beautiful gift by putting it to good use; it won't sit on a desk like an heirloom, I'll carry and use it with pride. I know that's what you would've wanted.
And if all goes to plan, I'll have the ideal opportunity to test it...
*her warm smile twists, setting into a cruel grin as she runs a finger along the edge of the blade. She tilts her head, gazing adoringly at the fine alloy as it glides effortlessly through the top layer of skin*
So beautiful... so deadly...
Which reminds me...
I need to speak to Kimochi.
Camera off.
*Video feed ends.*
Celia leans back in her desk-chair, deftly flipping a fine-looking Matari combat knife from hand to hand. She spins the blade with each pass, its highly polished edge catching the light with a brilliant flash.
She stops abruptly, the hilt gripped in her hand as she examines a thin thread of blood on her finger*
So sharp...
*Her gaze shifts to the camera; her eyes flat, her expression neutral*
I was looking forward to the Skyhook relaunch party. The prospect of seeing Milo again, catching up with the Ghosts and meeting new contacts had me quite excited. Things didn't go to that plan though.
*she runs a hand through her hair, looking back to the blade*
Whilst at the party, I was informed of the death of Newt Rex, former PRELI CEO and a man I counted as a friend. An incident in the old Skyhook venue before the move, it seems.
It doesn't feel right, losing one of our own on home turf.
*Celia frowns in concern, chewing her bottom lip*
I don't know if anyone else was involved or responsible, but if they are... well, the Family will no doubt deal with that. Besides, I have too much on my plate right now for a diversion.
*She ponders a few moments, then nods to herself resolutely.
Holding the knife closer to the camera, she continues*
This is his legacy to me. It's rare to find such a well-balanced and sharp blade, even in the Republic. A thing of real beauty.
*Celia pauses as she lights a cigarette and sinks deeper into her chair*
I think I understood Newt. We both struggled with drink, for pretty much the same reasons - to forget. The man had his own demons he was trying to escape from and drink deals with all that, I know for a fact.
*she absently spins the blade on its point across the smooth black-marble desktop as her face darkens, grimacing*
Such a poison. It left my father lying in mud without a windpipe. Weak, spineless layabout... he got what he fucking deserved.
*Her voice grates with undisguised hatred.
She pauses to take a deep draw and exhales*
Newt was a better man than that. He knew the dangers and had tried his best to get himself dried out. The knife-fighting was his escape from the bottle. I was so impressed when he told me he was getting into it and fighting in the league; such adrenalin and excitement, not to mention the prize money!
*Celia smiles wistfully as she looks down at the blade again*
I'll miss you, Newt Rex. I'll honour your beautiful gift by putting it to good use; it won't sit on a desk like an heirloom, I'll carry and use it with pride. I know that's what you would've wanted.
And if all goes to plan, I'll have the ideal opportunity to test it...
*her warm smile twists, setting into a cruel grin as she runs a finger along the edge of the blade. She tilts her head, gazing adoringly at the fine alloy as it glides effortlessly through the top layer of skin*
So beautiful... so deadly...
Which reminds me...
I need to speak to Kimochi.
Camera off.
*Video feed ends.*
2009-08-19
The Lead (part 2)
*Video feed begins.
Surrounded by the blue-green hue of the PRETA Data Center's myriad of consoles, terminals and monitors, Celia sits bolt upright and alert as her eyes dart rapidly from left to right, digesting the feed coming through on the main monitor. Around her lays the debris of used coffee-cups, cigarette packets and food cartons; a pillow and a hairbrush nearby betray the fact she's been sleeping in the Data Center for several nights now.
After several minutes her eyes stop moving, locking into their familiar glazed stare, her jaw clenched.
There is a long silence, broken only by the omnipresent low rumble of the data-core.
Eventually, Celia lights a cigarette and turns to face the camera drone*
She's alive. And on the run.
*exhales in a sigh*
Mother, why couldn't you have just stayed in one place so I could find you? How do you expect me to find a fugitive in a cluster of billions? A prison-break would've been easy compared to this.
*She turns back to the main monitor, bringing up her list of contacts. A dozen unread messages flash urgently for attention but are ignored as Celia begins to create a new entry*
Governor Brond. It appears mother used him as her ticket out. How brilliantly resourceful of her...
*she allows the corner of her mouth to raise in a sly smile of admiration*
He was present when CONCORD first interviewed her. According to the file, he held a private interview with her just days after.
*Celia purses her lips, drumming her black fingernails on the keypad*
He's obviously the next logical lead. I'll have him traced down, although I'm not doing the detective work this time; there are Family members and associates who are better at this than I am. Must remember to ask about interrogation methods too. I'm no sadist, but I might just allow myself to enjoy this.
*She takes a long draw from a cigarette*
Then there is Judge Olar. No need to waste words on this man. Besides, I don't expect to glean anything remotely useful out of him. It's not even worth asking him why he saw it fit to separate a five-year old child from her mother at a time when she really fucking needed her!
*Celia's voice raises to a near shriek as her fingers claw savagely at the keypad, the plastic creaking under the strain. She takes several deep breaths to regain her composure; her expression now grows weary, the long hours of concentration spent at the console beginning to catch up with her*
So tired... I've lost count of how many days I've spent in here... and my eyes...
*Celia rubs her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. She grabs her pillow from a nearby unit and hugs it to her chest, resting her head into it and talking softly under her breath*
Where's Milo when I need him? He's been gone for weeks and I miss him. I really miss him.
*Her voice cracks on the last few words as her eyelids become heavier. Within seconds she is asleep, hugging her pillow, her face relaxed and serene. The camera records for another hour before going into auto-standby.
Video feed ends*
Surrounded by the blue-green hue of the PRETA Data Center's myriad of consoles, terminals and monitors, Celia sits bolt upright and alert as her eyes dart rapidly from left to right, digesting the feed coming through on the main monitor. Around her lays the debris of used coffee-cups, cigarette packets and food cartons; a pillow and a hairbrush nearby betray the fact she's been sleeping in the Data Center for several nights now.
After several minutes her eyes stop moving, locking into their familiar glazed stare, her jaw clenched.
There is a long silence, broken only by the omnipresent low rumble of the data-core.
Eventually, Celia lights a cigarette and turns to face the camera drone*
She's alive. And on the run.
*exhales in a sigh*
Mother, why couldn't you have just stayed in one place so I could find you? How do you expect me to find a fugitive in a cluster of billions? A prison-break would've been easy compared to this.
*She turns back to the main monitor, bringing up her list of contacts. A dozen unread messages flash urgently for attention but are ignored as Celia begins to create a new entry*
Governor Brond. It appears mother used him as her ticket out. How brilliantly resourceful of her...
*she allows the corner of her mouth to raise in a sly smile of admiration*
He was present when CONCORD first interviewed her. According to the file, he held a private interview with her just days after.
*Celia purses her lips, drumming her black fingernails on the keypad*
He's obviously the next logical lead. I'll have him traced down, although I'm not doing the detective work this time; there are Family members and associates who are better at this than I am. Must remember to ask about interrogation methods too. I'm no sadist, but I might just allow myself to enjoy this.
*She takes a long draw from a cigarette*
Then there is Judge Olar. No need to waste words on this man. Besides, I don't expect to glean anything remotely useful out of him. It's not even worth asking him why he saw it fit to separate a five-year old child from her mother at a time when she really fucking needed her!
*Celia's voice raises to a near shriek as her fingers claw savagely at the keypad, the plastic creaking under the strain. She takes several deep breaths to regain her composure; her expression now grows weary, the long hours of concentration spent at the console beginning to catch up with her*
So tired... I've lost count of how many days I've spent in here... and my eyes...
*Celia rubs her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. She grabs her pillow from a nearby unit and hugs it to her chest, resting her head into it and talking softly under her breath*
Where's Milo when I need him? He's been gone for weeks and I miss him. I really miss him.
*Her voice cracks on the last few words as her eyelids become heavier. Within seconds she is asleep, hugging her pillow, her face relaxed and serene. The camera records for another hour before going into auto-standby.
Video feed ends*
2009-08-18
The Lead (part 1)
*Data transfer begins - file CCR055001KATANM
From: CONCORD Criminal Records Database (RESTRICTED)
To: PRETA Secure User
Bypassing Firewall... Complete
Downloading... Complete*
Subject: Katan, Matila
File No: CCR055001KATANM
Status: Fugitive
Summary:
91.11.14 - Sentenced by Brutor Tribal Court (Judge Andril Olar presiding) to life imprisonment for the murder of Habikuk Louga Katan of North Reach Mining Outpost. Sentence to be served at North Reach Penal Facility. 1 dependant, Celia Katan, to be taken into care of the Tribe as in accordance with Tribal Law.
92.02.07 - Escape attempt - prisoner caught attempting to smuggle herself out in a supply crate.
92.09.12 - Escape attempt - prisoner took a dental technician hostage with a drill-bit. Prisoner apprehended and placed in solitary confinement for two months.
93.04.26 - Escape attempt - prisoner instigated a fight between fellow inmates and attempted to escape during the melee.
93.05.01 - Transfered to RSS Kulheim Maximum Security Penal Facility
105.01.23 - Pending review for good behaviour.
105.02.10 - Transfered to Medical Wing Delta, Kulheim Facility.
111.02.23 - File submitted to CONCORD on request.
111.02.25 - Prisoner interviewed by CONCORD (under supervision of Prison Governor Alus Brond) regarding the current status of her daughter, Ms Celia DeKline, formerly Celia Katan.
111.03.03 - Prisoner privately interviewed by Governor Brond.
111.04.11 - Prisoner escaped and placed on Fugitives bulletin. Governor Brond dismissed from his post following a confession to having an illicit affair with the prisoner.
*Deleting trace files... Complete
Data transfer ends*
2009-07-31
True Ghost
*Video feed begins
The camera drone moves slowly backwards, tracking Celia as she walks down a narrow corridor in what appears to be the interior of a Matari vessel. She is smiling confidently, her bright eyes fixed on the camera*
A girl can feel spoiled sometimes. Two new playthings in the space of a week...
*She smirks, oblivious to the passing crewmen who hastily make way for her, pressing themselves against the walls and avoiding eye-contact as she makes her advance down the corridor.*
Both perfom brilliantly, are easy to control and... prove deeply satisfying.
*Celia's smirk widens to an outright wicked grin as she comes to a halt next to an airlock*
But today I will give testament to the latter of my new acquisitions...
*With a hiss, the airlock opens and Celia steps through the twin set of doors and out onto the boarding gantry. The camera drone continues to track her as she disembarks, capturing the glittering hull of a Rapier-class recon cruiser behind her. She leans forward on the gantry railing, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the disapproving look from the deck officer as she continues*
The Rapier is a true Ghost. Capable of stalking prey completely unseen, it can close to combat range to attack, then slip away into the void without a trace. It can lie above a gate, silently watching the traffic and where it's heading, waiting for an opportunity.
Typically for Core Complexion, the focus is on supplemental systems rather than sheer damage potential.
*Celia points with her cigarette to various sections of the ship*
The cowling over there houses the target painter, just behind that solar fin is the dual-web array. A cyno field generator can be mounted up there. As I've recently discovered, the ship really shines when used in tandem with other recons.
*She narrows her eyes and nods to herself as she takes a long draw and exhales*
A fine ship indeed. And I'm going to need it for a mission of a closer, more personal nature.
*Her smile and the brightness in her eyes fades as she turns her back on the ship and perches herself on the railing, undaunted by the long drop down to the deck floor behind her.*
Information on my mother is still coming in slowly. I know that she received a life sentence for the murder of my father and that the local prison transfered her to a secure RSS facility for reasons as yet unknown. I also know that CONCORD secured all of her files in February, the same time my security status officially went "outlaw".
That means they've made the connection, and have undoubtedly questioned her about me.
*she sighs, running a hand through her hair*
Which in turn means... I have a liability on my hands.
*Celia pauses, her dull gaze fixed on the plume of rising smoke from her cigarette as she chews on her bottom lip*
Would she have protected me under questioning? I mean, she killed to protect me once...
Or would she have been horrified by what I've done and readily co-operated? If she did help CONCORD, then...
*she looks away from the camera, letting her hair hide her face. She makes a small choking sound before suddenly looking back up to the lens, her eyes and voice completely devoid of emotion*
...then I'll do what needs to be done.
Either way, tracking her down is going to take me into dangerous places, to be sure.
*she lowers herself off the railing and looks back at the ship behind her*
And this is where the Juno comes in.
*Celia remains silent as she finishes smoking, crushing the stub beneath her boot with slow deliberation. She folds her arms across her chest as she gazes out to the hangar, only a subtle tick in her jaw betraying the tumult of thoughts racing through her mind*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
The camera drone moves slowly backwards, tracking Celia as she walks down a narrow corridor in what appears to be the interior of a Matari vessel. She is smiling confidently, her bright eyes fixed on the camera*
A girl can feel spoiled sometimes. Two new playthings in the space of a week...
*She smirks, oblivious to the passing crewmen who hastily make way for her, pressing themselves against the walls and avoiding eye-contact as she makes her advance down the corridor.*
Both perfom brilliantly, are easy to control and... prove deeply satisfying.
*Celia's smirk widens to an outright wicked grin as she comes to a halt next to an airlock*
But today I will give testament to the latter of my new acquisitions...
*With a hiss, the airlock opens and Celia steps through the twin set of doors and out onto the boarding gantry. The camera drone continues to track her as she disembarks, capturing the glittering hull of a Rapier-class recon cruiser behind her. She leans forward on the gantry railing, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the disapproving look from the deck officer as she continues*
The Rapier is a true Ghost. Capable of stalking prey completely unseen, it can close to combat range to attack, then slip away into the void without a trace. It can lie above a gate, silently watching the traffic and where it's heading, waiting for an opportunity.
Typically for Core Complexion, the focus is on supplemental systems rather than sheer damage potential.
*Celia points with her cigarette to various sections of the ship*
The cowling over there houses the target painter, just behind that solar fin is the dual-web array. A cyno field generator can be mounted up there. As I've recently discovered, the ship really shines when used in tandem with other recons.
*She narrows her eyes and nods to herself as she takes a long draw and exhales*
A fine ship indeed. And I'm going to need it for a mission of a closer, more personal nature.
*Her smile and the brightness in her eyes fades as she turns her back on the ship and perches herself on the railing, undaunted by the long drop down to the deck floor behind her.*
Information on my mother is still coming in slowly. I know that she received a life sentence for the murder of my father and that the local prison transfered her to a secure RSS facility for reasons as yet unknown. I also know that CONCORD secured all of her files in February, the same time my security status officially went "outlaw".
That means they've made the connection, and have undoubtedly questioned her about me.
*she sighs, running a hand through her hair*
Which in turn means... I have a liability on my hands.
*Celia pauses, her dull gaze fixed on the plume of rising smoke from her cigarette as she chews on her bottom lip*
Would she have protected me under questioning? I mean, she killed to protect me once...
Or would she have been horrified by what I've done and readily co-operated? If she did help CONCORD, then...
*she looks away from the camera, letting her hair hide her face. She makes a small choking sound before suddenly looking back up to the lens, her eyes and voice completely devoid of emotion*
...then I'll do what needs to be done.
Either way, tracking her down is going to take me into dangerous places, to be sure.
*she lowers herself off the railing and looks back at the ship behind her*
And this is where the Juno comes in.
*Celia remains silent as she finishes smoking, crushing the stub beneath her boot with slow deliberation. She folds her arms across her chest as she gazes out to the hangar, only a subtle tick in her jaw betraying the tumult of thoughts racing through her mind*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-07-24
Fulfillment
*Video feed begins.
Sitting on the end of her over-sized bed in an open night-shirt, Celia smiles sweetly at the camera. Her face and skin radiate a healthy glow in the soft orange light while her dark brown eyes shine and sparkle through her bedraggled hair. Over her shoulder, just within the camera's field of view, a man lies face down on the bed, breathing deeply and easily. Despite the dim light, several gouges and scratches are visible on his bare back.
Celia stands carefully and steps silently from the plush bedroom annex to her kitchen area; the camera follows her as programed, as she pours herself a glass of water and lights a cigarette*
I can't begin to describe how much I needed that.
*she speaks in a hushed whisper*
I can't really describe how I feel now... it's just... wonderfully warm...
*she leans against a counter, taking a draw from her cigarette and tilting her head back to exhale in a deep sigh*
Log reminder: call staff later... cancel training and tell them they can stand down for the day. I don't intend on going anywhere in a hurry.
*She drinks her water and looks over her shoulder back towards the bedroom annex*
And I don't intend on you going anywhere in a hurry, either.
*she narrows her eyes and smiles, slowly walking back to bed, whispering to the drone in tow;*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-07-02
Haunting a Ghost
*Video feed begins.
Celia is sat at her desk, amidst a hanging cloud of smoke bathed in the soft orange light of her apartment. An overflowing ashtray, several empty nerve-stick vials and an unopened bottle of brandy stand on the smooth black marble surface. Celia herself looks terribly distraught; beneath the lank strands of hair her eyes are swollen, red-rimmed, streaks of her dark make-up betraying the recent tears. She regards the camera with a burning stare for long moments before speaking in a broken voice*
So now I know the truth. Or rather, recalled the truth; I've always known it. It's in everything I do, everything I say. Even in the way I kill. It's haunted me for twenty years and all I could do to keep myself going was to block it out, along with every other shred of human emotion. I took every measure to ensure I didn't remember. And now, I see it all... so clearly, as if it was yesterday.
*She sighs and lights another cigarette*
I can see my father's body, lying in the mud, his throat torn out. I can still feel her hands... my mother's hands... slick with his blood, stroking my cheek. I can hear her words... so determined, so courageous in the face of what was inevitable. Then she was going... dragged out into the night by the SecTeam... then gone. And I have never seen nor heard of her since.
*Celia bows her head, choking back a sob. She looks back up to the camera, her eyes livid and burning with passion*
Why did they take her? Why?! The only person to have ever shown me love... genuine love. She was trying to defend me from him... What gave them the right to take her away from me and put me into the care of the Clan? Self-righteous bastards, all of them!
*Her speech becomes steadily more aggressive, a hiss through gritted teeth. She absently begins toying with an empty vial, flipping it over and over in her hand as she continues*
Thinking the rest of the cluster owes them something because they were enslaved and mistreated? Forever backward-looking, stuck in archaic tribalism. No wonder they don't make any progress. Slavery is too good for them.
*The vial breaks in her hand, glass fragments sinking into her flesh. Celia does not flinch, oblivious to any physical pain.*
They condemned her as a criminal, just as they have condemned me. No wonder then, I couldn't access her file. I have the know-how to crack the encryption now and I plan on doing just that. I can't rest knowing she could still be alive...
*Celia looks away, choking again and blinking back tears, her lips attempting a faint smile*
She used to sing to me. She'd tell me how much she loved me. Despite our stark poverty, she made every effort to make it bearable for me. She called me... Angel.
*She suddenly grabs the ashtray and flings it out of camera-shot, a resounding crash as it hits a wall. Her head sinks into her hands, her shoulders quivering. She remains silent for long moments, before re-lighting her cigarette and continuing her monologue with the camera*
If I were to find her and see her again, she would despise what I've become. Maybe Milo was right, maybe I should've just let this lie. But if I carried on I the way I was going, I would've ended up like the drunken wretch my mother left in the mud that night. Destitute, insignificant and prematurely dead.
No, I've got to find her. I need the closure. She will undoubtedly hate me, but I've learned how to deal with hate. It comes with my job. It's love that scares me most...
*Celia falls silent again, looking down at her bleeding hands. She concentrates not on her cuts, but on the two rings on her left hand. She gently twists them round and round, her own blood allowing them to slide off her finger easily. She places them on the desk, giving them baleful look.*
Why did I hold onto these for so long? I told myself a dozen reasons. Told others a dozen more. I can see the simple truth so clearly now... this was the closest I got to feeling loved again... and I killed them both.
*Celia shakes her head angrily, as if trying to clear it, unhappy with her train of thought. She sweeps her arm across the desk, sending the empty vials and rings to the floor. Only the unopened bottle remains. She fixes her weary gaze on it and continues to talk, as if to the bottle.*
Where do I go from here? I'm confused and this hurts so much. It would be so easy to drown it all out, feel numb and happy again...
*She caresses the side of the bottle with a black-varnished fingernail.*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
Celia is sat at her desk, amidst a hanging cloud of smoke bathed in the soft orange light of her apartment. An overflowing ashtray, several empty nerve-stick vials and an unopened bottle of brandy stand on the smooth black marble surface. Celia herself looks terribly distraught; beneath the lank strands of hair her eyes are swollen, red-rimmed, streaks of her dark make-up betraying the recent tears. She regards the camera with a burning stare for long moments before speaking in a broken voice*
So now I know the truth. Or rather, recalled the truth; I've always known it. It's in everything I do, everything I say. Even in the way I kill. It's haunted me for twenty years and all I could do to keep myself going was to block it out, along with every other shred of human emotion. I took every measure to ensure I didn't remember. And now, I see it all... so clearly, as if it was yesterday.
*She sighs and lights another cigarette*
I can see my father's body, lying in the mud, his throat torn out. I can still feel her hands... my mother's hands... slick with his blood, stroking my cheek. I can hear her words... so determined, so courageous in the face of what was inevitable. Then she was going... dragged out into the night by the SecTeam... then gone. And I have never seen nor heard of her since.
*Celia bows her head, choking back a sob. She looks back up to the camera, her eyes livid and burning with passion*
Why did they take her? Why?! The only person to have ever shown me love... genuine love. She was trying to defend me from him... What gave them the right to take her away from me and put me into the care of the Clan? Self-righteous bastards, all of them!
*Her speech becomes steadily more aggressive, a hiss through gritted teeth. She absently begins toying with an empty vial, flipping it over and over in her hand as she continues*
Thinking the rest of the cluster owes them something because they were enslaved and mistreated? Forever backward-looking, stuck in archaic tribalism. No wonder they don't make any progress. Slavery is too good for them.
*The vial breaks in her hand, glass fragments sinking into her flesh. Celia does not flinch, oblivious to any physical pain.*
They condemned her as a criminal, just as they have condemned me. No wonder then, I couldn't access her file. I have the know-how to crack the encryption now and I plan on doing just that. I can't rest knowing she could still be alive...
*Celia looks away, choking again and blinking back tears, her lips attempting a faint smile*
She used to sing to me. She'd tell me how much she loved me. Despite our stark poverty, she made every effort to make it bearable for me. She called me... Angel.
*She suddenly grabs the ashtray and flings it out of camera-shot, a resounding crash as it hits a wall. Her head sinks into her hands, her shoulders quivering. She remains silent for long moments, before re-lighting her cigarette and continuing her monologue with the camera*
If I were to find her and see her again, she would despise what I've become. Maybe Milo was right, maybe I should've just let this lie. But if I carried on I the way I was going, I would've ended up like the drunken wretch my mother left in the mud that night. Destitute, insignificant and prematurely dead.
No, I've got to find her. I need the closure. She will undoubtedly hate me, but I've learned how to deal with hate. It comes with my job. It's love that scares me most...
*Celia falls silent again, looking down at her bleeding hands. She concentrates not on her cuts, but on the two rings on her left hand. She gently twists them round and round, her own blood allowing them to slide off her finger easily. She places them on the desk, giving them baleful look.*
Why did I hold onto these for so long? I told myself a dozen reasons. Told others a dozen more. I can see the simple truth so clearly now... this was the closest I got to feeling loved again... and I killed them both.
*Celia shakes her head angrily, as if trying to clear it, unhappy with her train of thought. She sweeps her arm across the desk, sending the empty vials and rings to the floor. Only the unopened bottle remains. She fixes her weary gaze on it and continues to talk, as if to the bottle.*
Where do I go from here? I'm confused and this hurts so much. It would be so easy to drown it all out, feel numb and happy again...
*She caresses the side of the bottle with a black-varnished fingernail.*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-06-18
Temperance
*Video feed begins.
The camera drone pans down from a clear starlit sky, across a desolate shuttle terminal, to finally settle on Celia as she leans against a gantry railing overlooking the low silhouettes of a small, planetside complex. She finishes a cigarette, flicking the stub out over the railing and onto the tarmac below in a shower of orange sparks. A breeze catches her hair and the folds of her long leather skirt as she turns to the camera.*
I think my time here is done. I have what I wanted... and more.
*She sweeps her hair back from her face, fixing it behind her ears as her lips curl in subtle suggestion of a smile*
I'm no longer a slave to the bottle and what's more - I found my hacker. And what a find! Not just any hacker, but Mr Cole was a former cybercrime detective. He claimed that CONCORD had put an implant in his head that was re-aligning his neural pathways; interesting theory, but it earned him a full-time place here as a patient, so the quack meds and psychologists could make notes and justify their ridiculous paychecks.
Persuading him to share his knowledge was easy. They clearly don't have many female patients here.
*Celia looks away from the camera for a moment, a pang of discomfort passing over her face*
He gave me a datapad containing his tricks of the trade - thirty years of hacking knowledge and experience. I was quick to put it to good use...
*Celia begins to walk slowly along the gantry, her hand caressing the cool metal of the railing. The camera drone adjusts, moving backwards to keep her in focus*
I successfully hacked the computer of Dr Geveart, the useless quack shrink who's been counselling me. It was a good place to start; firewall was easy to disable, virus was easy to install. Within minutes I'd downloaded his personal logs on me. And a good job I did, too. He knew far too much, was getting far too suspicious.
*A distant rumble becomes a roar as a Gallente shuttle tears across the night sky, coming about to circle the complex. The camera drone shakes a little from the blast of the shuttle's thrusters as it makes its final decent and touches down on the pad. Celia pauses to watch, waiting for the noise to subside before turning back to the camera*
In the morning, they will no doubt find the bodies of Mr Cole and Dr Geveart. So I will take my leave now. I'm looking forward to catching up with my colleagues; it surprises me how much I've actually missed them... Vince's humour, Kimochi's outfits, Milo's eyes...
*Celia sighs wistfully, her face softening with a gentle smile as she leans over the railing, watching ground-crew scurry around the shuttle.
She reaches into her PRETA flight-jacket, takes out a small crystal hip-flask and tosses it from hand to hand thoughtfully. After a few moments she lets the flask fall over the railing, down fifty feet to the tarmac, shattering on impact.
The wind picks up, whipping her hair back across her face; through the glossy black tresses, her eyes narrow, glittering in the dark like the fragments of broken crystal on the tarmac below. She smiles, self-assured.*
I have work to get back to. Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-06-02
AWOL
*Data transfer begins - file 7740901086dekc.doc
From: seb.geveart65
To: unknown user*
Dr Sebastien Geveart
Paix de l'Esprit Private Rehabilitation Clinic
Goinard III
Nadire
***CONFIDENTIAL***
Patient: 7740901086 DeKline, Celia
111.16.05
New patient today; a capsuleer. She has submitted herself voluntarily, claiming she has severe amnesia and a drink problem. And she's going to be paying us handsomely for telling her what's wrong with her? Capsuleers obviously have more money than sense. This should prove interesting.
111.17.05
First session proper with Ms DeKline. Very amiable at first as we went over the pleasantries, but she became evasive and hostile when I asked her about her employment. It became apparent she was no longer willing to co-operate in the session, so I recommend she spend some time to herself around the facility. She agreed and spent the rest of the day painting in E-Block.
111.21.05
My patient is going through the most difficult stage of drying-out; her mood swings are extremely erratic, she has attacked staff and she is shaking badly. All part of the process. She has agreed to my recommendation that she does not board her capsule for the duration of the program.
111.29.05
Ms DeKline makes good progress; she has abstained from alcohol for nearly a fortnight. She has kept her mind occupied by learning to play the harmophone; this is very encouraging. Now she is more relaxed and her mind isn't fuddled with booze, I might be able to get some sense out of her.
111.31.05
Ms DeKline still refuses to indulge me with any details of her occupation, family or friends. I'm beginning to suspect she may be involved in the underworld and she is no doubt aware that many patients here are from the CONCORD stations in the system. Still, what she has revealed of her background has proven very interesting; most peculiar for a Brutor, she is in denial of her racial heritage and thinks of herself as Gallentean. It's as if she's trying to escape from something, but she can't because she doesn't know what she's running from. I'm beginning to enjoy this - she is far more interesting, and attractive, than those boring cops moaning about cabin-fever.
111.01.06
Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, she clams up again. I've established that she must have experienced some deep trauma as a child and her amnesia is a defence mechanism - she had the nerve to call me an amateur and that she had figured that out for herself. She refused to talk about her childhood; she snapped, saying that was a matter only Milo could help her with. When I asked her who he was, she just glared at me and denied saying anything. She is so frustrating.
111.07.06
My patient has now gone 22 days without drinking and appears to be coping well. She has been spending a lot of time in the facility gym and in her quarters playing her harmophone. Her temper has subsided and she is occasionally pleasant company. But she still has a passive, vacant look about her; unfortunately, I have made no further progress on discovering the trauma that haunts her.
111.14.06
Whilst my patient's progress with her alcoholism has been commendable, I have all but given up with her psychiatric evaluation; she simply does not trust me enough to open up. This week I noticed she has been spending time with another patient, Lance Cole. He's an ex-cop who spent too long working on the consoles in the cybercrime division. He's delusional, thinks CONCORD are trying to reprogram him. They talk for hours in the common room; if Ms DeKline is indeed a criminal as I suspect, they may have a lot to discuss.
111.16.06
It has been one month since we admitted the patient and I'm pleased to say that she has successfully overcome her addiction to alcohol. It is unfortunate that we can't help with her underlying issues, but we have done all we can; the patient's deliberate evasive attitude makes progress virtually impossible. Still, it is my hope that with a clearer head, a more positive outlook and her natural determination, she will discover and confront whatever lurks within.
Ms DeKline has expressed satisfaction with her own progress and the help offered by myself and the staff here. In fact, just this morning she told me confidently that she didn't need me anymore; something I can only take as a compliment!
She has stated her intention to discharge herself at the end of this week.
*Data transfer ends - connection terminated*
From: seb.geveart65
To: unknown user*
Dr Sebastien Geveart
Paix de l'Esprit Private Rehabilitation Clinic
Goinard III
Nadire
***CONFIDENTIAL***
Patient: 7740901086 DeKline, Celia
111.16.05
New patient today; a capsuleer. She has submitted herself voluntarily, claiming she has severe amnesia and a drink problem. And she's going to be paying us handsomely for telling her what's wrong with her? Capsuleers obviously have more money than sense. This should prove interesting.
111.17.05
First session proper with Ms DeKline. Very amiable at first as we went over the pleasantries, but she became evasive and hostile when I asked her about her employment. It became apparent she was no longer willing to co-operate in the session, so I recommend she spend some time to herself around the facility. She agreed and spent the rest of the day painting in E-Block.
111.21.05
My patient is going through the most difficult stage of drying-out; her mood swings are extremely erratic, she has attacked staff and she is shaking badly. All part of the process. She has agreed to my recommendation that she does not board her capsule for the duration of the program.
111.29.05
Ms DeKline makes good progress; she has abstained from alcohol for nearly a fortnight. She has kept her mind occupied by learning to play the harmophone; this is very encouraging. Now she is more relaxed and her mind isn't fuddled with booze, I might be able to get some sense out of her.
111.31.05
Ms DeKline still refuses to indulge me with any details of her occupation, family or friends. I'm beginning to suspect she may be involved in the underworld and she is no doubt aware that many patients here are from the CONCORD stations in the system. Still, what she has revealed of her background has proven very interesting; most peculiar for a Brutor, she is in denial of her racial heritage and thinks of herself as Gallentean. It's as if she's trying to escape from something, but she can't because she doesn't know what she's running from. I'm beginning to enjoy this - she is far more interesting, and attractive, than those boring cops moaning about cabin-fever.
111.01.06
Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, she clams up again. I've established that she must have experienced some deep trauma as a child and her amnesia is a defence mechanism - she had the nerve to call me an amateur and that she had figured that out for herself. She refused to talk about her childhood; she snapped, saying that was a matter only Milo could help her with. When I asked her who he was, she just glared at me and denied saying anything. She is so frustrating.
111.07.06
My patient has now gone 22 days without drinking and appears to be coping well. She has been spending a lot of time in the facility gym and in her quarters playing her harmophone. Her temper has subsided and she is occasionally pleasant company. But she still has a passive, vacant look about her; unfortunately, I have made no further progress on discovering the trauma that haunts her.
111.14.06
Whilst my patient's progress with her alcoholism has been commendable, I have all but given up with her psychiatric evaluation; she simply does not trust me enough to open up. This week I noticed she has been spending time with another patient, Lance Cole. He's an ex-cop who spent too long working on the consoles in the cybercrime division. He's delusional, thinks CONCORD are trying to reprogram him. They talk for hours in the common room; if Ms DeKline is indeed a criminal as I suspect, they may have a lot to discuss.
111.16.06
It has been one month since we admitted the patient and I'm pleased to say that she has successfully overcome her addiction to alcohol. It is unfortunate that we can't help with her underlying issues, but we have done all we can; the patient's deliberate evasive attitude makes progress virtually impossible. Still, it is my hope that with a clearer head, a more positive outlook and her natural determination, she will discover and confront whatever lurks within.
Ms DeKline has expressed satisfaction with her own progress and the help offered by myself and the staff here. In fact, just this morning she told me confidently that she didn't need me anymore; something I can only take as a compliment!
She has stated her intention to discharge herself at the end of this week.
*Data transfer ends - connection terminated*
2009-04-28
Progress
*Audio feed begins
Celia sounds a little out of breath, but her tone is upbeat and positive*
Ah, now that was a good run.
I've just taken Milo on one of my more demanding routes, the one that goes from top to bottom of the station. He kept up very well and I'm impressed; that run can be difficult, especially if you're not used to exercise.
*draws in air through her nose and out through her mouth deeply, regulating herself back to normal breathing*
But even more so impressive... Milo can help me with my memory. I told him about the trouble I've been having with day-to-day forgetfulness and the the more deeper concern I have for not being able to remember my childhood. I asked him about implant technology... I know he's used a suppression implant before and that got me thinking - surely an implant can be made to do the reverse and actively stimulate memories that have already been suppressed?
*Coughs heavily, followed a very un-ladylike rumble from the back of her throat and a spit*
Ugh... running dislodges some nasty shit...
Yeah, so Milo said he'd be able to put one together with relative ease, he just needed the parts. Now fortunately, I may be able to help with that... I'm pretty sure I have a capsuleer's body on ice in my storage hangar. Think I picked it up by accident when looting a wreck once. Any implants would obviously be inactive now, but Milo might be able to make use of the reclaimed parts.
*A console chimes out a sequence of key-presses, followed by a soft voice acknowledging the call. Celia converses briefly with her Quartermaster*
Bring Item...340091 out of storage and have it sent to my hangar study.
Yes, I know what it is.
Well, use your discretion, idiot! Put a fucking cloth over it!
*The console emits a final chime as the the channel is cut. Celia resumes her monologue in a pleasant tone*
Milo seemed a little cautious at the whole idea of delving into the past. I totally understand his concerns, but I've got to do this. It's like the desire I had to open my emotions; I knew it would be dangerous, but I had to learn out of necessity to keep sane. Hmm, maybe his caution is masking his own fear of his own past... I wonder.
*Console chimes again and jazz begins to play in the background. Celia hums along absently for a few moments*
Now I still have to find me a hacker for those locked files on my parents. Why would CONCORD put a restricted access on them? What interest would CONCORD have in a couple from an impoverished slum on Pator? Have they cross-referenced with Federal records and found that their daughter is a suspect for two murders and is now an outlawed capsuleer?
Hmm. Most likely. Still, considering the talent I keep company with in PRETA, finding an experienced hacker should not be a problem. I'll make enquiries at the 'Hook. It may not be the best place for dinner, but for everything else...
*The music continues to play; after a few moments Celia resumes humming along, occasionally singing out the odd line.
After several minutes, it is apparent she has forgotten that the dictaphone is still recording. An hour of humming, singing, a running shower and the whir of a hairdryer is recorded as Celia goes about her evening in her apartment.*
Shit, is this still recording? I swear, I'll forget to load the fucking autocannons one of these days...
*Audio feed ends*
Celia sounds a little out of breath, but her tone is upbeat and positive*
Ah, now that was a good run.
I've just taken Milo on one of my more demanding routes, the one that goes from top to bottom of the station. He kept up very well and I'm impressed; that run can be difficult, especially if you're not used to exercise.
*draws in air through her nose and out through her mouth deeply, regulating herself back to normal breathing*
But even more so impressive... Milo can help me with my memory. I told him about the trouble I've been having with day-to-day forgetfulness and the the more deeper concern I have for not being able to remember my childhood. I asked him about implant technology... I know he's used a suppression implant before and that got me thinking - surely an implant can be made to do the reverse and actively stimulate memories that have already been suppressed?
*Coughs heavily, followed a very un-ladylike rumble from the back of her throat and a spit*
Ugh... running dislodges some nasty shit...
Yeah, so Milo said he'd be able to put one together with relative ease, he just needed the parts. Now fortunately, I may be able to help with that... I'm pretty sure I have a capsuleer's body on ice in my storage hangar. Think I picked it up by accident when looting a wreck once. Any implants would obviously be inactive now, but Milo might be able to make use of the reclaimed parts.
*A console chimes out a sequence of key-presses, followed by a soft voice acknowledging the call. Celia converses briefly with her Quartermaster*
Bring Item...340091 out of storage and have it sent to my hangar study.
Yes, I know what it is.
Well, use your discretion, idiot! Put a fucking cloth over it!
*The console emits a final chime as the the channel is cut. Celia resumes her monologue in a pleasant tone*
Milo seemed a little cautious at the whole idea of delving into the past. I totally understand his concerns, but I've got to do this. It's like the desire I had to open my emotions; I knew it would be dangerous, but I had to learn out of necessity to keep sane. Hmm, maybe his caution is masking his own fear of his own past... I wonder.
*Console chimes again and jazz begins to play in the background. Celia hums along absently for a few moments*
Now I still have to find me a hacker for those locked files on my parents. Why would CONCORD put a restricted access on them? What interest would CONCORD have in a couple from an impoverished slum on Pator? Have they cross-referenced with Federal records and found that their daughter is a suspect for two murders and is now an outlawed capsuleer?
Hmm. Most likely. Still, considering the talent I keep company with in PRETA, finding an experienced hacker should not be a problem. I'll make enquiries at the 'Hook. It may not be the best place for dinner, but for everything else...
*The music continues to play; after a few moments Celia resumes humming along, occasionally singing out the odd line.
After several minutes, it is apparent she has forgotten that the dictaphone is still recording. An hour of humming, singing, a running shower and the whir of a hairdryer is recorded as Celia goes about her evening in her apartment.*
Shit, is this still recording? I swear, I'll forget to load the fucking autocannons one of these days...
*Audio feed ends*
2009-04-20
Black Water
*Audio feed begins*
I've just returned from the MedBay after updating my clone. Despite this body being disposable, I've kept it safe from deep-freezing in the void for several months now I'm proud to say. I insisted upon a full medical examination; I thought it best to make sure everything is working as intended.
*The faint sound of music can now be heard; the swing beat and meandering harmophone solos of Gallentean jazz provide a gentle background noise as Celia continues*
Well, I first told the doctor what I know that he should know; I'm an alcoholic and a booster abuser. At this, he looked understandably concerned, but once my physical exam was done he seemed quite surprised. Apparently, my fitness regime has compounded the worst physical effects of abuse and indeed I am still well above the average fitness for a twenty-five year old female capsuleer.
However, neural scans picked up something else that concerned him and confirmed what I had feared for a while; my memory's deteriorating. I've noticed it getting worse lately. I even forgot my gun - my fucking gun! - leaving the 'Hook last week. But I've never been too good with memories; never saw the point of holding onto them, most of my life experience being rather unpleasant. The only memories I willingly keep are those that have taught me something. Neccessity demands it.
Of course, the doctor attributed it all to the sustance abuse and recommended I go into rehab and seek psychiatric help... Hah!
*laughs contemptuously*
...But I know it's a little more than just that and I don't need a shrink to tell me. The drink, drugs and emotional isolation have been my first defence for years now.
*Celia's tone becomes more serious*
So what do I have to defend myself from? My life is good right now... isn't it? I have wealth, a position of respect, good companions... I've even learned to recognise my emotions and enjoy them for what they are... and yet there's still something holding me back. Something that goes much deeper than just a penchant for brandy and boosters. Something I need to address before I literally lose my mind.
*A long pause, broken only by the wailing harmophone on the jazz track*
I don't remember anything of my childhood. Nothing. It's like... a span of black water; impenetrable, cold, deep. My first memory I can recall is... the day I was signed into the RMS, I was... ten?
*a datapad chimes, sounding strangely in-keeping with the almost random notes of the music*
Yeah, according to official records it was year ninety-six; I was indeed only ten. Nothing much on the records before that though, apart from my place of birth. Medical Facility Theta, North Reach Mining Outpost, Pator. Born to Matila and Habikuk Katan.
My parent's names. They have never been anything more; just names. I cannot remember them at all.
*Sighs*
Did they send me against my will to RMS? Is that what I've been trying so hard to block out? That kind of betrayal would explain a lot about how I've grown up, why I walled up my emotions for long, why I've never bothered to give them a second thought...
*The datapad chimes out again; the timing of the key-tones follows the music uncannily*
Hmm, that's interesting... Matila and Habikuk's files have been locked by CONCORD... I can't access them any further.
Bah, I need facts. I need my own memories rekindled for a start. And I'm going to need greater security access, or a hacker, if I want to find out more on these two.
*The background music fades out, to replaced by the familiar theme tune of an ACN bulletin. During the last headline of the bulletin, the volume is suddenly turned up.*
What the fuck?!
*Audio feed ends with an abrupt click*
2009-04-15
Brisk Thoughts
*Audio feed begins.
Boots on a steel floor can be heard at a quick pace*
How many times did I try telling him? The woman is fucking dangerous and unhinged... I don't fear much in this world... but I fear her.
Still, he did the smart thing and left without fuss. I hope his rehab goes ok. Must remember I told him I'd visit.
Oh yeah, reminder to call Milo some time in the week. Man's a genius. Need to run some ideas past him. Arrange a run round the station too. And oversee a maintenance on the Delilah. And... I'm sure there was something else...
*the ringing echo of footsteps continues for a while before a click.
Audio feed ends*
2009-04-11
Lessons One and Two
*Video feed begins.
Celia is sat in her usual seat at her desk. She wears an elegant dress made of black mesh that shimmers in the orange light of the table-lamp. She runs her hands through her hair, ruffling her sleek tresses and drawing her fingers down across her face with a deep sigh.
Looking to a point behind the camera, she takes out a tissue from a drawer and begins to remove her eye make-up.*
I've learned two valuable lessons tonight. One; The Skyhook is not the best place to go for a quiet dinner. Two; Embracing emotion might not be the best idea.
*throws the tissue down and pours herself a drink from a decanter. She takes a large sip before continuing*
I met Milo for dinner this evening. On the whole, it was an enjoyable experience; we chatted for a while, keeping the subjects light and had soup. I can't remember what it tasted like, everything tastes the same to me these days, but Milo appeared to enjoy it.
*finds a fresh tissue and takes it around her mouth, removing her lipstick*
He sometimes gets nervous around me; Given what I've told him of myself, maybe that's to be expected. But I'm hardly intimidating... am I?
*Leans forward to look closely at the mirror behind the camera, tilting her head left to right; with her hair ruffled and face devoid of dark make-up she has a more natural, gentle look*
Hmm. And he is always so humble; the man has great skills, but continually plays them down. He also seems evasive sometimes and it's difficult to judge what he's thinking. Not that this bothers me too much, I'm not one to pry and certainly not one to go chasing people. I tell him things about myself 'cause it makes me feel better. If he wants to do the same, I try to listen and take interest.
*shrugs, leaning back in her seat and taking another drink. She smiles contently*
So we whiled a couple of hours away like that, chatting and enjoying each other's company. I was just starting to feel the warm buzz of happiness and too much brandy when...
*throws her hands into the air in exasperation, frowning*
...Vincent, Kimochi and Kelsy cause a scene, making my date very nervous and ruining the whole evening! How fucking inconsiderate!
*snatches a cigarette from her drawer and lights it, clearly annoyed*
So, from what I saw, Vince and Kimmi were chatting at the bar for a while, then Kelsy shows up. Vince kisses Kelsy, right in front of Kimmi, who promptly stalks out looking livid and real upset.
*Celia pauses, watching her cigarette smoke. A corner of her mouth raises ever so slightly*
She had that coming, fucking around with Vince's head like she did. You live by it, you die by it.
I don't know what to make of Kelsy, to be honest. As long as Vince is happy with her and she doesn't fuck with his head I can't see there being any further problem.
*Frowns, shifting in her seat restlessly. She stands and disappears out of the camera's view for a few moments before re-appearing in a black night-shirt.*
Still, after that whole debacle, Milo and I were in no mood to continue our evening, so we finished up the brandy and left. I stayed back a while longer before coming home, thinking about the dangers of letting emotion control you like that. I mean, how would I have handled being any one of those three?
*pauses in thought for a minute, then sneers to herself and finishes her glass of brandy*
Hah! I wouldn't be so fucking stupid to get myself in such a mess in the first place!
*Exhales and extinguishes her cigarette in an ashtray. She opens her drawer again, taking out a small blueish capsule and a vial of Vitoc antidote and places them on her desk. Celia swallows the pill, loads the antidote into a booster-shooter and punches a series of buttons on her coms console. She snaps sharply at a tinny voice acknowledging her call;*
Chamber-slave to my quarters, immediately.
*She gives herself an assured smile in the mirror before deactivating the camera.
Video feed ends*
Celia is sat in her usual seat at her desk. She wears an elegant dress made of black mesh that shimmers in the orange light of the table-lamp. She runs her hands through her hair, ruffling her sleek tresses and drawing her fingers down across her face with a deep sigh.
Looking to a point behind the camera, she takes out a tissue from a drawer and begins to remove her eye make-up.*
I've learned two valuable lessons tonight. One; The Skyhook is not the best place to go for a quiet dinner. Two; Embracing emotion might not be the best idea.
*throws the tissue down and pours herself a drink from a decanter. She takes a large sip before continuing*
I met Milo for dinner this evening. On the whole, it was an enjoyable experience; we chatted for a while, keeping the subjects light and had soup. I can't remember what it tasted like, everything tastes the same to me these days, but Milo appeared to enjoy it.
*finds a fresh tissue and takes it around her mouth, removing her lipstick*
He sometimes gets nervous around me; Given what I've told him of myself, maybe that's to be expected. But I'm hardly intimidating... am I?
*Leans forward to look closely at the mirror behind the camera, tilting her head left to right; with her hair ruffled and face devoid of dark make-up she has a more natural, gentle look*
Hmm. And he is always so humble; the man has great skills, but continually plays them down. He also seems evasive sometimes and it's difficult to judge what he's thinking. Not that this bothers me too much, I'm not one to pry and certainly not one to go chasing people. I tell him things about myself 'cause it makes me feel better. If he wants to do the same, I try to listen and take interest.
*shrugs, leaning back in her seat and taking another drink. She smiles contently*
So we whiled a couple of hours away like that, chatting and enjoying each other's company. I was just starting to feel the warm buzz of happiness and too much brandy when...
*throws her hands into the air in exasperation, frowning*
...Vincent, Kimochi and Kelsy cause a scene, making my date very nervous and ruining the whole evening! How fucking inconsiderate!
*snatches a cigarette from her drawer and lights it, clearly annoyed*
So, from what I saw, Vince and Kimmi were chatting at the bar for a while, then Kelsy shows up. Vince kisses Kelsy, right in front of Kimmi, who promptly stalks out looking livid and real upset.
*Celia pauses, watching her cigarette smoke. A corner of her mouth raises ever so slightly*
She had that coming, fucking around with Vince's head like she did. You live by it, you die by it.
I don't know what to make of Kelsy, to be honest. As long as Vince is happy with her and she doesn't fuck with his head I can't see there being any further problem.
*Frowns, shifting in her seat restlessly. She stands and disappears out of the camera's view for a few moments before re-appearing in a black night-shirt.*
Still, after that whole debacle, Milo and I were in no mood to continue our evening, so we finished up the brandy and left. I stayed back a while longer before coming home, thinking about the dangers of letting emotion control you like that. I mean, how would I have handled being any one of those three?
*pauses in thought for a minute, then sneers to herself and finishes her glass of brandy*
Hah! I wouldn't be so fucking stupid to get myself in such a mess in the first place!
*Exhales and extinguishes her cigarette in an ashtray. She opens her drawer again, taking out a small blueish capsule and a vial of Vitoc antidote and places them on her desk. Celia swallows the pill, loads the antidote into a booster-shooter and punches a series of buttons on her coms console. She snaps sharply at a tinny voice acknowledging her call;*
Chamber-slave to my quarters, immediately.
*She gives herself an assured smile in the mirror before deactivating the camera.
Video feed ends*
2009-04-07
Embracing Addiction
*Video feed begins.
Celia sits calmly behind her desk, which appears to have been tidied since her last video feed. The only items occupying the desk are an ashtray, box of cigarettes and a half-full brandy glass. Celia herself also looks in far better condition; her sleek bob is well groomed, her make-up applied with great care. Her eyes appear to have lost their dull, vacant sheen and now glimmer with a hint of life*
Addiction is such a strange thing... despite the cravings, something inside me tries to fight them off. I tried to give up smoking last week - what a waste of time and effort that was!
*rolls her eyes and lights a cigarette from her packet before continuing*
Look at the state of my fucking nails...
*raises the back of her hand towards the camera drone, showing her black-varnished fingernails looking roughly bitten short*
But it put things in perspective for me; why do I... and indeed most people from what I've seen... have this instinctive aversion to addiction? It causes more grief and bother than the addicition itself!
*leans back in her seat with a smug grin*
So, I have decided to stop worrying so much about my cravings for nicotine, alcohol and emotion... why should I? This body is replaceable, after all. No, I should just be myself... and I am an addict. Something I will now embrace rather than hide from.
*takes a sip of her drink and continues in her mild, relaxed tone*
Vincent still has my dictaphone. I haven't seen much of him lately, I should make an effort to get in touch. I hope he's alright, I find myself caring a lot for the guy.
*takes a draw of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly*
My feelings towards him seem more defined lately, not as confusing and mixed up as they were a few weeks ago. I think being away from him has helped with that; as I begin to accept the concept of belonging to a family, Vince's role in it looks clearer. The protective instinct and affection I have for him must be akin to what siblings must feel...
*waves her cigarette back and to as she ponders her thoughts*
...or so I've heard. Still, it'll be interesting to learn what sense, if any, he managed to make from my recordings. I'm looking forward to good analytical discussion.
*Celia's eyes widen and glitter softly in the dim orange lights of her apartment*
Ohh... on the subject of looking forward to things, I can hardly wait to get back to exercising with my new sparring partner. Working out with Milo is such a good thing for me... I can get an adrenelin fix and a social fix at the same time and... he says he enjoys it too.
*Blinks, looking unsure of herself but still smiling*
Specifically, he said he liked my company, which took me back at first - I mean, people don't usually like me unless I want something from them... then, of course, I make myself likable, seduce them and rob them blind whilst they're sleeping!
*cackles at first, but it rapidly disapates to a frown. Celia looks momentarily uneasy with herself*
There's that weird feeling again, the one I can't place... knotted stomach, uncomfortable in my own skin, flash of aggresssion...
*crosses her arms across her chest, hands clasping her shoulders. She bites her lip and remains quiet for a few moments before looking back to the camera*
I just hope Milo doesn't misread me. He knows I've done some morally questionable things in my past. But he also knows I haven't had it easy, maybe he understands that the ends justified the means...
*shakes her head with a faint smile, then takes another drink*
Ahh, I'm worrying again! Thinking too much instead of feeling.
Heh, as we were leaving the gym last night, I suggested we spend more time in between sessions socialising together and hinted that my dinner dress hasn't been used in a while...
*looks away from the camera, a distinctly girlish giggle escaping her*
Well, he certainly didn't object! It all feels so exciting and new to me... think I need this drink to steady my nerves!
*Celia raises her near-empty glass to the camera drone, flashing her dark smile*
Here's to addiction...
*She downs the remainder of her drink and stretches an arm out to the camera, shutting it off.
Video feed ends.*
2009-03-27
Uncharted Territory
*video feed begins.
Image snaps into focus; Celia is sat at a desk strewn with empty brandy bottles, cigarette packets and used nerve-stick vials. A warm orange lamp casts a sepia glow around her, the rest of the room in darkness. Her arms are outstretched towards the camera drone as she adjusts its position to her eye-level. She then takes a lit cigarette from an ashtray, gazing into the lens silently, expresionless.
The light accentuates a more softer appearance of her; she wears no make-up and her hair is tied back behind her head, a few loose tresses rise and fall gently across her face as she exhales smoke. Eventually, she speaks to the camera...*
It would appear that I don't need probes or wormholes to find myself lost and stranded in uncharted territory. My head is at odds with my feelings... I've never been here before and I don't know my way... this wasn't supposed to happen.
*Celia's well-kept neutral composure crumbles, her vacant eyes begin to look fearful, panicked*
What started out as an experiment has become an outright obsession, an addiction... I can't control this anymore... When there's no emotion to stimulate me, I feel so empty, so hollow. Being emotionally numb is nothing new to me, but now I've tasted intoxication...
*gives an involuntary shudder, throwing her cigarette back into the ashtray*
I can't bear the thought of going back to feeling nothing.
*sighs deeply, looking away from the camera, chewing on her bottom lip with clear anxiety.*
I've been offered help. Vince wants to help me understand my emotions and use them as a strength. I'm dubious about it though... not that I don't trust him, in fact I do trust him, completely. Our very lives depend upon that when we fly together. What I'm more worried about is letting someone I...
*looks thoughtful, searching for a suitable word*
...care about come so close. The thought of him coming to any harm makes my stomach knot. People I get close to end up being harmed.
*absently twists the two rings on her left hand silently for a few moments before resuming*
I think I've done the most sensible thing, though. Rather than go through the indignity of sitting on a fucking shrink's couch, I gave Vincent my dictaphone. If he truely believes he can help, everything I've been feeling lately is on there. I hope he can make better sense of it than I can.
*Celia tilts her head over the back of her seat, running her fingers through her hair letting it loose. After a deep sigh she leans forward again, unbrushed hair falling around her resigned expression*
I feel so sick. I can't think. I can't motivate myself to go to the gym, talk to my engineers or anything else useful.
*Takes a near-empty bottle of brandy from her desk pours the remainder into a glass. She takes a nerve-stick vial, tips the contents into her drink and swirls the bulbous glass around, allowing the alcohol and sedative to mix. She downs it in one gulp, grimacing.*
Am I really worth helping? What's in it for him? I haven't stopped once to think about how anybody else feels, I've been so wrapped up in myself.
*her eyelids grow heavy as her shoulders slump. She begins to tilt forward, reaching out a hand to the camera drone*
Does he have... any idea... of... what he's... getting... into...?
*a brief spasm of pain crosses her face before her head comes to rest on the desk. Her outstretched arm flails at the camera but misses, laying inert amongst the clutter. The camera keeps recording the comatose woman for another hour before going into auto-standby.
Video feed ends.*
2009-03-22
Minefields
*Audio feed begins.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Slow, measured steps of heavy boots can be heard pacing on a thick metal floor*
Sometimes I feel like I'm walking in a minefield.
All attention and focus is on exactly where I am, and I daren't move for fear of treading on something and blowing myself up.
*a lighter clicks several times in quick succession followed by a sharp inhale*
I've got to tread so carefully. This would be easy, I'm naturally paranoid, but it's more difficult when I actually find the danger so... exhilirating.
*stops pacing and pauses*
I'm beginning to discern the various feelings I have in certain situations. They're much different from the usual survival urges, they're stronger, more intense... sometimes I can't even think straight... I know that's not good, but it's like brandy or crash; heady and intoxicating.
*another quick inhale and the creak of a matress. Celia lowers her voice*
First example - Vincent. I see him briefly on comms the other night, looking rough. Very rough. And then suddenly my stomach goes cold, my pulse goes up and my mind starts racing - but I can't think because I'm so caught up in the feeling...
*takes another draw as she pauses*
And then the next night, I walk him back from the 'Hook to the medbay and see that he's going to be just fine and... this warm wave steals over me, my stomach unknots and I feel so, so relaxed. We spoke briefly of family, that issue that usually shuts me down cold, but he made it feel natural and comforting. I curled up in the chair, watching him sleep, grinning. My face still hurts from that.
*a faint sound of liquid being poured*
And yet, Kimochi makes me have different feelings altogether... and again, they feel wonderfully perculiar inside. Twice, at the party we attended at the new Three Sister's bar, she invoked this white-hot flash of... adrenylin, aggression... yet it was not entirely directed outwardly at her, it felt more... inside of me.
First time I felt it was when she gave Vince a deep kiss, a "prize" for our silly competition, which I must admit was very entertaining. Second time was when she left, seemingly not too bothered about his company. She keeps doing that. Savouring the kill, did she say to me once? I can't understand that line of thinking. You see what you want and you take it, what's the point in messing around?
*pauses to take a drink*
Third example - Milo. I admit, there's an obvious attraction to him, but not for the reasons I first thought. Sure, he's got cutting-edge accumen, Gallentean looks and as I found out, good physical form... I'd arranged a work-out session with him, so we had a spar before we left for the party. I enjoyed the excercise and the chance to get to know him better; I was surprised to learn that he too has things he would like to put behind him and had used a suppression implant. Ok, the thought of using one myself briefly crossed my mind... until he told me about the side effects.
*takes another drink and sighs*
But I got the most intense feelings when I saw how laid back he can be... he can be so serious sometimes, and yet at other times it seems like he hasn't a care in the world... It makes me feel lighter, worry melts away, smiling comes easily and naturally...
*leaves a lengthy pause, then the sound of pacing footsteps resumes*
How... what...
*gives a weary moan, with a hint of frustration*
How do I keep my focus when my insides are doing this to me? My head is screaming at me to stop, but...
*Celia drops her voice to a whisper, edged with conviction and a certain degree of passion*
I don't want to. It's better than ISK, or real Gallentean brandy, better than a night with a chamber-slave and falling asleep afterwards on a Sooth-Sayer...
I just want more...
*sighs heavily, leaving the dictaphone run without speaking for several minutes. A chronometer can be heard, soflty amidst the slience of the room... Tick. Tick. Tick.
Audio feed ends*
Clack. Clack. Clack. Slow, measured steps of heavy boots can be heard pacing on a thick metal floor*
Sometimes I feel like I'm walking in a minefield.
All attention and focus is on exactly where I am, and I daren't move for fear of treading on something and blowing myself up.
*a lighter clicks several times in quick succession followed by a sharp inhale*
I've got to tread so carefully. This would be easy, I'm naturally paranoid, but it's more difficult when I actually find the danger so... exhilirating.
*stops pacing and pauses*
I'm beginning to discern the various feelings I have in certain situations. They're much different from the usual survival urges, they're stronger, more intense... sometimes I can't even think straight... I know that's not good, but it's like brandy or crash; heady and intoxicating.
*another quick inhale and the creak of a matress. Celia lowers her voice*
First example - Vincent. I see him briefly on comms the other night, looking rough. Very rough. And then suddenly my stomach goes cold, my pulse goes up and my mind starts racing - but I can't think because I'm so caught up in the feeling...
*takes another draw as she pauses*
And then the next night, I walk him back from the 'Hook to the medbay and see that he's going to be just fine and... this warm wave steals over me, my stomach unknots and I feel so, so relaxed. We spoke briefly of family, that issue that usually shuts me down cold, but he made it feel natural and comforting. I curled up in the chair, watching him sleep, grinning. My face still hurts from that.
*a faint sound of liquid being poured*
And yet, Kimochi makes me have different feelings altogether... and again, they feel wonderfully perculiar inside. Twice, at the party we attended at the new Three Sister's bar, she invoked this white-hot flash of... adrenylin, aggression... yet it was not entirely directed outwardly at her, it felt more... inside of me.
First time I felt it was when she gave Vince a deep kiss, a "prize" for our silly competition, which I must admit was very entertaining. Second time was when she left, seemingly not too bothered about his company. She keeps doing that. Savouring the kill, did she say to me once? I can't understand that line of thinking. You see what you want and you take it, what's the point in messing around?
*pauses to take a drink*
Third example - Milo. I admit, there's an obvious attraction to him, but not for the reasons I first thought. Sure, he's got cutting-edge accumen, Gallentean looks and as I found out, good physical form... I'd arranged a work-out session with him, so we had a spar before we left for the party. I enjoyed the excercise and the chance to get to know him better; I was surprised to learn that he too has things he would like to put behind him and had used a suppression implant. Ok, the thought of using one myself briefly crossed my mind... until he told me about the side effects.
*takes another drink and sighs*
But I got the most intense feelings when I saw how laid back he can be... he can be so serious sometimes, and yet at other times it seems like he hasn't a care in the world... It makes me feel lighter, worry melts away, smiling comes easily and naturally...
*leaves a lengthy pause, then the sound of pacing footsteps resumes*
How... what...
*gives a weary moan, with a hint of frustration*
How do I keep my focus when my insides are doing this to me? My head is screaming at me to stop, but...
*Celia drops her voice to a whisper, edged with conviction and a certain degree of passion*
I don't want to. It's better than ISK, or real Gallentean brandy, better than a night with a chamber-slave and falling asleep afterwards on a Sooth-Sayer...
I just want more...
*sighs heavily, leaving the dictaphone run without speaking for several minutes. A chronometer can be heard, soflty amidst the slience of the room... Tick. Tick. Tick.
Audio feed ends*
2009-03-18
Delilah
*Audio feed begins*
How typical.
After finally finding myself a sense of peace and contentment, the universe decides to turn itself upside-down and inside-out.
Still, it would be foolish of me to see the Seyllin incident and the repercussions as a bad thing. A multitude of new possibilites, opportunites and horizons has opened and such events always bring out the best in people.
There was Serpentis, raising their PR by providing medical aid for the Seyllin evacuees. That'll open a few more lucrative contracts for them, I'll bet.
Then there's the shrewd marketeers, cashing in on sales of exploratory equipment. Milo has been looking very pleased with himself of late and I must admit I find myself pleased for him; within hours of the first anomalies being reported as consequence of the Seyllin event, he had devised a marketing strategy and set it into motion. That kind of quick, cool-heading thinking is admirable.
*sighs lightly*
As yet, I've heard no word from Dominations or the Directorate on how we should proceed in light of these incredible wormhole anomalies. I've only gathered scraps of information, rumours here, hushed whispers there. Some tell of extremely potent resources, others are becoming stranded, lost in uncharted systems, dooming themselves to the mercy of the self-destruct button.
Hah! Some are even talking of hostile beings...
Yeah, I've heard all that before - the tribal elders used to try to scare us as kids with their mystic bullshit to keep us from playing around the ganglands. Might've worked on some of those kids, but not me... Hah! Monsters indeed...
*allows herself a chuckle*
Still, I'm a smart girl with an eye for oportunity, so if Dominations or the Directorate order an expedition I'll certainly volunteer for escort duty.
Ah, that reminds me; my new cruiser is finished with its pre-flight checks and the crew roster completed. I was so glad Myhrial tipped me with some contacts for recruitment agencies - I was dreading having to interview the entire crew myself. I find capsuleers interesting company, but I really don't have the time or the patience to be talking to riff-raff. Once you've heard one, you've heard them all. Like those Gallentean adult holoreels, I guess - same dull plots, same dull motions, just different faces.
*a datapad chimes in the background*
Looking at the roster, I seem to have a mixed bag. Majority are Amarr; we're on an Imperial Crusade station after all. A few tribals, some Caldari freelancers, a dozen Gallente. Bah, why have the agency bothered with putting in their full names? Numbers will do.
*clatter of plastic on metal*
I suppose I'll give them a quick address before we leave dock later for the maiden flight.
I've named my new Rupture-class "Delilah", after a story I heard from the Scriptures. Not that I hold any faith in that work of fiction, but this one story struck a chord with me...
There was once a mighty paladin of Amarr, who won score after score of victories for the early Empire. The crusader, contrary to Amarr custom, had allowed his hair to grow long, claiming that he would only cut it when God had deemed his victories worthy and required him to fight no more. Delilah, a beautiful slave-girl in the pay of Amarr's enemies, used all her cunning and guile to seduce the noble warrior. As he lay sleeping in bed next to her, she took a blade and cut his hair. With his famous locks gone, the paladin had lost his own confidence and that of the Empire. Of course, the fool perished in the next battle he fought.
*laughs softly*
I hope my Delilah takes down her fair share of foolish warriors too!
*a creak of leather and the clicking of joints can be heard*
Physical training has been going very well. Beat my personal best running the station ring yesterday and knocked teeth out of a sparing partner on Monday. I'm going to need a new chamber-slave too, he's just not keeping up with me lately. My cough has cleared up and I haven't drank to excess or touched any drugs. This is good - when I want to focus, I know I can.
And focus I must; I have plenty to do and I've had quite enough prattling into the dictaphone for today.
*a click. Audio feed ends.*
How typical.
After finally finding myself a sense of peace and contentment, the universe decides to turn itself upside-down and inside-out.
Still, it would be foolish of me to see the Seyllin incident and the repercussions as a bad thing. A multitude of new possibilites, opportunites and horizons has opened and such events always bring out the best in people.
There was Serpentis, raising their PR by providing medical aid for the Seyllin evacuees. That'll open a few more lucrative contracts for them, I'll bet.
Then there's the shrewd marketeers, cashing in on sales of exploratory equipment. Milo has been looking very pleased with himself of late and I must admit I find myself pleased for him; within hours of the first anomalies being reported as consequence of the Seyllin event, he had devised a marketing strategy and set it into motion. That kind of quick, cool-heading thinking is admirable.
*sighs lightly*
As yet, I've heard no word from Dominations or the Directorate on how we should proceed in light of these incredible wormhole anomalies. I've only gathered scraps of information, rumours here, hushed whispers there. Some tell of extremely potent resources, others are becoming stranded, lost in uncharted systems, dooming themselves to the mercy of the self-destruct button.
Hah! Some are even talking of hostile beings...
Yeah, I've heard all that before - the tribal elders used to try to scare us as kids with their mystic bullshit to keep us from playing around the ganglands. Might've worked on some of those kids, but not me... Hah! Monsters indeed...
*allows herself a chuckle*
Still, I'm a smart girl with an eye for oportunity, so if Dominations or the Directorate order an expedition I'll certainly volunteer for escort duty.
Ah, that reminds me; my new cruiser is finished with its pre-flight checks and the crew roster completed. I was so glad Myhrial tipped me with some contacts for recruitment agencies - I was dreading having to interview the entire crew myself. I find capsuleers interesting company, but I really don't have the time or the patience to be talking to riff-raff. Once you've heard one, you've heard them all. Like those Gallentean adult holoreels, I guess - same dull plots, same dull motions, just different faces.
*a datapad chimes in the background*
Looking at the roster, I seem to have a mixed bag. Majority are Amarr; we're on an Imperial Crusade station after all. A few tribals, some Caldari freelancers, a dozen Gallente. Bah, why have the agency bothered with putting in their full names? Numbers will do.
*clatter of plastic on metal*
I suppose I'll give them a quick address before we leave dock later for the maiden flight.
I've named my new Rupture-class "Delilah", after a story I heard from the Scriptures. Not that I hold any faith in that work of fiction, but this one story struck a chord with me...
There was once a mighty paladin of Amarr, who won score after score of victories for the early Empire. The crusader, contrary to Amarr custom, had allowed his hair to grow long, claiming that he would only cut it when God had deemed his victories worthy and required him to fight no more. Delilah, a beautiful slave-girl in the pay of Amarr's enemies, used all her cunning and guile to seduce the noble warrior. As he lay sleeping in bed next to her, she took a blade and cut his hair. With his famous locks gone, the paladin had lost his own confidence and that of the Empire. Of course, the fool perished in the next battle he fought.
*laughs softly*
I hope my Delilah takes down her fair share of foolish warriors too!
*a creak of leather and the clicking of joints can be heard*
Physical training has been going very well. Beat my personal best running the station ring yesterday and knocked teeth out of a sparing partner on Monday. I'm going to need a new chamber-slave too, he's just not keeping up with me lately. My cough has cleared up and I haven't drank to excess or touched any drugs. This is good - when I want to focus, I know I can.
And focus I must; I have plenty to do and I've had quite enough prattling into the dictaphone for today.
*a click. Audio feed ends.*
2009-03-09
Ascent
*audio feed opens. Celia speaks softly, somewhat croaky*
I've been acting like a fucking teenager!
*begins to laugh, but is caught short by a brief coughing fit*
I should be livid with myself, but I'm not. I've lived these past few days, taking it all in... people, places... I've let myself do what I've denied myself for years - the chance to actually live a little and feel it.
*gives a gentle cough. A faint clink of glass can be heard, followed by the pouring of liquid*
And my promotion has made it all the more sweeter.
*lets out a slow, easy sigh*
It's an opportunity and challenge I fully embrace. But as the Commander says, with it comes much responsibility and I don't feel particularly responsible right now... I'll deal with it in the morning, I just want these last few minutes feeling like this, before I pass out.
*pauses, then begins a low chuckle*
Oh my... Sunday morning, waking up next to Vincent Pryce. I must've just lay there for about fifteen minutes, mind racing over every detail I could remember about the previous night... nothing happened, I'm sure of it. Nothing we would both regret, anyway. In fact, the last thing I remember about that night was feeling so relaxed, so calm.. I really didn't have a care in the world. For all his reckless abandon, I feel safe around him...
*leaves a very long pause. Coughs a little before continuing*
I can no longer deny that I've changed. I've taught myself not to care, not even for my own thoughts and feelings... things are different now, the small handfull of pilots that make up our Family are just that... Family. Something I've never had.
*a creak of leather and the rustle of soft fabric*
This badge confirms my acceptance into that Family. Trusted. Honoured. And I've committed myself to them, of my own free will.
*Celia's voice lifts with certain strength as she states the last phrase. She pauses again and coughs once*
I don't usually hold any regard for symbolism, but I got my hair cut just before the Ceremony. Losing the weight of those heavy dreads feels fantastic... my head feels lighter, clearer...
*Celia's voice rises and lowers in volume, as if she is moving her head around whilst talking into the mic*
The new guy, Jude, said he liked it. He seems a fascinating individual. There's a definitive edge to him I can't quite place...
*click of a lighter, followed by a racking coughing fit*
Oh fuck that, I really need to lay off smoking, drink and drugs for a bit. I need to get back into the gym before I let myself slide. And what the hell was I doing with nerve sticks last night?! Woke up only two hours ago in the Skyhook; place was deserted but for the cleaners and myself, slumped in a chair with an empty glass and two empty stick-vials in my hand!
*sighs with a slight rattle in her chest*
Back to business, now. Keep focused. Sure, I can live a little, but I must remain a professional.
*A yawn, followed by two thuds, then the creak of matress springs. Celia sighs and speaks in a barely audiable whisper*
All my life, building walls to keep others out and me safe. Brick by brick, steadily upwards until I couldn't get out even if I wanted to. After years of trying to rid myself of those who wanted to control me, I end up imprisoning myself.
But no longer. Things have changed. The walls will stay; they have their uses, after all.
But now I have wings with which to ascend them.
*Celia sighs contently before the audio feed ends*
I've been acting like a fucking teenager!
*begins to laugh, but is caught short by a brief coughing fit*
I should be livid with myself, but I'm not. I've lived these past few days, taking it all in... people, places... I've let myself do what I've denied myself for years - the chance to actually live a little and feel it.
*gives a gentle cough. A faint clink of glass can be heard, followed by the pouring of liquid*
And my promotion has made it all the more sweeter.
*lets out a slow, easy sigh*
It's an opportunity and challenge I fully embrace. But as the Commander says, with it comes much responsibility and I don't feel particularly responsible right now... I'll deal with it in the morning, I just want these last few minutes feeling like this, before I pass out.
*pauses, then begins a low chuckle*
Oh my... Sunday morning, waking up next to Vincent Pryce. I must've just lay there for about fifteen minutes, mind racing over every detail I could remember about the previous night... nothing happened, I'm sure of it. Nothing we would both regret, anyway. In fact, the last thing I remember about that night was feeling so relaxed, so calm.. I really didn't have a care in the world. For all his reckless abandon, I feel safe around him...
*leaves a very long pause. Coughs a little before continuing*
I can no longer deny that I've changed. I've taught myself not to care, not even for my own thoughts and feelings... things are different now, the small handfull of pilots that make up our Family are just that... Family. Something I've never had.
*a creak of leather and the rustle of soft fabric*
This badge confirms my acceptance into that Family. Trusted. Honoured. And I've committed myself to them, of my own free will.
*Celia's voice lifts with certain strength as she states the last phrase. She pauses again and coughs once*
I don't usually hold any regard for symbolism, but I got my hair cut just before the Ceremony. Losing the weight of those heavy dreads feels fantastic... my head feels lighter, clearer...
*Celia's voice rises and lowers in volume, as if she is moving her head around whilst talking into the mic*
The new guy, Jude, said he liked it. He seems a fascinating individual. There's a definitive edge to him I can't quite place...
*click of a lighter, followed by a racking coughing fit*
Oh fuck that, I really need to lay off smoking, drink and drugs for a bit. I need to get back into the gym before I let myself slide. And what the hell was I doing with nerve sticks last night?! Woke up only two hours ago in the Skyhook; place was deserted but for the cleaners and myself, slumped in a chair with an empty glass and two empty stick-vials in my hand!
*sighs with a slight rattle in her chest*
Back to business, now. Keep focused. Sure, I can live a little, but I must remain a professional.
*A yawn, followed by two thuds, then the creak of matress springs. Celia sighs and speaks in a barely audiable whisper*
All my life, building walls to keep others out and me safe. Brick by brick, steadily upwards until I couldn't get out even if I wanted to. After years of trying to rid myself of those who wanted to control me, I end up imprisoning myself.
But no longer. Things have changed. The walls will stay; they have their uses, after all.
But now I have wings with which to ascend them.
*Celia sighs contently before the audio feed ends*
2009-03-06
The Chapel
*audio feed begins. Faintly in the background, a choir can be heard*
They look so serene and joyful when they sing.
All that emotion, yet their intended audience will never applaud or thank them. So why do they do it? What's in it for them?
I wonder if it's the emotion itself that is the end goal. I've always thought feelings were a means to an end, tools to be used and manipulated, not the end in itself.
All that emotion, yet their intended audience will never applaud or thank them. So why do they do it? What's in it for them?
I wonder if it's the emotion itself that is the end goal. I've always thought feelings were a means to an end, tools to be used and manipulated, not the end in itself.
*A slow, echoed click-click of heeled boots on stone can be heard*
I've never been in an Amarrian Chapel before. The architecture is fascinating. I guess this must be one of the better ones, being an Imperial Crusade station. That pillar must be supporting a tremendous weight and those archways... how do they do not just cave in?
The architect must have been paid handsomely to put so much effort into this. Or did he do it out of faith, devotion... love?
*a long pause*
I wish I could understand what they're singing. How long has it been since I last sung myself? Last time was in that bar where I first met that bastard Claude. Started out filling in for the act who couldn't make their gig because their transport was caught up in a gate shoot-out. I didn't do too badly, I even got a regular slot on the graveyard shift. It was easy money on top of my regular bar wages, so I took it on. Hah! I still remember by best compliment from a sober punter, something like, "Yeah, you look smouldering, your voice is deep, smooth and pitch perfect... just there's no feeling, no soul in the words". Hmph.
*click of a lighter*
I enjoyed listening to Commander Yishal's playing the other night; I can't remember what those instruments are called now, dammit, it's a Khanid sort, with strings... I dunno. But it felt good to hear it, not to mention seeing my usually strict and coldly efficient commander relaxed like that. I felt that same mesmorising calm I felt when I watched Vince and Kimmi dancing that...
*Celia stops abruptly. A male voice can heard, close, but out of the dictaphone's range to pick up his words clearly*
If God doesn't want me to smoke in here, he can tell me himself.
*Celia's tone is even and ice-cold. The male voice replies, a little louder but still unclear.*
My Master?
*A cold, cackling laugh reverberates*
If you really want to speak to my authorities, Padre, you're going to have to travel to Curse and demand an audience with the Dominations.
*The man's voice raises in an angry tone. The feed is suddenly cut*
2009-03-02
Rungs of the Ladder
*audio feed opens.*
Only managed a few hours of flight-time last week. Each sortee was profitable, so I am pleased with that. Still need more flight-time however, especially in combat situations. Still tending to succumb to confusion occasionally and send conflicting messages through the pod interface. Only experience is going to help me with this, so I need to keep seeking out opportunities.
Even more so, as I'm eager to prove myself to be elegible for promotion. I've familiarised myself with the basics of leadership, the books and materials kindly provided by Seppu. However, keeping a cool head isn't something you can hardcode into a skillbook and upload to your neural-net. I've really gotta work at this.
*pauses a moment*
Again, the prospect of promotion has evoked new thoughts and dare I say feelings that seem strange and alien to me. It's certainly vastly different to my last forray onto the promotional ladder, when Tomas gave me my first post at Claude's company. Promotion was more or less inevitable, I mean, I was the CEO's wife for a start! Still, I had to put in a few hours work here and there with various managers to advance, although most of that kind of work was spent on my back. And I'm sure Claude knew all about those incidents and was complicit with it all; his way of rewarding his lackeys, the bastard.
I sincerely hope it won't be neccessary in PRETA; I don't feel entirely comfortable doing that sort of thing anymore...
*clears her throat*
At the time, the strategy worked so I have no regrets. Within the space of a couple of years, I was a COO and a minor shareholder in the company. I think it was then I had my first pang of desire to become a capsuleer. There was no way the RMS were going to take me back in as a recruit, so the only other way to get in was through a hefty cash fee and a lot of bribery.
*laughs lightly*
Getting myself in the CEO's seat and making myself sole shareholder was probably the most challenging scheme I've ever undertaken. I couldn't have done it without Tomas's help.
As Claude's consigliere it was tricky trying to drive a wedge between them. But I found it eventually - the pair used to argue lots about whether to take the corp off-planet and into space - Claude hated the idea, Tomas thought it the way forward. I promised Tomas to deliver his wish if I were CEO and it wasn't long before Claude had his unfortunate shuttle accident. Tomas quickly bundled the paperwork through the courts and within a couple of weeks everything was in position...
So, there I was - CEO and sole shareholder of a sprawling planetside corp. One hundred and fifty thousand employees suddenly looking up to me, a girl born into poverty on Pator. Before I could become the latest "rags to riches" success story of the Federation, I had the business dissolved and left Tomas dead on my office floor.
*a lighter clicks*
I've never liked being responsible for anybody. I find it much easier to remove people completely than to have to be responsible for them. Yet promotion within PRETA will demand that I take up responsibility. When I think about my current colleagues it feels completely different to the apathy and disregard I had for those at DKAT - it's strange, I don't think of myself first - I end up doing crazy things like keeping twenty million ISK-worth of Assault Frigate in a fight even as parts of its structure go flying past the camera drone. Is this that "faith" that Commander Yishal and some of the more religious members believe in?
*a long exhale*
Once again, I ask myself more questions than I answer. Maybe I don't have the answers... maybe it's time to drop the guard a little and confide in someone I can trust...
Gah, maybe this, maybe that... I used to be so sure of myself!
*a loud clatter, as if the dictaphone has been thrown or dropped. The feed ends*
Only managed a few hours of flight-time last week. Each sortee was profitable, so I am pleased with that. Still need more flight-time however, especially in combat situations. Still tending to succumb to confusion occasionally and send conflicting messages through the pod interface. Only experience is going to help me with this, so I need to keep seeking out opportunities.
Even more so, as I'm eager to prove myself to be elegible for promotion. I've familiarised myself with the basics of leadership, the books and materials kindly provided by Seppu. However, keeping a cool head isn't something you can hardcode into a skillbook and upload to your neural-net. I've really gotta work at this.
*pauses a moment*
Again, the prospect of promotion has evoked new thoughts and dare I say feelings that seem strange and alien to me. It's certainly vastly different to my last forray onto the promotional ladder, when Tomas gave me my first post at Claude's company. Promotion was more or less inevitable, I mean, I was the CEO's wife for a start! Still, I had to put in a few hours work here and there with various managers to advance, although most of that kind of work was spent on my back. And I'm sure Claude knew all about those incidents and was complicit with it all; his way of rewarding his lackeys, the bastard.
I sincerely hope it won't be neccessary in PRETA; I don't feel entirely comfortable doing that sort of thing anymore...
*clears her throat*
At the time, the strategy worked so I have no regrets. Within the space of a couple of years, I was a COO and a minor shareholder in the company. I think it was then I had my first pang of desire to become a capsuleer. There was no way the RMS were going to take me back in as a recruit, so the only other way to get in was through a hefty cash fee and a lot of bribery.
*laughs lightly*
Getting myself in the CEO's seat and making myself sole shareholder was probably the most challenging scheme I've ever undertaken. I couldn't have done it without Tomas's help.
As Claude's consigliere it was tricky trying to drive a wedge between them. But I found it eventually - the pair used to argue lots about whether to take the corp off-planet and into space - Claude hated the idea, Tomas thought it the way forward. I promised Tomas to deliver his wish if I were CEO and it wasn't long before Claude had his unfortunate shuttle accident. Tomas quickly bundled the paperwork through the courts and within a couple of weeks everything was in position...
So, there I was - CEO and sole shareholder of a sprawling planetside corp. One hundred and fifty thousand employees suddenly looking up to me, a girl born into poverty on Pator. Before I could become the latest "rags to riches" success story of the Federation, I had the business dissolved and left Tomas dead on my office floor.
*a lighter clicks*
I've never liked being responsible for anybody. I find it much easier to remove people completely than to have to be responsible for them. Yet promotion within PRETA will demand that I take up responsibility. When I think about my current colleagues it feels completely different to the apathy and disregard I had for those at DKAT - it's strange, I don't think of myself first - I end up doing crazy things like keeping twenty million ISK-worth of Assault Frigate in a fight even as parts of its structure go flying past the camera drone. Is this that "faith" that Commander Yishal and some of the more religious members believe in?
*a long exhale*
Once again, I ask myself more questions than I answer. Maybe I don't have the answers... maybe it's time to drop the guard a little and confide in someone I can trust...
Gah, maybe this, maybe that... I used to be so sure of myself!
*a loud clatter, as if the dictaphone has been thrown or dropped. The feed ends*
2009-02-22
Feeling Something
Audio feed begins
I woke this morning to find my name on CONCORD's Kill On Sight list, a bounty on my head, a murderous hangover and the taste of absinthe in my mouth.
sound of a lighter clicking followed by a gentle inhale of breath
I spent the rest of the day lying in my bed, deep in thought. I found it so strange how at this point, when my life has never been fraught with so much danger, I actually find a sense of peace and quiet. I thought about how, ironically, everything seems so much simpler now; there is the Family, and then there is everything else.
another soft inhale of breath
Then I started to think about how far I've come in such a short space of time, since joining the Family. I began to realise the extent of which this organsation has changed me, yet I've refused to admit it, up 'til now.
gives a faint laugh
I feel like I'm starting to... care? Hah, maybe too strong a word, but I have been feeling something lately and that is certainly unusual!
Before the absinthe went to my head last night, I remember helping Milo to the sickbay after he unexpectantly collapsed at our table. As Zukko and I hauled him down the corridors I started to recognise the importance of the Family sticking together, supporting one another. I thought about that incident a few days ago, where I had rushed in and jumped to Milo's call for support. I didn't think about it at all; my usual survival instincts evaporated... I was fucking furious at myself for letting that happen... yet now I feel strangely consoled by the fact I had acted on an instinct to help another...
I even stuck around at the sickbay for a few minutes, making sure the Meds were giving me a straight answer.
Celia's voice drops low, almost to a whisper
I even stuck around at the sickbay for a few minutes, making sure the Meds were giving me a straight answer.
Celia's voice drops low, almost to a whisper
Later in the evening, after a few brandies and an absinthe, I felt something else - and I'm sure it wasn't just the absinthe... I still can't quite define it...
pauses to inhale
I was watching Vince trying his best with Kimochi; I sat quietly enjoying my drinks, marvelling at Kimochi's cool, her expertese at handling Vince's advances. Vince had obviously made some sort of prior arrangement with the staff, as the lights dimmed and soft music began to play. Then the pair danced in the lit area near the window, completely oblivious to everything but each other. I felt mesmorised, completely entranced as I watched them. I felt something I've never felt before - or maybe I have and not paid it any attention - but...
sighs deeply
I honestly can't explain it.
Celia's voice gathers a little more strength
Vince tried to seal the deal with a kiss and something most unexpected happened - Kimmi lost her nerve and left! Now that completely span my head around... she had him right there, he would've done anything for her! I remember having the urge to grab him myself after seeing him standing in that soft light, crestfallen, alone and vulnerable...
leaves a long pause, then a deep sigh
Perhaps I am nothing but a soulless opportunitist. It suits my line of work. It's got me this far... am I getting worked up over nothing?
Yet here I am, pacing around my quarters with a dictaphone, questioning myself!
Something has definitely changed. A door has closed and a new one has opened... I don't know what I expect to find behind it, but these recordings might help me keep track of myself and make sense of it all...
A long pause, then a click as the feed is cut.
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