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[OTA] a citadel contractor
WHO: "Havoc"/"Carmine" and YOU
WHAT: a Contractor suffers iron poisoning, goes shopping for an execution, hits the training grounds, and bakes up a storm
WHERE: Citadel infirmary, kitchens, and private rooms, + Achamoth shopping district
WHEN: Late Firaseri (post-raid) - through Sekiseri (until [redacted])
WARNINGS: none ATM beyond a lot of lies and bribing with baked good
01 ⚠ IRON POISONING [BACKDATED TO POST-RAID]
[For two days after the raid on Achamoth, the woman who calls her Carmine almost seems to disappear. Perhaps that is not so strange, seeing as she had been a somewhat unobstrusive presence even after her recruitment to the Kenoma's cause, quiet and small and seemingly obedient. But though she had distinguished herself somewhat against the Sanctifier, powers she did not explain to others somehow affecting the beast again and again and again as she attacked from a safe distance, her body lit by the neon glow of radiation...
She does not go out to celebrate their victory. She is not seen anywhere gloating, drinking, or helping out with the damage. Instead,]
DAY ONE. [There is a red-haired woman curled up in one of the beds amidst the many injured Achamites and occasional aion in the Citadel's infirmary. There is no blood on her sheets or bandages on her body, but she seems to be in... a great deal of pain. Perhaps it is more proper to call it discomfort, actually. Her underweight, bony body is curled in tight and defensive around a cramping stomach, and she looks about one wrong inhale away from vomiting.
But she can't, and from her bed in the far corner of the infirmary, the space in the room with the best view and no way to sneak up behind... she lays on her side and rests her body as best she can, even as her mind stays sharp and alert. She consumed far too much blood to fulfill her obeisance in far too short a time after five years going without. She isn't surprised at her body's reaction...
But she is terribly inconvenienced, and vulnerable in a way that sets a paranoid Contractor's mind on edge.]
DAY TWO. [If anyone does try and seek her out... The door will be answered by her retainer, a swarthy, somewhat older man with sun-hardened features half-hidden by facial hair. The lights in the rooms behind him seem to be dimmed. Upon identifying the visitor as an aion, however, he inclines his head respectfully, a hand upon his heart.]
Miss Carmine is feeling under the weather. May I be of assistance, honorable aion?
02 ⚠ FEMININE WILES [BACKDATED TO PRE-EXECUTION]
[There is to be an execution, and the Kenoma will be invited. Her retainer had delivered the news, and "Carmine"... Does not have anything suitable to wear. When left to her own devices, she preferred to choose her clothing purely for their practicality, but when blending in to certain societies or cultures... methods of dress become more important symbols of class and intent. She'd worn plenty of uniforms, dresses, and costumes that did not belong to her nor suit her preferences during her freelance years after becoming a Contractor, but...
Fashion, in and of itself, is not a strong point of hers. It would be possible to request her retainer simply bring her something appropriate, but... Going out to do it herself allowed her to observe certain things along the way that she already intended to inspect, and so-
"Carmine" is out shopping, and at some point finds herself in a boutique in one of the more wealthy fashion district of the city, staring at a rack of clothing and not realizing (nor particularly caring) how dead the look in her eyes is. Despite all the colors and styles available, she feels no emotion or taste in aesthetic to guide her choice beyond "something that appears not too celebratory" and "something appropriate for an execution". But in Achamoth... What shape did that take?
She has been staring at the garment rack for quite some time.]
03 ⚠ CONDITIONING
[It might seem strange, to see someone at the training grounds who looks as if she could be blown over in a stiff wind. But "Carmine" is there nonetheless, dressed in form-fitting stretch clothing fit for exercise... but perhaps a bit worrying, when despite how much skin she had covered it presented clearly how bony her frame was, how undernourished and atrophied she was.
But she stretches dutifully in a corner of the training grounds. She seems to know exactly how to do it, her body moves through the motions fluidly and without pause to consider what she ought to do, as if she might be experienced with such things even if her condition implies she certainly hasn't been doing anything of the sort for some time. When she catches sight of another aion looking in her direction, though, she pauses, mid-stretch, cocking her head.]
... You don't want to spar, do you?
[Maybe that's supposed to be a joke.]
04 ⚠ COOKINGMAMA AUNT
[She is unaccustomed to working in a team as large as the Kenoma sect is. In her years as a Contractor, as "Havoc" she had largely worked alone, doing freelance work across the world for whichever government was willing to pay the most. As "Carmine", she'd only had to deal with a four-man cell, one of whom had to nap for her obeisance and couldn't speak when asleep, one of which was a reticent human, and one of which was... Well, Amber had been an odd one, but.
It may be beneficial to put more work into endearing herself to the others, to a certain extent. She looks for the balance between looking overeager and too detached, and in her search... Well. The Regressor she had once been, in a life that she no longer felt any emotional connection to despite her ability to recall the memories, had apparently forged bonds that way. The Contractor could use it.
So she goes to the kitchen.]
A (STILL BAKIN'). [With an apron tied over her dark clothing, her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a kerchief tying back her somewhat uncared for hair, "Carmine" seems hard at work, rolling dough here, folding in cheese here, slicing fruit here, checking on something delightful smelling in the oven... But when someone else enters the kitchens, she looks up from her work in order to put a smile on, wiping her brow with the back of a flour-covered wrist.]
Sorry, am I in the way... ?
B (SPECIAL DELIVERY). [The results of her labor are many, and once they are ready, while still hot and fresh... She sets about seeing them delivered. Whether they return to their private quarters to find a small, cloth-wrapped package with a simple note that reads "please enjoy - carmine or her retainer manages to pass the package to theirs or even the aion themselves...
Each Kenoma will receive either: 1/3 of a loaf of rum and walnut sweetbread, a quarter slice of a cheese-filled pie pastry, or small bowl of plum dumplings.
They're well-made and delicious, if one chooses to eat them.]
WHAT: a Contractor suffers iron poisoning, goes shopping for an execution, hits the training grounds, and bakes up a storm
WHERE: Citadel infirmary, kitchens, and private rooms, + Achamoth shopping district
WHEN: Late Firaseri (post-raid) - through Sekiseri (until [redacted])
WARNINGS: none ATM beyond a lot of lies and bribing with baked good
01 ⚠ IRON POISONING [BACKDATED TO POST-RAID]
[For two days after the raid on Achamoth, the woman who calls her Carmine almost seems to disappear. Perhaps that is not so strange, seeing as she had been a somewhat unobstrusive presence even after her recruitment to the Kenoma's cause, quiet and small and seemingly obedient. But though she had distinguished herself somewhat against the Sanctifier, powers she did not explain to others somehow affecting the beast again and again and again as she attacked from a safe distance, her body lit by the neon glow of radiation...
She does not go out to celebrate their victory. She is not seen anywhere gloating, drinking, or helping out with the damage. Instead,]
DAY ONE. [There is a red-haired woman curled up in one of the beds amidst the many injured Achamites and occasional aion in the Citadel's infirmary. There is no blood on her sheets or bandages on her body, but she seems to be in... a great deal of pain. Perhaps it is more proper to call it discomfort, actually. Her underweight, bony body is curled in tight and defensive around a cramping stomach, and she looks about one wrong inhale away from vomiting.
But she can't, and from her bed in the far corner of the infirmary, the space in the room with the best view and no way to sneak up behind... she lays on her side and rests her body as best she can, even as her mind stays sharp and alert. She consumed far too much blood to fulfill her obeisance in far too short a time after five years going without. She isn't surprised at her body's reaction...
But she is terribly inconvenienced, and vulnerable in a way that sets a paranoid Contractor's mind on edge.]
DAY TWO. [If anyone does try and seek her out... The door will be answered by her retainer, a swarthy, somewhat older man with sun-hardened features half-hidden by facial hair. The lights in the rooms behind him seem to be dimmed. Upon identifying the visitor as an aion, however, he inclines his head respectfully, a hand upon his heart.]
Miss Carmine is feeling under the weather. May I be of assistance, honorable aion?
02 ⚠ FEMININE WILES [BACKDATED TO PRE-EXECUTION]
[There is to be an execution, and the Kenoma will be invited. Her retainer had delivered the news, and "Carmine"... Does not have anything suitable to wear. When left to her own devices, she preferred to choose her clothing purely for their practicality, but when blending in to certain societies or cultures... methods of dress become more important symbols of class and intent. She'd worn plenty of uniforms, dresses, and costumes that did not belong to her nor suit her preferences during her freelance years after becoming a Contractor, but...
Fashion, in and of itself, is not a strong point of hers. It would be possible to request her retainer simply bring her something appropriate, but... Going out to do it herself allowed her to observe certain things along the way that she already intended to inspect, and so-
"Carmine" is out shopping, and at some point finds herself in a boutique in one of the more wealthy fashion district of the city, staring at a rack of clothing and not realizing (nor particularly caring) how dead the look in her eyes is. Despite all the colors and styles available, she feels no emotion or taste in aesthetic to guide her choice beyond "something that appears not too celebratory" and "something appropriate for an execution". But in Achamoth... What shape did that take?
She has been staring at the garment rack for quite some time.]
03 ⚠ CONDITIONING
[It might seem strange, to see someone at the training grounds who looks as if she could be blown over in a stiff wind. But "Carmine" is there nonetheless, dressed in form-fitting stretch clothing fit for exercise... but perhaps a bit worrying, when despite how much skin she had covered it presented clearly how bony her frame was, how undernourished and atrophied she was.
But she stretches dutifully in a corner of the training grounds. She seems to know exactly how to do it, her body moves through the motions fluidly and without pause to consider what she ought to do, as if she might be experienced with such things even if her condition implies she certainly hasn't been doing anything of the sort for some time. When she catches sight of another aion looking in her direction, though, she pauses, mid-stretch, cocking her head.]
... You don't want to spar, do you?
[Maybe that's supposed to be a joke.]
04 ⚠ COOKING
[She is unaccustomed to working in a team as large as the Kenoma sect is. In her years as a Contractor, as "Havoc" she had largely worked alone, doing freelance work across the world for whichever government was willing to pay the most. As "Carmine", she'd only had to deal with a four-man cell, one of whom had to nap for her obeisance and couldn't speak when asleep, one of which was a reticent human, and one of which was... Well, Amber had been an odd one, but.
It may be beneficial to put more work into endearing herself to the others, to a certain extent. She looks for the balance between looking overeager and too detached, and in her search... Well. The Regressor she had once been, in a life that she no longer felt any emotional connection to despite her ability to recall the memories, had apparently forged bonds that way. The Contractor could use it.
So she goes to the kitchen.]
A (STILL BAKIN'). [With an apron tied over her dark clothing, her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a kerchief tying back her somewhat uncared for hair, "Carmine" seems hard at work, rolling dough here, folding in cheese here, slicing fruit here, checking on something delightful smelling in the oven... But when someone else enters the kitchens, she looks up from her work in order to put a smile on, wiping her brow with the back of a flour-covered wrist.]
Sorry, am I in the way... ?
B (SPECIAL DELIVERY). [The results of her labor are many, and once they are ready, while still hot and fresh... She sets about seeing them delivered. Whether they return to their private quarters to find a small, cloth-wrapped package with a simple note that reads "please enjoy - carmine or her retainer manages to pass the package to theirs or even the aion themselves...
Each Kenoma will receive either: 1/3 of a loaf of rum and walnut sweetbread, a quarter slice of a cheese-filled pie pastry, or small bowl of plum dumplings.
They're well-made and delicious, if one chooses to eat them.]
03
What he finds there does not fill him with much hope, and her suggestion they spar gets a disparaging smile. If he'd seen her against the Sanctifier, he'd not be so ready to dismiss her out of hand... but his attention had been on the Pyres, and the Pleromans trying to reach them, and not on the much grander battle in the skies above]
Achamoth's lost enough without my killing what defenders remain, I think.
[Still, there's something familiar about her; he regards her sidelong, trying to place where he'd seen her last]
You were at the execution. [Statement, more than question]