Nightshift 62: Morgue

[she_is_ruin]

If not for the cold seeping into her body, Yomi might not have bothered coming out of her slumber. The darkness in the depths of her mind was warm, safe; she was cradled in oblivion, comfortable, the same feeling she had had as a girl during dark winter nights when she had sat in front of the space heater and father had told her stories. Home. She didn’t want to let that sense of belonging go. She craved it in secret places she didn’t know she had.

But like the tide, the darkness was slowly receding to reveal what waited underneath--an onslaught of sensations that resembled a beach littered with thousands of shards of broken glass. There was no safe place to step on that dead soil. Every time Yomi’s mind brushed a sharp edge it released a starburst of pain, and she badly wanted to go back, to return to that sea of gentle nothingness where nothing could hurt her.

And she couldn’t hurt anyone.

Wait, why did that sound so familiar? Had she been the one to think that? Why… would that…

Her fingertips and toes were sore from the cold, and the discomfort strangling her nerves was what drew her back into her body more than anything else. Something wasn’t right. Many somethings. Her body hurt in unusual places, and there was something soft on her face that cast her shallow breaths back against her skin. Her heartbeat was audible in her ears. With the darkness all around her, it almost enough to convince her she was still in that comfortable place from before. But it wasn’t the same. Reality demanded attention and it nagged at her like the hum of a live wire.

You’re not--

What? Whose voice was that in her head? She wasn’t what?

It was with the fumbling of a disoriented child that Yomi ended up stretching her hand along the cool metal surface underneath her. It extended to the left and right of her, then up, up above her head and over her in a suffocatingly tight formation. She slapped at it softly. No give. There was still something covering her face and she worked it off until it pooled at her collar, letting in a caress of cold air. A sheet or a blanket, she thought.

The moment she opened her eyes properly, she opened them to an impenetrable blackness, and that confused her the most. Why? Why was she here and why did it hurt? It made sense if she couldn’t see anything, because you couldn’t see anything when you were--

Were…

Wait. Wait a minute!

When you’re dead. And you’re not dead. You’re still alive.

Yomi couldn’t breathe and although she opened her mouth to suck in air, nothing came. No, she couldn’t possibly be…? She dug her fingertips in with more purpose, but the metal of the chamber around her was solid and gave her no answers. A shrill sound left her and it was the sound of her own voice, high and rough with panic, that positively let her know that it was true, that this wasn’t death or even life after death. She was still alive. Oh god, alive… But no, no, no one could have survived what had happened. Her body had been broken and scattered, too much for the sesshouseki’s debilitated healing to repair. No human could have put her back together. Could be holding her together.

She wasn’t alone in the coffin-like unit, and that knowledge made tears spill from the corners of her eyes.

Bucking upward only served to bang her head against the shelf, but Yomi didn’t stop--couldn't, not with terror climbing her throat with burning hands. She thrashed, beating her fists against the sides and roof until she could feel her bones begin to bruise and heal and bruise all over again, the blows seeming to fall into a rhythm with her internal protests: no, no, no, no! That was when the screaming started. The screams were not sounds of a sane person claiming their second chance, but the wild shrieks of something that knew it shouldn’t exist. A part of Yomi felt that if she could scream hard enough, it would just go on and on and on and she would die from a lack of air before she had to face another moment as she was. Alive.

This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t, not again. She couldn’t still be… here!

Comments

sorry for the delay, guys

[avengingfists]

Rose approached and Ilia couldn't deny herself any longer. Lifting her shaky arms, Ilia carefully encircled the girl. It took every ounce of self-control she had to not squeeze Rose too tightly. Part of her surrendered to the need for tactile clinginess and her hands grasped at the thin fabric that clothed Rose.

She was freezing, like she really had just come back to life minutes before now. It was so impossible to imagine. Ilia squeezed her eyes tight, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. It was just so surreal.

"You should be dead, you should be... but you're alive and... and that's what matters." Lana had been right. Ilia was thankful she had come, but she did have one more task ahead of herself.

"Okay, we'll take you someplace warm." Ilia cleared her throat and retreated from the hug, her hands rubbing up and down Rose's arms to try and return circulation to them. "I need to check around. Just in the other... cells, okay? Then we'll go back to the rooms and get you some blankets and things."

Ilia suddenly wished she had a flask of whiskey on her. Rose probably needed water more than anything, but the heat from the alcohol would probably have done a world of good for her internal body temperature.

[unpriest]

Seishin watched silently as Silvestri-san embraced Rose-chan, having no intention to disturb their embrace. It must have been awful to wake up surrounded by cold and unfriendly steel, all alone. His presence hardly changed anything in regards to that, but he was nonetheless thankful that they had come.

He blinked when Ilia said she needed to check the other...cells. Were there even more people in here? There was the other girl -- Seishin offered her a worried glance, but at least a friend had come for her -- which must have meant more people had faced death that night, all for the sake of Landel's amusement.

[lovecraftcomplex]

Being hugged was a fairly novel experience, and hugs that came without the intent of scoring points or other forms of arcane parental brinkwomanship even more so. Rose patted Ilia's hair like she was some form of wild animal. Ilia smelled faintly of wine, which was comfortingly familiar.

"Yes. We shouldn't leave anyone here. Unless they are, in fact, corpses, in which case the ideal course of action is unclear. If we extract them now, before their resurrection is complete, I'm afraid they might spoil. Or be eaten." She had to stop and take a breath, which was excruciating, but being unable to talk would be worse. "Neither of which is what I would call a positive outcome." Her knees were trembling, and the edges of her vision were rarrowing again. She slipped out of Ilia's arms and back onto the floor. "I'm not going to be much help. I'll just wait here until you're done."

[avengingfists]

"Let's just hope there is no one else here to find, then," Ilia said, allowing Rose to slip away and move back to the floor. Ilia didn't like the sound of her breathing. It was too heavy, but her lungs had been punctured if last night's battle was to be believed. Breathing was probably the hardest thing for Rose to do at this point.

Ilia took a moment to run a hand from the top of Rose's head and caress her cheek, then stood up. "I'll only be a second."

Steeling herself for any more surprises that could come her way, Ilia made her way to the cells and began to swiftly check them. Her movements were almost mechanic in the way she rushed through them, like a secretary browsing files. So far she was lucky that there were no corpses to see, but she didn't dare risk missing the only other important one that might be here. Lana would be terribly upset if Ilia didn't give a full report.