STATUS:
The Interest Check (Casual) for my RP is live: A University RP, but you're a magical humanoid alien from an alternate world who must integrate with the humans. If that sounds interesting, take a look!
8 days ago
Current
The Interest Check (Casual) for my RP is live: A University RP, but you're a magical humanoid alien from an alternate world who must integrate with the humans. If that sounds interesting, take a look!
4
likes
14 days ago
Enjoying the Holiday Break before our story continues. I hope everyone is well and enjoying their roleplays as well. Long and prosperous RPs for the New Year <3
1
like
1 mo ago
I love Studio Ghibli <3
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likes
1 mo ago
For anyone out there that feels wronged, you will never heal until you allow yourself to move on. Wallowing in the past will only cause you more pain. It is time to move on.
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likes
5 mos ago
That one concept you've been dying to use in an RP for forever, but for one reason or another, never got to use yet! lol
Oh! I'm sorry. I honestly didn't realize I was bringing in zombification into the plot. I genuinely thought that's what happens to humans when they first get infected with the stigma, like that plant in real life that turns ants into zombie-ants. lol
We can totally retcon the zombification part of my post if it isn't befitting for the plot.
► Age - Twenty-Four. ► Gender - Male. ► Sexuality - Closeted Homosexual. ► Nickname - N/A. ► Occupation - Business Analyst. ► Qualifications - BS in Business Administration. ► Residence - Washington, D.C.
▼ PHYSICALITY
► Scars - N.A. ► Tattoos - N.A. ► Piercings - N.A. ► Style - Oleander doesn't have a particularly unique dress style. It often depends on the time of year and the weather. In the spring and summer he generally wears shorts and t-shirts. In the fall and winter, he wears sweaters. In the office, where it seems to always be cold, he wears sweaters there too. Very standard attire, nothing super flashy or over the top. However, a distinct quality about his clothes is that they always appear a bit vintage or used. This makes sense, because he gets most of his clothes second hand; thrift stores, consignment shops, boutiques, etc..
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LIFE AT RITMAN
During his high school days at Ritman, Oleander's peers used to refer to him as "that cute African guy"; although contemporarily this kind of statement isn't very welcomed. However, Oleander never did live up to the stereotype that people often assumed of him as the child of Nigerian immigrant parents. He was unequivocally unremarkable. Indeed, Oleander had no special talents; he wasn't particularly smart, nor athletic, and he didn't possess a creative bone in his body. As such, he floundered in passable mediocrity, doing the bare minimum to maintain B's and C's and maybe a few A's in between for easier subjects.
But through it all, Oleander was always very amicable; a loveable dork whom everyone seemed to like. He never had one specific group that he hung out with, as he never fully embodied the qualities of any one clique. He was like a chameleon, able to meander in and out of groups with ease without ever having to fully commit to them. As such, he had many friends and could blend in with the jocks and cheerleaders just as easily as he could with the math nerds and drama geeks. However, what this meant is that he rarely ever formed any deep emotional friendships nor had he ever made a name for himself other than most people remembering him as that "really sweet black guy".
Quite stereotypically, being the son of Nigerian immigrants meant that his parents had the standard expectations for him; marry a nice woman, give us grandchildren, become a doctor, yada yada, you know the drill. Oleander was gay, so staying in the closet was a given; even now, he's never come out openly or had a boyfriend. The 24-year old virgin, though some people have suspected it and ask him about his sexuality since he's never had a girlfriend.
Ultimately, Oleander was not adapt at achieving the professions his parents desired for him, nor did he have the motivation or interest in pursuing them. As a teen, he was a free-bird, going with the flow and seeing where life took him. But alas, with no passions or callings to push him in one specific direction, he never quite found his identity. Even now as an adult, he only became a business analyst because of his parents telling him he had to do something, anything. He just took an aptitude test and viola! No further thought was put into it. This is a man who, while appearing cheerful and warm on the surface, harbours a deep disdain for himself; inadequate, dispassionate, and unloved.
PSYCHE
Oleander is an easygoing, playful, and warm-hearted young man with golden retriever energy through and through. He is extremely affectionate; his love language with others being touch, words of affirmation, and teasing. Oleander is always the first to give warm hugs and play pranks; he doesn't like to take things too seriously. Because of his really social nature, he can become quite attached, clingy, and co-dependent on others, quickling feeling sad when he is alone. This is a man who likes to be included, and when he is not, it really shows up on his face, as he has never been good at hiding his emotions. As such, he likes to express his emotions honestly. As the type who bares his feelings for the world to see, some people may try to take at advantage of his unusually honest and trusting nature. Even when he has been done wrong, Oleander is quick to forgive.
He is clumsy, dorky, and adorable, the type to laugh easily and pout when something doesn't go his way. There's a certain child-like quality to Oleander that gives him little brother vibes. His emotions rule him, so he is absolutely a sensitive individual who cries and expresses his love and gratitude toward others without it being weird or awkward. However, because he is such a feeler, he can become indecisive and slow to act when it comes to making hard logical decisions that require analytical thinking; which is odd considering his profession. Outside of work, he often relies on his friends and family for advice in his personal life.
Some people may accuse Oleander of being a bit melodramatic with how expressive and emotional he is, but his intentions are good-natured and always true. He is a loyal friend, who is quick to come to the defense of others. He hates to see injustices taking place and he won't back down when it comes to standing up for his loved ones and friends, even for acquaintances and strangers. So despite being really open-minded and non-judgemental, he has a stubborn streak that is hard to dissuade once he sets his mind to something. Underneath it all though, Oleander does lack confidence in himself. He's always been mediocre and unremarkable. He's never been the type to be really good at anything. He has no specific passions and he's not really creative or smart. As such, it's easy for Oleander to compare himself to others and feel inadequate by his own unspectacular life and shortcomings.
Ever since his power manifested, Oleander hasn't been able to sleep properly. Like clockwork, every night once the sun goes down, he feels a rumbling in his chest, humming fluttering vibrations like something is trying to escape from within him. And then, without control, 100 blue morpho butterflies spew from his mouth and take flight. It's not the prettiest sight, but in actuality, Oleander is astral projecting, with his astral form taking on the form of these mystical butterflies. While his blue astral butterflies are out, he is unable to speak. He can control his 100 blue morpho butterflies as an extension of himself.
Therefore he can see through their eyes and have them work together to move small objects. However, they can do much more than that. When his butterflies land on someone who is awake, he can communicate telepathically with that person, with his butterflies acting as a conduit for his own voice. As such, if his butterflies land on multiple people, he can create a telepathic chain link, allowing them all to communicate with each other simultaneously.
Perhaps the most spectacular characteristic of his butterflies is what they can do to sleeping targets. When his butterflies land on someone who is sleeping, Oleander can slip into their dreams. While in their dreams, he can simply act as a visitor and witness what the person is dreaming, or, if he so chooses, Oleander can take control of their dreams and make them have beautiful dreams or horrific nightmares. While in someone's dreams, Oleander can conceal his presence, ensuring no one ever knows he was in their dreams. The dreamer cannot see or communicate with him until he allows them to.
Since Oleander can only sleep during the day, his sleep is sporadic and uneven. To cope with his newfound powers, he has to use sleeping pills. Due to the nature of how his power works, he actually hates it. He's unable to sleep properly, he can't speak while it's active, and he can't even stop his butterflies from spewing from his mouth. And the feeling is so uncomfortable. Not to mention ,the fact that he can't even use his powers during the day makes him feel useless, already exasperating the feelings of inadequency he felt even before his powers manifested.
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- ▼ STRENGTHS
► His power, while only active at night, provides a variety of uses, from simulating telepathic communication to surveying an area from a safe distance. With his ability to enter people's dreams and give them nightmares, he can inadvertently impact how they're able to function during the day, especially if he gives them nightmares so horrific their mental and emotional well-being declines.
▼ WEAKNESSES
► For the time being (perhaps due to lack of control), Oleander can only use his power at night. Not like he has a choice anyways, since it happens automatically at nightfall. ► Oleander cannot sleep or speak while his power is active. ► When the sun rises, his blue morpho butterflies disintegrate. So essentially, for now, his power is useless during the day.
Are you sure? The way Emmet (my character) does it is through this confusing device that does a bunch of things but he only knows how to do two of them. It's kind of like unlocking magic spells as you level up in dnd. It's just one thing that can be replaced where it's the central thing of yours. I can swap if you like. I don't mind
Yep, I'm sure. You've got it! :) I'm not hung up on powers, so it's cool.
So much for my character having teleportation lmao
My character does a set of smaller things through the use of an overly convoluted object, teleportation being one of them. I can cut the teleportation out if the overlap is a problem.
You can have your teleportation, I can change my power. :) No worries.
As Hope followed behind Dame Cecilia, his angels, Yahoel and Kalaziel stayed to the canopies. The angelic beings, despite their size, moved swiftly and silent in the night. You could hardly hear a rustle of leaves as they beat their wings. Yahoel even lessened it's natural glow so as to appear no brighter than the distant starlight.
In truth, Hope had been paying attention to the position of his angels once Dame Cecilia instructed him to stay away from the treeline and allow his angels to take over that role. It was true however. His role as a mage in the guild meant he was not the fastest or the swiftest of the bunch, so it was best he stayed low and crept among the forest floor to keep from being seen. He nearly bumped into Cecilia when they came upon the dimly lit bandit encampment, silently gesturing an apology with his hands.
From behind Cecilia, Hope looked into the camp, though the darkness made it difficult to make it anything very clearly. For starters, the throne was empty, which meant the Bandit King must of been somewhere else. A hiccup in the plan it seemed, but not all was lost if they could find him before he found them. And then there was a beast in a cage, the silhouette hairy and tough. The creature made a groan, unfamiliar in tone and breath. But Hope's attention was drawn back to Cecilia as she made a stealthy move forward.
"I'll circle around quietly." She quietly nodded to Hope, offering him a friendly smirk and a wink. "See if I can't see anything else. If anything happens just...shout,or something. Make a scene. I'll save that pretty face of yours."
Hope returned the smile, affirmingly, "Understood. I'll have Kalaziel scout the camp from the skies and I'll send Yahoel back to the Rose Knights to report what we've uncovered so far. I just hope they get here in time. Something seems amiss..." he said, voice trailing off as he bit his lip leerily. Hope watched Cecilia until she disappeared around the bend of the camp, and then he let out a soft humming sound, calling his angels to him. He gave out the orders and without delay, Kalaziel, flew high above the camp, its hawk-like eyes trained to find something down below. Its transparent body allowed it to blend into the night sky.
Yahoel on the other hand returned back to the Knight Captain to report what they had witnessed so far. Yahoel, as Hope commanded, would remain with the Knight Captain until they caught up to he and Cecilia at the encampment. With his angels now off fulfilling their respective duties, Hope began moving to the other side of the camp, peering around cautiously as he waited for reinforcements or some kind of signal.
A steady drizzle began to fall as Peter, Emilia (Clarke, he improperly called her), and the BlackRock soldier came upon the clearing of the forest. Without the canopies to provide respite from the rain, they would undoubtedly find themselves slightly wet before arriving at the UDF Portable Research Station. Based on current conditions, a downpour was inevitable, so they would need to move quickly to avoid the falling torrents. Peter could see the PRS station in the distance, the large domed structure grossly out of place against the natural skyline.
With the demise of the large beast, its corpse flattened against the soiled earth, Peter noticed the smaller nearby stigma scampering away with the hive mentality of a bee colony. They really were like insects he thought. But the young Funérailles gave no further mind to the monstrosities as he and his new "group" passed by the remnants of an Aeonic battleground. While his priority was to save the young girl, their war efforts had not gone unnoticed.
---
Inside the PRS, Emilia handed off the young girl to a nurse, her slumbering body hot and limp like an overcooked noodle in his arms. Peter read the name on the nurse's scrubs, Krishna Patel, it said. The nurse became alarmed as soon as he felt the unnatural heat radiating from the girl's body.
"What happened?" he asked, optically surveying her ailing condition.
Peter stepped forward, a familial light in his eyes as though the young girl were his own flesh and blood. He couldn't contain the urgency in his voice, "She's infected. I think she has a fever. Can you help her?"
"Shit..." the nurse muttered through gritted teeth, "Not up here. We'll have to get her down to the Research Wing. Follow me."
With not a second to lose, Krishna turned from the trio and headed towards the Research Wing. Naturally, Peter began to trail him, but then stopped. He turned back to Emilia and the BlackRock soldier, bowing like a knight from the Old World. With his unusually old-fashioned uniform, and the european-esque Freidalian sword and shield strapped to his back, the soft-faced battle medic could easily remind someone of a knight's young squire straight from the fairytales. Anyone familiar with the island of Freidal could easily recognize his origins.
"Thank you. I'm in your debt."
A fleeting, tepid smile graced his countenance, and then he disappeared behind Krishna.
---
Peter and Krishna were not in the Research Wing for long. Peter, not having the proper authorization, was forced to wait outside the entrance as Krishna was quickly ushered inside by a luscious womanly voice instructing him to settle the girl on an empty table. As Krishna reappeared through the sliding doors, Peter sighed in relief.
She'll be okay... he hoped.
Peter caught a glimpse of Isolde leaning over the sleeping young girl as the doors shut. He could of sworn he saw a smile creep upon her lips, its form somehow malign. But Peter simply shook his head, erasing what he'd thought he'd seen. Besides, he didn't recognize who Isolde was anyways. He only knew her by name.
"Can they save her?
Krishna shrugged, "I'm not sure. Probably? But let's head back up. We shouldn't be down here."
Peter nodded solemnly, following him. He looked back one last time at the closed doors, thinking only of the young girl. As they passed through the second level, Krishna paused, finally taking in Peter's form fully since he arrived. Peter was a slight young man, almost delicate-looking even. With a fresh scar on his cheek, wet hair, and a sodded uniform, he looked a bit homely. Krishna gestured toward an empty bedroom as noises of clanking utensils and the savory smells of meat and starches wafted from the nearby dining area.
"Do you need new clothes? Maybe something to eat. You look..." Krishna went silent, looking Peter up and down, with sympathetic eyes, "like shit, bro."
Peter blinked, his eyes trailing downward so he was peering at himself, "Do I?" he asked, his tone serious and inquisitive, not at all understanding the slight tease in Krishna's voice. Peter was always a bit literal with things, not quite understanding the nuances of humor. Krishna let out a laugh, "Yeah, a bit...but, I can't imagine what you've dealt with out there. Those monsters freak me the fuck out. I'm still pissed the UDF deployed me here. Just my luck eh?"
Peter nodded agreeably, not sure how else to respond. In truth, his thoughts were still distracted by the young girl. And then he thought of his boyfriend, Milo, and his heart sank a little. He wondered what Milo was doing now. Probably getting into some kind of mischief, he reckoned.
"Anyways..." Krishna continued, trying to break the awkward silence, "What'll it be?"
Peter thought for a moment, ultimately deciding on neither, "Actually, there's something else I need to do."
--- Back in the trauma unit, Peter was kneeling next to an injured soldier on a cot. The man had wounds all over his body; burns, cuts, and a gash on his leg that went deep to the white meat. The soldier was unconscious as Peter rested his hands on each wound and filled them with a mystical healing light. If anyone wondered who he was, they would at least know through this spectacle of magic that he was Aeon. Though, in such instances, Peter cared little about being clandestine. When it came to fulfilling his duties, Peter was often the type to forgo his own well-being, a natural condition of his chivalrous nature. Hours on the battlefield left him bruised, cut, and exhausted, with his heart hurting every time he overexerted his spiritual magic to heal this soldier.
But he didn't care.
In this world, the pain of war was a reliable reminder to him that he was not just a songbird locked in a gilded cage for the UDF to control.
Lost young girl (12 or 13 yo)
Nurse, Krishna Patel
Summary
DAY 1: Peter, Emilia (carrying the lost little girl), and Christina finally arrive at the UDF PRS. Peter thanks them both for their service and says he is now indebted to them. He then follows the nurse who takes the girl to the research wing. Once that task is done, Peter and the nurse, named Krishna, head up to the second floor. Krishna tries to make casual talk with Peter, who seems uninterested in the conversation and distracted by other matters. He noticed a badly injured soldier in the trauma unit when he first arrives, so instead of changing his wet clothes, eating, or getting some rest, he takes the knightly/chivlary route and goes back up to the trauma unit to start healing the badly wounded soldier. Every so often Peter clutches his chest in paint because he has a heart condition that causes heart pain whenever he overextends himself physically, emotionally, or magically.
There was a crack of thunder as the rain picked up around the PRS. Down in the restricted Research Wing, Isolde and her new associates were finalizing the last components of the fever agents needed to abate the fever of the infected patients. Isolde seemed calm, filling a syringe with a clear concoction and capping it tight. Once it was ready, she began administering it to the bed-ridden subjects, along with the help of Dr. Poole, Dr. Helene Khan, a medic named Amy, and Isolde's personal assistant Oerba.
When a nurse came from the ground-level trauma unit, a young girl cradled in his arms, Amy let him in. Isolde motioned for the man to put the child on the nearest table, and once he did that, she immediately asked him to leave. He shrugged, doing as he was told. Amy approached the unconscious girl, but Isolde shooed her away, proclaiming that she would take care of the girl's injection. Strangely, a peculiar grin graced her lips as she peered down at the child. While no one seemed to notice, Isolde slid the girl's bed into an isolated room, slyly locking it behind her with a specialty passcode.
Once she returned to the main research wing, the inoculation process was swift, time being a commodity they did not have for leisure. As Isolde had predicted, not everyone could be saved. Through her peripherals, Isolde caught glimpse of Dr. Helene Khan standing over a lifeless body, the infection specialist breathing heavily.
In truth, at least a third of the infected patients had succumbed to the stigma fever. Dr. Poole relented to the reality of their situation, taking off his glasses and wiping them slowly with a solemn look in his eyes. Isolde finished the last injection in her patient, extracting the syringe and discarding it in the nearby waste bin. She continued to look at Dr. Helene Khan, the woman's heaving not yet subsiding.
"You...." the woman muttered, anger seething and visceral in her tone.
Isolde raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"
Oerba and Amy, huddled in a corner, looked back and forth between them nervously.
"You wanted this to happen didn't you?" Dr. Khan asked, though it was more of an accusation than anything. The doctor walked up to Isolde, standing in front of her, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. "I watched you taking your sweet merry time while these patients suffered."
Isolde sighed, feigning pity, "My dear. If this is about your idea to contravene the process, then frankly, I could not allow you to do that. There are UDF protocols that must be followed." The aristocrat clasped her hands together, letting them hang leisurely.
"My idea could of saved them all!" Dr. Khan yelled.
Finally, Dr. Poole stepped forth, resting his hand on Dr. Khan's shoulder, his attempt to pacify her fuming. "Alright, alright, calm down. Let's stay civil." Neither woman seemed to notice his efforts. It was clear he wanted to remain neutral on the matter.
Isolde shook her head, "That's a bold claim" she retorted, slightly amused. "In any case, your idea went against strict procedure and these procedures exist for a reason do they not?"
The women argued for a several minutes thereafter, exchanging quips and backhanded slights all in the name of belief and science. Perhaps though, it was less of an argument and more of Dr. Khan losing her shit while Isolde smiled coyly and hit her with all the facts that her reputation and expertise made her known for. In some ways, Dr. Khan was on track for a position like Isolde. The infection specialist was smart enough at least; too bad she couldn't control her temper. That and Isolde just didn't like her.
"I don't give a..."
Before Dr. Khan could finish her statement, Isolde motioned for Oerba and Amy. "We've already wasted too much time here. Excuse me." she cut in, walking away from Dr. Khan and pointing to a stash of unused syringes and a bottle of lethal injection formula. Behind her, clouds of black smoke practically billowed from Dr. Khan's ears. Isolde turned to the medic, Amy, "One dose in the brain should do the trick. Now, move quickly before they reanimate and wreck havoc on us all. Heaven forbid."
"Of course," Amy said, dutifully moving to complete her task.
Isolde then turned to Oerba, noticing she had calmed a bit. "Oerba, I need you to...."
Before she could finish, Marcus, her son and bodyguard, entered the wing, having gained access by proxy of Isolde. "Mother, the rest of SWARG have arrived. They're here in the trauma unit."
Isolde thought for a moment, only nodding to acknowledge his announcement.
"Relay a message to Errikos Rigos. Tell him to find me at nightfall. I have something very important to discuss with him. An opportunity of a lifetime, if you will," she said with a smile. Despite her immediate responsibilities, Isolde had not forgotten or forsaken her machination from the day before. This Aeon, the one she had been spying on with her shadow moth the entire time; Errikos was the key to her goals. And if he refused, well...she always had a contingency plan in place for such circumstances.
Marcus seemed confused, prompting an eye roll from Isolde, "Child, he's the burly fellow from Cetra East Command. He may go by 'Virus'" she elaborated. "Ah. Yes mother," Marcus said flatly. He came was quick as he went, off to find Errikos, wherever the Aeon was in the PRS.
"As for you, young lady..." Isolde continued, turning back to Oerba, "have Eunji Park come see when she is ready and able. War is unkind and she may not be in a suitable condition..."
...or even alive, Isolde thought fleetingly.
Oerba, as acquiescent as ever, quickly exited Research Wing. In fact, she hated being around the infected. Any reprieve from their presence was a relief. But just as the doors were shutting, Oerba turned back and heard a loud harrowing scream coming from inside the room. Oerba looked on through the glass window slits, horror in her eyes.
Amy was on the floor, blood spilling from a nasty bite wound on her arm. She was wailing in agony, "It bit me! It bit me! Goddamnit, it bit me!" Clutching her bite wound, she tried to move away from the infected patient who had unfortunately reanimated before she could put them down for good with the cranial lethal injection. There were a few more stigmafied patients twitching on their cots, slowly rising as their undead bodies worked to reorient their locomotion. Maybe for three or four in total.
Perhaps it seemed, Dr. Khan and Isolde's quarreling cost them too much time after all.
Dr. Khan and Dr. Poole stood behind Isolde, aghast. "We have to leave!" Dr. Khan exclaimed fearfully, heading for the sliding exit doors. Isolde grabbed her arm, stopping her. "No," she said firmly, "We cannot risk reanimated humans infiltrating the rest of the station. You know the protocol."
"Who cares about Protocol, I'm not gonna die here." Dr. Khan proclaimed, trying to wrench her arm out of Isolde's grip, the latter only tightening it further.
A turn came upon Isolde; her eyes narrowed into thin sharp slits and seeped with a venom most never saw from Isolde. She was good at hiding it. "Your desire for self-preservation will be your undoing Dr. Khan. Try to leave this room again and I'll feed you to them myself."
Isolde let go of Dr. Khan, who in that moment, seemed more afraid of her than the reanimating undead patients. Dr. Khan didn't move, she was frozen in fear.
"What do we do?" Dr. Poole asked, his eyes switching back and forth between a bleeding Amy and the reanimated figures, all of which focused their attention on the poor woman and were walking slowly towards her. Amy was on the opposite side of the room, so much blood spilling from her mangled arm that she was slipping on it and couldn't find her balance. She kept screaming, "Please help me! Please!"
With Amy serving as an unlucky distraction, Isolde slowly inched towards the other corner of the room behind the reanimated patients. Dr. Khan and Dr. Poole, followed in tow, staying close to her. They were betting their lives on Aeon, which was better than most bets people played into. "Simple..." Isolde whispered calmly, "we survive until help arrives..."
"If you value your life, you'll stay in the darkness, no matter what shadows you think you might see."
Isolde's eyes turned black, like a starless night. As her powers activated, darkness filled the pocket of space around them, swallowing them whole and keeping them hidden from the reanimated patients. Through experience, Isolde had discovered that not even stigma or stigma-infected undead humans could see or hear in her darkness. It was handy magic that aided in her own self-preservation throughout the years.
Unfortunately though, it seemed that it was too late for Amy. The undead were just nearly upon her.
----
Outside the research wing doors, Oerba could see everything unfolding inside. She quickly ran up to the next floors to find someone, anyone that could rescue the Research Wing before it was too late.
Dr. Poole
Infection Specialist Dr. Helen Khan
Medic, Amy
Oerba
Marcus Featherswallow
Summary DAY 1: Isolde inoculates infected feverish patients with the fever agent in the Research Wing, with the help of Dr. Poole, Infection Specialist Dr. Helen Khan, Oerba, and a medic named Amy. 1/3 of the patients don't make it, so they need to destroy the brains before reanimation. A nurse brings the young unconscious lost girl to the research wing, but Isolde hides the slumbering girl in a separate room and locks it with a code. No one notices this action.
Dr. Khan and Isolde continue to go back and forth with one another. Marcus reports that SWARG has arrived at the portable research station, so Isolde tells him to relay a message for Errioks to meet her at night so they can discuss an opportunity. Errikos is revealed to be the one that Isolde was spying on with her shadow moth. Oerba is tasked with asking Eunji to join Isolde in the research wing when she is able.
Amy was supposed to inject a lethal serum into the brains of the deceased patients before they reanimated. But Helen and Isolde's "quarreling" caused delays and Amy gets bit after 3 or 4 of the infected patients that died, reanimate because of the stigma. Isolde hides herself, Dr. Khan, and Dr. Poole within her darkness magic. Amy, on the other side of the room, appears to be a lost cause and is likely to be killed by the reanimated deceased patients before help can arrive. Outside the research wing, Oerba witnesses everything that is going on in the wing and runs up to find someone, anyone that can help with the dangerous situation unfolding in the research wing.
Welcome to My Personal Library <3
[u]My Favorite Books [/u]
Strange the Dreamer
The Last Tale of the Flower Bride
The Starless Sea
The Gracekeepers
Perfect Peace
The Thirteenth Tale
The Secret Garden
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Welcome to My Personal Library <3<br><br><span class="bb-u">My Favorite Books </span><br><br>Strange the Dreamer<br><br>The Last Tale of the Flower Bride<br><br>The Starless Sea<br><br>The Gracekeepers<br><br>Perfect Peace<br><br>The Thirteenth Tale<br><br>The Secret Garden</div>
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LIFE AT RITMAN
