Xandrya

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Fun new update...

Will post up soonish!

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A JP from @Xandrya and @sail3695

The Captain’s gift of a clipboard was well received. Suddenly, the business of China Doll was laid out before her. If she chose, the galley hand could look into a myriad of details, from Yuri’s equipment orders for the coming job all the way to Abby’s notes indicating which of the boat’s passenger berths were clean and ready for paying customers.

SAM had taught her a neat trick, a way to import the Skyplex pricing for items on her grocery list. This had proven a source of some dismay, as the total cost of her tally exceeded Captain’s mission budget by some two hundred credits. She’d catch Yuri in a bit to see if there was any wiggle room on that number. Otherwise, she’d have to make cuts to an already lackluster menu for the next two months.

Edina was mulling over just how offput their deckhand might be over the loss of her beloved ‘PB and J’ when the clipboard flashed a message:

Physical Exam in 5 Minutes

“Saved by the bell?” she muttered, before collecting herself to make the journey to China Doll’s lower deck. Medbay was every bit the embodiment of its’ occupant and caretaker, equal parts cleanliness, organization, and a lowkey sense of purpose riding the air as she tapped on the open doorframe. “Imani?” Edina asked. “Is now still a good time?”

“No other time would be better,” she smiled, albeit not looking at her next patient who was making her way inside the infirmary. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Imani directed her to first take a seat. Edina was one of them from the crew she hadn’t gotten to know better. Nothing at all against her, but both women simply had their own work going on and their paths barely crossed. With datapad in hand, Imani stood near Edina.

“Tell me, any significant medical past? No detail is too irrelevant."

Edina followed the medic’s invitation, popping herself up onto the exam table. “Nothing much,” she answered, her palms pressing into the padding at her sides. “I broke my left arm at seven, tonsils out at ten.” The galley hand’s gaze crossed the ceiling as she taxed her memory. “Oh, and my appendix taken out when I was sixteen.” She shrugged. “Aside from that, cuts and bruises…a couple chipped teeth.” She didn’t feel the need to mention that most of those wounds occurred during the three years before she hightailed it out of New Melbourne aboard China Doll. “That’s pretty much everything.”

“Not the one to lie about and read a book I see,” Imani smiled, making reference to Edina’s mentions of her scrapes and whatnot without the knowledge to know any better. She made note in the datapad of Edina’s two previous surgeries under the History portion and scrolled up on the screen, skipping over some fields that would be irrelevant to her. "What about now, how are you feeling...physically or otherwise?"

It was strange, holding any sort of conversation with Imani, let alone revealing details about her body and general fitness. Until now Edina always surmised that the normally circumspect woman chose to believe the old ‘actions speak louder’ adage. She wasn’t complaining; prior to today’s encounter, Imani had given her a great deal of feedback by which to prep the galley. She’d learned the new medic’s preferred tea, and just how she liked it. Imani’s taste in seasonings had driven further research into the most effective protein paste recipes. Though Imani never ate much, the observant cook took note of the days when her plates yielded fewer leftovers.

Yet now, an extended verbal dialogue, regardless of the topic, was at once mildly unnerving and altogether refreshing. “Nothing interesting,” Edina smiled. “An occasional burn. Iron deficiency once a month. Maybe a little tiredness,” she added. “But who isn’t?”

“Sounds like it may be chronic...” Imani noted to hand her iron tablets. “Are you menstruations exceedingly heavy? Apologies for the blunt question, but I’d like to know the root of your anemia even if we’re not equipped to test for it here. Though another cause is stress.” She smiled at Edina, as much a sincere smile as she could muster. “We can treat that too, you know. Or maybe it was an isolated incident that brought about great trauma or hardship in the past, that may have very well been the root cause of your anemia."

“No problem,” said Edina “Women like me…Afro brown skin, have pretty heavy flows all the time. You could almost set your watch to my cycle,” she smiled, a lightening that faded as she continued. “I was off kilter when Alana died. Late by two weeks. I almost thought I might have to let Yuri know that…you know.” She folded her arms. “But then it hit, and it was the heaviest I’d ever had.”

"As catastrophic of a loss as this ship has experienced recently, we've seemingly pinpointed the source of your anemia... Do you tolerate iron well? If you're up for the commitment, that is." Imani then decided to offer up another solution, either perfectly optional though as long as Edina didn't feel her exhaustion was a burden. "There is also the option of birth control for you women who are in an active relationship. I don't want to assume, but I'm going to take a guess and state you two aren't planning on having children soon, right? Whichever form of birth control you're comfortable with, it would help lighten up your periods."

Edina shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she answered the first question. “I guess? The protein paste we’ve been eating is supposed to have iron, so I always thought I was getting enough.” She listened, attentive to the medic’s next suggestion. “I was on pills back on New Melbourne, with my husband…my ex husband,” she corrected herself. “And you’re right. I need to get back on ‘em. Sure don’t want any little surprises on the coming trip.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Imani added casually in reference to the ex-husband comment. Having never been married before, she thought it best to refrain herself from making further inquiries on the subject...at least for the time being. Maybe some time in the future the two of them would sit down together, possibly for a drink, and tell each other some personal stories. And boy did Imani have plenty of those to share “I’m gonna go ahead and assume you prefer the pill given you were on it before? Unless you’re up for trying a new method, all up to you of course.”

“Don’t be.” For a moment, the humor drained out of Edina’s eyes. The topic of Andres was a sleeping dog she preferred to let lie, though now she understood such a blunt response would be a rudeness she completely didn’t intend. “Let’s just say,” the woman lifted her chin, fixing Imani with a wry smile, “that I went on a diet and lost a couple hundred unhealthy pounds.” She fought the brutal memories, stuffing them back into the dark corner from whence they’d come boiling out. “I know we’re running a budget,” she answered the medic. “The pills worked pretty well, but if you’ve got something cheaper?”

From her looks alone, Imani had indeed broached the sore subject of, for lack of better words, a failed marriage. She cleared her throat. "Hey, if there's anything I know about our first mate, it's that he's an outstanding person." She met eyes with Edina. "You've got a good one, seriously." There was a couple of seconds of silence, and then, leaving behind the topic, Imani made a recommendation based on Edina's best interest. "I can give you a shot, quarterly or so. Cost effective and takes but a few minutes of your time. The responsibility will be mine to bear in setting the reminder and call you back down here. What do you say? I have a single vial but there is ample time to get my hands on another one before I run dry.”

“Shiny,” Edina answered, her cheer restoring. “Where do I get jabbed?”

"No need to lower your bottom for this one, I can use your arm." Imani walked off to retrieve the vial and syringe, returning a few moments later with said items. She prepped the shot before rubbing a small sterile pad just below Edina's shoulder. "Nothing but a pinch..." True to her words, Imani was quick with the injection, pinching her skin before inserting the needle.

A moment later and she was done.

"And that's all. Would you like a bandage?"

Edina’s head turned. She couldn’t really see where the pinprick had landed; nothing more than a tiny, unfocused dot hovered at the limits of her peripheral vision. “Only if it’s bleeding,” she answered. “So what’s the plan? When do I come back for the next one?” She sat on the exam table, legs dangling as the medic did her work.

"I'll put a reminder here for the day before your next shot. You can also take note if it'd make you feel more comfortable but I'll get you when the time comes." Imani began degloving to continue on with Edina's check-up. "Well, you can say I saved the best for last. Could you jump up on that scale over there?" Imani motioned, "Just need to get some baseline information and we can start wrapping this up after that."

The galley hand frowned at the scale, then slipped her shoes off. “Great,” Edina replied as she searched her pockets for anything to cast off. “Now you tell me,” she quipped, stepping toward the dreaded instrument. She felt the weight of every protein paste experiment, every ‘taste tested’ cookie… sitting ponderously upon her frame. Inwardly, she mocked herself for this foolishness. Her clothes still fit as they always had. Yuri had never said a thing. Though he couldn’t seem to keep eyes or hands off of her during their time in his cabin, Edina suddenly felt insecurity creeping over her thinking. She’d never ascertained just what his ‘type’ might be. Now, despite his enthusiasm, she carried the weight of doubt onto the scale, her eyes lifted in steadfast avoidance of the cursed numbers.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at Edina’s reaction. Taking a glance at the numbers, which were perfectly fine for someone her frame, Imani decided to have a little fun at Edina’s expense. She cleared her throat, followed by a change in expression which indicated some level of concern. “How is your diet? Are you getting enough fruits and vegetables?” But Imani wouldn’t torture the woman beyond that initial statement. After a brief pause, she went on. “I’m only joking,” she grinned, “your weight is if nothing else, impressive. I can’t imagine being in charge at the galley and maintaining such numbers."

If Edina was being truthful, she would finally owe up to a very old realization. The numbers glowing before her eyes did tell of a few extra pounds since she’d last ventured onto a scale…just over two years ago. The medic at that time had taken little notice, interested as he was in the violent bruises that discolored her ribs and abdomen. Pregnancy, or rather, the fear of such a thing, had driven her to offer Andres’ handiwork to the eyes of an otherwise disinterested physician. ’Negative test result,’ he’d assured her. ’A false pregnancy can manifest after physical trauma, which is evident upon you.’ She took this as the best possible news on a day when she’d determined an abortion to be the kindest thing she might do. The doctor went on to prescribe iron supplements and ice packs. ’And a ham sandwich would do you some good,’ he dismissed her with a chuckle. Three days later, with Andres away at sea, Edina Wyman emptied a dwindling bank account, locked their shabby apartment, and made her escape aboard an old Firefly named China Doll.

She wasn’t negligent of her person; in fact, she was replenished.

“Have you seen what we’re eating?” the galley mate laughed at Imani’s assertion. “Trust me, girl. If we get anywhere close to a decent payday off this run, I might spend all mine on actual fruit and vegetables. I could kill for a tomato.”

Imani chuckled. “I definitely know all too well what you mean… But, take pride in the thought that you do really well with what you have.” She took a few steps away from Edina to place the datapad down once the numbers were automatically recorded. “Well, that concludes my portion. Any side effects serious enough to cause concerns should be brought to my attention as soon as possible but aside from that, you’re all set.”

“Shiny.” Edina slipped back into her shoes, then took a moment to laugh at herself for all the things she needed to stuff back into her pockets. “Hey, so to keep our provisioning from drawing curious eyes I’ve broken our grocery list up until small orders for each person on the crew…except you,” she said as she collected her clipboard. “I conjured you had shopping of your own. Let me know if I can help?”

She chuckled. "I will definitely come to you once I got myself an idea of what I actually want. But yes, we can have a little outing together, maybe make it a girl's type of evening... What say you?"

Edina tucked the clipboard beneath one arm. “Sounds like a plan,” she met the doc’s suggestion with a delighted smile. “I should be clear fairly early tonight, seeing’s we have no passengers and most of the crew are apt to go for skyplex food. Catch you later!” the galley hand tossed the comment over her shoulder as she slipped through the medbay hatch.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

That made sense, and simultaneously, it didn't. She wasn't alone...but it sure looked like it. Michelle pondered on what that meant for a moment before getting back to what she was doing. And there it was. She nodded, annoyed with herself that she got even a tiny bit hopeful with her attempt to reach someone when the obvious was a little bit too obvious. Hanging up, Michelle went through he motions at that point to take another crack at it. She pulled out her cellphone, but she noticed it didn't have any service. Of course it didn't...why would it? So she could find a way out of there and be able to embrace her daughter once more? That'd be lovely, though unfortunately, not likely at that very moment.

Exiting the booth, she noticed the bear to be gone, but a new, colorful toy had appeared in the room. A worm ...was it Wormy? Speechless for a moment, she took a few steps closer to it. "You're a dangerous one, aren't ya?" Michelle looked over the surface of the desk. Nothing seemed out of place, not in a manner that indicated the worm got on there on its own. Of course not, it's a stuffed animal! Regardless, a toy appearing out of thin air wasn't the weirdest thing to have occurred just yet.

Just from underneath the worm, Michelle was able to make out the corner of a note. It wasn't as big as the standard sheet of paper, maybe just one of those Post-its, but the content maybe held some level of importance given this particular worm, "dangerous" as it was, appeared to be intentionally blocking the message written on it. This was a tough decision now... Should she risk upsetting the worm in order to see what the note read? She certainly thought the risk was worth the reward, as ridiculous of a premise as it was.

And with that, Michelle used her phone to gently push the plushie off the note until the text was visible. She braced for whatever the worm's reaction was going to be, whether that was jump at her baring its teeth or do nothing at all.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Busy weekend and long training the first half of this week. Tomorrow during my lunch break I'll isolate myself and try to get something up!

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

I came back at the right time apparently!

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

It was a bit overwhelming stepping into this new office of sorts. Michelle would have loved to be welcomed with open arms by a group of people, not exactly caring who as long as in the center of them all was Leila excitedly running towards her. But that wasn't her reality. She glanced around the room, bleak as it was. If she was to find a key here, it would certainly take her quite some time, which was bad news considering her hunger was only worsening. It was then the door swung open, startling the young woman. Water poured in and she instinctively took a few steps back. Once the door shut close, her grip on the teddy tightened to the point where her knuckles turned white. She waited for a moment, and listening close enough, Michelle could hear additional breathing aside from her own. It could have easily been speakers strategically placed in order to create such effect, though that's a rational thought Michelle would have had she not been alone in the room faced against whatever was trying to terrorize her.

Leila, think of Leila... she thought to herself. That's all it took for Michelle to find the courage to start moving again, the previous feeling now replaced with the same internal rage as before, temporary as it was. She walked over to the phone booth, instantly being drawn to it due to its bright red hue. As she was looking over it, the scent of food filled her immediate surrounding, though there was nothing in sight, no food. Unless...

Michelle reached up towards the box after placing the teddy on the desk. It was once she had it in hand, lid fully uncovered then, that she discovered some cigars and also, but most importantly, biscuits. Good old glorious biscuits. Tossing the cigars out near feet, then quickly wiping her hand on her pant leg, Michelle grabbed a biscuit and instantly took a bite. For a moment since first entering whatever hell this was, Michelle felt relieved. The young woman didn't care to count how many biscuits there were; she just kept eating, bite after bite, until her stomach was no longer complaining of hunger and slowly began to feel full. Of course, after devouring all carbs that was bound to happen. For the first time, Michelle reached around for her bag and it was then she instantly realized, before even having the zipper between her fingers, that she had a granola bar in her bag. But she didn't beat herself up over the oversight that much; there was plenty more to worry about, things which were indefinitely more important.

The leftover food then stored away, Michelle diverted her attention to the phone booth once more. Maybe I can dial out... Fully aware that her idea was a huge maybe, she stepped into the booth, looking around as she picked up the receiver. There was a dial tone, nothing unusual, and then she pressed 9-1-1, holding her breath as she waited for whatever outcome was to come her way.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Hi hi. We've boarded the cruise so I'll be out until Tuesday. Have a good weekend!

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

"A magical key..." Michelle scoffed at the idea, that which was a tad more insulting than talking, floating "stuffies", as Leila would always refer to them. The thought of for some reason never seeing her again almost caused Michelle to break down to her knees, yet it was her daughter's agonizing screams that made her push forward. Or maybe the key is simply on that table... she rationalized to herself. It seemed that whoever drew up this game had a sick sense of humor; sick enough to make a woman getting off a long and laborious shift stand in still water only high enough to make her day even worse, as if it wasn't already the case.

"Well, hello dear," Michelle mimicked the voice, exaggerating a polite tone. She was addressing the pink bear as she approached it, a thought which was beyond insane but not without merit given this particular predicament. "Why don't you help me find my little girl, hmm? What do you say?"

Given the hypothetical question was just that, Michelle went ahead and picked up the bear. She eyed the swan momentarily, then pushed forward toward the wooden door. She was ready for whatever happened to be on the other side, or so she'd like to think.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

A quick post as I'm on vacation!

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

It was terribly cliche to believe this place to be a dream, or rather, a nightmare. But what other explanation could there possibly be? All she wanted to do now was hold Leila in her arms and take her home, let her know that she was safe under mommy's embrace... But the voices, they mocked her, in a way that was strangely too personal for comfort.

"Shut up!" Michelle finally snapped, hands at either side curled up in fists due to the uncontrolled anger of not being able to just see her daughter. "You're playing a sick game that I want no part of!" Her chest was heaving up and down just the slightest as she looked at each of the exits. "Where's Leila? Where's my little girl?" She did not know just yet what the encrypted phrase was supposed to read. Off the top of her head, she figured that the metal door was the one to go through as it was harder to solve.

"Do I get a clue for this?" Her tone was a bit more normal now. The water covered her feet up to her ankles, but as annoying as it was to image having to deal with entirely soaked shoes, it wasn't her priority.