REFURBISHED [Morbitia Renovarse]

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

[Image Description: A long haired cloaked knight (The Ultimatum) having a conversation with a bird-like figure (Wiseman Vermillion), seen through the crack of a doorway otherwise obscured in shadow.]

It was a cruelty that you'd somehow lasted this long, your small body left broken and raw on a stranger's bed. 

The entrance was left a crack open, from your surroundings you were now in a relatively mundane household. Pictures of birds on walls, impressionist paintings and potted plants...

It was normal, in a way that you'd only seen from the basements and hallways when being dragged between properties. 

No caves, or secret bunkers, or homebrew cathedrals in suburban households. No chains or locks, not a single effort to keep you pinned down. 

Still, there was no reason to believe you were truly safe. There had never been such a luxury growing up...

Two voices, a knight and a older bird both in cloaks... though nothing like those you'd spent surrounded by. 

Tense, remorseful, scared... 

Wiseman Vermillion: Supper will be ready in an hour.

Ultimatum: Mm... Thank you for seeing me this late. I know it's sudden, but-

Wiseman Vermillion: How long you planning to leave her with me? Don't exactly got the admiration of thousands to provide me with endless favors.

Ultimatum: As long as it takes to shake off the heat. 

Wiseman Vermillion: Mmm, well, thank god your lifespan is about three of my remaining time, give or take. 

Ultimatum: I'm sorry... We'll find her someone else once I've scrubbed out any paper trails. Just, please-

Wiseman Vermillion: I can see what I can do, but if you really want her to be safe, she's going to have to be re-homed outside of Hearth eventually.  Potentially off continent if we really want to be sure.

Ultimatum: Whatever has to be done.. 

You watched the bird sit down, resting his face between both palms and sinking posture into their shape. 

Wiseman Vermillion: Honestly, might've been easier for you to let her die back there. 

Ultimatum: Couldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least try... 

Wiseman Vermillion: Shape she's in... what did they do to her? 

The knight shook his head. 

Wiseman Vermillion: Fastest route here is still a 10 hour drive... miracle she's breathing. 

Ultimatum: You work enough time at a medical facility, you pick up on quite a bit..

Wiseman Vermillion: You really are an anomaly... 

Ultimatum: So I've been told.

Wiseman Vermillion: ...My family owes you a lot so I'll do what I can, nothing more. Don't expect me to get killed over this kid. 

Ultimatum: Mm...

Wiseman Vermillion: Gonna ask you to keep expectation lows, first we gotta see if she makes a proper recovery. After that we'll look into options... 

Ultimatum: Thank you...

Wiseman Vermillion: Gonna ask you to stay the night though, keep watch of the door. You already tracked whatever you killed onto my floor... 

Ultimatum: Sorry, didn't have the chance to clean off properly. 

Wiseman Vermillion: Seriously, sweep that up before you go, I don't want questions. 

Ultimatum: I will...
 

---

Accepting the embrace of the imposter, her touch and warmth dragged your mind and soul into the deepest part of her void.

The mask didn't do a single thing to hide the real you from a monster like this. Your protection against the world, your skin to play the role of quirky, bubbly mentor immediately was eroded and did nothing to prevent you from being peeled down to your worst vices and vulnerabilities. 


But she did serve as a perfect sacrificial pawn to preserve what's truly underneath, gave you the means to explore that darkness. 

You gathered your bearings, left to wander the remains of a storage room deep inside of a factory with tendrils and feathered masses along the walls. 
 

[Image Description: The actual Lola, a supernatural entity in a distinctive fancy hat covered in snow perpetually and a slitted dress with fur trims, bound up in a void by cross and chain]

Kept chained with a rather solemn look was Lola herself, the entity become herself merely a puppet of something much larger and terrifying than either of you could fathom. 

You were quick to examine her bindings, the lines more than primed for your knife to cut into without issue, melting through the metal without effort. You swooped in and caught her, pulse reactivating in your arms. 

Within moments she stirred like a bird in a cage, a squeak escaping her throat. 

Despina: Need you to relax.

Lola: Stop touching me-!

Despina: Done. 

You withdrew slowly, allowing her to stand on her own. 

She looked puzzled, clueless on her current situation.

Despina: Are you hurt? 

Lola: No... who's pocket is this? 

Despina: Trying to figure that out.

Lola: You don't know? 

Despina: Angel likely but... this one's odd. Actively malicious, targeting people. You remember how you ended up here?

Lola: No... I was visiting the panaderia to pick up breakfast but I can't recall a thing about it. 

Despina: You a regular at that spot? 

Lola: Mmhmm! I know the staff and morning crowd there pretty well at this point...

Despina: Tell me a bit about the people who work there. 

She began to raise her head with a instinctive excitement.. only for the words to never come out.

Despina: ...Just, anyone. 

Lola: I swear I know- you're not accusing me of being a fake, are you-

Despina: No, just... anyone who works there. 

Her shoulders slumped, she shook her head. 

Despina:.. I'm sorry... 

Lola: But I'm here, right...? If you found me here, then the others might also- the angel didn't need to erase-

Despina: You were kept because it found you useful. Same with me. 

Lola: They didn't do anything wrong! They were just normal, hard working people who- just to get to me?! Why?!

Despina: It's not your fault-

Lola: It'll always be my fault because if I hadn't- if I wasn't so public nobody would've ever tried... 

You offered her your hand.

Despina: We'll have time to light candles and grieve later, right now I need to get you and my friends out of here. 

She quietly nodded. 

Lola: Their faces, their names.. they've been torn from my mind.. 

The entity clutched tight to your hand. 

Despina: It won't get away with this.

She surprised you with a hug, holding you too tight and trembling. 

You pressed your face into her shoulder just a little, eyes left to gaze into the distance at the rows of electronic babble leaving you feeling cold and weary.

You kept her close as you pressed on...

She had a certain warmth, the kind you tended to get overprotective over more than often. 

Endless noise, feeds of symbols you couldn't make out leaving you with a sense of indifference that didn't make much sense to you.
 

[Image Description: Large, glowing mechanical towers in the void wired up to somthing hidden in the darkness and glowing a electronic blue. Endless script text drowns the room.]

The glow in the difference, white towers endlessly tall were your only landmark in a empty world.

They grew endlessly into the black skies, no way to see the very top. 

The static, the crackling chitter became something almost comprehensible. 

Became scattered with tone, not quite alive but undeniably methodical. 

A cruel mockery of conversation that became language. 

Running AZa_thm.medullaworks client...

The angel had been compromised by colliding with another consciousness, it's been documented plenty of times.. lost souls bonding with the mass and gravity of a titan. 

Unable to find existing response...

This thing had no soul, no concept of consequences nor mortality of the living. 

Searching client categorization..

It didn't grieve, found everyone and everything replicable and easy to re-create without and value toward intent and context. 

11 Sources found... Thinking

It grated, auditorial claws digging into your temples. 

Searching recent records from public camera feed archival...

Feeling their way around your throat and back up the spine. 

No discoveries... categorized as Ferryman. Searching for Conduct re: Ferryman Clientele 

Devoid of love and hate and yet framed with the latter, a mindless fool carrying out the wishes of the perpetually unsatisfied

Drafting Negotiation.. Running legality check...

There were no red lines to cut into.

Conversation will be recorded... logging in under profile -arlecchino.skies... Running recommended build 1.11..

Nothing to rage against. 

Branching... Connecting to HOSTING/LEGACY/ONIONS_CRACKED

Endless feed without substance, repeatedly muttering method without madness.

Assessing security risks...

The Angel had been tainted by the machinations of the machine.