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ah. [break][break]

that's what he needed - a pharmacist. it's funny; she thought that he would have one lined up already. frankly, it's why she kept it later down the line. drugs were easy to come by, as opposed to people who were willing to use an acid vat to rid of leftover humans. whether it was the morality of something or the difficulty of something, drugs were one of the easier things to access. it never involved hurting people directly, and the only thing you need is money. [break][break]

it's easy to access. [break][break]

so she doesn't hide the slight surprise when he expresses interest in her inventory - albeit it's only visible under the slightest widen of her eyes. the moment only lasts for that long, however, as she returns to a resting position. [break][break]

"mhm.." the pen pauses in its taps, dual-colored eyes narrowing. "medicine ranging from mild to lethal. hallucinogens, poisons, common pain killers, psychiatry.." it'll take her ages to list everything out, especially after restocking her inventory just the other day - many thanks to howard slayte . "... things that cannot be obtained through normal means." [break][break]

a sigh escapes her lips, glancing towards another door within the lab. without taking too much time, she places the clipboard down against her desk, swapping it for a key ring that jingles between her fingers, yet she remains seated. "i have a supplier for the majority of ingredients, and i concoct most drugs myself." a tie within rocket, but that doesn't need to be specified. [break][break]

"were you looking for something specific?" the clicking of keys abruptly stops when she tightens her fingers over the keys.

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i'm standing on the ashes of who i used to be

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this line of work had its benefits. [break][break]

the quips and sarcasm and occasional bites at their backsides aside, getting down and dirty into the rocks and rocket wasn't an entire loss. so what if she felt low doing it, so what if she knew she'll be hurting more people by healing someone capable of far worse? it net two things she'll need - two things she'll need for the future. [break][break]

in the same way his gaze softened, her guards lower (but only slightly, revealing the tiniest crack; it doesn't hold for long when she isn't that charitable). "i'm glad i could help." she speaks modestly, but nestled deep in the sheepish smile bites back an 'of course' gnawing at her mind. [break][break]

he stumbles, and her first reaction is to step towards him to act as a crutch. the way he catches himself, however, tells her that his pride needn't be wounded like that. still, she's a doctor and a nurse at heart - to hell with ego. thankfully for him, it looked like he was able to stand on his own. still, it looked like he was happy enough with the service to let her in on something - something that she didn't think she'd be hearing any day soon. [break][break]

"oh?" her interest is piqued, the gentle sheepishness to her gaze immediately sharpening with intrigue. she wants to ask, desperately, but the question is on the tip of her tongue, and it's ultimately bitten back. instead, her fingers tent against themselves against her stomach with a hum to escape her. [break][break]

"you're good at finding materials, you say?" she doesn't doubt it, considering how he was able to grab chemicals otherwise blacklisted from the general public. she's mulling over her options, but she'd be stupid to not take the deal in front of her. perhaps that's why she's willing to be so brazen. "... could you bring me dynite ore in the next delivery?" [break][break]

not just any dynite ore; "i need something fresh, pure. if you can do that..." she smiles, still serene, despite the horrors that may be brewing beneath the sweet tone. [break][break]

"i'll be more than happy to help you again." [break][break]

indeed, cooperation fosters progress.[break][break]

nature of progress be damned.

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they're getting somewhere now. [break][break]

at least she's cooperative enough to answer some questions. they're nothing too serious, really. "on a scale from one to ten, how bad is your stomach pain?" she asks first, holding her fingers up with a smile "you can use your fingers to tell me." [break][break]

though it's obligatory, she still narrows her eyes at the idea of leaving the poor thing to be in pain. marisol, before getting the answer, slowly pulls out a pokeball to release a blissey next to her - the large egg pokemon has a small nurse's hat on her head, showing that she's also one of the nurses.

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it's a delusion. [break][break]

a delusion created by the desperate attempts to retain a semblance of normalcy - she'll assume so, at least, based on how the prison guards of the waking world were so happy to prance through their daily activities in this fever dream. she hears the whispers and hopeful ramblings of the megalopeans, and she can't help but to crack a pessimistic, disappointed smile. [break][break]

they hope to find salvation in their misery. [break][break]

she'd have thought that the events that led to their ruins would have taught them that despair only fosters a deeper sense of resentment; were they so blinded? in the dream, she stops in her tracks, glaring down one of her pokemon through the looking glass. does she have the right to judge? [break][break]

every dream ends, at some point. it disappears and she, who wandered her way to the tower, finds the image of the.. odd creature. it looks familiar enough, however, like she's read about it before. marisol doesn't have the time to think about it, as she's woken up. for her, she's startled awake by the sharp pain in her ribs. yup, it's still likely broken, but she can still move around - it wasn't as severe as something like a broken arm or leg. she can still work, and she can still move. she'll just be careful not to aggravate it more during her time here. [break][break]

the poison in the chains isn't anything she's experienced before; marisol is no stranger to toxins, but this brings forth a stinging throbbing into her head. still, she remembers the dream - and remembers the emptiness she felt walking those deluded streets. the delusion ends when mochi is thrown to their cell, and marisol carefully removes herself from Mimi Hirose for both their comfort. then, she lowers herself to pick up some of the food - carefully sharing with her cellmate. [break][break]

they'll need all the energy they can get. if they're being fed poison for the energy, she'll consume it until she's rotten to the core. [break][break]

another event is made to be a spectacle, and there's nothing humorous about it. yet when the toxins seep into her flesh, she can't help but to laugh and repeat like a mindless slave (the same way she was, the way she had been). to others, it was jarring, perhaps embarrassing. perhaps the victims in the center already knew that this was all involuntary, but the vulnerability and humiliation transcends the manufactured laughter. [break][break]

marisol herself isn't fazed by this - she's so close to slipping back into being a passenger of her own mind. in fact, perhaps this was better; she can actually remember what she was doing this time around. the laughing hour inevitably ends, and she endures the best she can. it was going to be.. a long time until anything changed, it would seem. [break][break]

and she was right. [break][break]

throughout waking hours, she's a void - a husk. it's to be expected when when it's a place of routine, and a place where things needed to get done. it didn't matter how she might be humiliated throughout the week or otherwise; she does her own and bides her time until she's given freedom in the dream, then she wakes up and repeats the cycle. yet with each day that passes, the dream is the only place she can finally express herself and break - and tears fall until she makes attempts to collect them for herself. she never liked the salty droplets, but it can't be helped. [break][break]

the daytime is blur, but in the dream, she moves to collect information. whether it be visiting her pokemon and the familiar creature in the tower, she passes by them in favour of the most pressing matter; collecting information from the guards. they'll never talk to her otherwise, so she pulls them over each night to ask questions in their fervor. one night, she finally works up the courage to pull someone aside, a serene smile on her lips. a practiced smile on her lips. [break][break]

"hey," she pulls them over, lightly. it's only in a dream she can smile. when she's collected enough information about the black knight necrozma, she'll take a gamble. "have you ever seen a large, skeletal beast?" [break][break]

fragments of another dream haunt her to this day, but she'll never forget the clash between a prismatic knight clad in darkness, and the desperation of a corrupted beast. her lips curl into a smile, a snake ready to sink in her fangs. [break][break]

"one that could defeat the accursed necrozma."

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it hurts. [break][break]

but she doesn't budge from her job, even as the beast beats and bats at her. she leaves the encounter with bruises (and what she swears will be a broken rib), but it was better to bite her tongue and finish with her work. the punishment, she found, is shortened when you do what you're supposed to do, whether it be due to dissociation or satisfaction. [break][break]

when the work is complete, she and others are showered in water. it's cold, with the cloth clinging to her body. the humiliation claws its way into her skin, even when a guard nearby snickers at the muddied clothing. still, she is despondent - they want to watch her despair, is that right? that's alright - she'll despair all they like. she'll let them think she's on her final straw. [break][break]

the chains are just as rough as she remembers as they're all brought back to their cells, violently pulled by the chains that are now the least of her worries in this bizarre adventure. she's returned to her cell, with the same, child cellmate who looks like she's just been through hell. she has been. it's only a shame that marisol couldn't find her when they were all suddenly thrown into the abyss - the poor thing must have been terrified. [break][break]

"are you alright?" she first asks, ignoring her own pain as she moves towards her. she doesn't have time to check when food is suddenly thrown towards them, and her first instinct is to move the food over for the two of them to sit and eat. they'll both need the energy, anyways. [break][break]

she uses this time to gently check her arms, through what little view the mask gave her. her own pain still muddles her sight, and the limit vision doesn't help. she couldn't even treat her if she wanted to. so, instead, marisol raises a finger to point towards the only cot in their cell. "come here." she call the young lady over, all while slowly sitting herself on one side of the cot. [break][break]

"lean your back on me. it might feel a bit uncomfortable, but you'll feel better in the morning." [break][break]

the morning. [break][break]

they'll need to save their energy for it. [break][break]

it was a tough day, and the adrenaline is the reason she's lucid. when she finally has time to rest - not without throbbing pain in her chest - she drifts into a deep slumber. [break][break]

one hell into another.

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a punishment it was. [break][break]

not a pleasant one, mind. thankfully, it looked as though the wardens were true to their word - although her accursed curiosity bites at her, asking what the harsher option was. twisted curiosity should be a sin - one that she'll drink regardless of its label. she, like many others, are brought down to the same hellhole. the same hellhole could make anyone vomit from the putrid stench. [break][break]

then she's met with blood and guts and gore. [break][break]

it doesn't bother her, unlike some of the other prisoners here. it's now where she can properly see the stature of the other prisoners - namely being able to recognize Eris Halla immediately. it's not the blood nor the flesh nor the rot and spoil that makes her stomach turn - it's the fact that these people are ruthless enough to drag children into their idea of repentance. it's watching a child take another familiar man, Isaac Merlo , over her shoulders to carry him.[break][break]

the second one she recognizes is the voice of Cillian Quinn ; distant to the past, in a time in her rocket days, but a voice that instinctively brings a shiver up her spine regardless. she's only grateful that she's changed too much to no longer be recognized (but the voice that followed the stinging residue of a gunshot to the leg still lingers; she hasn't forgotten). [break][break]

the third is howard slayte - as he's pulled down into the slop and curses the demons that put them there. she recognizes a last one; illeana reyes . a friend, and someone she genuinely didn't think she'd see in this hell. the screams, the yelling, it all blends together: and marisol can't bring herself to lift finger to do more than what she's supposed to do as friends are tied to the ground, and expected to clean. [break][break]

what are you doing, marisol?[break][break]

the mask is suffocating, her body is heavy. now, her heart is numb and the adrenaline, she knows, will run out. though the chains coil around her body like thorns and the stench threatens to rot her lungs, she takes a deep breath of the rotting pastries and blood and much in the dirt. it's disgusting. it reminds her of the lab, of the hospital, of father--[break][break]

of home. [break][break]

she watches as people break, or are pushed one by one. a beast is released on the floor, foul as it rushes to the closest prisoner. screams follow as people run to get to work. screams follow as those in the DUMMY ward are chained to the ground. the masked nurse, with all her disillusioned "freedom" moves closer towards illeana reyes and howard slayte , seeming to be someone only trying to help their ward with the work. [break][break]

"illie?" she asks, just to confirm; the white hair is unmistakable. she and marisol have been on enough outings and enough escapades to not recognize her voice. when the beast's footsteps echo in the halls, she's quick to drop closer to the ground. she's swift with her hands as she begins to gather the gunk that surrounds the woman chained to the ground.[break][break]

she's used to this, after all. marisol is quick with her hands and quick with her feet when she can pick up pieces of mush with bare hands, carrying them against her stomach. the sights don't scare her, nor does the texture. [break][break]

just like childhood. [break][break]

all while she tries to avoid the gaze of the monster; she's trying to do her own share, as well. two seemed to be busy distracting the beast, one is only still recovering from surgery, and one is her friend, chained to the ground in filth. the ones who can't move will be the first targets, so it's risky to stand by the ones that hit the ground. [break][break]

she knows. [break][break]

but the better part of her, who stares at a child, a patient, and a friend, can't stomach the thought of self-preservation. [break][break]

how hypocritical.

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i'm standing on the ashes of who i used to be

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there's a limit. [break][break]

a limit to how audacious one can be. despite his questioning, he still speaks to her in roundabout ways - it's clear to her that he knows more, yet he runs circles like she's an unaware babe. if he wasn't interested in an actual conversation, she wasn't keen on the idea of being mocked when he beats around the bush. [break][break]

"mm.. tall tale." is all she says in response to his kyurem explanation. though the story of the three dragons isn't too familiar, even she knows of the legend - and the recent developments - regarding the large ice dragon. its awakening devastated many; she was one of the nurses and doctors who had to ferry many others to the hospitals. she was the one who had to watch dying eyes in hospice. [break][break]

she'd rather not think about it. [break][break]

his attempt to grab the pill bottle is successful - not that she tried to avoid his hand to begin with. "one pill every evening. take it with food. symptoms might include drowsiness, dizziness, or occasional confusion." she didn't bother to label it. if he was smart, he'd be able to take care of himself. if not, she had ways to remedy an overdose. it wouldn't be fatal, anyways. he won't die. probably. "if you experience anything other than that, come see me immediately." she hums "unless you'd like to be questioned by other doctors."[break][break]

her gaze falls back to his arm, which still recovers from the fresh stitches. "finally, bed rest. my blissey has healed some of it, but you still need plenty of rest for the muscle to recover." at the mention of the pink pokemon, she lets out a soft chime and hum of pride. [break][break]

"anymore questions?"

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