Dr. Anabelle Evingston
She who would reshape the world
I've finally found my place in life. A driving purpose.The disappearance of a friend. The limits of humanity. The origin of gods. Anabelle Evingston, doctor of medicine and theorized leader of Altruistic Concilium of Sacred Architecture -- her meteoric rise through the Legion's ranks was nothing less than legendary, enough to turn her into a notorious yet secretive character known the world over. But just as she finally reached the top of the bloody Legion ladder she climbed, Dr. Evingston retreated from the public eye; where she's gone, and what the brilliant doctor is working on next, no one is truly sure. Anabelle is not a natural born leader -- it's simply what she's forged herself into. Incredibly intelligent with very limited patience for failure, she demands the best not only from herself, but from all those around her. Together these qualities make for an exceptionally lonely lifestyle -- one that Anabelle doesn't really mind, although she has found the ability within herself to build a close network of people she once called "friends".
Who She Was
The people of Varzen like to see themselves as an independent people; and yet the powerful nation to their north known as Artazia sees it entirely differently. It's within this highly unstable political climate, within Varzen's capital of Vanata, a city forced to regularly pay oppressive taxes to their superpower northern neighbour, that Anabelle was born. Her parents, Everette and Janice Evingston, were a pair of doctors that operated a successful practice within Vanata; while the steep tax on their income bothered them, it wasn't enough to convince them to move, as the prestige of being the best doctors in Varzen was a hard thing to give up. Much of Anabelle's early childhood was spent purely with her parents -- from a young age she showed signs of heightened intelligence, and would spend the days asking question after question, to the point where her exasperated parents put her into school three years early just so that they could get some some space from their exhausting and inquisitive child. At first the young Anabelle loved school; she could endlessly ask questions, and learn everything there was to know. But, she was also frustrated by the practice; every other student around her seemed complacent, lazy, and unable to think beyond that which the instructor at the front of the class said.
You never say "good" or "great", you never tell me I excel -- all you ever say is just "not bad".
Will anything I do ever be enough for you?
Anabelle portrait by Anica Best
Anabelle Evingston
(Doctor)
Children
Favored Deity
While much is known about Anabelle, including the fact that the gods (both before and after The Seven Day War) are an area of intense focus for her, what's not known is whether or not she ever had a favourite among the titanic, undead deities. Some think that because the country she's from (the small and mountainous Varzen) has no patron God-husk, she's never really developed a close "relationship" with any of them. Others think she simply hates them all.
by Polina Skaia
~
To her parent's quiet, reserved, and restrained joy, Anabelle completed her education early. Earlier than anyone ever had. She'd learned everything there was for the school system to teach her, and taken every lesson given to her by her parents to heart. Gone was her open inquisitiveness -- where once she was known as the child that would never cease asking questions in class, by the end she had become quiet and reserved, barely even seeming to pay attention. And yet, every assignment turned in, every grade returned, every thing she did was awarded perfect scores.
When the time came to start her professional academic journey at 15 years old, the obvious choice was to go abroad; Varzen was nice, but it was hemorrhaging people due to the turmoil with Artazia, and most of the higher education facilities here were lackluster at best. Her parents Everette and Janice had both done their formal schooling at Legion operated universities, and so they convinced the young Anabelle that this too would be the path she should take.
As it just so happened, the Legion sponsored Veiled Academy, an incredibly prestigious and secretive university in Degrunda, had just begun to re-allow applications after a few years of mysteriously closed doors. It was a multifaceted campus of science and engineering, with one of the best medical programs found on Cathedris; it was also a place where the Legion funded many research projects, a perfect opportunity to get her foot in the door with the world's most powerful employer.
With very little fanfare and not a single look back, Anabelle left for the next step of her journey.
~
Click to read her story, part 1:
Open Eyes
Two years of sucking up to the idiots in charge, of bending the knee to those furthest from being her "better", had finally paid off. Despite the school's best efforts, it was no secret that there were things, "programs" going on behind closed doors -- programs that Anabelle knew were the ticket to ascension. This is how she'd get finally get an in with the Legion itself. The crowd of people pushed at her from behind; there really wasn't enough space in this operating theater for all of them. Anabelle's discomfort was matched only by her keen interest in what was playing out before the crowd -- she'd have to just ignore the mass of people for now, and focus on the show. An unconscious man lay strapped to a metal table in the middle of the operating room. Many bright lights shone harshly upon his body, naked from the waist up. The doctors -- perhaps researchers? She wasn't really sure -- had all sorts of tubes and devices plugged into the subject. He was an absolute mess of science and technology, a visual horror to most. But not to Anabelle. Anabelle felt excited at the realization that she could only determine the purpose of roughly half of devices grotesquely protruding from the man's unmoving body; whatever was going on here was something entirely new. "This, ladies and gentlemen," came a voice from below. "Is an early step along the path to greatness." A man in a dark lab coat walked into the bright lights surrounding the operating table. He was balding, with a large unkempt mustache, and had thick rimmed glasses on. He smiled a large, toothy smile. "Some of you will join us on this path, should you prove useful. Some of you may even help us take the pivotal step at some point." The smile grew so large it was almost a grimace. "Whether you're on the table... or the one holding the knife, is another matter entirely." Anabelle's heart began to race; the familiar rapid beating of excitement. She recognized an opportunity when she saw it. The same feeling preempted every good decision she's ever made, every choice that has carried her to where she is now. She tasted ascension. "Now," said the man in the dark lab coat. He looked down protectively at the subject strapped to the table, and reached out a hand to lightly touch the unconscious man's cheek. "Let's begin."~
Horrific guttural screeching tore its way through the subjects lips; it was as if his vocal cords were shredding themselves in protest, breaking down their own musculature in order to scream to the heavens above. Eyes that were once shut and peaceful were now wide open and bulging horrifically, looking everywhere, looking nowhere; they seemed to be straining, trying to leave the man's face, trying to escape the horror happening within. His torso, cleanly sliced during the surgical procedure, throbbed openly in a way that did not match the beating of his heart-- whatever it was that the man in the dark lab coat had put in inside was now wriggling, squirming, reaching--
They had put something living into him. They had put a biologic mass of life, of twisted, terrible life, into his chest cavity. Only it was too alive. It had too much vigor. It was too much for the subject to bear. They should have killed it, whatever it is.
Anabelle was at the front, directly against the glass -- the push of the crowd behind her meant that the only escape from the horror in front of her would come from blocking her vision. But she did not close her eyes. She did not look away. She watched as the ripples of muscle contractions ran up and down the man's body; rows and rows of cramping movements hitting every muscle in series, popping blood vessels and tearing at skin that was far too tight. She saw him strain against the restraints -- cables that were thick, strong, seemingly unbreakable -- his body fully arching up and away from the table. His core rose higher and higher as he rapidly trembled under the assault of his own body fighting the horrific implant.
There were audible snaps, and the crowd behind Anabelle screamed.
A brief moment of panic -- how can she escape? How many people between her and safety? But then she looked closer to see that the restraints still held -- the test subject was still strapped to the table. Instead, she realized as she surveyed his now strangely moving limbs, the snapping sound had likely come from the man's tendons being unable to take the strain of his contracting muscles.
Fascinating...
The thought came to her despite the horror of what she witnessed. Whatever it was, this intended step was clearly a failure. But failure happened so rarely around here that it was almost a joy to see; being able to learn from one was a gift.
The subject's broken limbs began to bend even more erratically, as his cramping muscles began to swell. Arms were bent in ways they were never supposed to, and he began twisting in place -- all while unleashing that continuous screech, a sound that should have stopped a few agonizing minutes ago.
The crowd screamed again as the sound of another snap hit them.
This time, it was a restraint -- one of the ones around his legs, or rather, what used to be legs. They had engorged themselves to the point of being unrecognizable, swollen masses of muscular flesh that undulated in an altogether unnatural manner. The newly freed "limb" flailed about, banging dreadfully against the metal table.
Anabelle's fortitude began to waver; as panic in her started to rise, she tried pushing back against the crush of bodies behind. She was about to turn her entire body to try and slip into the crowd, when an echoing bang reverberated off of the stone walls of the operating theater. She instinctively covered her ears and ducked her head -- she'd heard that noise in Varzen before. Someone, or something, had just been shot.
As the ringing in her ears died down, she was met with... silence.
The man in the dark lab coat wiped the gore off his face with one of his sleeves. He'd been standing there watching the entire time, Anabelle realized. Watching the entire thing unfold. Like a true scientist dedicated to his experiment, he hadn't panicked at all -- everything was a part of the process.
"There is no better instructor than failure." Said the man, echoing Anabelle's earlier thoughts. "But, you can all leave now."
He re-holstered his pistol, and readjusted his lab coat. "We've got a mess to clean up, and mistakes to learn much from."
~
Anabelle was the last one in the theater, remaining until the very end. She found it hard to tear her eyes away from the mess of what was once a human on the table. The thing implanted in his chest cavity still wriggled, slightly.
A thought came to her, as she turned to leave. Something she had realized while witnessing the nightmare unfold, as she watched the strange monstrous implant turn an assumed normal human being into a disgusting disaster.
"In human to human transplants," she said, half turned away from the operating table. "It's best when the organ and the host are both as alive as they can be." She turned her head back to the table, where the man in the dark lab coat stood, staring up at her. The light from the operating lights reflected off his glasses and obscured his eyes. She could not read his expression nor tell where he was looking.
"In a case like this, where you're introducing something... else, you might want to try adding mechanical limiters to the implant. Something to make it a little bit less alive."
The great toothy grin spread its way across the man's face once more. It said more than words could ever express; it told Anabelle that once again, her judgement was correct. She'd be seeing him again. One day, she'd probably even be commanding him.
"What's your name, dear?" The question came surprisingly lightly from the man, for all the horror he stood within.
Anabelle fully turned, and began to walk to the door.
"It's Anabelle Evingston." She called over her shoulder.
Connections and Co-conspirators
Success is limited only by our own cowardice.Anabelle consumed all knowledge with a voracious appetite at the academy, and she took every single opportunity granted to her. If there was a test, she'd be there taking it -- when there was an experiment, she'd be in the crowd watching, providing her observations and ideas to the researchers at the end. Very quickly the name "Anabelle Evingston" became known to almost everyone in the school -- faculty, students, and even Legion operatives there as visitors. Much of the student body hated her. She'd done in two years what had taken many of them half a decade; and the cold manner in which she regarded them, as if she found the time requirement to explain what she was thinking to them to be not worth it, drove them mad.
And yet, this was a school for gifted individuals, and so it was only a matter of time before Anabelle finally met some more like minded people. At the Veiled Academy you're free to take as many classes as you can physically fit into your schedule -- there are the program minimums you must complete, but the rest are up to you.
In addition to the medical classes that were a part of her program, Anabelle also enrolled in classes regarding Rendling Biology, God-husk biology, the history of the Gods, Pre-history, Geography, and Ethics. She had become fascinated in the connection between mortal and immortal, and in the differences between the gods and what came before.
Say that again and you're the next under the knife. You know the strings I pull. No one calls me 'Ana' but Helen.
The Veiled Academy
While eventually this location would become a premier academy for newly made or aspiring Catalurgists to come and learn the ways of their art, at the time that Anabelle went to it, it was still a generalist Academy with a few specific and highly acclaimed programs within. The Programs of Medicine, Engineering, and Mathematics offered at the Veiled Academy were known as some of, if not the, best in the world at the time.
by Vlad Kutepov
~
In just a few short years, Anabelle graduated; at age 18 she was now able to proudly declare herself a doctor of medicine, a fact that she was quick to make sure no one around her ever forgot. The way she had excelled through every challenge placed in front of her had turned her into a minor celebrity on campus, creating quite the name for herself at the Veiled Academy, in Degrunda, and also at home in Varzen.
If they hadn't already learned of her by then, the Legion hiring committee knew it now; before she even walked the stage to received her degree, the Legion had offered her a job. The initial offer was to become a junior researcher in one of their entry level research programs, starting on a rather low rung of the Legion corporate ladder.
But Anabelle had grown quite skilled at getting what she wanted out of life; she simply had to know what she wanted. In the academy, it was information -- knowledge. She was adept at pulling every bit of info a person knew out of them, or if they didn't know it, convincing them to go and find it out for her. Anabelle had amassed an impressive wealth of information on most, if not every person in the Academy; she wielded this information like a scalpel, using it to deftly cut and pry every ounce of knowledge out of whoever she happened to be focused on.
Thus when Anabelle was offered a position that was far beneath her, she surprised the Legion officer by having in-depth knowledge of what was truly going on behind closed laboratory doors, and just how many ethical violations this officer in particular had committed; they very quickly gave her a new offer befitting what she knew.
Listen, I know forgetting to call me "doctor" was an accident -- just like I know you didn't mean to "forget" you had the store-room keys on you. I know it's not your fault those items went missing, so don't you worry. I'm on your side here, despite the errors. But... I do wonder how many other people believe it's not your fault. I can set the record straight, if you like. You just need to do something for me in return.
The second offer was for a research position working under the head of biotech engineering within The Human Augmentation Program at the Legion, Amé Leneret -- but Anabelle turned that one down too. While the H.A.P. was undoubtedly impressive, they were too secretive and too unknown for Anabelle at this time. Going there would essentially dead-end her career, and she was too ambitious to stop now. And so the Legion came to her with a third and final offer; it came with that familiar feeling of excitement. She once again tasted ascension.
By the time Anabelle began her position with the Legion as the head of 'Pre-history and the Mortal-Deity-Connection' research team, she had already gained a large collection of people she considered "with her"; these were folks who's deepest and darkest secrets were known by Anabelle, or who had been around her long enough that they simply trusted what she said and followed her orders. This collection included fellow students, instructors, Legion members, and even those closest to her she called friends.
These friends, especially Helen, were often bothered by the way they were "lumped in" with the others in this group. But it was hard to argue with Anabelle; if the smartest person in the room tells you to jump, you don't ask questions -- you jump, and you thank her later.
Click to read her story, part 2:
A loud bang shocked the room, and filled everyone's ears with a terrible ringing. Each of them ducked down, Legion training coming to the forefront in times of danger; after a minute of near silence and no more activity, though, Anabelle stood back up.
"Which idiot just fired their side arm? What in the name of He'an is going on?" She asked. She meant it to be quizzical, but it came out sounding accusatory. All of the rest of the team stood up, hands raised in defense, as if to say don't look at me, I didn't do anything.
All but one stood up, that is. A dark red spray coated the books where Jeremy had been standing. Anabelle felt her gorge rise as she saw bits of hair clinging to the shelves; disappointment and horror filled her mind in equal amounts. One by one, the rest of the team looked over to where Jeremy once stood. To the fresh stain upon the wall. To the bloody silhouette of someone they all once called friend.
To his body crumpled to the floor, pistol still in hand.
Viola wretched, and Helen's accusatory glare grew red hot as it bored into Anabelle.
"I--" Anabelle's voice caught, and for a rare moment, she struggled to speak.
"We need to leave, now. Everyone out."
She tightened her grip on the tattered journal, and lead the way out of the room.
She did not look back.
The First Hint
"Coming in here was a mistake. I don't think this is a good idea." Anabelle rolled her eyes at the front of the group. She'd known that Jeremy was a bit of a whiner, but somehow she hadn't expected it to be this bad once they got in The Comprilith. They'd only been in here for a few days, but he'd been endlessly dropping hints about how uncomfortable he was since day one. "The air in here makes it hard to breathe" he had said. "I feel like there's something pushing down on me" -- complaints, constantly. She was surprised the others could put up with it. It had gotten bad now though, his complaining. Pretty soon she'd have to make an example out of him, in the hopes it shut him up for a bit and they could find what they came here for. She cursed herself once again for negotiating with the Legion to get her friends a job with the same research group she headed. Back at the Academy they were essentially equals, or so she thought -- but out here in the real world, their flaws became so much more apparent. She mentally chastised herself for the harsh thoughts running through her mind. It had become a constant thing, here in the strange and cursed tower; it was probably the exhaustion, stress, and unfamiliar environment that let her thoughts stray towards the unfair, almost becoming mean. She was glad her friends couldn't hear them. They were, overall, good people -- they didn't deserve the criticism that emerged from her mind. It's not like it was even really their fault anyways. All 3 of them had been resistant to the idea of joining this research expedition; they'd only agreed because Anabelle insisted, and they never say no to her. Well, usually not -- Helen would sometimes remain a firm stick in the mud. She almost did this time too, but Anabelle finally managed to persuade her to join on an expedition to the Comprilith. If it was something Anabelle truly wanted, there was no one that could say no to her. And really, how could Helen resist? This expedition was a dream come true. The two of them had been top of the class in pre-history and entheology studies. They knew everything there was to know about the gods and what came before. A chance at uncovering new information on the topic they both held so dear to their heart was impossible to turn down.~
Anabelle had been sending team after team into the Comprilith, chasing a lead that she'd heard in passing one night -- the existence of the so-called "Cerulean Room". An unaffiliated explorer had stumbled onto it once; saying that it was full to the brim with texts and scrolls that have never before been seen in the outside world. Strange and cryptic knowledge, and most excitingly, information on before.
But this explorer was weak. They had said something about how they weren't able to remain in the room for very long; they simply didn't have the mental fortitude. Anabelle took that to mean they were an idiot at best, incompetent at worst.
And so Anabelle searched for it. Hundreds of Legion explorers under her command entered the Comprilith. Time and time again, they came back empty handed -- or occasionally didn't come back at all. It bothered her a bit to have lost so many. To have sent so many lives into an uncaring structure. Especially as she had nothing to show for it; but she always told herself that she's willing to pay the price for success. If that price was extended onto those she commanded as well, so be it.
But of course, just as she had known, it eventually paid off; a team returned with solid intel on the Cerulean Room.
They were able to describe exactly how to find it, how long it took them to get to it and get back, and the effects of the room. Of course, the layout of the Comprilith is always changing, and time flows differently inside; so the directions were contextual, rather than direct. Enter a green door after you pass by it three times, and once inside, never turn clockwise, until you've walked for days and exited from that same green door into an entirely new area. That sort of thing. The inconsistency of it drove her mad.
~
Now she and her closest companions, Helen, Viola, Jeremy, plus a few extra Legion members to be sure, had found the Cerulean room. They stood in front of it; an ornate wooden door painted a lovely shade of dark sky blue, with a weathered bronze handle.
Anabelle reached out, and opened the door.
The discomfort was immediately apparent upon entering the room. It grew worse with every step inside, too. Intense pressure was building behind her eyes, like it was threatening to push them out from the inside. She was used to headaches though -- had them all the time during the Academy days, and this was only slightly worse than what she'd experienced before. She could handle this.
What she didn't expect, though, was hearing a new running monologue echoing endlessly in her brain. "This hurts I want to leave this hurts I want to leave--" over and over and over. It was her own voice in her head, of that she was sure -- but these weak thoughts were alien to her, and came slightly higher pitched, as if it was her childhood voice crying out in discomfort to her. Begging her to leave.
But it was just in her head. Just an imagined pain. Even if the thoughts were disquieting and uncomfortable to hear, she could handle it. That wasn't her talking in her mind, and she could easily ignore it.
A quick look at her companions, and she figured they could handle it too. Sure, they looked like they were in pain -- just as Anabelle was sure she did too. But each one of them grit their teeth and followed her deeper into the room, and she took that as a sign of their conviction.
"Alright," she said, grimacing. "This is more than unpleasant. You know what we came here for -- anything on the creation of the gods. Anything on what came before." She swayed slightly, before turning to the nearest shelf. "Let's get to it."
~
It felt like days, but was surely no more than an hour in the hellish room. So many of the books were deteriorated beyond repair, impossible to read, and less than worthless. Many of them were on mundane topics -- still interesting, learning about small groups of humanity that lived before the gods existed, but containing no information actually useful to Anabelle's ambitions. Those ones they piled in a corner to come back for "later".
The search had become increasingly difficult however; the pain behind her eyes gradually worsened over time, and the monologue in her brain became more and more frantic. Long periods of time went by where the childlike voice in her mind would only frantically sob. It was clearly getting to the others, too. About half an hour ago Jeremy had burst into tears, soon growing into great heaving sobs.
"For the love of gods, Jeremy. We all know this sucks. We're all experiencing the same thing. We're just not weak. For once in your life can you just keep your whining to yourself?"
The anger in her voice had surprised her at the time. It had lashed out like a red hot whip, striking deeper than she had intended. She knew she was right, of course, but normally Anabelle doesn't let that sort of thing escape her lips without at least a few mental iterations and edits before hand, to ensure she remains civil.
I'll have to apologize to him later. She thought to herself.
His great sobs had been quickly halted, though her friend still quietly wept while looking through book after book. His pace had been slowed as well, as he kept pausing to wipe his blurry eyes and sniffle quietly. This too, frustrated Anabelle. But she was too focused on the task at hand, and too bothered by the pain in her head, to properly chastise herself. Besides, it was nearly impossible to get a word in on the monologue in her own mind; ithurtsithurts being rapidly and endlessly repeated in increasingly shrill tones did not leave much space for rational thought.
~
Another thirty minutes, and few more members of her team began quietly weeping. None of them said anything, though. They'd all heard her snap at Jeremy; none of them wanted to have Anabelle's voice lash out at them right now. Helen glared daggers at Anabelle every few minutes though; she could tell her friend was pissed. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of thoughts were running through her best friend's mind. What sort of vitriol might be directed at Anabelle. There'd be some explaining to do later.
Not now, though.
Anabelle's heart thudded in her chest. It had been beating hard ever since entering the room, as anxiety spiked and adrenaline coursed through her body -- but now it had taken on a familiar tempo of excitement, of hunger for power, for she had finally just discovered something worthwhile.
In her hands was large purple leather-bound journal; the cover was in tatters, but in reasonably okay condition. The reason it had caught her eye when she first picked it up, though, was due to the faded initials on the front cover of the book -- 'A.E.'. Surely just a coincidence, she thought to herself. It's not like the initials A.E. were all that rare, especially not in a place like the Comprilith, which contained books from both past and future eras. But something drew her to it, and Anabelle wasn't a big believer in chance or luck. Below the initials, a single word was found: 'Gifts'.
Jeremy let out a low moan, clutching at his head, interrupting Anabelle's train of thought. She let out a loud sight that radiated annoyance. Everyone around her heard it, she was sure of it. There was no need to verbally chastise her friend again, as surely the message would get across this way.
Flustered, she turned back to the book in her hands. Once again, she probably overreacted. He'll understand when he see's what I've found, though. Anabelle opened the book -- it wasn't very big, maybe 50-60 pages at most. The first page was covered in indecipherable handwritten notes, along with small drawings in the margins of strange objects.
The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but it was in a language or alphabet that she'd never seen before... In some cases, entire pages were full of utterly incomprehensible artwork depicting... something. Anabelle had no idea what in the name of the gods she was looking at. And that thought excited her more than anything else had in years.
But she didn't have long to ponder this exciting feeling.
Prelude to her New Beginning
Anabelle's first venture into the Comprilith changed her. To those that noticed, she'd say it was due to losing a core friend in there; but to herself, she'd say it was because of what she found. The book, later to become known as the Path of Gifts, dominated Anabelle's attention in the coming weeks. It was all she could think about, all she wanted to think about; an impossible puzzle was laid out in front of her, and it took up every part of her mind. Which, she thought, was a blessing -- it meant she didn't have to think about the horror that had transpired within that accursed tower. They had retrieved his body days later; she'd personally sent a team in to bring him back, an honor not granted to any of the other operatives she'd lost inside. What they found was just bones, though, as it seems like decades had passed for his corpse inside that room. They had a small funeral, and her friends told her that they didn't blame her in the end -- the room that they had all been in was toxic, poison to their minds, and none of them could help the thoughts and feelings it brought to them. They told her some of the terrible things that had gone through their minds. It didn't compare to what she had felt. She never truly told them just how clear her thoughts felt. Never mentioned that all the room seemed to do was remove her filter.In the end I knew what I had to. I was prepared to pay the price. I just wish everyone else was.Anabelle remained as head of the 'Pre-history and the Mortal-Deity-Connection' department for a few more years after her first trip into the Comprilith. Her work now mainly consisted of working to translate the 'Path of Gifts' bit by bit, chasing whatever lead came up because of it. It had become an obsession. Helen remained with the department too -- but Viola wound up quitting not long after Jeremy's funeral. She said it was unrelated, and that she simply wanted to explore other opportunities... but Anabelle could see the truth. She felt the straining in the relationship long before Viola quit; Anabelle knew there was no stopping her, and that despite exchanging pleasantries, she'd probably never see her friend again.
The thought bothered her. She'd never had many friends to begin with, and she'd never had one willingly leave before, essentially ending the friendship. Anabelle was so sure of what she was doing, that she was hurt that not all of her friends saw it the same way.
Thankfully, Helen remained. Perhaps even more reserved and careful than before, but steadfast and trustworthy at Anabelle's side.
HeyHello--To my friend
Dear Helen...
Path of Gifts
For a while, the book retrieved from the Cerulean Room inside the Comprilith was utterly indecipherable. Neither Anabelle nor hear team of top researchers were able to figure out what was written inside. Eventually they wound up contacting an old Legion team of Codebreakers, and working together with them, figured out a few secrets of the book. Initially they had assumed either a different language, or a single cypher encoding the entire book. Eventually, they realized that it was all of the above; it was written in what seemed to be some ancient form of Kazcallen language, though the grammar was totally off compared to what had been found in the Desolation Ruins there. Additionally, it had not one single cypher, but rather a different cypher per page. Slowly and methodically they were able to decode parts of the book; and together they finally discovered the existence of the Gifts from the Sky.
by Annie Spratt
It was in this mindset that she resumed climbing the ranks within the Legion, and continued gathering intel on everything that goes on within the organization. It had faded from importance in her mind in recent year:, the research and experiments that the Human Augmentation Program were conducting -- but with knowledge of the Gifts now in her possession, her interest flared back to life.
There was a connection between these "Gifts" that the book talked about and the gods themselves, she was sure of it. Thus there was no better place to continue her research than with the Human Augmentation Program; and yet, she couldn't. They were too focused on their current task, something code-named "Project Ichor", and Anabelle doubted she could persuade them otherwise.
To Amé Leneret, director of the H.A.P., I'd love to meet. Your research fascinates me. I want to see more.
The Grand Reveal
Anabelle made herself useful to The Human Augmentation Program. She interviewed test subjects, summarized information, and provided key insight to researchers on the gods, and on how the world worked. She knew it wasn't enough to change their mind, but it worked to help build trust; and in the mean time, she was privileged enough to learn about a horrific new art being developed in these labs. The same art, in fact, that they'd been working on during her very first experience observing a "procedure" at the Academy all those years ago.Eventually, the opportunity she had been slowly manifesting occurred. A test subject, against all odds, had survived the most brutal of tests. The individual had become what the H.A.P. was calling a Catalurgist. Someone with the power of the gods -- a lessened, reduced version of that power, but power all the same.
Anabelle knew that this would bring the world into a new era of chaos, should it get out; the Legion itself would take a heavy blow in public image, as it would have to frantically try to cover up and close down some of the terrible things they do. It might even upset the board entirely, vacating some positions -- making space for fresh blood to rise to the top.
~
Finally, when she had spoken all she could to the poor man, when all trust, loyalty, and sense of self preservation had fled the recesses of his mind, Anabelle acted. She took him in for an interview -- this wasn't odd, as she interviewed subjects often, but this one wasn't scheduled. Anabelle made sure she took him to a room no one ever used, one that was thankfully near to an exit, and in a place no passers by would accidentally stumble upon. The actual interview was routine, no different from normal; Anabelle's questions were like a hot knife, poking at the sensitive portions of the subject's mind. During the interview, however, she abruptly got up and left the room.
In the uneasy silence, the test subject sat for some minutes, waiting for her to return -- trying to piece together his emotions after she'd so ruthlessly torn them apart. Though while he waited, he noticed that Annabelle had accidentally left a set keys behind. It was a hefty set, too -- seemingly well equipped enough to open any door in this facility. There also seemed to be an ignition key for some kind of vehicle. As he stared at the keys, he finally noticed the box of documents left in the room. Experiment reports, field reports, interview transcripts -- it had everything. Every terrible experiment, every awful test he had undergone, every ounce of pain and agony they had put him through, it was all here in a fine dark onyx ink printed into thick beige paper, stamped with that annoyingly official Legion seal.
~
Anabelle waited, hidden from view, for far longer than she thought she'd have to. She had begun to wonder if perhaps the subject had been pushed too far. Did the sudden absence break him? Did he even have the remaining strength required to do what must be done? She was almost about to get up and go back in to poke and prod some more when finally the test subject cautiously exited the room, keys in one hand and the box of documents tucked under his other arm. She watched him walk, calmly at first, but soon frantically as fear took control, scrambling towards the curiously unguarded exit; out of the facility and right to the vehicle she had parked there days before.
Dear citizens of Cathedris, inhabitants across the world that are good and not otherwise a part of the Legion's terrible program, today is the day the world changes forever -- once again.
The thin line between genius and insanity, but hot damn did you sell it. What a dossier, what a story, what a character!
Thank you so much! <3