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Entry tags:
REPORT 031 :: ALONE // VOICE | WRITTEN
[ACTION | MORNING]
[Daisy's eyes continued to stare where Keimi's head used to rest as she woke up.
Her room had been left alone three weeks ago. She didn’t know why she kept resting in the same position as if Keimi had remained in Luceti. It was the same smidge of hope she kept that she would return with her memories, even if day and day she tried writing a filter for Keimi that always failed. She just did the same mechanical motions to stand up, bathe, dress, and eat before going to work
She didn’t lock herself up, she didn’t cry, she didn’t lose her discipline the slightest, or forsake her duties. Instead, she became what Spartans did in times of extreme stress. What she reverted to at many times during Harvest. How John coped with everything he had ever seen and done.
She just functioned.
SPARTAN-023 continued her project on what they found underground, she continued to help those that would request help, she would continue her exercises and training sessions, and she would continue to meditate. But there was a reason in all of it. The second she fell into the temptation to skip one day from her tasks, even like this, she would be falling into a deeper hole. Social tasks took a secondary priority.
Those that might have seen her within those days, after Keimi left, will notice that her eyes had turned glassy -- with a perpetually tired look. In spite of her maintained uniform, she is now attempting to cope. And she is fearing she is failing.]
[ACTION | NIGHT]
[Too punctually, she returns to the self-appointed time to sleep. Even this took priority on how to behave. Sleep, she knew, was an important weapon... as hard as it became to do so now.
Daisy sits on her bed. She lets herself watch the other side of her bed once again...
… she hears rushed steps. A group is running here. Heavy.
Metallic.
SPARTAN-023 grabs her broadsword. Her teeth clench. Her pupils dilate as her eyes widen for the first time in months as every part of her drove itself for the kill. She timed the moment they would come--
They break the doors. She moves to slice with far more hatred than she ever had against any alien or any cultist, and almost ignores the pain of their moves trying to subdue her as she screams in anger to use her own hands to rip them apart with far too much instinct.
She tears one apart, she stabs another against the wall to pummel it until only dent and cracked plates remained, the last ones moves to grab its’ broken companions--
The woman only continues to attack viciously and trying to break one of its legs, but even she only gets to remove a forearm when the last droid leaves with everything that could be considered dangerous for the residents to have.
She stares for a long time at the door, still holding on to her sword. Before she knows it, it is over.]
[Daisy’s irises widen back to normal when it all ends. It takes her a while to pace her breathing as her heart even took longer to do the same as it hammered her chest. She looks at the disaster the fight brought over along with the tracks that were left behind by the droids before picking their pieces and running, then at her own injuries. Blunt body trauma, strained tendons, blood on her forehead... but she was otherwise alright.
She grabs her helmet for a brief transmission for those that would use radio, communicating a need for assistance, keeping an even voice. Then, she tried taming her hand to write on the journal.]
[TEXT]
Requesting Medevac
CH5, Floor 1, Room 2
Journal, Radio Freq. 84.2 preferred, SPARTAN-23
# Patients - 1C - Priority
1A - No special equipment needed
1B - No litter needed
P - Possible hostile presence
E - Broken door
A - UNSC personnel
All clear of NBC contamination
[Daisy's eyes continued to stare where Keimi's head used to rest as she woke up.
Her room had been left alone three weeks ago. She didn’t know why she kept resting in the same position as if Keimi had remained in Luceti. It was the same smidge of hope she kept that she would return with her memories, even if day and day she tried writing a filter for Keimi that always failed. She just did the same mechanical motions to stand up, bathe, dress, and eat before going to work
She didn’t lock herself up, she didn’t cry, she didn’t lose her discipline the slightest, or forsake her duties. Instead, she became what Spartans did in times of extreme stress. What she reverted to at many times during Harvest. How John coped with everything he had ever seen and done.
She just functioned.
SPARTAN-023 continued her project on what they found underground, she continued to help those that would request help, she would continue her exercises and training sessions, and she would continue to meditate. But there was a reason in all of it. The second she fell into the temptation to skip one day from her tasks, even like this, she would be falling into a deeper hole. Social tasks took a secondary priority.
Those that might have seen her within those days, after Keimi left, will notice that her eyes had turned glassy -- with a perpetually tired look. In spite of her maintained uniform, she is now attempting to cope. And she is fearing she is failing.]
[ACTION | NIGHT]
[Too punctually, she returns to the self-appointed time to sleep. Even this took priority on how to behave. Sleep, she knew, was an important weapon... as hard as it became to do so now.
Daisy sits on her bed. She lets herself watch the other side of her bed once again...
… she hears rushed steps. A group is running here. Heavy.
Metallic.
SPARTAN-023 grabs her broadsword. Her teeth clench. Her pupils dilate as her eyes widen for the first time in months as every part of her drove itself for the kill. She timed the moment they would come--
They break the doors. She moves to slice with far more hatred than she ever had against any alien or any cultist, and almost ignores the pain of their moves trying to subdue her as she screams in anger to use her own hands to rip them apart with far too much instinct.
She tears one apart, she stabs another against the wall to pummel it until only dent and cracked plates remained, the last ones moves to grab its’ broken companions--
The woman only continues to attack viciously and trying to break one of its legs, but even she only gets to remove a forearm when the last droid leaves with everything that could be considered dangerous for the residents to have.
She stares for a long time at the door, still holding on to her sword. Before she knows it, it is over.]
[Daisy’s irises widen back to normal when it all ends. It takes her a while to pace her breathing as her heart even took longer to do the same as it hammered her chest. She looks at the disaster the fight brought over along with the tracks that were left behind by the droids before picking their pieces and running, then at her own injuries. Blunt body trauma, strained tendons, blood on her forehead... but she was otherwise alright.
She grabs her helmet for a brief transmission for those that would use radio, communicating a need for assistance, keeping an even voice. Then, she tried taming her hand to write on the journal.]
[TEXT]
Requesting Medevac
CH5, Floor 1, Room 2
Journal, Radio Freq. 84.2 preferred, SPARTAN-23
# Patients - 1C - Priority
1A - No special equipment needed
1B - No litter needed
P - Possible hostile presence
E - Broken door
A - UNSC personnel
All clear of NBC contamination
[Action]
Safe.
Her hold tightens, curling in Saori's arms. As she willfully leans her whole body on the goddess', Daisy has the flashes of the earliest memories of her true mother.]
Don't worry... I won't. [She leans her head.] We'll be alright.
[Action]
Oddly, she's reminded of September, when she'd been paralyzed and injured during the memory-lapse shift. It was Daisy who'd carried her home and tended her with soup and warm words. In a way, this was like coming full circle, a strange little family cycle for the goddess, the Spartan, and the Elemental Fiend of Wind.
An odd little family, that. But who could deny that here more than anywhere, they needed the companionship.]