Dreaming Entanglement [Liltotto, Alastair]

A pervasive, radiating discomfort kept squeezing it’s way into her mind as she laid on the bed, tucked up in that corner of the private holding room, only a soft hospital gown dressing her body. Sparse facts were understood about her reappearance - a man by the name of Klein that the Vandenreich should have been plenty familiar with had found and brought her back, she appeared listless and unresponsive when initially brought in, and now attempts at gaining any information of what happened to her were a challenge.

Instead of a typically lit room, a darkness had fallen over it, the pressure within the room itself feeling as if the weight of an ocean would threaten to crush any who approached. Despite the blonde’s calm exterior and lack of unpredictability, existing near her for most would certainly spell a case for suffocation.

Food had been placed, but never touched. She’d hardly moved from her position, pressed into the small of the room’s corner at the edge of the bed that met the walls, knees pressed against her chin. A quiet detachment was felt, everything feeling moreso like a disordered dream than a real event, even scent didn’t quite make it clear.

It could be interpreted as a response to a feeling of danger, that wafting spiritual pressure. Only accumulating once the questioning commenced and a sharp burning pain dug behind her eyes. Her face was obscured by shadow, not too much unlike her unrestrained form, though no other signs of this were present aside from a single eye lit like brilliant starlight stared listlessly at a specific point in the room, as if focusing would eliminate this sensation of illness and disruption that wracked her.

She felt wrong, unreal, unaware.

Alastair had requested to be updated on any developments with Liltotto after her return, but the initial reports were not exactly providing much insight into what had happened. There were plenty of capable staff on the medical team tending to her, but there was a barrier in place that they could not yet surpass. He was not a doctor, trained only in the most basic of the medical arts, but this stood out as a distinctly spiritual problem. To that end, Alastair had volunteered to attempt to communicate with the traumatised woman.

Dressed in less official clothes, for a change, having traded his Grandmaster's coat for a labcoat, Alastair was briefed again upon the details before he entered. He had Klein to thank once again for returning another injured officer back to them before the situation they were too far gone, so at least there was a thought of hope in his mind as Alastair stepped into the darkened room.

The presence that was being exuded by Liltotto was akin to nothing Alastair had experienced before. Not in potency, though it certainly carried a weight to it, but the sensation of it washing over him seemed utterly alien at times as it nibbled away at his periphery like a ravenous beast. He did not shy away from it, though. Rather, as it sought to smother him, he released a soothing barrier of warmth that stymied the darkness' advance and allowed an amount of light to return to his corner of the room.

"It is good to see you again, Ms Lamperd. Do you know where you are?"

Scent was the first thing that told the wavering presence of a foreign approach, then the sensation of another occupying the space she dwelled within. This one was more resolute, a feeling of another pushing against her - but not in an oppressive or frightening manner. Rather, it was like a warm light had filtered into the pervasive darkness of her soul. A part of her recognized this one,

Bright One, "Hello," was spoken like a whisper in the night, as if she had almost lost her voice but found the will to grasp it again. Her single visible shimmering eye, the only feature that could be made out on her face, suddenly placed its gaze on him like an abyss staring back at it's observer.

Then she remembered. The frigid claws of her aching hunger ripping her abdomen, the familiar ache woke up with the smell of food.. But she did not see food. Even in her disorientated state, she held herself back, she smothered it, she'd rather suffer a thousand years without that hunger satisfied than lash out. Her knees pressed tighter into her abdomen as she shuffled in the bed, squeezing closer to the corner, like a frightened animal.

Not frightened of him, but rather frightened of what she would do.

"...I do not," The answer was delayed, a sense of curiosity dripping her distant gaze, "...It is dark, cold..."

He did not yet move to approach, holding his ground as far from Liltotto as he could whilst still being in the room. Her singular, hollow-eyed stare was met without faltering. Alastair's orange eyes pierced straight into that abyss, unable to be swallowed up or diminished, and simply stared back at her. If Liltotto felt like the abyss then he was the sun, warm comfort provided by this distant entity that refused to be snuffed out. It was good that she recognised herself, at least.

"You are in a care facility in the City of Lights, being monitored for your safety."

There was little else that he could offer her that would be of any use. This would not grow any more pleasant if he informed her what she was involuntarily doing, or the several other through roads that this lapse in control might lead them down. Right now, this was just about seeing what was left when the layers of fear and pain were peeled away.

"Do you remember how you got here? We will attempt to walk through this from end to beginning."

In the familiarity of the presence that occupied this space alongside her, the darkness did not attempt to bear down on him as incredibly, though the air was still suffocating and oppressive to the rest of the space, feeling more like waves lapping calmly around his existence than actively threatening to swallow him. She knew this warm scent, that of the sun, even if her current state couldn't properly place a name and identity - she knew him, and in turn a growing sense of tenderness diverted this flow, even a little.

His first sentence didn't appear to illicit much of a reaction from her; concepts floated by as easily as thoughts, an untouchable stream of consciousness that went whatever way it desired or felt, explicitly tied to emotional response. The following query, however...

A slurry of memories attempted to resurface, moreso brought about by the will of the question than her intentional desire. The sound of her breathing quickening in the echoing deep could be heard, hands slowly coming to press on her face. It hurt, her head hurt... An answer would have been formulated either way, as that was what was desired.

"..Brought, by another..." Her mouth moved without her wanting, the ache of instinct weakening her words, "..F-from... I do not know where from... The scent of forest was the strongest... Then the smoke of industry... Then humankind..."

There was a hesitance in her soft tone, as if she didn't want to dig, but her lips moved against her wishes. She felt outside of her own body, "..The one who brought me... Carried a different scent..."

A lingering shame dripped into her voice, "..Sweet.. No, the scent of hollows... I... I am not sure... I apologize.."

“That is good. You do not need to apologise.”

Even when he was being reassuring, there was an unwavering firmness to Alastair’s voice conveyed his conviction in every word he spoke. Were it another man it might have been easy to assume that he was just saying that to be kind, but Alastair was not the type to be so sentimental. At this moment, pleasantries mattered little. Much less his own feelings on the matter.

“You have been gone for quite some time but you are among friends now. The medical staff would like to examine you, but they cannot do that whilst you remain spiritually agitated.”

Again, there was little point in sugarcoating it. Her senses were shot to hell, much like she was, but he would try to do this in the best way for her. Failing in that, he would have to take a more involved approach.

“I would like you to try to rein yourself in, just a little. It need not be completely right away, just enough that it is no longer pushing against me over here.”

Such reassurances were lost on her in this state. Was this another dream, a wondering thought spoke? Was she merely imagining the visage of the child who had become the lead of the Quincies, a desperate reach of comfort in her dark prison? Strands of anxiety brought the sensation of rippling currents to this dark sea that had possessed the room. Further reaches of comfort were heard, but not fully acknowledged - these words barely penetrated her flickering emotions.

It was only when another request was given, that she would directly react. Slowly, her head pulled away from the hiding of her hands, that singular eye staring at him like a wavering spirit.

"..I cannot restrain what I cannot control," A note of sadness withered her tone, as if she wanted to but was fully unable, the rigidity of that telegraphed response shaking her voice, "...I am b-but an observer to.. A.. Waking dream... E-even as my senses burn... M-my hunger aches..."

That gaze would lower, just a little, "..Even in this veil I only hurt others..."

“It is easy to admit that we are weak, to make those obstacles that bar our path into impassable mountains, but we are not the ones who walk the path of least resistance. You are not the only one who hungers, the only one who must contain what they are within this mortal shell. We are each unique, certainly, but we are not alone in this battle for control. You are not alone.”

That was the moment where the energy in the room changed, as Alastair took a purposeful step toward Liltotto. The shadows melted away before incandescent light as the Grandmaster strode across the short distance between them, any resistance met with the overbearing light of a brilliant star. He would not be stopped or dissuaded from this path as he plunged himself into the heart of darkness, a hand offered out to the woman that was doing everything to be absorbed by herself.

“If you are too weak to fight alone then I will fight with you. As is my duty. This is no dream nor illusion, and I believe that you can do this one small thing.”

Her burdens were heavy, foreign to him, but Alastair was not the type to be frightened of the unknown. All would be dragged into the light in time, and before then he would act as a beacon upon which she might focus herself. A storm raged around her, threatening to consume her along with it, but he would stand as a bastion against that void. No matter how deep or dark it got, there was no way to ignore his overbearing presence. That barrier now turning into a blanket that sought to wrap around her, to offer some comfort in the wake of all that had come before.

That single visible eye would raise, the first time in the conversation it did so without a prompt to respond to. That gaze widened as he dared to step forward, the promise of a warm glow within her dark heart wishing to draw near. A familiar anxiety rose within, the spiritual pressure within the room instinctively growing more turbulent, though it had no choice but to harmlessly flow around the shining light that would go on to even offer a hand. Even in this state, he stood resolute, all she could see was the look of a human witnessing a mutual.

Even still, her dark hand hesitated in it's rise, having ceased mere inches from his own, recoiling back. Memories returned, a life that she did not live but was the result of - the intense desire to be held, yet destroying everything that touched. The only destiny for such an inherently destructive being only in a lonely pursuit of duty, gifted by a friend of which couldn't so much as be embraced or thanked.

"..What if I hurt you after all?" Some life returned to her voice, even her gaze was more animate, "...Would I still be human to you?"

Her hand shied away from his own, seeking perhaps to cling on to her insecurities, but Alastair would not be deterred. Chasing after that errant hand, he would seize it if that was what it took to break her from this stupor. Liltotto might have become possessed with a disillusionment in her humanity, but she would find no common ground in Alastair’s enlightened gaze.

“What you are is an immutable truth. The actions that you take, whether willingly or otherwise, cannot change that. So it would be quite foolish of me to view you an anything but human.”

He would burn away that impurity within which she sought to hide, dragging her kicking and screaming into the open if he had to. She would not lash out at him, for Alastair could tell that she knew who he was by feeling alone and that was enough to assuage any momentary lapses in concentration. Whatever had been done to her, and something certainly had been done, would not be allowed to fester within her any longer.