[ Moira had been working on the bodies that Angela had brought back to her from the hospital rather diligently, trying to figure out how it worked, how it might have differed from anything she'd seen at home. The strangest thing was that thus far, the nurses didn't. Everything inside them looked human, functioned like a humans, other than being darker, covered in some kind of thick sludge just like the very cells they'd look at under a microscope.
She had been so lost in her work, that she hadn't noticed quite how messy it had gotten. Nicked veins and strangely mutated organs were bound to act unpredictably, and it was only when she glanced in a mirror that she had seen how much of the blood had gotten on her face and arms.
Ugh, disgusting. She had started to feel hot, cranky even, fairly unfocused. She figured it was a good a time as any to take a break and try and clean up. Putting the scalpel down, Moira went to remove her gloves, wiping some of the blood away from her cheek with a finger bare finger. ] I guess we best hope it's not a blood pathogen, hm? [ She knew it wouldn't soak through the skin if it were, but it felt like the right comment to make anyway. ]
She had been so lost in her work, that she hadn't noticed quite how messy it had gotten. Nicked veins and strangely mutated organs were bound to act unpredictably, and it was only when she glanced in a mirror that she had seen how much of the blood had gotten on her face and arms.
Ugh, disgusting. She had started to feel hot, cranky even, fairly unfocused. She figured it was a good a time as any to take a break and try and clean up. Putting the scalpel down, Moira went to remove her gloves, wiping some of the blood away from her cheek with a finger bare finger. ] I guess we best hope it's not a blood pathogen, hm? [ She knew it wouldn't soak through the skin if it were, but it felt like the right comment to make anyway. ]
(Eddie is so thoroughly overwhelmed, and truthfully, he wasn't planning to go to anyone about it until his inhaler ran out. It had been nearly full a couple months ago. Richie had really helped him out for a long while until he vanished. Then things were still okay, because Eddie had never really been alone, but everything was different now and his inhaler was on zero.
It made him feel like a complete baby. It wasn't even real medicine, yet he was using it multiple times a day again like before he had found out he wasn't sick. It couldn't be helped. He was jumpy.
It was what had him reaching out though. At this point, there was only one person he trusted medically.
When he finally gets around to making the call, his voice is very small, and very much that of a nervous twelve year old's.)
Miss Angel? Um....I...I ran out of some medicine and I didn't want to get it filled at the pharmacy.
It made him feel like a complete baby. It wasn't even real medicine, yet he was using it multiple times a day again like before he had found out he wasn't sick. It couldn't be helped. He was jumpy.
It was what had him reaching out though. At this point, there was only one person he trusted medically.
When he finally gets around to making the call, his voice is very small, and very much that of a nervous twelve year old's.)
Miss Angel? Um....I...I ran out of some medicine and I didn't want to get it filled at the pharmacy.
[ Given the Quite a Time they recently had together, North has a hunch Angela is not going to need a second introduction. As such she kind of just jumps right in because while her question doesn't involve an emergency yet, that's the entire point of asking. ]
Do you think if I gave you a thirium sample, you might be able to reverse engineer more of it? It's what sends information to our biocomponents, like a human circulatory system and organs. And if either of us loses a lot of it we're fucked, because right now we've got a little over one bag between us.
Do you think if I gave you a thirium sample, you might be able to reverse engineer more of it? It's what sends information to our biocomponents, like a human circulatory system and organs. And if either of us loses a lot of it we're fucked, because right now we've got a little over one bag between us.
meet me at fear hq? I need you to take my blood asap.
[ So a normal text from Bucky Barnes.
He'll be heading right there to wait for her now that he's got his feet under him. That flu shot had been... mildly traumatic if he's honest, but better his body than a normal one to carry it back so they can figure out what it is that he just got injected into him. ]
[ So a normal text from Bucky Barnes.
He'll be heading right there to wait for her now that he's got his feet under him. That flu shot had been... mildly traumatic if he's honest, but better his body than a normal one to carry it back so they can figure out what it is that he just got injected into him. ]
[Bruce's voice is exhausted and just a bit emotionless as he calls:]
Hi, Dr. Ziegler? There's... a bit of a situation.
Hi, Dr. Ziegler? There's... a bit of a situation.
Moira was tired, more so than she had expected. Whatever she was feeling, though, she knew full well that Angela had to be experiencing it ten fold. Despite her aching muscles, the fatigue that clung to her brain, she forced herself to focus, head resting against the edge of her companion's for a moment, before she started to stand. Rather than reaching for her hand, she pulled her into her arms, cradling her as if she were still the child that she had wandered through that graveyard with, and holding her close to her chest.
She didn't bother to ask if she was tired or wanted to go to bed. She simply went to carry her up the stairs, being sure to stay quiet so as not to disturb the children that were resting from their own various turmoils, and heading for her bedroom. Moira pushed the door open with her hip, carefully maneuvering her body so as not to bump Angela into anything, and walked over to the bed so she could gently place her against the mattress.
"You should get some rest."
She didn't bother to ask if she was tired or wanted to go to bed. She simply went to carry her up the stairs, being sure to stay quiet so as not to disturb the children that were resting from their own various turmoils, and heading for her bedroom. Moira pushed the door open with her hip, carefully maneuvering her body so as not to bump Angela into anything, and walked over to the bed so she could gently place her against the mattress.
"You should get some rest."
oh right cw for sexual stuff ahoy in case it wasn't... obvious....
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Chloe was grateful to finally be allowed to at least walk around on her own, even if it wasn't exactly the kind of physical activity she was used to, and even if the town was still weird as shit. But it was a freedom to even get to just walk to the pumpkin boats and take them to F.E.A.R.'s headquarters in order to meet Angela for her doctor's appointment. It was weird, having a tiny bit of Angela's blood on her, but it was the only way to get in without disturbing her work, so she'd gone with it.
She made her way in, finding someone to give her directions to the medical bay, before making her way through the halls and trying to find Angela's office. Walking still hurt like a bitch after too long, but she pushed through it, eventually stumbling on the right door, and knocking once before she let herself in without much more of a warning.
"Doc...? You in here?"
She made her way in, finding someone to give her directions to the medical bay, before making her way through the halls and trying to find Angela's office. Walking still hurt like a bitch after too long, but she pushed through it, eventually stumbling on the right door, and knocking once before she let herself in without much more of a warning.
"Doc...? You in here?"
Angela, I have something for you.
A water bottle filled with poisonous water, poison that it took magic to purify.
It's related to the misadventures I had in the cemetery.
If you aren't busy, I'd like to deliver it.
A water bottle filled with poisonous water, poison that it took magic to purify.
It's related to the misadventures I had in the cemetery.
If you aren't busy, I'd like to deliver it.
[There's a box on the doorstep for Angela, the little tag says as much. A box wrapped in bright red foil, a silky silver ribbon tied around it with a bow on top. Inside the box is a goldenrod scarf and a mug with some... amusing text. On top of the pile is a simple piece of white cardstock paper with elegant cursive words penned in red ink (notice a pattern?), as if written with a quill or a fountain pen.
Happy holidays.
Who could have sent it? Well, all that red looks a lot like the red a certain someone likes to wear, right?]
Happy holidays.
Who could have sent it? Well, all that red looks a lot like the red a certain someone likes to wear, right?]
Edited 2018-12-21 02:39 (UTC)
[There is a small gift at Angela's door. It's wrapped in gleaming silver wrapping paper with a little note scrawled in black on its top.]
Happy Holidays
To: Angela
From: Justine
[Inside she'll find a white hat and scarf.]
Happy Holidays
To: Angela
From: Justine
[Inside she'll find a white hat and scarf.]
Well aware that this could be one of the less pleasant interactions coming her way, Moira makes sure to grab not one but two bottles of wine that she puts in a bag before she makes her way for Angela's. She walks rather than trying to catch a bus. She's pretty sure she could use the fresh air, no matter how crisp it might be. She's felt a headache forming since the moment that she heard Angela's announcement.
She lets herself in when she gets there, cautiously entering the living area.
"Angela...?"
She lets herself in when she gets there, cautiously entering the living area.
"Angela...?"
[A neatly wrapped box is delivered containing an assortment of chocolate and gingerbread cutout cookies - enough to share between everyone in the house.
With it is a small hand-written note, the chicken-scratch writing just barely legible:]
Happy holidays.
- B
With it is a small hand-written note, the chicken-scratch writing just barely legible:]
Happy holidays.
- B
[It's a box! And inside it is...huh. A sweet smelling candle, sleepy time tea, and some slippers.
Wonder who it's from?]
Wonder who it's from?]

[ The package in shimmering silver paper is a little crudely wrapped - what's inside is oddly shaped. Someone wasn't able to do a good job here but it's certain that an attempt was made - that's the main thing isn't it?
Hidden within is a small, hand-carved deer - no bigger than the palm of an average human hand. Much like the wrapping paper, the figure is a little on the crude side: there's nothing startlingly expert in the craftsmanship. But someone's clearly taken their time to carve the little deer and tried their best - even the roughest edges have been sanded down a little. Eyes, noses and hooves have been coloured with a black marker.
With the deer, a small, simple note that reads: ]
merry christmas
from scarlett
[ Chloe wrapped it with a bow at least, but didn't put anything else on it. There's a painting for her that she clearly was working on for a while, and a small note tied to the bow. ]
I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass and causing you a bunch of grief.
But thanks for always being there anyway.
Belated Merry Christmas, I guess.
Love, Chloe
I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass and causing you a bunch of grief.
But thanks for always being there anyway.
Belated Merry Christmas, I guess.
Love, Chloe
Edited 2018-12-29 20:10 (UTC)
[The conversation with Reaper did not go as planned.
...Or as hoped rather, because Max hadn't really planned much besides rewinding.
It takes her a few minutes to stumble out of the house, in a complete daze, Fluid forgotten on the bloodied floor of her room. She'd gone back home for all of this, and now that means she's several yards away from Angela and help. But it's not like she'd text Reaper while lying in her cot in Angela's guest bedroom...
And it's not like it was supposed to end this way.
It's a long, difficult walk to Angela and Hana's door. She has to focus on each step, ignoring the vertigo, the lightheadedness, the fear. She's not sure if the tears all over her torso are still bleeding, but her shirt is definitely still soaked and sticky with blood, and it clings to her uncomfortably. She forgot her coat, too. So there's an obviously pale and bloodied person standing in front of Angela's house, a trail of blood-stained snow leading back to Max's.
She's... she's going to have to clean that up.
She leans on the doorframe, and slowly raises a clammy, shaking finger to jab the doorbell, silently begging that it's Angela that answers the door.]
...Or as hoped rather, because Max hadn't really planned much besides rewinding.
It takes her a few minutes to stumble out of the house, in a complete daze, Fluid forgotten on the bloodied floor of her room. She'd gone back home for all of this, and now that means she's several yards away from Angela and help. But it's not like she'd text Reaper while lying in her cot in Angela's guest bedroom...
And it's not like it was supposed to end this way.
It's a long, difficult walk to Angela and Hana's door. She has to focus on each step, ignoring the vertigo, the lightheadedness, the fear. She's not sure if the tears all over her torso are still bleeding, but her shirt is definitely still soaked and sticky with blood, and it clings to her uncomfortably. She forgot her coat, too. So there's an obviously pale and bloodied person standing in front of Angela's house, a trail of blood-stained snow leading back to Max's.
She's... she's going to have to clean that up.
She leans on the doorframe, and slowly raises a clammy, shaking finger to jab the doorbell, silently begging that it's Angela that answers the door.]
(It's a white gift box that appears solid white at a glance, but upon closer inspection, has the pattern of white angel wings all across it. Sitting on top is a golden bow, and inside is golden tissue paper. In the tissue paper is a thick, warm sweater butter yellow in color and soft to the touch. Printed in solid black curving letters across the chest is BEST MOM EVER. It's difficult to tell whether or not this is a joke gift.
There is also a pin that is clearly hand made. It's surprisingly well made for a thirteen year old boy, but there's enough shakiness to it to make it clear that this was something Eddie carefully worked on for quite some time. It's a handmade pin in the shape of a red cross, but carefully shaped around the cross are white wings and a yellow halo. Printed in Eddie's hand across the center of the cross is 'MY HERO'.
Lastly is another handmade gift, though this one is a bit cleaner than the pin itself. Wire is a little easier to work with, after all. It's a necklace that Eddie worked on with care.
There's a note taped to the inside of the lid of the box, and it reads:
I found the stone and thought of you. Some people think these kind of things bring good luck, so I hope it brings you a whole lot of good luck.
Thanks for being in my life.
I love you.
Merry Christmas
-Eddie)
There is also a pin that is clearly hand made. It's surprisingly well made for a thirteen year old boy, but there's enough shakiness to it to make it clear that this was something Eddie carefully worked on for quite some time. It's a handmade pin in the shape of a red cross, but carefully shaped around the cross are white wings and a yellow halo. Printed in Eddie's hand across the center of the cross is 'MY HERO'.
Lastly is another handmade gift, though this one is a bit cleaner than the pin itself. Wire is a little easier to work with, after all. It's a necklace that Eddie worked on with care.
There's a note taped to the inside of the lid of the box, and it reads:
I found the stone and thought of you. Some people think these kind of things bring good luck, so I hope it brings you a whole lot of good luck.
Thanks for being in my life.
I love you.
Merry Christmas
-Eddie)
[Max drops off something for Angela, somewhat embarrassed and in a hurry to go somewhere. Or pretending to be, anyway. It's a bouquet of flowers, a mix of many different kinds. There's a note tucked into in among them:]
Angela,
I don't know how to ever repay everything you've done for Chloe, Eddie, and me. Flowers don't really cut it, but they looked lovely and made me think of you. I'm sure they'll live long and healthily under your care, since you're such a good doctor.
...Yes that was a really bad attempt at a joke.
You've been so kind. Thank you for everything. I'm sorry this is so late, but... Merry Christmas!
Max
Angela,
I don't know how to ever repay everything you've done for Chloe, Eddie, and me. Flowers don't really cut it, but they looked lovely and made me think of you. I'm sure they'll live long and healthily under your care, since you're such a good doctor.
...Yes that was a really bad attempt at a joke.
You've been so kind. Thank you for everything. I'm sorry this is so late, but... Merry Christmas!
Max
Edited 2019-01-14 12:19 (UTC)
Moira was, blessedly, asleep. It may have been the first really long rest that she had taken since everything had happened. She'd worked herself too hard, too long, and while Reaper may have been keeping close by to make sure she didn't do anything too stupid, she had continued her work in the kitchen and the bedroom as needed, making sure to stay up looking at reports until all hours of the night, testing, trying, doing but never finding anything.
She had finally passed out in Angela's bed from the sheer exhaustion of it, still in her button up that was now untucked from her pants and loose at her waist, tie pulled down from around her neck but not completely undone, and her top buttons open to allow for easier breathing. She had the papers scattered... basically everywhere, including on her person.
Hopefully Angela didn't wake up to paper cuts.
She had finally passed out in Angela's bed from the sheer exhaustion of it, still in her button up that was now untucked from her pants and loose at her waist, tie pulled down from around her neck but not completely undone, and her top buttons open to allow for easier breathing. She had the papers scattered... basically everywhere, including on her person.
Hopefully Angela didn't wake up to paper cuts.
[ Immediately after this, Chloe sends Angela a message in a very clear panic, since she's not even bothering to switch it off of video and on to text or voice. She looks even paler than the last time she saw her, more ragged, exhausted, but most importantly, she looks terrified. ]
She's rewinding. On top of the fucking virus, she's rewinding, and it's bad enough on her body without this place and the fucking- she's - She's gonna kill herself, Angela! Even if she doesn't do it on purpose, if she keeps rewinding, she will! Please, you - I can't -
Stop her.
She's rewinding. On top of the fucking virus, she's rewinding, and it's bad enough on her body without this place and the fucking- she's - She's gonna kill herself, Angela! Even if she doesn't do it on purpose, if she keeps rewinding, she will! Please, you - I can't -
Stop her.
Moira had known she had ignored things too long. She hadn't needed the devil to tell her that. It was easier to ignore when she was piled with work, when she could bury her head in her papers and pretend that there was nothing wrong. She could blame Angela for avoiding, for abandoning, but she had done the same thing, hadn't she? The cake could have been thrown out weeks ago and it would have been easy to keep an eye on her to stop her from getting more. But she hadn't. She hadn't had the energy, she hadn't had the time, there was a million excuses, but she knew full well that she had simply chosen to not do anything about it.
Now it was time to suffer the consequences of not intervening, of choosing to let this run its course as long as it had in hopes of her making the choice to come back to herself. She hadn't, though, and their last conversation had been rather... cruel, really. The devil had said words that made Moira wonder if it was how Angela truly felt somewhere inside of her. Words that had stung more than she cared to admit.
She used her key to let herself in, moved her way through the downstairs first to try and find her, wondering if she would be sitting at the table with a bottle of wine like she so often did when things were hard. With no sign of her, she made her way upstairs, carefully peeking in her study, the bedroom, and finally stopping outside of the bathroom door. She could see the flickering light inside, hear the drop of the faucet into the bath water, and she knew she'd found her, at least. Moira went to rest her head against the door quietly, closing her eyes, taking a breath to brace herself, before she lifted a fist to knock.
"Angela...? May I come in?"
Now it was time to suffer the consequences of not intervening, of choosing to let this run its course as long as it had in hopes of her making the choice to come back to herself. She hadn't, though, and their last conversation had been rather... cruel, really. The devil had said words that made Moira wonder if it was how Angela truly felt somewhere inside of her. Words that had stung more than she cared to admit.
She used her key to let herself in, moved her way through the downstairs first to try and find her, wondering if she would be sitting at the table with a bottle of wine like she so often did when things were hard. With no sign of her, she made her way upstairs, carefully peeking in her study, the bedroom, and finally stopping outside of the bathroom door. She could see the flickering light inside, hear the drop of the faucet into the bath water, and she knew she'd found her, at least. Moira went to rest her head against the door quietly, closing her eyes, taking a breath to brace herself, before she lifted a fist to knock.
"Angela...? May I come in?"
This is the closest icon I have to her expression and it seems not serious enough for this scene
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