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There’s noise in the air, a loudness more akin to a broken orchestra of pots and pans than anything else and Mesmer Jr. would have had a number of choice words about it had it not been for the fact that she’s curled up somewhere in the room that had long lost its light while her own heart pounded away in her ears.
It had been going well, treatment of the arcanists are always a handful to manage but nothing she cannot do despite her age in comparison to other members in the building. If anything, it had been going too well that she should have known something was wrong the moment her new patient was handed over to her with barely any sound coming from him.
Arcanists were all insane. To suppress one’s emotions enough it became hard to detect without the specialized equipment of Laplace, only to lash out at a girl no older than fourteen in an attempt to get away from everyone else. It made no sense to her, nothing about arcanists ever did but what she does know is that he was insane and deserves to be put down by the guards—
She let out a whimper as another explosion rang in the air, “G-Go away!”
There’s too many sounds, too much noise . Footsteps rushed to her but all she could do was to scream at them in frustration because don't they know that they’re overwhelming her too? Their emotions run rampant alongside the dangerous arcanist still making a mess out of the floor they’re in and it’s driving her nuts because it surrounds her like a thick blanket and there’s nowhere else to go—
She curls deeper into herself, trying to slot her body in between the machineries as she tuned out every voice asking after her. Her breathing quickens but it never seemed quite enough. They’re all so stupid, what are they doing? They should be chasing after her patient now! Instead, they probably are looking lost because they don't know what to do and while Mesmer Jr. would love to give them directives, fear gripped her that even the task of looking up at them is so difficult and—
And—
The sound slowly quiets down until it’s only the rushing of her own blood that she could hear.
“... Jr., can you hear me?”
Wh… what happened to the noise?
“... safe, listen… my voice… Can you do that?”
Then, even the sound of the frantic beating of her own heart weakened until she came to hear a voice, talking to her.
… Talking to her? But she can’t… she can't hear anything… Protocols called for every human staff to stay away from the source of danger and the whole building is probably evacuated by now anyways. So who…?
“Mesmer Jr., you’re safe now. No one can hurt you now. Breathe with me.”
The voice is clearer now, but she still can't put a name to it. She recognizes it, from a corner inside her mind but she can't reach her hand out to grab it and enlighten herself. Breathing is difficult but listen. “O-Okay.”
“Yes, that's good. Breathe with me, alright? In.”
In.
“And out.”
Out.
“In.”
In.
“And out.”
Out.
She tries to open her eyes but the electricity must have been restored one way or another because she immediately had to shut her eyes close again from them. Her breathing quickens once more and the hand holding her hand tightens.
“Shh, shh, continue listening to my voice. Can you open your eyes? Slowly this time. Then tell me five things you can see.”
She gives whoever is with her a hesitant nod before opening her eyes again.
It took a couple of seconds for her to finally recognize something. “The…” She swallows, “The bed, undone and messy. M-My chair. The drawers… w-why are they pulled open?”
“Worry about that later, continue.”
She shifts her eyes away from the other side and instead, turns her attention to somewhere closer. “The monitor… and…”
And closer.
“You’re… Vertin.”
Vertin nods, “That works. Can you give me four things you can feel?”
She has a lot of questions to ask, like why is Vertin here? Or why is it so silent suddenly? Instead, she heeds the girl. “My… My EM Detector.”
Indeed, her EM Detector is held tightly in her other hand, “It’s… cold.”
Or is it her hands, sweating because of everything, that is cold?
“Go on.”
“The floor.” She drops the device in favor of running a finger against the floor before pulling it back as if it burned her, “it's coarse and dirty. My CR Gloves.”
“Your hand… it’s… it’s warm.”
Vertin smiles at that, “Alright. Can you tell me three things you can hear?”
Slowly, her connection to the world stabilizes. Her senses are coming back to her, one by one. She strains her ears, flinching a little when she finds that everything is starting to get louder again. “Y-Your voice. The commotion outside.”
“Your emotions.” Pitter patter.
That causes Vertin to still. She squeezes her hand. “How about two things you can smell?”
“Smoke and… the smell of antiseptic.”
The world unfurls itself around her.
“Tell me one thing you can taste.”
She licks her lips.
“It’s salty… Why?”
Vertin nods slowly, pulling out a handkerchief from her pockets. “You’re crying.” She tries to hand it over, “That’s clean, by the way.”
She eyes it skeptically, turning her head away from it in clear rejection. “The drawers. There should be a tissue box there.”
Vertin pockets her handkerchief, “Okay, hang on. Give me a second.”
She lets go of Mesmer’s hand, standing up and crossing the distance between her and the opened drawers easily. She grabs the tissue box from them and makes her way back. “Are you okay now?”
Mesmer Jr. takes the box, sniffing. “You. Where did you learn that?”
“Learn what?”
“What you did to me, earlier.”
Vertin blinks in understanding, settling next to her on the floor. “From friends in the outside world. Humans.”
She rubs away the tear tracks, “... Hmph.”
She lets the conversation cut there, using one tissue paper after another to clean herself up. She feels tired, as if she had just ran a marathon but when doesn't she feel tired? “You broke protocols. When there’s an emergency, everyone is supposed to evacuate.”
“I did,” Vertin admits shamelessly, playing with her cuffs, “I think they’ve apprehended the culprit by now. I told them I can help you. They let me.”
They wouldn't have, not really. But Vertin is different because she’s the Foundation’s prized Timekeeper. Should she throw her weight around, then things are bound to tip to her favor. She doesn't do it often, so it still proves effective. Nevertheless, the knowledge of it displeases Mesmer Jr.
Though, she looks at her former classmate again.
Earlier, she had thought that it was a human trying to calm her down. The cacophony of sounds that accompanied an Arcanist was silent when she did. The storm that raged with every emotion stirred within them was absent.
She was wrong, evidently, as she found that it was Vertin who held her hand and grounded her back to reality. But now that she listens again…
A soft drizzle, the rain. It sounded like it. She sounded like it. Her emotions are still louder than a human’s but it was drowned out by her own while she was having a panic attack. It wasn't unpleasant, unlike the ear-piercing screeching that an arcanist’s emotions make. Rather, it was rather calming.
Huh.
She scans the screen of her device. No cracks or scratches. That’s good. Her hands are still shaking but she’s getting them under control. That’s good.
“Go on ahead,” Mesmer Jr. says once she finally found her voice, adjusting her cufflinks and throwing a glance at Vertin who now prepared to rise to her feet. “I’ll follow after you. Please don't overestimate your authority any longer, it would be bad for the both of us.”
No thank you , nor any comments of gratitude. She should be grateful, as it would have taken longer for her to come back to her own senses had it been anyone else with her. The arcanists stationed to act as guards aren't exactly knowledgeable in what to do with a person having a panic attack, and even if they were — their emotions, so loud and vibrant, would have not helped one bit. She should be grateful, as Vertin knew what exactly to do while possessing a unique nature that wouldn't worsen her own state.
It’s not that she wasn't grateful at all.
It’s just that — how exactly was she supposed to interact with the girl (an arcanist) who had caused the loss of several of her classmates?
She doesn't know.
And from what she can see, Vertin wasn't expecting any thanks either. The girl gives her a nod and then makes her way out of the ruined room.
She watches on, as the other girl walks away until she can't see her anymore.
Her back , Mesmer Jr. absentmindedly notes while arranging herself to have a more presentable appearance, looked a little lonely.
She became part of the rehabilitation center’s team at the young age of 12, a fact that had set her apart from her peers because the difference in settings allowed her to see the truth for what it really is. Why the school taught them to value humanity, that they were nothing but servants to their will for the better of mankind.
Although her opinions on arcanists weren't favorable, she still bore care for her own classmates. Exactly the reason why she had reported the plans that led to the break-way incident instead of keeping silent. If she had not done that, then wouldn't they have lost more than what they did that night?
“Oh. It’s our genius,” Mesmer Jr. comments as she comes to a stop next to where Vertin stood in front of a glass window of one of the many rooms that patients occupy for the purpose of mental health rehabilitation. “What brought you here?”
Vertin looks at her from the corner of her eyes before turning her attention back to whoever was inside the room and it’s then that Mesmer Jr. listens in to the Timekeeper’s emotions. Nothing like eavesdropping, but more to check if she was okay and not in need of any help from her.
The rain poured harder than she remembers, Mesmer Jr. holding back a flinch before drawing her own senses back.
She wasn't pleased then.
“Her,” Vertin murmurs, a hand hovering over the glass window.
Her — someone whose file Mesmer Jr. had given a quick read before rejecting it so that it can be handled by someone else. “Someone you had retrieved, a long long time ago,” she remarks as she too, bore witness to the female arcanist on the bed separated from them by the glass. “May I ask what happened?”
Vertin’s emotions spike at that before settling, the girl lifting her hand back and letting it fall down to her side. “I got to her too late.”
That was all she said, but it was all Mesmer Jr. needed to know. She wouldn’t dare pry.
The girl inside remains still, her gaze empty.
“My condolences,” she says, words sounding more like they’re said if only to placate the Timekeeper. “You’ve worked hard.”
“... Mesmer Jr.”
“Yes?”
And then Vertin turns to look at her, with eyes that look so tired yet full of that defiant flame at the same time.
Once upon a time, that flame in her eyes burned so bright until the reversing storm snuffed it away. She thought it would stay that way. Apparently not.
Ah.
Mesmer Jr. purses her lips.
She’s known her for years now. Since that day she heard of the child who had been the youngest ever taken in by the school. She’s known her for years now. Even during that stormy night when they have lost many of their classmates.
She’s known for her years now.
They’re already 16 — and they’re no longer children.
She has always been such a difficult person.
(They handled Vertin as if she were just one of those arcanists who had lost their minds and were a liability to the Foundation. But then, she grabbed her hand tightly, with a face full of determination and a steady voice escaping her lips.
—She’ll trust her judgment, but only this time.
Whatever that meant, Mesmer Jr. knows that the ripples she had caused will eventually become the waves that’ll usher the changes to the present state of things they currently live in. There was no stopping a girl who shone like the moon and commanded the tides with ease.
She only hopes that she won't be caught in the middle of it all too.)
They come to see her, one by one.
First is the young girl, as young as they are, with eyes of honey gold and lips set into a snarl. Her emotions were erratic, it made Mesmer Jr. feel like a ship rocking side to side by the unforgiving stormy seas. She demanded she be released, complaining about how Vertin must feel terrible laying down all day long while various machines are connected to her. She leaves with a glint in her eye, a promise that she’ll return. (It reminded her of that day when Vertin had first spoken of freedom beyond the white walls they grew up knowing.)
The second to come, later than the first one, was a girl younger than them. She was like a pot, boiling and bubbling. Scalding hot that Mesmer Jr. had to turn away and keep to herself instead of listening with her senses. She had burst into tears, asking so innocently why her friend was being kept here. Mesmer Jr. had no answers to give to a child, nothing that would placate her. She’s no fool, after all. The girl was escorted out, no sooner as she was shown to Vertin. (She can admit to feeling envious, even if the other was an arcanist. How can she not, when she, herself, never had the chance to have a childhood?)
The third of them was a sentient, floating apple. Accompanied by the very first one, it made no fuss other than turning green upon catching sight of Vertin. She didn't listen to it. She couldn't when she knew that if she were to extend her senses towards them, she would be met with the full force of the seas that raged within honey-gold eyes. They left moments later, but the apple did linger a bit longer before making haste. (Companionship, how nice it must be.)
The fourth one was different from the others, being someone older than any of them. She carried herself with the grace of a feline, as if she possessed the same authority as the woman that had accompanied her to where Vertin dreams. Mesmer Jr. had only glanced at her briefly and she had wondered then if it wasn't for the wall that divided them, would she be swept away by the winds that rustled the leaves? Swept away by the whistling sound that traversed the trees of a great forest? She doesn't want to know. (Something began to form inside of her mind by then, itching to be given a name.)
Then the last of them came, the person Mesmer Jr. knew would visit eventually.
“I thought… the Timekeeper is receiving treatment for her low spirit. But you said you held her down…”
A mistake on her part. She has chosen her words wrong, and now she can hear the flicker in Sonetto’s emotions. Mesmer Jr. watched her carefully, lips pursed. “Oh, that's just another description of the method used for the same purpose. The aim was to ensure that Vertin was unconscious and taken back.”
Warily, she adds, “That’s the direct order from the vice-president of the committee, Constantine. The order from on high was given on the premise of rational thinking and consideration over pros and cons — you are not questioning the reasoning of mankind, are you?”
“... I am not.”
“Sharing the same set of values is the reason I’d like to share these interesting set of details with you. Of course, if you were a pure-blood human, I would appreciate you more.”
Saying all of that, Mesmer Jr. turns away from Sonetto as the girl remained rooted on the spot before realizing that she had overstayed her welcome.
Sonetto murmurs a quiet, “goodbye, Timekeeper,” before finally making her exit.
As soon as the arcanist was out of the room, Mesmer Jr. let out a shaky breath of relief. Her hands were shaking, blood rushing to her ears. She had managed to stay collected throughout the exchange, not showing any weaknesses to the other girl. That’s enough, right? It should be. It better be.
It was fear, Mesmer Jr. understood then. The name of the something that had started to form from when those arcanists began to visit Vertin was fear. She was not unfamiliar with it but it is striking, nevertheless. Their appearance was a sign of change. And the Foundation cannot weather this storm and come out unscathed the same way as Vertin does.
And then the escape happens, with chaos in the air and sounds and shards of glass surrounding her again.
That girl from Zeno, the witch of the skies, fearlessly faced the guards with a grin on her face. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Vertin fighting her own battle too to finally be freed from the confines of the dreams they had locked her away in for so many weeks.
One…
She counts to herself, shaking and trying to make herself seem smaller (they’ll leave her alone like this, she has to believe that) by dragging herself to a corner away from the fight.
Two…
More explosions ring out in the air, the shouting of the people becoming even more pronounced as Lilya cackles amidst all the mayhem. She can't make sense of them, everything is overwhelming her and it's getting hard to breathe.
Three…
Then the sound of rain, gentle and welcoming, dampens all the noises around her.
She cracks open an eye. And then two. And then—
Vertin is standing in front of her.
She’s pale and thin. Looking as if even the weak winds would blow her away. She looks faint, that a part of Mesmer Jr. wants to scream at her to go back and lie down, you are a patient so you have to listen—
“You’re safe now.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
She couldn't hear her, not when her heartbeat rings in her ears alongside all the emotions that swirled inside the room from so many people but she could read her lips.
Vertin gives her a smile. Weak and small but there .
(It’s comforting.)
And then she’s escaping with the wind, leaving everyone behind to clamor and chase after them.
Mesmer Jr. remains there, eyes on where Vertin was standing before Lilya had urged her to hurry up so they could leave.
“... Huh.”
Ridiculous.
She slumps down the wall, crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut. A laugh full of incredulity escapes her lips.
The moon had called the tides back. All the stars glittered behind it, no longer shrouded by the clouds of doubt and failure that she had once seen in Vertin.
She's not alone. Not anymore.
She remembers those eyes of honey-gold, inquisitive and fiery. She remembers a young girl, a filled pot boiling and bubbling. She remembers a wise one, dressed in red. She remembers a woman, with the blessings of the forest in her fingertips.
She remembers a girl, loyal as a puppy who howled for the moon.
Despite having only woken up from the slumber forced upon her, with a body that would need weeks to fully recover — Vertin, at that moment, looked stronger than she ever did. Steadfast and unwavering.
And the child in her — the one who had cared long ago, enough to tell on them and their plans for that fateful night, settled just a little bit.