pleasuretoburn (pleasuretoburn) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-09-21 20:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | noah restic, npc |
Ember
Who: Noah (and NPCs)
What: The Past
Where: Unspecified
When: 2000
Ratings/Warnings: Some violence, possibly disturbing content
Noah was twelve years old, and he was trapped. His parents had brought him there, this cold and sterile place that was all hard edges and echoing footsteps, all the time, unceasing. There were tests, mental: puzzles and shapes and colors. There were tests, physical: cold and rough hands and being talked about like he wasn’t actually there, or maybe couldn’t hear them. They didn’t all speak the same languages. Sometimes he didn’t know what they were saying about him at all. That was worse.
He had a sliver of a room. Plain, bare walls. A thin bed, its only comfort on offer was the fact that it wasn’t the cement floor. If he stood on it, on the very tips of his toes, Noah could almost peek out of a tiny postage stamp of a window mounted up the cinder block wall. There was no one coming back for him.
And then there were the people who hurt. Sometimes, it seemed to be part of the tests. Noah could never predict what the wrong answers would be. One seemed to think he was getting it wrong on purpose, that one was the angriest. Others were like guards, and they were easier to understand. They punished infractions, rule-breaking, broke up fights. Those were the ones who were professional.
But not all were. Some were bored and angry, just like the scared, lonely children they presided over. They pit kids against each other, fed into rivalries, played favorites. Noah preferred them. He knew how to supply their entertainment, and how to avoid their blows. It made sense to him, unlike the tests. In return, he received certain perks; extra food on his plate, less time alone in his room. Information.
Noah held on to one solitary scrap of hope, and that was of some kind of escape. Some way out. People came and went, faces didn’t remain familiar for long. The only constant was himself, and a room with a big metal door that he tried to catch glimpses of, to see inside, but the door opened and closed too quickly to catch anything. It only opened when a child was escorted inside and never seen again.
No explanation was ever given, and he knew better than to ask for one. He orbited this world on the periphery, participating indirectly, from a distance. Watching. Testing. If he wondered what punishment a certain action would garner, he would manipulate someone else into doing it, then hang back and watch. With the constant reshuffling of people in this small world, there was no one to warn others about Noah. No one knew him enough not to trust him.
There was, however, one girl. She had been there the day Noah had shown up, kicking and screaming and being dragged into isolation. His power had been barely defined then, aimless, but concerning enough to drive his parents into this extreme course of action. She was older than him, he found that out, later. She had made sure to tell him, imperious, looming over him as he sat on the floor, sulking.
She was like him, the only other one there. The rest were scattershot, rumors the only evidence of their various powers, or ill-advised displays meant to intimidate, that only got them thrown into a room with absolutely nothing in it. Noah promised himself he wouldn’t see those four walls again, not for the duration of his time there. Once had been enough, completely alone with himself. He had wanted to claw the flesh from his bones, he had been so crushingly bored.
But she needled at him. Tried to get him to show what he could do, the extent of it. She was determined to be the best, and she needed the reassurance of his mediocrity. Noah gave her nothing, and it was more satisfying than anything he could have done with fire. He would watch on calmly as she worked herself into an angry lather, fists balling, eyes burning, threats tossed like toy grenades. Then big arms would come and pull her away, as someone shoved a paper cupful of pills down her throat.
Currently, he sat alone, legs folded up, watching the giant metal door. It had been too long since it had opened and swallowed someone whole, never to be seen by Noah again. Something was twitching inside him, a mechanism, a knowledge. It was getting hungry. It had to have been time for another. He cast his gaze around the room where they gathered for daily socialization. It was only a matter of who received the privilege. The privilege of going deeper into the heart of this place.
She sat beside him, following his gaze. “You want to go in there,” she said, leaning toward him, taking up his space. “I can tell you what it’s like,” she offered, smiling, “but you’ll never see it for yourself.” Noah ignored her, his perpetually bored stare never wavering. He let her words hang in the air, unheeded, tiny little failures that would have her seeing red, if he let them build up enough.
“They’re going to choose which one of us is the best.” She stood directly in front of him now, blocking his view. “And it’s going to be me.” Her head turned, looking at the door. “That’s who gets to go. Far away from here.” She crossed her arms, cradling herself. Noah took advantage of her silence to mull that over. The best of them. The metal door. The belly of the beast.
“Noah. Tatiana.” One of the doctors - Noah assumed that’s what they were, white-coated, unsmiling, purveyors of tools and instruments - loomed over them. “Come with me.” He turned on his soft-shoed heel and waited for them to follow. She tossed him a satisfied look, a told you so grin arranged over elfin features.
They were ushered into another room, the whole place nothing but a series of them, endless. Noah had no clue how big the facility actually was. He was an ant in a maze, scavenging for bread crumbs. And this girl, the one like him, wanted to hoard them all for herself. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
The room was bright white, with a thick glass window in one wall. Through it, Noah could see a group of white coats peering in at them curiously. They were animals on display in a zoo. He crossed his arms and stared back at the middle one, the one who looked almost uncomfortable that she was there. Noah picked her and didn’t let go until her body quaked in a subtle shiver and she tore her gaze away.
The man who had beckoned them there stood on Noah and Tatiana’s side of the glass window. He removed a small wooden children’s toy from a coat pocket and set it on the floor. One of Noah’s guard friends entered the room, holding what looked like a long, black telescoping flashlight. Tatiana eyed it nervously, but Noah didn’t know what it was. He had never seen it before.
Doctor left, shutting the door behind him with a gentle whoosh before reappearing on the other side of the glass. Noah and Tatiana stood next to each other, shoulder-width apart, and looked curiously at the toy. It was a mouse, Noah thought, because of the circular ears.
A microphone clicked on, a metallic sound and then a crackle. Noah’s own ears twitched. He had a lot in common with that little wooden creature. “Tatiana.” The voice boomed from every corner of the small space, god-like. “You go first.”
She knelt down and reached a hand out to touch the toy when the voice boomed again. “Not by touch.” Tatiana’s head whipped up, alarmed as she looked first at Noah, then disbelievingly through the glass. Her voice was small, afraid.
“I don’t know how -- “
There was a crackle of electricity behind them. Noah turned around; it had issued from what he was now coming to understand was not a flashlight. The man holding it winked at him. Tatiana swallowed audibly, getting back to her feet. “Try.” She stood next to her younger counterpart and nodded, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
Noah didn’t let his eyes leave the mouse. He could feel Tatiana at his side, breathing deeply. He could feel the air around them waver. The familiar rush of warmth engulfing his senses. She was shaking. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. Her neck muscles were taut, tense, her jaw steel-set. His own limbs felt loose, easy. The power washed over him.
The wooden toy was alight with a small growing baby of a flame. Tatiana heaved a breath, her hands flying up to her face. Her eyes were cartoonishly big. Their minder squashed the fire with a large black boot, the mouse buckling and cracking beneath the force of it. She turned to stare at Noah, round face ringleted with dark bobbing curls as he realized she was still quaking. Her expression was inscrutable. He stared back.
The doctor had left the microphone on. The feedback whined for but a second. He muttered something in a language that Noah could not understand, but Tatiana must have, for she tore her eyes away from his and began pressing her hands against the glass. “No, no,” she yelled, banging her fists. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t -- “
The device was pressed to the back of her neck and activated. She slumped to the ground as the door was pushed open. Noah swayed on his feet, and a strong arm grabbed his skinny one to steady him, keeping him upright. He looked up into the smiling face of the guard. Another wink.
Someone scooped up Tatiana and carried her from the room. Noah was escorted out, too, numbly putting one foot in front of the other, his weight barely on them. He was moving underwater, having to fight to keep his head from lolling, he was so tired. Still, he managed to watch just long enough as the giant mouth of a door swept open and she was hauled inside. Just as he had thought; a long stretch of nothing. Not even the tiny windows they were allowed in their ‘section’.
It was only further away from any potential escape. He watched her go, hair bouncing, her eyes closed, hands flopping uselessly, and he smiled. Noah was shunted into his room and he let himself collapse onto the cot. He stared up at the high ceiling, exhausted. His eyes followed the metal ductwork, the crisscrossing network of tubes. There was the hiss of steam for company, sometimes, or maybe he only imagined it.
Noah began shaking with a silent laughter, his head rasping against the threadbare pillowcase underneath him. He didn’t have to touch now.