crystal;

[heirring]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Richard Dickerson & Wysteria de Foncé
RECIPIENT: You All
NOTES: The highly scientific results from studying a not-so-recent amputation, and a call for volunteers (don't worry, it's not volunteering to get your limbs chopped off). Wysteria is in blue. Richard is in green.

Hello everyone. This is Madame de Foncé speaking, accompanied by Mister Dickerson. There is a whole report written up on the matter which we wish to discuss today. Anyone curious will find it filed among the Project Felandaris records. However, we agreed [sure that's the word for 'Wysteria bullied Richard into it'] that discussing the broad points in a more public venue might do some good.

Go ahead, Mister Dickerson.

Dissection of Madame de Foncé’s arm revealed extensions of the anchor growing outward along the vascular system, confirming the existing supposition that as much of the affected limb should be taken as possible to ensure an anchor is truly separated from its host.

[ There is an odd beat where it seems likely Mister Dickerson is hoping for Wysteria to chirp back in before he continues: ]

It further appears that lyrium has an affinity for -- [ more quietly ] Rifter flesh, for lack of a more delicate distinction. When exposed to Madame de Foncé’s arm it made a fleeting attempt to regrow the parts of her that were missing. [ So the rest of the Wysteria? Another pause. He doesn’t deign to specify. ]

We believe it may hold promise as a healing agent for Rifters if applied topically.

[Which brings them to the true aim of this whole endeavor, the enthusiasm for which has Wysteria's clipping in so briskly after him that there's almost no pause at all between 'if applied topically,' and—]

And so Mister Dickerson and I would like to make a request for volunteers from among the Rifter population. We would like to make a more thorough study of the effects of lyrium on us. I have prepared a sort of sign up form and have posted it on the door of Project Felandaris' office. If you would please add your name to it, Mister Dickerson, and myself, and indeed the general record would be most grateful.

That's all. Thank you. Ask whatever questions you wish to.

[Slightly muffled then, as if the crystal has been lowered away from the general nexus of conversation, Wysteria continues on in the same breath, 'You see, Mister Dickerson? That wasn't painful in the slightest. I hardly see why you were so hesitant—']

Comments

[doggish]

You heard most of what I had to say, I suspect.

[propulsion]

Sounds like you got it out of your system.

[doggish]

No.

If this idiocy continues, you will hear from me again, I assure you. It is not a topic I am merely irate over.

[propulsion]

It's gonna. The idiocy, obviously.

So next time you wanna put my people on blast some more, I'll block out some time in my day, how's that sound?

[doggish]

Tell me one of you among the entire division actually understands the weight of what you do. That you do not just meet every complaint with glib sarcasm and haughty self-righteousness, instead of considering the weight of your actions.

[propulsion]

You want a good faith response to a lecture calling everyone idiot sociopaths? Kind of a tall order.

[doggish]

I wish for an assurance that you have some idea of how dangerous this is. Not lyrium, I imagine you well know that, but to pursue such a venture when there are centuries of history telling you this is how magisters and their ilk began. Do you understand where you practice such things? How thin the Veil is here, and how many times atrocities have begun with the most innocuous of experiments.

Tell me you understand the potential ramifications of your actions— from someone who is the result of such ventures.

[propulsion]

O—kay, well, how's this: unless you're saying that you once personally filled out a form nailed to the door of an evil magister's office looking for volunteers, we can probably proceed under the premise that Poppell and Dickerson aren't a single eureka away from fuelling their mad designs with the blood of hundreds of innocents. But I'll personally keep an ear out for maniacal cackling and give everyone the heads up.

Reassured?

[doggish]

[There's a pause, quiet and contemplative. Then, his voice methodically steady:]

We did not fill out forms. But we did volunteer. Man and woman both, so eager for the boon our master promised us that we assured ourselves that whatever it was he had planned, surely it would not be so bad. Surely it would not be worse than what we already suffered in our day to day lives as his slaves. And so we submitted ourselves to his machinations, and not four weeks later, my family had been torn from me and lines had been methodically scored into my skin, seared to seal the wounds before lyrium was grafted in layer after layer, and all so a magister who did not once ever dream he was an evil man could further the field of blood magic and win glory for himself.

No, I am not reassured. Not while you all speak so glibly, so arrogantly, and act as though I have no basis for my fears. But I suspect you will do what you wish anyway, and so will I.

[And he has a point, yes, but it's also a neat illustration for why his point of view is not the most objective when it comes to this.]

[propulsion]

Hokay,

[ —somewhere, Tony is giving himself deeper wrinkles, rubbing his forehead— ]

my point being, we're not those guys. Forget the list thing. No one is here a slave being coerced into ungodly, exploitative experimentations, and no one here is a power-thirsty magister doing things just 'cause. And I'll go out on a limb and say you wouldn't be a salaried member of an organisation if anyone bore a resemblance.

I'm sorry you're seeing similarities that upset you personally, but it's just not the same thing. You wanna keep an eye on what's happening, you can read the reports, petition for a review, fine, dial my number and we'll talk.