elnysa | video | un: Mercy

Hello there! ( the image that appears is of a smiling blonde woman, healthy and bright looking, dressed now in pristine weight to present herself, projecting poise and elegance and friendly invitation to hear her out. her German Swiss accent is quite strong, though, so hopefully no-one is overly attached to their w's. ) I hope everyone is doing well this evening. I am coming onto the network to reach out to anyone I might not have been able to yet. My name is Angela Ziegler, and I am a doctor from Earth. Human, as you can see. ( a light, pleasant laugh and an even more pleasant smile ) You may also know me as Mercy. It's my agent name from when I was in service to a global peacekeeping organisation known as Overwatch.

I'm from the 21st century, so the treatment that I can offer you is science based ( a slight pause here as if she's considering one last time how to phrase this ) rather than magic based, but I have a good deal of practical experience with general medicine so there's almost nothing I haven't seen or dealt with. My expertise is in applied biotics, and I also have experience with gene therapy, prosthetics, and cybernetics, if there is anyone here who may need more specialised care. My qualifications also include emergency and trauma response so, if you ever find yourself wounded and in need of immediate attention, please do not hesitate to contact me. Think of me as personal 999 for refugees!

If you do come to me for any kind of care, I promise to do the best I can help you, while upholding all the oaths I've taken as a doctor to do no harm and to protect my patients. I'm not charging anything at this time.

And, if you'd like to humour me and help me to understand our group a bit better, I have a set of questions: do you believe you have a soul? What makes you think you do or don't have one? And is such a belief common where you're from? ( she doesn't mention religion, because it isn't strictly speaking a religious idea. she's known plenty of atheists and nay-theists who thought there was something beyond intelligence that made people paramount to other species. whether they called this unique internal animating light a soul or not, it didn't really matter. )

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( so, apparently, this is a trigger for her: people thinking they are weapons. suddenly she's back to a time in her life when she was already questioning the decisions she made and fighting for the very integrity of her work, when she faced with the most challenging patient of her life. he'd only broken down in front of her once, but that one accusation had been enough to make genuinely hate herself.

so. her response to that is going to be a bit delayed. )

Have you ever disappointed your creators?

[That question comes, and it cuts into him like the slide of a knife between the ribs. Almost, he wants to laugh, a bitter sound that he bites back on, swallows down inside of himself because perhaps the question should actually be, had he ever managed to please Her? He's the trash, the dregs, the waste of space, a worthless useless mutt, and Mother had never hesitated to make Her opinion of him known. Why She'd let him live is a mystery, and in dark secret moments his traitorous heart sometimes wonders if it had been because She likes to watch him break.

And yet, despite it all, all he's ever wanted to do is to please Her, to make Her - just once - proud of him.

In the end, when he answers, his voice is smooth but a little cool.]

That's quite a personal question. Let's just say She has exacting standards.

( she notices the encroaching chill, of course, but then this isn't really a pleasant topic for either of them. as much as she knows psychology and mental wellness are not things she is well-versed in, it hurts her heart for him to think so little of himself. no-one should have to suffer like that, think that they aren't even human. )

But how did that make you feel? Whether you lived up to them or not.

[And he answers, but his voice is cooler, more detached than before. A swift shutting down of his feelings before they can cut him to ribbons.]

Every dog wants to do its best for its master. Hahah. But aside from that, my feelings are irrelevant.

( now, she's notgoing to push himself to reveal himself so intimately as that, but it's hard, and she won't back down from the matter at hand. the word dog causes a sudden, sharp inhalation as if she's physically been stabbed.

still, her voice is calm, patient, insistent like a mother's caress. ) But you have them, don't you, Giovanni? It's all right to feel things.

[And whilst there's something in her tone that tugs at him, threatens to soften his hard edges, he can't allow himself to give over to it, not in so public a forum. And so in the end, he sidesteps, slides away from the things he doesn't want to say.]

You ask a lot of questions.

( this kind of withdrawal is new. it is not the unbridgeable distance that is created by mental anguish, it is not the intentional isolation of one who thinks he's better of not risking hurting anyone else. she would even prefer being lashed out at. she has experience with that.

this is--personal. she's basically stepped right up to the limits of her bounds, risked violating her sacred oath, not in pursuit of anything more noble than wanting to satisfy her personal urges. )

I'm sorry, Giovanni. I just want you to know that someone cares about you.

[That response, it's not what he's expecting. The words come, and he doesn't know what to think or say because they're words that he's never heard and as such can't apply to himself, make him feel...something. Startled, incredulous, filled with a bonedeep kind of longing that ignites a bright disgust for himself because he shouldn't want or need such things as anyone's assurance of care. Least of all someone he barely knows and who barely knows him and what he is, what he's supposed to be.

He wants to laugh and tell her coldly that her care is wasted on him. He wants to ask her to say it again so he can hold on to the words a moment longer.

Caught between those bright points of indecision, he ends up doing the instinctive thing and abruptly hangs up the call with a quiet and muted click. And then, like the well-adjusted adult he isn't, hurls the phone at the wall.

There it will stay, for a little while, whilst he takes the time to collect himself.]

( abruptly he's gone, and quickly there's the surge of dread. of damage she's managed to do without meaning to, with only the best of intentions. here it is, once again, the harm that is done by caring. and the truth: benevolence isn't really the thing that makes the difference.

this isn't the end of it.

but she will give him space. she will see if that is what he requires. reaching out to him again can come later. it is, after all, so easy for her to extend a hand. first, though, she could use some time as well to assuage her cloying guilt, to restore her clear-headed vision. )

video | un: Mercy

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I'm so sorry for him and his melodrama ;; it's because he likes her, I promise

noonoo it's good for her even if hurts, it's suddenly, oh hey here we go again, what have i learned?