(no subject)

[originallutece]

 someday this'll be pretty but for right now it's just a link! 

Comments

@priestess ⟪ voice ⟫

[voktys]

Mayhaps you have heard it for yourself, and I know you are no fool –– simply, I will rest more easily knowing you have been warned of this for certain.

I asked the man Winters of some spirit encounters her had, and this is the story he relaid to me: ⟪ What follows is a retelling of a really nasty close encounter of the murderous kind. ⟫

[originallutece]

I appreciate it.

[Is this friendship? Is this how friendship works? She's honestly caught by that for a moment, because while the story is objectively horrifying, it's also not shocking. Not really. Not when they've been warned by Winters, not when she's seen how utterly bizarre these creatures are. Animals all have ways of luring in prey; it's no different than a flytrap and some insects.]

Have you ever encountered creatures like these? I'm more concerned by the fact there doesn't seem to be any kind of uniformity between them.

@javert, voice

[policier]

( It's only about an hour or so after the spirits have ceased their attack on the town. Javert is worn out, tired, and covered in blood from the waist down, but he's not so far gone as to forget to check in with the people he knows. He hasn't been to their room in the past several days, between the party and the fighting, there just hasn't been any time.

He leaves her a voice message, since it's easier than typing, and Javert doesn't have the energy to put in that sort of effort. )

Vous allez bien? ( "Are you well?" ) Are you safe?

[originallutece]

Aussi bien qu'on peut s'y attendre.

["As well as one can expect", as stiff and scholarly as all her French is. She'll speak in French all night if he likes, but given this is a bit more vital information . . .]

A few cuts and bruises, but nothing severe. I could use your help tying off a bandage.

[She may be slightly more injured than she says, but still, she hasn't lost a limb. There's a hint of tension in her words, a slight grit that hints she's bandaging herself as they speak, but there's relief there as well. She'd thought of him, worried faintly, in the distant way she does.]

And yourself?

@parker

[webshoots]

Hey, Madame Lutece.

I've just got a quick question about the labs.

[originallutece]

My labs, you mean.

What's your question?

@elena; text

[otrazhenie]

Hi. You said before that you were interested in helping me in exchange for information. Is that still true?

[originallutece]

Oh, yes.

Feeling a bit peckish?

@wayne | private

[pearlstrings]

Good morning Ms Lutece.

Do you have a moment to talk about plutonium?

[originallutece]

Madam Lutece, if you please.

But what a curious subject, given what I'm looking at right this moment. What do you wish to discuss?

@scientia; text (hope it's ok, Ignis has some questions 👀 )

[reigniter]

Good evening. Apologies for disturbing you at this hour, but I was told that if I needed any scientific questions answered to send them your way.

Could you please indulge me a few questions? They have a purpose, I promise.

hell YES it's okay

[originallutece]

By all means, though I may be a bit slow to reply. I'm still organizing blood samples.

@wayne | private

[pearlstrings]

Good evening Madame. I have a proposition for you.

[originallutece]

It's been a while since we've spoken.

What did you have in mind?

[inthenightmods]

[After the Night Market has descended back into the lake, Rosalind receives an inbox message!]

THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING ONE (1) HINT FROM DR. SCHICKSAL'S HINT-O-MATIC. YOUR PAYMENT HAS BEEN PROCESSED.

[Until the next full moon, everything slips through her hands like they're covered in invisible grease. Good luck with the whole science thing.]

gift, evening of the 24th

[policier]

( He cooks for her, perhaps not for the first time, but in a much greater quantity than he had before. This meal is his Christmas gift to her, humble though it may be. There's a bottle of red wine on the table — French in origin, for he could scarcely imagine drinking anything else on a day such as today — and two place settings, carefully arranged. In the center, there's a carved-up turkey, salad, and a spread of cheeses and dried fruit. Dessert is simply chocolate, and a bottle of champagne, for Javert himself isn't much of a baker.

He's still finding it difficult to express his affection, but he's trying, and he hopes that this will prove a worthy start. )

[originallutece]

[She'd teased him over a gift, of course, but she'd thought-- oh, god knows. A book, perhaps, or something practical along those lines. Training pads for their weekly lessons. Gloves. Not something like this.

She pauses as she enters their home, arrested by the sight-- and then, slowly, continues unbuttoning her coat, tugging at her scarf.]

. . . what's this, then?

majorly backdated to Christmas

[maisel]

[ Once Rosalind steps out of her labs, there's a small box. Its contents? 8 separate eyepatches, each with different decorations--some classy, some with broaches on it, some girly, some more elegant. Nothing too gaudy or over-the-top. Everyone has been hand-stitched or sewn, and while it's not immaculate work it's damn close. The variety is simply because Rosalind is too guarded for Midge to hone in on exactly her aesthetic, but hey, she's trying! ]

Madam Lutece,

I don't really do Christmas for obvious reasons, but I figured I'd save myself the trouble of running up and over to your labs 8 times and just give these to you all at once.

Hope they fit!

-Midge

[ the 'I' in Midge has a heart instead of a dot. ]

REACTION. / A MESS.

[sunborne]

[ when rosalind is going to lutece labs one day, she'll notice a gaggle of spirits digging up the dirt at the side of her building!

if she attempts to confront them, the spirits will panic and flee- leaving behind piles of dirt and half-finished holes in their messy, messy wake. should she inspect the holes, she'll notice leaves and moss and softer dirt at the bottom of some of the finished, shallow holes.

hm. were they building hidey-holes for themselves...? ]

[completelycrazy]

[Newt's been wondering if he should call Rosalind for like, hours, but there's a thousand reasons why that would maybe be weird. It's not like they keep any sort of purposeful schedule—Rosalind just practically lives here because of course she does, it's her lab, and Newt... has less of an excuse to spend more time here than he does his apartment, but she's got the marketed cornered on labs at the moment. The Lutece Device is not something he can work on at home.

Point is, she's not here! And it's been, like, all day! Which means he's spent the bulk of the morning and now afternoon restlessly sifting through notes and redrawing diagrams and checking his wiring through the main power supply for like the ninth time even though he knows it's fine work. The plan was to get started on the mechanical calibrations today, and he could go ahead without her, technically. There's already a whole list of tests to run, and it's not like he needs her to hold his hand—but calibration tests are very boring and it's too quiet, even with music blaring as loud as his tinny tablet speakers can handle.

When Rosalind finally does arrive, he's sat cross-legged in the center of the Lutece Device, trying to get his tablet's recording app to function like a loop pedal for his ocarina, not important, it's not working so well, and anyway he all but tosses that shit aside as soon as he sees the state of her.]

Holy shit—are you okay? What the hell happened to you? Jesus.

[He hurries over to her, and then isn't quite sure what to do with himself, give him a sec, this is a lot to take in. He starts with a hand on her shoulder, more in automatic response than anything. Hi.]

[originallutece]

[She inhales sharply, a little overwhelmed with how quickly he moves into her space. Her head still feels light, her body thrumming on empty, so she feels keyed up and exhausted all at once. Though she's not so out of it that she isn't quietly grateful Newt had reached for her uninjured shoulder.

Does she look so bad? She wonders. She hadn't thought so, but then again, it's not as if she'd spent a great deal of time preening. None at all, in fact, too intent on distracting herself from the horrors of what they'd seen to bother with appearances. She's too pale, her hair hastily tied back in a braid instead of its usual intricate style. Blood stains her clothes, and she honestly doesn't know if it's her own or Javert's, but it doesn't really matter.]

Javert and I went exploring. Down, ah, downtown. We went to the courthouse, and there were--

[Something flickers over her expression before fleeing; she shrugs one shoulder beneath his touch.]

Spirits, obviously. Hostile ones.

@wayne

[pearlstrings]

Madame Lutece, safe among the somewhat-living?

[originallutece]

As safe as can be expected. My patient is stable, which is a relief, as I appear to have come to the end of my medical expertise.

And yourself?

text, March 25th

[mindofathief]

Hello doctor
I haven't been feeling too good after I got back
I think it's the flu

Is there medicine in Beacon

[originallutece]

You realize I'm not this sort of doctor, yes?

[But hm, that's odd . . . do people get sick here? Why would they? There's no germs, not as far as Rosalind knows.]

What symptoms do you have?