I offer a small prompt: what's everyone's agents' go-to choices at a greasy-spoon diner? (xo, bracken)
o-ho, i like this one!
if you see this, reblog with your additions either onto the post itself or in the tags. <3 i'll start!
agent seraphim is definitely an egg person. there's never a wrong time for an omelette (or huevos rancheros, or a benedict, or some house specialty scramble...), and the best time for breakfast food is all the time.
Is there any way you could tell us about Former Technical Officer Drake? (The one that uses Tom Holland as a face claim?) Like what happened to him that made him become a Former officer?
let’s talk about jude shepard.
and note, that i can’t talk about jude shepard without also speaking of where he died.
it isn’t often i get to tell a story that begins in one decade and ends over a century earlier.
details of violence, sci-fi-induced stressful situations and implied gore and body horror below the cut. proceed with caution.
turn back the clock to 1996.
jude—that is, drake, at the time—was one of the youngest people ever to be brought onto the basement crew. our watchers pinged him at just 14 for showing exceptional aptitude to what i would best describe as technomancy. the phrase ‘wiz kid’ was used often, and seriously. but, the then-wyvern—justine—knew that lilith wouldn’t bend on recruitment rules. she waited patiently until jude was old enough and immediately “adopted” him as a mentee.
our gate had been completely built by this time. at least, an early version of it.
but we knew way less then, than we do now.
and what we know now, we’re realizing, is still precious little.
i wish that i could tell you what happened to jude was significant. i wish i could say that it was meaningful, that it happened for a just cause. i wish i could say that for the handful of officers our homemade portal has swallowed over the decades.
but—well.
a year and a month. that was how long jude had existed fully in his role, fully as drake. justine trusted him completely, why wouldn’t she? he passed training with flying colors, of course he did, that genius born out of the bronx, maybe he’d graduate to her title someday, of course, why not, he’d make a great leader—
so of course he could do routine maintenance by himself.
of course, his hands would never slip and puncture the wrong wire, triggering an instantaneous opening that would have felt like stepping into a sauna turned way too high.
of course, he would never be snapped up, as though raptured.
but they did. and he was.
now, the good news, what slivers of it were to be found, were that we did trace his landing point.
the bad news—he wasn’t in north america in the 1990s.
he was in 19th century prussia.
and the worse news—which everyone knew was the worse news as soon as they saw lilith’s expression shift when she realized the coordinates—was where exactly in prussia he’d been spat out. it was why we couldn’t pull him back, even after repairing the gate’s puncture. why we couldn’t get a push signal to re-generate to the same point.
brennenburg castle.
she recognized it, of course she did.
alexander.
“lady,” lilith began. her eyes didn’t leave the screen, didn’t leave the green dot blinking in russia. “will you please get brosnya on the phone.”
when was it that she’d last spoken to yekatarina, the head of the order of snow and sun? a year ago? two? five?
because of the atrocities committed in that castle, the order is very—protective, of that particular parcel of land. today, as it was then, it’s heavily warded, and regularly observed. the structure itself still stands, condemned and rotting.
lilith had always run on the assumption that, surely, they’d sent field agents down into the castle’s interior to clear it. to make sure that nothing was left behind that shouldn’t be, like say—a proverbial open door.
an exquisitely, ridiculously dangerous open door.
but she still had a sense of decorum, and wasn’t about to point blank ask for some kind of verification as if it was owed to her. after all, the heaviest parts of that investigation would have been years and years earlier.
surely, they had.
surely.
but the unfortunate truth was that there wasn’t much to be done. alexander’s property was cursed, and that curse was powered by something far bigger, and far older, than us. jude was doomed as soon as he hit the ground.
the gate is our homemade doorway. we made it ourselves.
the orb that lilith desperately hoped was in the order’s protective custody, the entire reason behind the castle’s ruin? was built by something like a god. or gods. we’re—we’re not sure.
but it’s not our fault that research is limited.
remember another time we had someone try his hand at technomancy?
remember the time we hit a wall?
turns out that there is a way behind it after all.
remember, there was never any doubt that it wasn’t a wall, and a wall is not a wall without the other side.
if what had happened at brennenburg castle was anything like the world beyond the wall, lilith had zero desire for us, or any other agency, to go there.
more recently, dohbar has been sending her updates. there are seven orbs. “it’s all set up like spokes on a wheel, diana. spokes on a wheel. are we turning? where we are going? how many spokes? and where is the hub, you think? what could possibly lie at the center of something so vast? so ancient? what do you think, diana?” he was getting worse every month. she could see it in his writing. she knew ness was watching him, but not in the role of distant, mournful witness, not like she was watching him.
we have evidence that alexander managed to secure at least a beginning signal, an initial push, to this other plane.
we have no evidence that it was successfully destroyed—beyond the order’s word.
but lilith wondered.
justine was heart-broken, which is why the handle was retired for fifteen years, even as her title passed to jeremy, who followed protocol out of respect—up until he actually met drake and it felt a little too much like a ‘stars aligning’ moment.
a clever cover story was crafted for the benefit of jude’s parents. one that made his ending quick, easy. pure accident. pure fate. pure whatever would bring them peace.
lilith didn’t know it. she wept, god, how she cried, for nights, praying for the first time in what seemed like lifetimes to anybody, please let it have been quick. please let it have been easy. please let him be in peace. please let it have been quick— a never-ending mental prayer chain, timed with her heartbeats, with her jagged breaths. because she knew it had been none of those things. she knew this for a fact. but she whispered into her hands anyway, cupping her own pleas like water to offer to the universe for just this one thing.
at least... as much peace as they could offer at the price of a body. there was nothing to bury. nothing to burn. “we’re sorry. he is gone.”
they bought a plot anyway. they upturned the soil, (”ned--neddy? honey, is this--are we breaking the law?” “oh they wouldn’t dare touch this flower bed, analiese. it’s--it’s the principle of the thing!”) planting begonias. jude’s favorite flower. and yes, he has a tombstone, calling him by his names: jude levi shepard. beloved son. beloved friend. beloved, beloved, beloved.
jude was “buried” in between his paternal and maternal grandparents in a cemetery in long island.
annabelle has a saved photo on her phone from drake of the view from jude’s garden, looking at the city’s skyline.
fun fact: seraphim sticks out her tongue when her attacks from a distance--whether she’s using magic or a gun or some third kind of weapon. depending on how hard she’s trying to concentrate, it ranges from just a small ‘blep’ to ‘put that thing back in your mouth so help me.’ as a result, despite her deep desire to appear badass (particularly in front of lilith and merlin), she’s never actually done so in these instances.
We’ve gotten hints about Seraphim’s dark past and traumas she isn’t able/ready to talk about, but not a whole lot of definite info. Any chance of knowing more?
you may have to be a bit more–specific, darling.
because you could be referring to…
- the mission in the hills, which left her with the scar that runs down the side of her back. centralia is a cursed place, tied to an old, old magic that is never going to stop attempting to be reborn. at this point it’s not even a portal from somewhere else; it has become an entity unto itself. one we will never be able to eradicate. one we can only attempt to ward, protect, and keep under control.
- her relationship with former agent enoch, which ended so bitterly and badly that she had to throw herself into her work just to keep her sanity. his departure lit into a very stark contrast what they valued and what they didn’t, and she couldn’t stand that he may have felt just as betrayed as she did. you may mean the night before that, though. and all i will say–will ever say–is that coercion is not consent. coercion is not consent. coercion is not consent.
- the incredible strain her induction into the society caused with her family, which wasn’t really about the society, it was how the society found her. there are much, much worse places than roanoke that people like seraphim are sent to. remember in one of the earlier episodes of once upon time, when henry is yelling at regina, “you made me feel like there was something wrong with me! you made me feel like i was crazy when i wasn’t!” they’re on speaking terms, now. but she’s not as close to her parents or her siblings as she’d like–although that is for their own safety. we are a secret society, after all.
- her relationship with jack daniels, which was, at the time, extremely detrimental to the both of them. except when it wasn’t. both those times were very few and far between, in hindsight. i haven’t written much about this half of the #sour cocktails tag because honestly, i’m much more interested in #lies & lessons. besides–they’ve had their closure.
- what happened to her and succubus in the woods near mobile, alabama. this may yet be written about. this wasn’t their first mission together, no–but it was most frightening. wouldn’t you be scared, watching from inside your own head and unable to do anything about what you were doing, thinking to yourself, ‘i am about to murder my best friend. i am about to plant this axe into the back of my best friend’s head, and i can do nothing to stop it.’
- her relationship with merlin. fated love? yes. perfect love? absolutely not. but try not to worry too much–they’ll be fine.
- and finally, there’s just the day-to-day gruesome realities of her role as demonologist and exorcist. sometimes she’ll talk about her fieldwork (and usually then pretty much only with merlin, lilith or succubus–harry, if he’s exceptionally curious, and whiskey, just once), but most of the time she prefers to keep it to herself. if you’d really like to know more about why that is, i’d encourage you to listen to the audio file of one of the most well-known exorcisms done in the united states. do so with caution, and if you feel bold, while picturing yourself in the same room, acknowledging that you are the only force standing between what’s before you, and the family cowering behind you.
Does Roanoke have a Most Wanted list? (kinda like the FBI's most wanted list)
as a matter a fact—we do.
(i am so sorry this took me so long to answer, life has been BONKERS, but i’d really like to carve out time for more roanoke things in the future. i also tried very, very hard to not choose duplicate faces, but if i still bunked it up, please dm me and i can recast whoever.)
feast your eyes on these five key figures below the cut, keeping in mind that while they most certainly have roanoke’s eyes on them, they may be tracked by other agencies and groups as well—both to our benefit, and our detriment.
some of the details below the cut are not pleasant. proceed with caution. they’re on our watchlist for a reason.
dr. imani hahn.
there has been a lot of purposefully-crafted confusion behind the exact development of the alpha gel and its byproducts as used by statesman, and roanoke by extension. there are rumors that in slowly piecing together what became the gel, their studies looked a bit more—occult. dr. hahn had been one of the senior officers at statesman at the time, but was more invested in the idea of being able to “hold” the consciousness of a person. she wanted to know if it was possible to cleave a mind from its original host and transport it, whether into another organic vessel, or to translate it into data that could up loaded into a computer system or other storage device.
but the board didn’t know that. so. dr. hahn was granted private funds and a secluded ward for her own studies.
four test subjects died, two had to be permanently relocated to a mental facility in louisville, and one, the very last one she ever touched, is missing, along with the doctor. upon reviewing all the lab notes associated with the gel project, it is undetermined what exact research she took with her. her research area was left in pristine condition, as if it had never been used at all.
everett cardenas.
cardenas has been pegged as one of the three possible ringleaders for the cult regla del perro blanco, or white dog rule. they have subtle settlements all over the country but are based heavily out of the american southwest, particularly new mexico. cardenas, we believe, is considered a man holding a role like high priest. while we have no evidence that he himself has directly abducted, tortured and killed anyone, he has been sighted at every single major ritual, both observed and those we interrupt.
he seems to have a particular fondness for necromancy. note that fondness does not include restoring the dead completely.
greyson st. john.
greyson is one of our own. well. was. in the same vein that john was dissatisfied with how our society is run, greyson–formerly technical officer dagon–had more of an issue with the washington avenue project. he had a huge, huge hand in in developing and building our very first ring which is still down in the basement, somewhere and the tesseract that allowed our first steps into another universe.
and for all the good that followed, for all the blessings it brought, none of it mattered. it wasn’t enough. greyson was caught attempting to sell highly classified not to mention still very much experimental data to a party using the dark web. stupid enough to get pinged, but smart enough to help hide the identity of who was trying to access our information–and his own tracks. we recovered all the potential research, but greyson disappeared and hasn’t been seen since.
we know about places like the red room. we wonder, perhaps, if that’s where greyson went.
prof. sierra zales.
professor zales was a teacher of analytical chemistry at m.i.t. when she was contacted by both statesman–and a pharmaceutical company based out of arklay county. aforementioned pharmaceutical company proceeded to cause one of the largest infection disease outbreaks in american history. and if a certain signature hadn’t been recovered on several key documents outlining the specific events of the epidemic–well. we’d never have known that a potential ginger ale had a deeper hand at umbrella than first thought.
reagan g.
everything we have is from seraphim’s field notes. it’s not a lot. there are some photographs, most of them blurry. at least a few simply have dark shapes circled in the background like here, here she is. can always be spotted by the church, but has never been seen in the company of anybody, including any members of the order. she is a tracked target at seraphim’s insistence until we have more intel on her role in centralia and its religious group. her classification as a human being is–complicated.
and a bonus:
dr. boyd wernicke.
related to the late dr. r. gustav wernicke, one of the scientists associated with operation paperclip. wernicke’s nanotech research was invaluable to statesman’s alpha gel program–even though it was riddled in blood. it had been on champ’s orders: “if anything good can be salvaged out of this, then–i don’t know. it’ll even out the black.”
but the same information statesman studied was also passed along to boyd, who managed to get all of dr. wernicke’s research–and footage showing what happened at mount massive asylum.
How did Mothman come to Roanoke? What was his beginning like?
that’s an excellent question! let’s talk about our boy joseph moretti.
joe, unlike some of our other members, didn’t develop his abilities until a good decade after puberty hit him like a freight train.
he was in college in southern florida when he first began to notice with not a small amount of irritation that he seemed to lose everything he put his hands on—only for it to abruptly reappear in his hands either hours or sometimes even days later. this went on for about a year before one of his rooomates—joe was a member of the alpha phi alpha house on campus, so he had plenty of roommates in his time living in the frat house—suggested that he try to control it.
“dude, dude just—like. focus. do like mr. miyagi said.”
“what did mr. miyagi say that would help in this situation, chris?”
“uh—something something balance?”
“excellent, thanks for that contribution.”
“i’m trying to help you bro!”
it took practice. a lot of practice. joe had to learn how to meditate, how to train his mind to keep things very separate and aimed in specific ways. he’d never sent a person into the nowhere zone (as chris stine had so christened it around 1985), and it wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to try.
but he, like almost all of the men and women who would go on to be members of the roanoke executive board, eventually did learn to bring his abilities under his own control. … at least, for the most part. he would be a grown man before learning the more intimate secrets of the strange unseen universe that was tied to him.
now, all this wasn’t super great for his dating life (he accidentally bopped a few dates in the back of their heads with books, mugs…), but it was stellar for his frat brothers.
you need booze but don’t have an id? you need to sneak something into or out of somewhere? joe was your man. his abilities won him the coveted title of worst-kept secret on campus. worst-kept because chris couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but even with his wide-eyed insistence and stories—most of the student body shrugged it off.
physics doesn’t work like that. impossible. absolutely not. not real.
but the people who believed, the people who saw? they didn’t know it was a peek into something bigger. they just thought joe was—gifted.
and thank god that chris stine had a huge mouth, otherwise it wouldn’t have to led to one joaquin foster—at the time, roanoke’s mothman—to finding him.
of course, it wouldn’t have led to paul todd finding him, either.
once joe graduated, he had already been on the radar for some—we’ll say seedier groups of people. people familiar with drug-running, the business of underground narcotic trails and cartels.
the money was hard to say no to.
joe has not always been as… upstanding, as we know him to be. he thanks all the gods he knows that he didn’t meet louise until later in life, after all of this was nothing more than a shameful closed chapter.
and he decided that chapter would have most likely been titled ‘joseph moretti - the single greatest drug smuggler in the history of mankind.’
he doesn’t like to talk about it much. and even though it was something he was technically good at (and that paid exceptionally well in pretty much every single way you can think of), it didn’t exactly leave him feeling fulfilled at the end of the day, no matter how many people were in his bed with him, how choice the drugs, how luxurious his surroundings.
paul todd was an excellent boss. do what he said, don’t ask questions, and your reward is getting to be a mule and not having to help draw lines through the names on a chalkboard paul kept in his office.
but joaquin would prove to be a bit better.
he trailed joe for a while. a few months, at least. got to witness how easily he committed felonies, the party boy lifestyle that had become the bow that wrapped up his life. but more importantly joaquin knew that once every few weeks, joe would go to the beach all by himself around midnight and stare out into the ocean for hours at a time.
so. he waited until joe was at his usual spot, and silently walked up next to him. his face caught the orange glow of a cigarette. “… penny for your thoughts?”
looking back, joe couldn’t tell you why, exactly, he proceeded to unload every single thought he had onto this man he didn’t know.
but he reckoned that maybe it had something to do with the fact that no one had asked him even a simple ‘are you all right?’ in a very, very long time.
by the end of the word vomit that joe couldn’t quite seem to stop, the stranger had gone through his cigarette and an entire second one.
“… uhm. i’m uh.” there was no easy recovery from this one. “sorry. about that. i’ll figure it out. nobody’s problem but mine.”
and for a beat, joaquin didn’t say anything. until: “… what do you call it?”
“… what?”
he repeated. “what do you call it? the place that you keep the drugs in.”
all the color drained from joe’s face and he found himself rooted to the sand in fear.
this was not one of his college friends, this was not anyone under paul’s direction, this was someone that he’d never seen before in his life and he’d somehow pieced together his biggest secret--which joe was, y’know, pretty sure he hadn’t explained in explicit detail. his existential crisis, yes, but his powers, absolutely not.
but joaquin smiled. he looked like a wolf and joe wasn’t exactly comforted.
he watched joaquin walk closer to the water and realized this guy had no shoes on, and that his pants were rolled up and cuffed just below his knees. then he—started doing tai chi?
joe frowned, staring. nope, not tai chi. what was this dude—
he almost screamed as a glob of saltwater hit him scare in the face, sending him to his knees reflexively. it was so dark that he hadn’t seen it. but when he opened his eyes again, sputtering and tearing up, he did see a second ball of water, rotating in perfect peace a few inches above joaquin’s open palm.
“… please don’t throw that at me.” was what came out.
but what he had meant then, was oh—you’re like me.
“i have some people that are very, very keen on meeting you. and i’ll be upfront, they’re just as interested in what you can do as who you work for now. but could i perhaps take advantage of any curiosity you have in being on the right side of the law?”
“but i can’t—“
“yes you can.”
“but paul w—“
“we can take care of it.”
“but what ab—“
“joseph.” that stopped him. “… we got you.”
joaquin put a broad hand on joe’s shoulder. joe didn’t shake him off, and it felt more like a burden being lifted than a weight being set down.
of course, it took a little bit more persuasion than one inspiring speech on a dark shore. but joseph was instated as agent cambrion before the year was out.
given the space to grow upwards and outwards, he absolutely blossomed under joaquin’s mentorship.
sometimes to get the best out of a person, you just have to give them the circumstances to prove that they can be good. joseph understood that his jagged path had been his own choice, but he’d been walking around completely unaware that there were groups of people—good people, even!—who not only accepted him for who he was and what he could do, but celebrated it. they taught him how to use his abilities for the benefit of others (not the same-shaped benefits from his previous line of work, either—better. much, much better).
he didn’t like to contemplate for too long why he went with paul.
paul had given him an opportunity to be his truest self. in the wrong direction, sure. but joe at the time hadn’t seen any other alternatives, beyond getting inevitably squared into a safe, 9-to-5 cubicle job.
he chose being able to use his powers for nefarious reasons over living a life where he wouldn’t really get to use them at all. he didn’t like what it said about himself as a person, but there had to have been a point, he thought, that he was who he was. there had to have been a reason.
when roanoke found him—the reason found him, too.
of course, there remains the question: how did joe inherit mothman’s title?
joaquin got the honor of being one of the executive offices chosen to go on an initial trip to a new gateway, gate point ninety-three point one, in the early 90s. a kingdom, not too far off from earth’s own medieval history—but with the elements of magic and fantasy that roanoke was familiar with. he tagged joe to come with him.
joaquin, to make a long story exceptionally short—fell in love. both with a place, and a person.
their first diplomatic visit was a success. as were the next two.
but joaquin couldn’t bear to make the trip of a fourth time, mostly because he couldn’t stomach the thought of having to keep making returns trips to a timeline where impa never existed, nor her people, or the royal family they served.
joe was very, very lucky. a lot of agents inherit handles from mentors due to death afield, or other violent circumstances.
joaquin was granted permission to remain a permanent ambassador of roanoke to the kingdom of hyrule. this title translated to captain of king’s guard, which meant that joe wasn’t just given the name mothman in some boring way lined with paperwork—there was an entire knighting ceremony. lilith and the white lady had been one of the few human witnesses.
so. all in all. it’s sort of a good beginning and a bad beginning all in one. joe’s made peace, for the most part, that he needs both parts to make up the whole of who he is today.
and who he is today is pretty damn great, if you ask me.
not that it’s very important to this story, but i would like to point out that almost three decades later, another set of roanoke agents walked into that same castle without having any idea who joaquin was.
“welcome, travelers! i can see by your dress you’ve come a long way. tell me, who sent you?”
“oh! uh—hi! i’m agent seraphim, of roanoke. and this is agent nova and agent zenith. we caught word that something was happening in the far reaches of the kingdom. we’ve come to help. it’s nice to meet you, sir—?”
So we know how little of an impression Hood makes at first, but what was Lilith’s first thoughts on Thorn? I heard a rumor that he sauntered into her office not even two hours after they recovered his sister to demand a job
i’m going to let you in on a secret--the rumors are right.
but after all, it makes sense: of course we weren’t the only ones who had looked--were still looking--for hood when it appeared that she’d simply blipped out of our timeline without a trace. looking back it shouldn’t have surprised anybody that hood was a bit of a package deal.
lilith knew of her parentage, obviously. but hood’s brother had been surprisingly hard to track; not that we were necessarily keeping strict tabs on the woman who formerly carried the handle of jackalope. lilith and the white lady had both ensured that her transition back to a life not so colored by the supernatural and paranormal was a smooth one (or at least--as smooth as they could make it; there were some metaphorical wrinkles that they’d never be able to fully press out).
and after we finally recovered hood (and seraphim took a short sabbatical to relearn how to relax about the nature of her employer), it seemed like literally the second that the energy around the estate had calmed down, here comes thorn, just walking through our front door as if he’d done it a million times before. scared chupacabra half to death and there was a split second where thorn locked eyes with andhrimnir for the first time and tony had to decide very, very quickly if this stranger was a threat or not.
but lilith had felt him.
ah. there it is.
we couldn’t see you before because you didn’t want us to.
but you’re here now.
she didn’t even get up from her desk, just leaned gracefully on one elbow, idly scribbling a note to go speak with hood as soon as whatever was about to happen was over.
thorn came into her office the same way he came into our house, which is to say like he fucking owned the place, and tony had made a half-hearted attempt to stop him but the sheer confidence of this dude was enough to shatter his resolve. his resolve to do what, exactly, he didn’t even remember. and just--let him go into his boss’s workspace and silently pivoted to go back to the kitchen.
“... carter jensen, i presume?” as soon as that smile caught the corner of his mouth and lilith recognized it layer after layer after layer and god i miss my friend does she know where her babies are... she felt a click. a click that was almost audible, almost physical, like a tap right at the base of her earlobe. she’d felt it before.
“... there room in the spooky kids’ club for one more?”
let’s talk about ten things you need to know about our bard/siren in residence.
1. elaine vikander was born in maine in the 1940s. her father, irving vikander, was a u.s. vet who served in the army during wwii, and her mother, charlotte (usually just called lottie), worked for one of the local methodist churches as an organist and choir director.
2. music was a huge part of her upbringing because of lottie. elaine grew up to the tune of hymns, jazz and the very early roots of what would become american rock and roll.
3. and also like her mother, elaine was blessed with a powerful singing voice. … very powerful.
4. so powerful that around age eleven, twelve, elaine realized that she could influence people if she just sang the right kind of melody at the right time. it was how she could heal people–or hurt them. it was how she could influence them to make decisions, whether those decisions were good, or not.
5. she came of age during the tumultuous political environment of the american 1960s. her parents were progressive, but not enough for elaine’s liking. she enthusiastically took up the role of political activists with the other men and women of portland.
6. and she used her greatest weapon–her voice. both in singing, and in public speaking, rallies, protesting racism, the war in vietnam and the persecution of anyone that wasn’t a straight white man.
7. if you look over her recruitment file in lilith’s office, you’ll find that her history is positively riddled with her manipulating others. something that lilith knows well. and that’s exactly why she landed on our radar.
8. strange murders seemed to follow her around. not that elaine has ever actually killed anyone. but after every performance, there always seemed to be one political figure somewhere who just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. governors, police chiefs, senators. it started in maine. but it didn’t stop there.
9. in mid august, 1969, a woman with dark hair approached elaine during the performance of richie havens. “elaine.” elaine, with a head full of drugs and a mouth stained by cheap wine, lookied into lilith’s eyes for the first time. “my name’s diana. i’ve been looking for you.”
10. elaine stopped aging–or at least, began aging at a much slower rate–after her official induction into the society. most think it must be something conditional that comes with the position. and these days, while she’s most often at lilith’s side as her ‘right-hand man,’ she can also be found puttering around medical, humming. she’s been known to cut recovery times in half.
