Ex Favilla
Part 1, Part 2
"Foul play."
Those words have been circling around my head for the past couple of days, or what I thought was days. It was hard to tell with the lack of windows or clock.
I play with the end of the bandages idly as I sit in bed, books that were provided to me earlier for "mentally stimulating activity" sitting next to me on the nightstand, having already been parsed through.
The contents weren't hard to grasp.
Oddly enough.
Perhaps I was intimately familiar with the subjects before my accident.
My accident...
He was standing closer
Not looming- Just in reach.
“The facility you were found in wasn’t abandoned, not conventionally anyway. Speaking of conventions, the location of the facility itself was… peculiar. It was partially situated inside the remnants of an undiscovered ruin golem in Ardravi Valley.”
He lets his words settle
“Inside was filled with deactivated and torn-apart ruin mechanisms. Notes and research into their designs, mechanisms, energy sources…”
A pause.
“However, it seems the latest batch you brought back to work on weren’t as lifeless as you thought,” he added smoothly.
“Simply dormant.”
His gaze drifted briefly, unfocused—not away from you.
“They responded in stages. Initial activation protocols. However, due to time and wear the systems were surely compromised, such as its identification and targeting systems.”
He looked back at you.
“Movement first,” he said.
Your chest felt tight.
“They did not target the facility itself initially,” he added calmly. “They targeted what they were able to identify.”
A beat.
His fingers tapped once against the metal rail of the bed.
“You were working alone at the time,” he said—not a question.
The room seemed very quiet.
“When the first construct reactivated, the damage was localized,” he went on. “Containable.”
Another pause.
“But once additional units reactivated…” A soft hum. “The cascade of events became inevitable.”
He straightened slightly. “Energy conduits ruptured, compromising critical structures, supports failed. The lab collapsed.”
Fire.
Smoke.
The ringing in your ears returns, sharp and sudden.
“You were struck and entrapped by falling debris,” he continued evenly.
Then, almost as an afterthought—
“My men arrived shortly thereafter.”
You realize, distantly, that he never says why they were close enough to arrive so quickly. Or how they even found where the lab – you - were.
He leans in.
“You were extracted before the rest could reactivate or cause further damage,” he said. “Had my men not intervened-”
His eyes meet yours, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.
“-That outcome would have not been survivable.”
Speak of the devil. I look over as the door opens to the aforementioned man.
He appraises me with a slight frown as he makes his way towards me, in his hands more pain medication and a notepad and pencil.
"I’m sure I don’t have to repeat myself."
My hands pause their movements before dropping limply in my lap.
"Good."
He deposits the items he was carrying on the bedside table.
He eyeballs the pile of books. He hums lowly before speaking
"I can’t imagine you’ve finished these already. They’re hardly an interesting read. Even most scholars and researchers would struggle."
"I did."
At that he looks at me with what I could imagine interest sparkling in his eyes.
"Oh? Is that so?"
He fishes out a book from the middle of the pile, briefly opening it to the synopsis before snapping it shut and holding it up so I can see the cover.
"Mind giving me a summary?"
I look at him blankly
"I’m not being patronizing if that’s what you think. This is simply an exercise, a step towards recovery. Therapy if you will-"
He makes his way over to a chair that was pushed against a wall, dragging it over and with a flourish taking a seat. Straddling the back of the chair, whilst crossing his arms over the backrest. He points at the table next to me.
"As you summarize, I'd like you to write what you say as well. We’ll see if you can and remember how to write and access your recall and fine motor functions in the process."
After a moment I shift, reaching over and grabbing the notepad and pencil, adjusting myself to a more comfortable position, crossing my legs under the sheets covering me.
I summarize the book—research covering ancient Dahri machines and mechanisms, annotated and authored by “Zandik.”
I write as I talk.
He watches.
"Excellent."
He breathes; his voice laced with barely contained glee.
For some reason that singular word holds more weight than it should.
With that he plucks the notepad from my hands before I can react. He skims over my words with a critical eye with a sharp, practiced speed. His thumb lags behind, eventually stopping on the last written line.
“…Interesting,”
He murmurs at last rubbing the page with his thumb.
He lifts his gaze to you, slow and deliberate, now studying your face instead of the page. His head tilts a fraction, teal hair slipping forward over the edge of his mask.
“You didn’t merely understand it,” he says. “You reorganized it.”
He taps the notepad lightly with one finger.
“You corrected two flawed assumptions the author made, reframed the third hypothesis, and proposed an alternative application that—”
He pauses, then lets out a soft, pleased exhale, before he straightens in the chair.
“That is not passive recall,” he continues. “Nor is it rote familiarity.”
“That is expertise.”
A beat.
“Despite the trauma you’ve sustained and the impact it has had on your mental faculties, your mind continues navigates advanced theoretical frameworks with remarkable ease.”
He calmly states.
He stands. The page is torn free with practiced ease, folded once, twice, then slipped into his pocket.
The chair is returned to its place against the wall—exact, unhurried.
“I will return later to change your bandages,”
he says, already turning away.
“I’ll bring additional reading material.”
A brief pause at the door.
“Material more closely aligned with your… natural inclinations.”
The lock engages.
The door closes behind him with a soft click. With a quiet click he locks it before making his way down the corridor. He adjusts his gloves as he walks, silently cataloging their interaction.
Memory loss: extensive, but selective. Cognitive function: intact. Pattern recognition, abstraction, synthesis—unimpaired.
Early instability, he noted. Acceptable—for now.
A low hum leaves him.
The Akasha’s modifications fell within projected tolerances. No deviations significant enough to warrant intervention.
He removes the folded page from his pocket as he walks, unfolding it just long enough to scan the handwriting again. Clean. Efficient. Confident. No hesitation in the strokes, save for the earliest lines.
The Akademiya had been so eager to be rid of her.
How shortsighted.
He turns down a corridor, disappearing deeper into the lab.
I should be doing school work but whatever. CAD can wait.
Super happy with this chapter, I feel im laying a pretty solid foundation for whats to come.
Also was able to make some cute dividers based on the moon sisters/ trilune :3
Anywho if you have suggestions or ideas feel free to leave a comment or message me!
-V-Trl