Chapter Text
A fierce, shredding pain awoke Eli from rest, but she was so pleased to no longer have a muzzle strapped to her face that she was not as distressed as she would have otherwise been to discover that someone had cut her throat while she slept.
"On position, V1."
Even as Eli traced her fingers over the gory, partially healed wound in her throat, she was pulling her legs under her and rising from her spot on the floor where she'd passed out. Her entire torso was tacky with drying or dried blood, but she had been here long enough that they'd actually been feeding her somewhat routinely, which meant that she was also healing from injuries at a fairly regular rate. The feeding and its resultant healing was of course predicated upon her following her captors' rules. She had not lost enough blood that she could not balance herself on her knees, and she quickly clasped her hands behind her back.
"Do you know where you are?" The voice over the speaker was not the generic, technologically-modified voice that had awoken her, but a woman's warm, rich tones, complete with an accent like the King's English, much like Eli's accent, if much more modern.
Eli considered the cell with curiosity at the question. This cell was much wider than the last cell she'd been in, and lacked any iron bars that she could see, encased in glass that Eli could just make out from a faint reflection. Eli flexed her wrists and ankles and then noticed the lack of iron shackles. She didn't even consider answering the question.
"Speak when spoken to, where are you V1?" The warmth had left the woman's voice; Dr. Keswick never missed an opportunity to remind Eli of her rules here at the facility.
"Somewhere new," Eli tried to answer, but her voice came out a rasping croak. It wasn't her throat that had been cut, it was her vocal cords. Eli gritted her teeth and gripped her wrists tightly behind her back, riding out the hot flash of temper at Keswick's plan. Cut Eli's vocal cords, order her to speak and --
As if on cue, a light flashed from above her. Eli flinched, hissing involuntarily at the searing pain that erupted across her skin at the light. She had done this too often, however, to permit the fear or pain to shift her from her position.
The light held for several long seconds before shutting off again. "Speak when spoken to V1. Now hold position."
Eli flinched as more lighting ignited, but this was no longer the burning punishment of the UV lamp, but instead ordinary fluorescent lighting. Eli was no longer alone in a concrete tomb. She spotted two other cells across from her and got a sense of a cell to her right before an unfamiliar mortal stood right before the clear wall of her cell.
Tall, willowy, a plait of long golden hair down her back, sharp golden brown eyes; a striking mortal woman in a lab coat watched Eli steadily, a small black metal device in one hand.
"I am Dr. Adelaide Provencher," the woman said, her voice as warm and pleasant as her appearance. Her accent was French, Eli guessed, and she had graceful pianist fingers that swiped and pressed on the slate-like device in her hand. "I am a Hematologist and Hyperbiology expert, as well as the chief scientist here on Floor 2." Distress flickered across Provencher's face, and Eli flinched involuntarily at the woman's flurry of swearing in French, waiting for the lamp...
Instead, venom flooded Eli's mouth involuntarily and a half-second later, there was the 'clinking' sound of solid glass on glass.
"Please, it is the very least I can do." Dr. Provencher's voice was much more steady, and Eli risked a glance around her cell for the source of the sound.
A bank-like drawer had opened in one wall of her cell, and something cylindrical and solid with a mouthwatering smell --
Eli locked her limbs in place, screwing her eyes closed and forcing the knowledge of what was in that syringe away.
This had been the worst part of Floor 1, the worst rule that Eli was in absolutely no hurry to revisit, act not in haste Eli forced her mind down, her senses away from her body's awareness, down into the icy safety of nothing but her limbs on position and waiting for permission to feed the more you resist the more you will hurt
"Oh for heaven's sake!" Dr. Provencher's outburst was loud, clearly audible across the entire observation platform of the otherwise quiet Floor 2, but Eli hardly registered the sound.
Never feed without permission. Oh, Eli had learned that lesson far too well, Keswick and her trials and experiments and that lamp, the lamp, it was all Eli could do to keep her limbs in place and continue to fight against every impulse as each cropped up, reminding her --
"You may feed, V1." That voice was not Keswick's and did not register at all at that moment. Eli's starving, wounded body reacted only to the conditioned phrase of permission. She was off the ground less than a half second after the command ended; she was at the drawer less than a full second had passed. Eli could not force her body to wait the time it would take her clumsy fingers to open the carefully sealed glass vial, so she instead put the vial in her mouth and burst the glass with her teeth.
The cuts from the glass were inconsequential compared to the rich blood that flooded Eli's system, and she doubled over as she felt it go to work on the wounds in her neck.
"We are scientists, not torturers from the 13th century." Dr. Provencher's rapid-fire French retort was a dart of derision in the still air as Eli slowly returned to present awareness.
As the wound in her neck slowly mended, Eli regained her characteristic acuity of senses. The glass barrier of her cell was also a mixture of a wide variety of plastic polymers that Eli had no name for, but nonetheless produced distinct scents from one another, as well as a fine mixture of silver within the wall itself.
Eli snorted, taking an involuntary step away from the wall. Contrary to the popular opinion of mortal media, not all of Eli's cousins were averse to silver. Eli, however, was a fact that Keswick had known about Eli from the outset and used to great effect on a wide range of shackles, muzzles, and other restraints made with silver alloy. Despite her misgivings, Eli had to admit that making an entire clear wall from a silver mixture was impressive.
"I apologize for that." Dr. Provencher's words sounded like they came through gritted teeth. "As I said, I am the lead haemotologist and biologist here on Floor 2."
Eli was confused for a split second, before she realized that Provencher spoke to her. Eli touched her throat and found that while there was still significant scarring, her vocal cords and the musculature of her throat had mostly been restored. Provencher was staring at her, and Eli flinched involuntarily, tracking her thoughts backwards, unsure what she'd been asked that she hadn't yet addressed (speak when spoken to).
Provencher had brown eyebrows to go with her hair, and they were crinkled in confusion as she and Eli stared at one another. As long seconds passed, it occurred to Eli to wonder how long it had been since she'd had a conversation with anyone. She had been receiving conditioning and orders from Keswick and her staff, but for how long? How long had it been since she'd been abducted from her apartment?
"PutainKeswick," left Provencher's mouth before she forced a long exhale from her lips. "You may speak. I'll be leading your care here, and before I let you rest, I'd like to ask what you like to be called?"
Eli noticed that a strand of hair had freed itself from Provencher's plait and lay just on the top of the woman's ear, and only realized after Provencher's speaking began and ceased that perhaps a response of some kind was required? Eli winced and brought her attention back to the woman's face.
"What shall I call you? V1 is hardly your name." Provencher's expression was kind, her tone dismissive of Eli's designation.
Eli flinched as her body involuntarily recalled the Floor 1 conditioning -- speak when spoken to the hot kiss of the UV lamp, the burning silver shackles, unable to move and get away the more you resist the more you will hurt burning silver muzzle strapped to her head, leaving burns and charred skin at every point of contact. obey all commands given
"Eli," Eli whispered, cringing away from the expected flash of the lamp...which never came.
"Putain de bordel de merde" Provencher muttered, and the combination of the ethereally beautiful mortal and the utterly common language caused an involuntary snort of laughter to escape Eli.
Provencher's gasp of surprise was perfectly audible, and Eli flinched, her muscles tensing involuntarily... but no flash of lamp accompanied her speaking without permission.
"I didn't know you could speak French." Provencher's wry comment was quiet and thoughtful.
Eli risked a glance up to see that the mortal woman was smiling slightly. Eli smiled back, an involuntary response to a pretty mortal smiling at her.
And then something within Eli, long dormant, unfurled itself like a matron snapping her fan at a luncheon to tell her charge that she spoke out of turn. "They were much more interested in impressing upon me the importance of their rules." The retort was in French, and was the longest string of words Eli had spoken since her arrival.
Eli's body flinched involuntarily, anticipating the lamp -- but no reprisal was forthcoming.
Provencher nodded, her eyes tightening at the corners.
The same spark from before -- Eli's long-dormant real personality -- returned. "Elinor, Eli. My name's Eli Coleman." The introduction was in French, a language Eli had not spoken for over 60 years.
Provencher's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded back. "You must then call me Adelaide," she whispered in the same language. "Truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Eli."