The Sleeping Judge

The Sleeping Judge
Date of Scene:	14 December 2012
Location:	Rabanastre
Synopsis:	Cirra Constantine is sleeping in Rabanstre, caught in a waking nightmare. Mercade goes to visit her. Things happen. Conversation ensues.
Cast of Characters:	Mercade Alexander, Cirra Constantine

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Cirra Constantine has posed:
Cirra Constantine was at the fall of Manhattan. A lot of people wonder why Archadia was defending the American city but Cirra just did as she was ordered, LEXUS questioned her ambition.

Then Cirra tried to drain off Riku's darkness.

Not the.../best/ idea she's ever had. Especially since the overflowing source from within Riku promptly knocked Cirra out. Even before then, the gathering darkness around the city had made her feverish. Even after Kign Mickey sent the fallen back to.. wherever and Cirra was recovered, she has been in a state described as a waking coma. Conscious, but unresponsive. Moved to the Rabanastre hospital she lays on a bed of clean white sheets in a sterile white room while archaic looking pseudo-technical health monitors watch her vital signs. A nurse making a report to send to Dr. Bunansa every six hours. He hasn't tried to help her, just observer her.

He's kind of an ass like that.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade knew she was there.

He knew she had helped in the defense. When he wants to find things out, he just has to listen. People love to talk. This is why he arrives at the hospital, asking about Cirra.

When he is showed in to see her, he stands over her, silently, his hands folded before him. "Judge Constantine..." He says, quietly, after waiting for the nurse to leave. What do they care what he does?

Cirra Constantine has posed:
The Judge lays in the bed, silver hair has been tucked over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. The nurse leaves after a moment, leaving Mercade and Cirra alone, but the Judge's only response to Mercade is a slow unfocused blink. Her eyes shift around without purpose and her lips part as she draws breath.

But it's like she can't see Mercade at all.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
They told him that she was unresponsive. In a waking coma. Some people even said that something had stolen or destroyed her soul.

Mercade is a simple man, however. He stays with simpler solutions first. He turns away, and pulls up a chair, sitting down next to the bed.

He is quiet for a short time, before he exhales, looking up into the air. "I'm sorry, Cirra." He says. "I'm a waste of a man. I should have been there, fighting with you all. You... sacrificed yourself for people you didn't even know. For people who never knew your name."

He pauses, wiping his face. "You deserve better than this. You deserved better... From me. I should be the one in your place, right now. You shouldn't have had to..."

He goes quiet, looking down.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Maybe Cirra didn't know what she was getting into in Manhattan. Maybe theres some kind of snarl up in the higher Archadian ranks with Manhattan being a convient way to 'lose' a few of the dissenters, cull the weak as it were. Such is the way of the intrigues of Archadia.

'You deserve better then this'

Cirra doesn't respond, not directly but her breath draws in more deeply as her eyes shift, looking side to side. If you could see what she sees, you'd see a village burned to ash. Memories, not even good ones, but a person only has one past - gone in an instant.

Shoulder bunch up tightly under her hospital gown.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade is not aware of these things, not being a native of the Byzantine snarl that makes up the Archadian nobility. All he sees right now are the results in front of him, intended or not.

He breaks himself free of his silent self-recriminations, looking back up at Cirra and, perhaps in a gesture of comfort, reaching out to take her hand in his own. Or perhaps he is seeking forgiveness from someone who cannot give it. The paradox of forgiveness continues.

"I wish there was a better way to handle this, Cirra. I'm no doctor, no healer. I don't know how to solve your problem... But I will find a way to help you." He doesn't notice the shoulders move. "I'm sorry I thought ill of you, before. I didn't realize the kind of person you were. I wanted to help people. Maybe even try to be some kind of... hero... I guess. But you actually just went out and did it. You did what you had to do. And I'm sorry that you did."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Mercade can't see what she sees, and Cirra can't give him the forgiveness he seeks. Would she give it if she could? She's far from a perfect person.

More images flash through her mind's eye and as Mercade takes her hand she breathes, just a bit more deeply then before. A twitch of one finger, just a reflex right?

She sees it again, for the hundredth time. Marching with the academy students and finding her home burnt to ash, and all of the steeling the all of the lieing to herself about how she felt washed away in one moment of agonizing realization.

Cirras hand clasps Mercade's, gently at first. Surely a good sign.

Then tighter, she's waking up?!

Then even tighter, hey that kind of hurts.

Now her grip /really/ hurts.

By now Mercade might be trying to to pull away her hand lest it be harmed in her grip as her eyes close and her head tilts back and she lets out a an angry wail like a screaming of the damned, her free hand clutching the bed sheets as tears start to roll out of her screwed shut eyes, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

And she suddenly relaxes, panting heavily as she sobs.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade doesn't believe in fairy tales. Well. Most of them. He kind of had to reassess a little bit after Prince Navarre the frog took up hanging out in the TDA.

When Cirra's hand clenches a little bit, he looks on in surprise, and mild wonder. What the hell is going on here?

She clenches harder. "Nurse!" Mercade calls "I think she's waking u-OH GOD THAT HURTS!"

He calls out, grasping as Cirra's clenching hand. As Cirra screams, Mercade has his face buried in in the bed, screaming into the side as his hand is heavily and painfully compressed.

When she finally lets go, the Detective pulls out his hand, holding it gingerly as he grimaces. "God, that hurt... Cirra... Are you there?" He asks.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Cirra stares at he ceiling, her hand slowly relaxing around Mercade's as she slowly seem, painfully comes down from some kind of panic attack. But from the way her eyes are moving, actually registering her environment she seems to be cognizant again.

Her head slowly turns to the side to look at Mercade and her brow knits.

"The question I want answering is why are /you/ here?"

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"I..." Mercade pauses, letting the jolts of pain in his hand try to subside a bit. He knows better than to try to actually /move/ it. "I heard you helped try to defend Manhattan. I heard you were injured." He pauses, and looks down. "I wanted to thank you, for helping when I couldn't."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Cirra blinks once, a look of concentration on her face, "I ...can't remember all of it. There was the military base and that other Dark Knight and then." she sort of looks past Mercade, "I remember feeling unwell, sick to my stomach and feverish. The next thing I know I was underground, fighting that... machine thing. And there was Will, and the one on harvest day, Riku."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"You did a lot for us, Cirra. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that." Mercade slumps back in the chair. "So it's true..." Mercade says with sorrow heavy in his voice. "Riku betrayed us all..." He looks over to Cirra. "Did any of them... survive?"

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"I did." Cirra responds, possibly without thinking, it was a little too quick.

"I mean. I'm certain I passed out before the battle ended. I tried to..."

She looks away, it is a tiny bit embarrassing to talk about. "Kissed Riku - It's a Dark Knight technique to drain someone else's energy, it needs physical contact. But It was like an endless surge of power. Like nothing I had ever seen before. Then everything went black."

"If I can survive that, I'm sure others did as well."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade waves with his non-crushed hand. He'll have the nurse look at it on the way out. "Don't worry about it... But a surge of darkness, you say. That could be a problem. I wonder why that happened..."

He thinks for a minute, and then shakes his head. "I'll find the rest of them. Any of them who might have survived. As for you... I'm setting up shop in Seventh Heaven over in Goug. I'd appreciate it if you stopped by sometime. Maybe we can work together on some things when you're feeling well."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"It was like a tidal wave," Cirra shakes her head, "He completely overpowered me with it, and he knew he could. It's like it wasn't the same person I sw on harvest day. He was confident and unyielding. The boy that had difficulty standing that day was gone."

"I'll...see what I can do. I need to see how my superiors are handling this."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Something's happened to him." Mercade says. "I don't know if he gave into the Darkness, or it's something else, but..." He looks up. "I'll find out. And I'm going to have justice for those people who were lost."

He nods to Cirra. "I understand. You're still under oath to Archades. But... if you ever need help with anything, please let me know. I owe you."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"I..." Cirra's hands ball up in the sheets again. She frowns, then tosses the sheet aside and kicks it off, she sings her legs over the side of the bed and sits there for a moment. She takes a deep shuddering breath an lets it out slowly, then stands up, wobbles for a second and steadies herself. "Your offer is appreciated, but..."

"I have to be strong enough to stand on my own before I can ask for help, or I'll just be weak." she turns and moves towards the closet, looking for her clothes.

Someone should tell her about the downside of hospital gowns.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Yeah, I understand what you mean." Mercade says. "But everyone needs a hand sometimes. There's no shame in that." He looks down at his hand. Maybe she alredy took one. He looks back up to say something else. "I..." And then Cirra's standing up. His eyes widen, and he looks away, flushing red as he coughs.

"Uh... Cirra, those gowns... are, uh, open in the back."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"Theres no shame in it-" Cirra starts as she reaches the closet, then stops, eyes going wide. Her hands fly to her back to grasp the gown shut and she just stares directly ahead for a terrified moment.

"Out." She turns around, one hand still holding the back of gown closed and moves on Mercade, grabbing the back of his chair, "Out!" She moves hte entire back of the chair all the way to the door, opens it and tosses Mercade in the chair out into the hall to land on all four feet of the chair with a clatter, Mercade still sitting in it.

"OUT!"

And shuts the door with a slam.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade was totally going to get out on his own, but Cirra is immediately on him in a rage. He grips the chair reflexively, yelling as his crushed hand erupts in pain, and a moment later, he's out of the room, the chair hitting the floor and skidding, somehow remaining intact.

He looks around, shrugging at the looks he's getting, before he heads to the nurse to get his hand bandaged up or splinted or something.

Cirra will be just fine.