#She'd essentially cease to function

[primordialruin]

Only Adam and Eve were sentenced to mortality after eating from the forbidden fruit. Lilith, while responsible for the act, was simply cast to Hell where she would have eventually turned to dust had it not been for Lucifer's care. The separation between soul and body was made for Lilith. Essentially, she is still a primordial being whose body had become acclimated to Hell.

If she dies, she dies. There's no soul recovery, resurrection or afterlife for her.

[mythictold]

❝ slow down, start from the beginning. ❞ raffi @ seven

seven doesn't dream. there's no real medical reason for it, but she's long assumed that it's a lingering effect of her days as a borg. with no need to sleep, drones did not dream. the unimatrix had been a close approximation of it, but not truly a dream since it could be easily manipulated. she's never really minded not dreaming - it's hard to miss something you'd never had. while she no longer relies on an alcove to regenerate her implants and can essentially function as any human might by sleeping in a bed, her mind stays strangely blank for the most part, an endless darkness.

but things had changed, after dealing with the borg again.

she doesn't know if it's an aftermath of interfacing with the borg cube, temporarily becoming it's queen, or the return of her implants. either way, however, when she closes her eyes at night seven is granted images, vivid and detailed imagery that plays out while she sleeps. sometimes it's a memory from voyager, sometimes distorted, other times it's something she's never seen before and there's an eerie uncanniness to it that makes the dream version of herself wary.

but just as she'd come to terms with dreams, the nightmares had started.

mostly there're of the borg. the borg queen, the hissing voice in her ear that sounds like the queen, or other drones. dark things that have never even happened play across her mind so terrifying and vivid that the she can't process them fast enough, until she's awake, gasping for air, face wet from tears. the nightmares haven't let up since that first one - they've only gotten more detailed.

tonight is the first time she wakes up and immediately seeks out raffi, almost desperate to ensure her safety, that she's in one piece, asking and demanding if she's alright, if she's safe, if she's real, in a rapid fire pace that would make anyone dizzy. raffi is never far since they share quarters now, and as seven's clammy fingers find the warmth of her skin and she can lock in to the sound of her voice, only then does she seem to ground herself back into reality.

swallowing thickly, she tries to find her voice again - her mouth is dry despite the sweat against her skin.

"you were dead." it's not the beginning, it's the end. and it's the short version of it. because if she thinks too hard about it, lets the image back into her mind, some part of her mind stupidly assumes it still might come to fruition. that raffi will be methodically ripped to pieces by the borg for the sake of seven's torture, and put back together into a monstrous drone set to kill her.

it's suddenly the worst possible thing she could ever face in the universe. to lose raffi, to be faced with her destruction, and assimilation.

but the borg are gone, the rational part of her mind says. but her grip on raffi does not cease, anchoring them together while she swallows back emotions that sometimes she still feels too ill equipped to handle.

"you were dead." seven repeats, quieter. "i lost you."

@stcrdate

[the-haunted-office]

Doom isn't sure why she feels so reluctant about sharing the information about the mist with Blythe. It's not like she's squeamish herself when it comes to sharing all the details. It was dreadfully traumatizing, the way she'd died and had her soul digested into soup, yes, but she is capable of separating her feelings from the whole ordeal and sharing the details of the event itself and describing how the mist works and all that without becoming too emotional. So what is it exactly that's holding her back?

As she watches the younger woman flush and express her curiosity, Doom realizes what it is. It's her. Blythe herself. The fact that she's a young woman. There's an overwhelming desire Doom feels to protect her, both physically and emotionally, and she isn't precisely sure why.

The idea of it frustrates her, though - not because of anything Blythe has done, but because... why should Doom wish to protect her? Because she's a young woman? What, does Doom think she needs protecting? For the simple fact that she's a young woman? Isn't that a bit presumptuous of her? If their roles were reversed, Doom would be profoundly offended by the idea that she should need protection for the mere fact that she's a woman.

Well. That realization reverses her whole aloofness on the topic in a hurry.

"Actually, Blythe, I'll go ahead and tell you," she says, coming over and floating up through the floor so that she appears in the doorway of the door that Blythe just opened. On the other side, behind Doom, is what used to be an employee's office. It sits quietly now. Empty, except for the desk, some pens, paper trays, a chair, and a computer terminal, which is switched off along with the lights.

"Perhaps it'll make for a fitting story while you do some exploring, eh? Ehehehe." She scoots off to the side to allow Blythe to enter the room if she wishes. "Anyway, to answer your earlier question, the Narrators of this Office killed it with aspartame. Since they were infected, they had to ingest it in order to poison the mist. Of course, this meant poisoning themselves, essentially, since when the mist infects a person - or takes them as a host - it takes over the functioning of that person's organs. So when the mist dies, or rejects you as its host, your organs cease to function."

Doom follows wherever it is Blythe is going in the Office and the individual employee offices, telling the story as she goes.

"They had to poison it in just the right amounts to kill it slower than they killed themselves, in other words," the ghost goes on to explain. "It's not hard to imagine how difficult of a balancing act that is, ehehehe."

"Oh! Thank you!" Blythe steps aside to let Doomsday clean up her own mess, blissfully ignorant of the internal turmoil that plagued the ghost. Amazing how an unintentional act could change someone. The redhead is a bit baffled as well, having heard from Doomsday herself that she usually couldn't be bothered to clean. Maybe this was a change of heart? If only Blythe knew the impact she had had...

"I- I will admit..." A flush colors her pale cheeks. "It i- is all a b- bit confusing... B- but! I'm taking notes! S- so I- I can h- hopefully understand one d- day." Though she was so, so curious, Blythe could also take a hint. The mists seemed to be a scary topic, which was totally fine with her! She liked supernatural and scary! But it wouldn't be kind of her to make Doomsday rehash something that may have been traumatic. She had died for goodness sake!

Blythe perks up at the suggestion of exploring the office more. "O- oh! Th- that would be so fun! I- I just d- didn't want to be rude! But i- if it's okay..." Slowly making her way to the closest door, she pulls it open, not sure what to expect. Well- she expected it to be more of the same. Cubicles, desks, chairs... But maybe...