#water meter monitoring

[goheatingairplumbing]

How to Identify A Leak In Your Home (via GIPHY)

[alleycat4eva]

If it's okay, could you tell us more about your dream job? It sounds interesting and I haven't heard anything about it

Okay so. Background is that there is a big hypoxic zone (no dissolved oxygen) in the gulf of Mexico. This is contributed to by excessive runoff from Agriculture and development. Basically extra nutrients go from lil canals to river systems to big Mississippi. This causes big algae blooms and massive dies offs and what is called eutriphication. Which is bodies of water aging before their time.

We knew this was happening for decades. We still know it's happening. The whole reason I went back to school was to work on this issue. (Goal: I will remove 10% of the excesses nutrients in the Mississippi) . I got a job as a research assistant to work on this.

No one, and I mean no one, is actually working on fixing it. Everyone is monitoring water systems or trying to work on more legislation.

That doesn't do anything /because it is already there./

It'd be like trying to prevent global warming but you can't because it's already warm. Only more because literally it's actively dying (reef bleaching, said hypoxic zone, record algae blooms, the crabs disapearing.)

Anyway, I thought somebody would be working on it ( I have read hundreds of research papers, largely on phytoremediation and rhizo-bacterial remediation) and there are methods that do show that they can work but fucking??? Nobody ??? Is doing out of lab testing or implementing these measures???

So I'm wondering why tf I would continue formal education if the job I want doesn't exist formally, and I why wouldn't take a higher paying job to save money and then spend my off work time implementing measures myself. Dream job somebody pays me so I can spend all my time working on developing and implementing measures to improve water quality.

[slowlydeafeningdefendor]

Transforming Water Management with Smart Technology

A smart water meter is a device that wirelessly communicates with either a local or wide area network, enabling remote monitoring of water usage and leak detection. This technology helps reduce water wastage and is gradually replacing traditional water consumption measurement methods. Recognized as a key innovation in smart water management, smart meters offer numerous benefits.

How Smart Water Meters Work

Smart water meters utilize wireless connections to remotely capture readings, providing continuous data availability. These meters are considered "smart" because they gather detailed water consumption data along with timestamps, securely transmitting this information to water suppliers or municipalities via an automated control system. This communication can be one-way to the utility (Automated Meter Reading, AMR) or two-way between the utility and the consumer (Advanced Metering Infrastructure, AMI).

Equipped with high sensitivity, smart meters can detect even the smallest leaks. If the meter does not register a drop to zero within a specified time frame, both the utility company and the homeowner are alerted about a potential water leak.

Key Features and Benefits

Accurate Measurement: Smart water meters provide precise measurements of water usage, crucial for effective smart water management.

Integration with Smart Infrastructure: These meters seamlessly integrate into smart cities, homes, and eco-friendly businesses, aligning with IoT monitoring systems.

Remote Monitoring and Operation: They enable remote monitoring and operation, eliminating the need for manual readings and enhancing efficiency in water management.

Real-Time Updates: Smart water meters provide real-time updates on water usage, contributing to water and cost savings, increased revenue, and improved customer satisfaction.

Optimization of Water Delivery: Data collected from smart water meters allows municipalities and utility companies to optimize water delivery by monitoring household usage patterns, a key aspect of smart water management.

Streamlined Billing: Smart meters streamline bill payments by consolidating them with other utility bills, simplifying the billing process for consumers.

Leak Detection: Smart water meters play a critical role in detecting small leaks that often go unnoticed. With up-to-date data, users can promptly identify and address leaks, leading to savings on water bills.

Conclusion

Smart water meters offer a transformative solution to water management challenges. They enable efficient resource utilization, cost savings, and environmental sustainability through precise measurement, remote monitoring, and leak detection capabilities. By seamlessly integrating into smart infrastructure, these meters empower both consumers and utility providers to make informed decisions, optimize water delivery, and promptly address leaks.

With the ability to provide real-time updates and streamline billing processes, smart water meters pave the way for smarter, more sustainable smart water management practices. Embracing this technology promises a future where water resources are conserved, costs are reduced, and communities thrive.

[labotronicsscientific]

Pocket TDS meter

Pocket TDS meter is a handheld unit with a dual measurement function. Hold function saves and records measurement readings. Automatic power off post ten minutes of last operation prolongs battery life. It determines the temperature and concentration of dissolved solids in a solution.

[erwinw]

Understanding Conductivity Meters

Electrical conductivity is a measure of a material’s ability to conduct an electric current. In the context of solutions, it refers to the capacity of the solution to transmit electrical flow, which is directly related to the presence of ions in the solution. A conductivity meter, therefore, is an essential tool that measures the electrical conductivity in a solution, providing insights into its…

[iotbasedatermanagement]

Smart Farming Starts with Smart Irrigation System Using Iot

KarIot introduces Smart Farming Starts with Smart Irrigation System Using Iot. Our cutting-edge technology integrates IoT seamlessly into agriculture, revolutionizing irrigation practices. With real-time monitoring and data analytics, KarIot empowers farmers to optimize water usage, enhance crop yields, and promote sustainability. Precision irrigation techniques, remote monitoring, and scalability make KarIot the ideal choice for modern farms. Experience the future of agriculture with KarIot's innovative solutions driving efficiency and productivity.

[hmdigitalindia]

water monitoring system

[bliiot-jerry]

BLIIoT Industrial 4G Edge Router R40B for Smart Water Monitroing

BLIIoT uses the Industrial 4G Edge Router R40B to connect turbine flow meters, water meters, PH sensors, Chlorine sensors, EC Sensors, PT1000, etc Sensor. to help customers test the sensors and customize the MQTT Json format to connect to the customer MQTT Cloud. More information about Industrial 4G Edge Router R40B : https://lnkd.in/ggbfTHFY

[tesprocorp]

Get Wireless Optical Probes for Precise Electricity Meter Readings

Meter Optical Probes | USB Optical Probes | Bluetooth Optical Probes | Optical Probes

Enhance accuracy in electricity meter readings with our wireless optical probes. Explore cutting-edge technology for precise data collection and monitoring. Upgrade to seamless efficiency in energy management today!

[universalinfo]

Water Flow Measurement Devices - Picking The Right Flow Meter

Navigate water flow measurement devices with ease. Choose the perfect flow meter for your needs. Make good decisions about flow measurement.

[poweramr]

Monitor Water Flow with PowerAMR's Water Flow Meter Monitoring

Stay informed about your water usage with PowerAMR's advanced water flow meter monitoring system. Track and manage water flow efficiently to optimize consumption and identify potential leaks.

[vasthi-instruments12]

[nft-token-22]

XLUX Soil Moisture Meter, Plant Water Monitor, Soil Hygrometer Sensor

The XLUX T10 humidity cadence tells you, incontinently, whether your shops need water. With this cadence, you'll know that occasionally though the top of the soil looks dry, just beneath the face it's veritably wet-- no wonder the shops are floundering. It's veritably easy to use, just stick it in the dirt and the dial incontinently tells you whether the soil is dry, wettish or wet. Easy To Use 1. Inset the inquiry of the cadence to the shops' root position 2. Note humidity position in the dial which has ten scales 3. Remove inquiry from soil and wipe clean after each use Tips 1. Avoid hard monuments when fitting inquiry as they may damage the inquiry 2. noway put this cadence into water. For some veritably loose soil, the reading may be inaccurate 3. Do not leave it in the soil for further than an hour for use. Features 1. Easy to read situations 2. No batteries demanded 3. Inner/ out-of-door use 4. Color enciphered reading system 5. For utmost shops Package Includes 1 x XLUX humidity Sensor Meter

XLUX Soil Moisture Meter

 Reliable and accurate seeing inquiry ensures accurate and instant testing results, matching for both inner or out-of-door use. Easy to read Large and clear dial, including ten scales, plug and read. How to use Simply fit the humidity cadence into soil and you will get the test affect incontinently. Help your shops grow healthy and strong. lower hurts Single inquiry, less hurts to the roots, does not dig up too important soil after test. Important tips 1. Don't use it to test veritably hard soil 2. noway use it to test water or other liquid. Designed for testing soil only. 3. After use, please wipe clean the inquiry.

[vestaignis]

Извержение вулкана Килауэа: встреча двух стихий.

Вулкан Килауэа находится на Большом острове Гавайского архипелага и занимает почти 14% его территории.Килауэа - самый молодой из наземных гавайских вулканов (США) и один из самых активных действующих вулканов на Земле. Высота Килауэа - 1247 метров над уровнем моря, его основание уходит на дно Тихого океана на глубину около 5 км.  

Последнее извержение Килауэа было в 1983 году и продолжается по настоящее время. Килауэа считается местом обитания Пеле — гавайской богини вулканов. По ее имени названы некоторые лавовые образования, например, «слезы Пеле» (маленькие капли лавы, которые студятся на воздухе и принимают фигуру слезы) и «волосы Пеле» (тонкие нити вулканического стекла обсидиана, возникающие в итоге быстрого остывания лавы при стекании в океан).

Профессиональная спортсменка Элисон Тил стала первой девушкой, решившей устроить экстремальный серфинг возле извергающегося вулкана. Бурлящие потоки лавы стекают прямо в океан, в то самое место, где и решила поплавать спортсменка. Тут стоит быть предельно осторожным и оставаться на чеку, ведь скорость, с которой движется раскаленная лава, может составлять несколько метров в секунду, а температура ее колеблется в районе 500–1200° C — этого с лихвой хватит, чтобы моментально свариться заживо.

За Килауэа круглосуточно наблюдают десятки специалистов со всего мира. На кадрах с Гавайев – огненные потоки лавы стекают со склонов вулкана прямо в Тихий океан. По утверждению ученых, при контакте раскаленной субстанции и воды брызги лавы взлетают на десятки метров. Удивительное природное явление привлекает к вулкану Килауэа туристов, которые желают увидеть столкновение стихий вживую. Однако геологи не рекомендуют приближаться к вулкану, поскольку тот может оказаться непредсказуемым.

Kilauea Volcano Eruption: A Meeting of Two Elements.

Kilauea Volcano is located on the Big Island of the Hawaiian archipelago and occupies almost 14% of its territory. Kilauea is the youngest of the Hawaiian land volcanoes (USA) and one of the most active volcanoes on Earth. Kilauea is 1,247 meters above sea level, its base goes to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean to a depth of about 5 km.

The last eruption of Kilauea was in 1983 and continues to this day. Kilauea is considered the home of Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. Some lava formations are named after her, for example, "Pele's tears" (small drops of lava that cool in the air and take the shape of a tear) and "Pele's hair" (thin threads of volcanic obsidian glass that appear as a result of the rapid cooling of lava as it flows into the ocean).

Professional athlete Alison Teel became the first girl to try extreme surfing near an erupting volcano. Bubbling lava flows straight into the ocean, the very place where the athlete decided to swim. Here you should be extremely careful and stay on guard, because the speed at which the hot lava moves can be several meters per second, and its temperature fluctuates around 500–1200° C — this is more than enough to instantly boil alive.

Kilauea is monitored around the clock by dozens of specialists from all over the world. In the footage from Hawaii, fiery lava flows flow from the slopes of the volcano straight into the Pacific Ocean. According to scientists, when the hot substance comes into contact with water, splashes of lava fly up tens of meters. An amazing natural phenomenon attracts tourists to the Kilauea volcano who want to see the clash of the elements live. However, geologists do not recommend approaching the volcano, as it may prove unpredictable.

Источник: /travelask.ru/blog/posts/4045-zaplyv-s-lavoy-na-gavayyah, //gsavia.com/uncategorized/gavajskie-vulkany-nacionalnyj-park.html, /ru.pinterest.com/pin/9499849187484206/,/loveopium.ru/severnaya-amerika/izrygayushhij-vulkan-kilauea.html,/masterok.livejournal.com /105805.html,//t.me/+E4YBiErj0A8wOGUy,/onznews.wdcb.ru/jul16/info_160726.html,/gorets-media.ru/news/3717.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part one —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: of course i am watching tlou right now so this is what came about in my brain! i can't stop thinking about this story.

The forest is covered in a blanket of white.

You’ve been monitoring the unfamiliar area by the pond for hours. Most of it is half-frozen slush, but there’s enough liquid water left for life to visit. At least, you hope. The brittle cold laced in your bones and the pained hunger in your gut clings to this hope as you wait in position against frayed tree bark.

Desperation has brought you this far into the forest— uncharted territory. The risk is buried beneath the long week you’ve had, days that have blurred together with only death and solitude as the glue between the cracks. You are still alive, somehow. Your blood is still red. It moves. The pulse in your neck— the loudest thing in this forest.

But still, it’s quieting. Slowing.

You drag numb fingers over the bits of snow sticking to your hair, the light flakes feathering down. Then, your hand settles back on the curve of your wooden bow, whittled from oak years ago. Chiseled by hands that belonged to a friend whose corpse you’d left behind. This bow is your only momentum of him, along with the memories. But those memories are turning shallow with each day, killed by starvation. Thirst. Fear.

The clouds above the trees are grey and swollen.

Grey— an in-between color.

Somewhere between white and black, life and death.

You can feel yourself slipping closer to the grey.

Maybe you will be one of them soon— the Greys.

They are the reason for the lack of fresh meat in this forest, man and animal alike, and the reason for the loss of your companions. The smell of their molten flesh, greyed and tattered against rotting bones, has faded from the air the further you have journeyed. Over the years, you’ve grown accustomed to flaring your nostrils in constant search for their scent. Right now, as you keep your eyes on the pond, you don’t bother sniffing for them. If they come, they’ll put an end to your hunger.

There is not even much of you left for a Grey to sink its teeth in. You’ve turned slack and gangly. Your fingers could easily slip between the spaces of your ribs. Clothes hang loosely over your frame— Paul’s frayed winter coat, your sister’s trousers. You’d quickly peeled them off their dead bodies in your fleeing because your own clothes had been torn and doused in blood, unsuitable for the winter.

But that was days ago— now, you barely remember what their dead faces looked like. Grey, maybe. Empty.

Not too different than your own face as you sigh through your nose and dig the tip of your bow into the frost. Only a few hours of daylight remain. You will have to find a tree to sling yourself upon once night falls. That has been your strategy since the loss of your old camp, but you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up. Climbing the oaks requires fuel.

You swallow the dryness in your throat, thick and tasteless, and listen carefully to the sounds around you: branches in the wind, low whistles, your own heartbeat. And then—

A new sound.

The crackling of snow beneath light footsteps.

Lifting your bow back up, your pained breath quickens in a matter of instinct as you squint through blurred vision. A deer—? You have memorized the sound of their hooves after five years of hunting them. This isn’t it. Maybe it is a lone Grey crawling through the forest towards your scrawny, awaiting flesh.

Your eyes shift around. When you finally spot the owner of the footsteps, shock skips like a stone over the blood in your veins. More than ten meters away stands a child; not too young, not too skinny. Human eyes stare intently into yours, but you keep a strong grip on your bow and take aim.

A child—?

Would your hunger take you there?

Your stomach quivers and howls and chews at its own lining, but even in your desperation, you don’t consider the idea.

You can't.

The child continues to peer at you as you shakily lower the bow. You can’t make out much from this distance, not even gender— all you see is a thick coat on their small shoulders, a hood drawn over their head. When was the last time you had seen someone so young? Children, elderly: they’d been picked off the quickest.

A child could not survive on their own—

In your weakened state, you take a second too long to catch up to this realization.

A burly arm grabs you from behind.

A blade to your throat.

The bow slips from your grip and from your unused larynx, a hoarse scream ripples.

The end came on a day of homemade marmalade and Hemingway. The morning started quietly at your sister’s northern property. A quaint house in the suburbs where her son and husband played in the backyard while the two of you spread the jam on slabs of bread. Breakfast was shared between the four of you before their days began. You were visiting. You often did, taking the four-hour bus ride from London in search of a break from tantalizing coursework. Nursing school had been your dream, but it quickly took the form of a nightmare. Their home, their small family— you found sanity in it all.

You ate with them.

Your sister took the boy to school.

Michael promised to bring curry for dinner before he left for work.

In the quiet house, you cleaned for them. You didn’t know what would happen that day as you folded their laundry and stacked toys in the bins. At noon, the neighbor you knew to be Paul knocked at the door.

“You’re her sister, right?”

He was kind-eyed and of retirement age, yet thick-boned and strong. You’d heard a few stories about the gestures he sprinkled their household with in the loneliness since his wife’s passing. On that day, he offered you a stack of books as you propped the door open. All Hemingway.

“Dropping these off for Michael. He said he was a fan.”

“I’ll make sure they get to him, thanks.”

It was funny how the end of society could bring unlikely souls into collision. When everything cracked later that afternoon, Paul would become the reason for five years worth of your survival. It started with another knock on the door— but this time, Paul knocked with grave urgency. You had paused from cleaning after his first visit. You sat on the couch with A Farewell to Arms in your grip, but when you opened the door for him again, your finger parting your place among the pages, his words caused the book to slip from your hand to the floor.

“Call your sister— Michael, both of them.”

“I— I don’t understand. Who said all this?”

“The news. Fuck— have you not been listening for the past hour?”

You called your sister with fingers that trembled. She panicked on the other end: I'm driving home with Joseph right now and the streets are insane. I can’t even get a hold of Michael - oh god - try calling him for me?

You tried. He never answered. Your sister returned. The three of you followed Paul. You learned he was an ex forest-ranger. He calmed you through the screams you heard in the distance, through the strewn of bodies that began to litter the roads. Some sliced in half, crawling. Cars battered into each other.

“They’re coming from the city.”

He packed a bag. It was a flurry. Your sister carried the weeping boy. Your stomach felt full of acid. Panic. Paul kept a radio on him as you traversed towards the treeline, away from the entanglement of screams and blood and chaos. You overheard some pieces through the static: London was in shambles. The military was closing in on itself.

It is all in the brains. An infection.

Between living and dead.

Grey, grey, grey.

That first week felt like seconds.

Paul took you to a fenced-off parcel of land he owned in the forest; a private shooting range. He only had a few shotguns, outdated. Limited ammo. But he was quick to string tarps along the chain-link fence and add bolted locks to the gate. You helped him pin up two tents. Nailed wood boards to any gaps along the perimeter. You didn’t bring much with you; there hadn’t been time. All you managed was two changes of clothes, a thick coat, canned beans from the pantry, A Farewell to Arms.

You read it ten times over.

Paul did the hunting.

You begged to help, so he made you the bow. The arrows.

He took monthly trips to nearby, abandoned supermarkets.

“Never let anyone into our camp.”

You did well to listen, filling in as the second leader in his absence. Your older sister never did well under stress, never liked the outdoors. She’d lost her husband. A little boy clung to her. You tried to offer quiet comfort to the brokenness of their family, but it was all in vain.

A year.

Only a few hoards of Greys approached the fence. You helped Paul eradicate them. It’s all in their brains. Obliterate the brains.

Two years.

Joseph caught some sickness. Flu, you figured. You did your best with what Paul had picked up from the pharmacies, but you had little to work with. You listened to his wheezing, the dry and insistent cough. The winter didn’t help. Pneumonia.

He died just before his eighth birthday.

Your sister might as well have died that day, too.

She was a ghost for the three years following. You had to force food down her throat. You had to mother her, nurse her grief. Until the fifth winter, when the deer began to diminish. Their carcasses sprung up like daisies in the nearby wood. Eaten and gnawed by encroaching Greys, the smell of spilled blood and their own rotting stench attracted more and more of them from the distant city.

There were just too many for your handmade arrows and Paul’s shotgun. He ran out of ammo. The fence and tarp and wood did little against the coalesced wave of them that finally scraggled over it with moaned hisses and mindless teeth.

You watched them consume your sister.

Then, Paul.

You lived. You ran.

A week.

You slept up in the trees.

You had a knife. Your bow. You whittled more arrows.

Alive.

But barely.

The strong arm cages your body against something hard— a chest. The blade on your neck is icier than the air and it stings and burns with a threat that instantly has you squirming in the owner’s hold.

“Stop movin’ or I’ll fucking kill you.”

It is a gruff, quiet threat in your ear accompanied by a heated breath. Your eyes fill with moisture and you gasp for panicked gulps of air. You lift your hands up to the arm that holds you and attempt to claw at it feebly because your muscles, at this point, are nothing but hungered dust.

“I said stop movin’.”

A growl.

He presses the knife harder against your throat until you feel the skin prickle. The man behind you doesn’t need to step before your eyes in order to make his strength and size known. It is apparent in how easily he restrains you. You understand you have no chance— though, you’re certain even a child could pin you. Bony hands drop to your sides and you turn limp and helpless against him.

“This is my territory.”

“I didn't know anyone was here,” you hiss, voice scratchy. “I’m just passing through.”

His hold has you lifted up to the balls of your feet. The soles of your worn boots hover over crackling snow. There is something hard pressing against the top of your cranium as he lowers his head to utter more words in your ear.

“Give me a reason not to slit your throat.”

Your heart pounds. Adrenaline. A human instinct to survive, even though death is already at your fingertips.

“I’m a nurse,” you half-lie. You never finished. Your credentials are shortened to textbooks and little experience.

“Don’t need a nurse,” he murmurs. “Anythin’ else?”

Words float through the soupy mess that is your brain. It is hard to think. There isn’t a good reason for him not to kill you— you and Paul had to do it a few times before. Other humans could pose even greater threats than the mindless Greys. Humans are smarter. They have something to strive for; something to kill for by all means necessary— survival.

Your failure to respond is cut off by sudden footsteps crunching the ice, as light as a curious rabbit. It's the kid. A young girl you now realize, even through your state of panic. Her cheeks are pale like porcelain under the hood of her coat and her azure eyes observe you from head to toe.

Her lips part, but nothing comes out.

Instead, another growl in your ear.

“I know you have a knife,” he says, tightening his hold until you whimper. “Empty your pockets.”

There is not much room in this situation for you to disobey.

Flushing out your pockets, your nimble hands reveal only a small blade.

“Drop it.”

The knife falls to the ground with a quiet thud, just beside the oak bow. The only two items that have kept you alive for the last week lay in the thin snow. Even if you had the strength or will to fight back, you no longer had the resources to.

“Pick it up, Blue.”

The man behind you nods his chin. The young girl leans down to grab the handle of your knife. She inspects the blade, runs her index gently along the dull edge with her brows furrowed together. She stuffs it somewhere in her coat. Then, she looks back up. She flickers her blue gaze between you and whoever it is that stands behind you.

“So,” he grumbles with a click of his tongue. “Thought of that reason yet?”

You swallow. Then, your throat spasms around a sneer as you say, “This is your kid, isn’t it? Are you really going to kill me in front of your kid? You want her to see that?”

“Nothin’ she hasn’t seen before,” he muses in a dark brass. “Good lesson for her.”

Oh—

Blood chills in your veins.

Freezes over like the nearby pond.

You can’t think of any more words, so it is now that your eyes flutter shut. You seek darkness in preparation for whatever may happen once his knife digs deeper. Death— maybe it’s not so bad. It must be better than whatever it is you have been doing for the past week. Struggling. Life has little meaning at this point, and getting bitten by a Grey seems too transient. Death, on the other hand, will be permanent. Your sister, her family, and many others are waiting for you in the crevices of its darkness.

“Ghost…”

It is a soft voice.

The girl speaks now, and you open your eyes to watch as she nibbles at her lip.

“Ghost, do you have to?” She looks over the length of your body, inspecting it with a softness that is so different from the harsh grip you are locked in. “She's not much of a threat, right? It looks like she hasn’t eaten in days.”

“Told you, Blue.” The gruff voice arrives from over your shoulder. “The hungrier they are, the less you can trust ‘em.”

If you cared enough, you might have pleaded your case some more. You can trust me, you might have said. But you know how this goes. For as long as you are alive within their space, you are a problem. A problem for their food sources, and a problem for wherever they have made camp. The child may not fully understand this, but he certainly does.

“Just do it,” comes your voice; exhausted. The adrenaline hides under defeat. “Just fucking do it, alright? Kill me.”

He snarls.

You expect darkness.

You expect to see your sister again. Her son. Paul.

“Dad… don’t.”

A gentle plea.

A low huff in response.

And then, instead of receiving a slash to your jugular, you are thrown to the icy ground as if you are nothing more than a sack of bones. Your palms barely have time to spread open and break the fall. A pain shoots up your knees the moment they dig into the frozen dirt, but you don’t have it in you to wince or cry.

He listened to her—?

Shifting onto your butt, you look up at your attacker.

A skull mask stares back at you.

Dark eyes, broad shoulders, a towering height.

If you weren’t so relieved - surprised - to still be breathing, you might have been frightened to the point of tears.

He moves and you flinch, but rather than touching you, his heavy boot stamps something beside you. Your bow. The oak splinters in half under his foot.

“Are you—“ You suck in a strangled breath, looking between him and your now-ruined weapon. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just… just kill me. I can’t - I have nothing now! You might as well fucking kill me!”

But he doesn’t.

He gives another nod to the girl. A silent language that you don’t understand, and in response, she carefully steps around you. She offers an apologetic look before she follows after her skull-faced companion, and then you are left with nothing. Not a knife, not a bow. Only your rapid heartbeat and a pink welt on your throat where his knife had been.

[howi99]

Project ARC remake 17

Jaune: *waking up, feeling bad* Urgh, my head... *Looking around, seeing nobody* Where... Am i? *Get up from the medical bed he was in* Was i sick? *The headache intensifies* Jackalope! Why is my head killing me!? *See a scroll on a table* I should call big sis, she probably knows what's going on. *Take the scroll* ... They really make scrolls smaller and smaller. *He opens it* Uh, Jaune Arc? Funny, he looks just like me, but older. *He goes to enter Glynda's number, but see that it is already registered* Ah, she probably gave him her information. Make sense.

_____________

Glynda: *sleeping as peacefully as a 27yo overworked woman can*

Scroll: *begin to vibrate*

Glynda: ...

Scroll: *continue vibrating*

Glynda: ... *Sigh* I swear, if it's Qrow asking me to bail him out AGAIN, i'm going to murder him. *Take the scroll, angry* What!?

Scroll: *startled* B-big sis? Do you know where i am? I just woke up in a hospital bed. The last thing i remember was you going for your first mission in solo. How did it goes?

Glynda: *not feeling well* Whu?

Scroll: Hello? Are you there?

Glynda: *croaking her answer* Y-yes, i'm here.

Scroll: *worriedly* Gee sis, you sound horrible. Have you drank enough water? *Sounds of a smack* i'm an idiot, it's the middle of the night! Anyway, i just want to know where i was and-

Glynda: *already dressing herself up* D-don't move! I'll b-be there in 5 minutes!

Scroll: Ok, but could you bring something for my head? I got a terrible headache.

Glynda: *taking her own Tylenol and putting the entire box in her purse* Of course! Just stay right there!

__________________

Watts: *looking at Jaune monitor* His aura meter....

Pietro: *also looking at the monitor* he regained 15 percent of it in a flash, he's now at 85. Do you know what might have caused that?

Watts: ... His old memories might have been unlocked.

Pietro: You mean...?

Watts: *sigh* During the extraction process, the memory of their past life is blocked from interfering with the new identity.

Pietro: If i may ask why?

Watts: Pietro, the reason i seal their memories isn't because i want to. Memories are bound to the body, and if that body changes? Well, they might become unstable.

Pietro: Is this why you preferred putting them in a body reassembling what they should look like? And making them "age"?

Watts: In a sense, yes. It's a "in case". Because when they do remember their own death, their's a high probability for their mind to break.