12.25.3013: Untold was the Pain
Summary: Rozlyn pays Sarah a visit.
Date: 28 October 2013
Related: All of Sarah's logs.
Sarah Rozlyn 

Sarah's Cell, Orielon Watch House, Landing
In first pose.
December 25, 3013

It may be a bit of a surprise to some where the Crown Council has been keeping Sarah 113 of 159. Tucked away in the Westend of Landing is the Orielon Watch House. The Watchmen have turned into guards, keeping watch to a single prisoner while the rest of the cells in the House remain empty. Sarah's is at the far end of the maze of corridors, tucked away. Rozlyn, like every other visitor calling on Sarah, is escorted by a pair of Watchmen to where the Hostile is being kept. There is a chair waiting for her in front of the static shield of the cell.

Inside the modest cell, Sarah is pacing back and forth from her single-wide bed to the opposite wall and back again. Her dark red hair has been brushed back like it always is. The sleeves of her black jumpsuit are rolled to her elbows, showing off her lean cybernetic arms. Her cybernetic eyes are half-closed — though they could be all the way closed based on how many times she has walked this short, boring path. Back and forth, back and forth.

With Rozlyn is a recording device as well as her own tablet, for taking notes. The woman is, as always, dressed conservatively. A simple grey dress with a black belt bisecting her midsection. Black slacks move easily about her legs, brushing over equally hued boots. A clip holds her hair lightly at the nape of her neck. If the location has surprised her, no outward sign has been given. The noblewoman is here with a purpose.

There is a pause before the shield, one hand resting lightly on the back of the chair. Though she has gone over the leaked footage time and again, the eldest Orelle daughter prefers to see things for herself. Rather than immediately take a seat, she opts instead to introduce herself first:

"Hello, Sarah 113 of 159. I am Lady Doctor Rozlyn Orelle."

"Hello," Sarah says, though she doesn't look up as she continues to pace from the bed to the wall and back. She commits herself to another series of these back and forths before she glances up slightly toward the woman. She doesn't prompt more conversation, though she does slow to stand behind her own chair. Her cybernetic fingers tap lightly on the metal frame of the seat's back. Those vibrant blue eyes of cybernetic luminosity merely stare at the noblewoman.

There's a moment where Rozlyn just watches Sarah. The recording device is taken out and clipped to a spot on her dress where it can image in the direction she's facing. Her tablet is removed as well and after a moment, she moves to take a seat. One leg is neatly crossed over the other and the computational device balanced on her knee.

"I suppose you have had a number of visitors lately," she starts, attempting to be casual. Unfortunately, Rozlyn has never been good at such things. "What are your thoughts on the recent news out of Lazarus Island?"

The Hostile tilts her chin ever so slightly, the bright centers of her eyes spiraling in and out as if she is focusing on something. Then she steps forward, and settles down into her chair with a ramrod posture. She rests her hands on her knees, fingers lightly curled around the joints. "I'm not permitted to watch your… news." Thin brows arch slightly before her expression relaxes into unreadable flatness once more. "So, I suppose I have no thoughts."

"I see." Rozlyn glances down to her tablet and makes a few gestures. Notes: either being taken or reviewed. Her own posture is strict. Even the way one leg crosses the next implies calculated angles. "So you are unaware of the large-scale attack upon a resort. Interesting how we learn of your belief that you are human, accusing us of attacking our own kind… When your brethren commit slaughter on a large scale." The way Rozlyn speaks is almost clinical. As if she's detached from those who suffered. Perhaps due to not seeing it herself, or because those she cares about have been confirmed as safe.

"I admit, I have have a growing curiousity as to why you would use such methods to kill us. Would destroying Haven as a whole not be a quicker method?"

No expression crosses Sarah's face at this accusation from the Orellean. She merely stares at her, eyes unblinking. She does, however, cross her arms at her chest as she leans back in the chair. "I'm allowing you time to realize the hypocrisy of your comment, Rozlyn Orelle of the Inner Worlds," the Hostile says in that flat alto. Then she shrugs her shoulders ever so slightly. "Destruction of the Inner Worlds is not our goal. You do not destroy a body to remove a pestilence."

"Hypocrisy only if I spoke for the entirety of my people," Rozlyn responds, lifting her chin to study Sarah in return. Her gestures remain smooth, calculated. She does, however, blink. A couple more notes are added, with only a brief glance down to the device propped against her leg. "I speak for myself and my own curiousity."

There's a pause, before she continues on: "Why do you seemingly feel no shame, no empathy, and no guilt for killing your own kind? Especially while, from what I have seen, expecting us to do so."

The Hostile woman is silent in the wake of the question, putting her head aside a bit. "I have no expectations of those things." She flexes her metal fingers, tiny servos allowing them to tap faintly and with precision against her opposite arm. "Do you inquire to your own soldiers whether or not they have shame, empty, or guilt when they kill one of ours? Certainly they would tell you that is not the efficient way to engage in a war. When your life depends on the microseconds on the battlefield, hesitating to consider your emotions toward your target can lead to your blood being spilled instead of theirs."

"Do you not? Hm." Rozlyn seems… bemused by this. She's quiet a moment, taking a few notes. When she looks up again, it's with a single eyebrow raised. "Well, certainly it is vital in those split seconds, especially when protecting loved ones. However, you have come to us. We have not set foot upon your home. We have not killed without abandon. We have not destroyed homes." In any other, the words might be spoken visciously. Perhaps with an anger. In Rozlyn, they're mere facts.

She decides, however, to shift the subject. "What happened to the Waygate on your world?"

"Your assessment of events are flawed by your own biased history," Sarah says plainly in reply to the woman. "The Inner Worlders struck the first blow, killing almost three thousand of my kind without guilt, without empathy, without shame. We are merely returning the favorite, a thousand times fold." The Hostile dips her chin a bit, her lashed lids closing slightly over her luminous eyes. She does not answer the newly offered question immediately, letting it hang there in silence. Then she lifts her eyes toward her. "It could no longer connect to the Inner Worlds."

The words from Sarah earn the Hostile — the woman — a long look from Rozlyn. She is quiet for a moment, fingers moving in deft gestures upon the device in her lap. The Orelle is certainly interested now; enough to rely on memory to type something out. Risking typos. "Sarah… As far as our history goes, we did no such thing. We lost contact with Cantos and in turn, contact with all of the colonists there."

The conversation with Cedric has further tempered her views on this conversation in turn. Things he's said. Theories he has. "As far as any of us know, we lost contact and the next time the planet came within range, we were attacked. We have, until your revelation, believed you to be some kind of alien bent upon our destruction, for reasons we could not fathom."

"You believe your history, I believe mine… do you have the cognition to determine which is true?" Sarah asks the woman across from her in that flat alto. Then she closes her eyes once more as if turning her thoughts inward. She speaks in a quiet tone this time. "When Cantos once more crossed the orbital plane of the Inner Worlds, ships entered our space… we were surprised… we had sent 219,000 emergency messages, none of them answered. Some of us thought that the gate had failed because the Inner Worlds had fallen… but no… you had all lived… you had all lived believing that we had not."

"That is what I am attempting to determine, Sarah. My brother and I believe that somewhere, over the centuries, something has gone wrong." Rozlyn, however, adjusts the recording device slightly when the woman — for the Orelle will give her that — continues, ensuring it is recording properly. There is a moment of note-taking as Sarah speaks and a moment after she is done… "We sent patrol ships," she offers, seeking to perhaps fill a gap. "We did not know what had happened. This is part of our history. We sent patrols, seeking to learn what had come of the colonists on Cantos. Those patrols… never returned."

"They engaged us, we destroyed them," Sarah says without missing a beat. She drops her arms, resting her forearms almost limply against her thighs. "Why?" She asks after a moment. "Why do you wish to determine where your history went… wrong? You cannot undo what has been done. You won't lay down your arms to us. You won't surrender."

"They…" Rozlyn shakes her head slightly. "They were going to find out what happened…" She draws in a breath, "Could you describe to me what those ships looked like? Did they carry any designations?" There is a slight undoing to the noblewoman's usual poise. It's not everyday you begin to question most of what you are taught. "I seek truth, Sarah. I am a scientist. The truth is not always easy. There is a reason I no longer pay heed to the Chantry. There was no truth to be found there." Her hands briefly cover the tablet as she focuses upon the woman on the other side of the field. "We will not lay down our arms because we fear that if we were to, we would all be killed. Haven has been fighting for its life, Sarah. We are a people afraid for our loved ones."

"It is said they carried the emblem of Haven… that was all we needed to know," Sarah states flatly. She opens her eyes once more, lifting those glowing blues to stare across the gap directly into the gaze of the Orellean. Emotion cannot be carried in a cybernetic gaze, but if it did, there would be fire in those lifeless eyes. "And we are afraid for ours," the Hostile woman snaps, a wave of emotion changing that otherwise flat and dry alto. "I have seen what you have done… you are not guiltless victims! While my brother still breathed, one of your scientists severed his arm, removed his eye, detached his jaw… all while he screamed, while he begged the Gods to take his pain… so I killed them… but not before I made them suffer… You are just like us, Rozlyn Orelle. Ask the one called Brigham Peake, ask him what he wished to do to me… and then see if you can cast judgement upon mine."

"If our ancestors lied to us, I would like to know. Just as I am sure you would like to know if you had been lied to." Rozlyn frowns, sitting up straighter. She watches Sarah as she speaks, taking in that anger. Seeming, on the surface, unphased by it. Interested, even. There is certainly that fascination of a scientist. Of wanting to get in and learn all they can. Yet, for Roz… it's a desire for the knowledge. Not the parts. "Sarah, had you not come here and posed a threat, your brother would never have been in that situation. You would not have been experimented upon. You would not be sitting here right now. Since our lost patrol ships, we have not made an attempt to reach Cantos again… We have remained here, protecting our own. From a continual invasion of an enemy that has made no attempts to reach an accord."

She leans forward slightly, narrowing her eyes somewhat at Sarah. "I am not casting judgement. I am attempting to learn. You spoke of my apparent hypocrisy earlier and yet you share your own. We have been killing one another. I have never slain a Hostile. You have slain Havenites. Between the two of us, Sarah, you are the one with guilt."

"Cease!" The Soldier almost snarls, getting out of her chair with a kind of careless aggression. She stalks forward toward the static shield, but she does not bear down on it. "You hear nothing, you understand nothing… you are like every other Inner Worlder who have sat in that chair." She then throws her hands out, pressing them into the shield as it crackles loudly at the contact. She doesn't seem to care. "I am a Soldier of Cantos," she snaps, lips curled back over her teeth. "I have no guilt." And then she pushes off the shield, turning her back on the Orellean doctor.

The Orelle woman trusts the shield. She remains in place, only leaning back slightly as the shield crackles. "And what," Rozlyn inquires, raising her voice just slightly, "makes you free of guilt? You, an invader upon our people, generations after the last time your home was within range. What gives you the right to murder people have done nothing but protect themselves. Who would happily live in peace should it mean their families were safe."

Rozlyn's hands cover the tablet now as she watches Sarah, lifting her chin. "If you have no guilt, Sarah, why are you so upset?"

Sarah stretches her arms over her head, cybernetic fingers lacing together. Then her elbows go limp, and her forearms fall back along her head. This allows her to press her biceps against her ears. All of her focus turns inward, all of her emotion is gathered in. She pulls it down and deep. "Soldiers do not feel guilt… ask yours… they will say the same thing… they do not feel guilt and neither do I." she says after a few moments, her voice regaining its flat calm. She opens her eyes again, this time staring at the wall ahead of her.

"Do they not?" Rozlyn tuts softly to herself, settling into a marginally more relaxed pose. "How would you know, Sarah? My brother feels an immense guilt because he learned of the humanity in Cantosians just recently. That he heard your people thought we abandoned them. As I said before, we thought we were being mercilessly hunted and killed for no reason. We felt no guilt because we did not know."

"We know now," she continues after a pause to take a breath. "We know now and I assure you that those that learn will know guilt. Sarah, Haven did not abandon you. If what you say is true…" Perhaps a different route. The noblewoman moves to her feet and takes a few steps towards the field. Not too close, mind. Just to show a sincerity. "We have finally found our lost family. You spoke of a relative. There could be more, could there not? Descendents of the colonists? We fought you because we thought you had killed our lost and had come to kill us as well."

The Soldier widens her stance to shoulder length as she drops her arms, swinging them back in the joint where the cybernetic limbs connect with the flesh of her shoulders. She clasps her hands behind her back as her shoulders square. She continues to stare ahead at the wall. Rozlyn says all she wants to the Hostile's back, but Sarah replies with nothing in turn. When the scientist finishes, there is a slight turn of her chin as if to look over her shoulder, though she doesn't fully commit to the movement. Instead she resumes staring at the wall, jaw tight.

And she still. Rozlyn makes sure her piece is said before turning back to the chair. She takes up her tablet, tucking it against her chest as she folds her arms. "I am going to request the ability for us to communicate more often, Sarah. Perhaps it will be granted. I wish to learn all you can tell me of Cantosan history. You may not trust my intentions and I…" There's a pause as she considers the proper word, "forgive you for that. If you would wish to meet my brother, I am certain he would speak with you much as I have. Lord Captain Cedric Orelle. Perhaps it would be good if you were to meet those interested in the truth."

And with a final considering glance at the Cantosan's back, she turns to return to the Watch and out of the corridors.

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