Outrealm [IC]

[Silent Assassin]

Daggart nearly stumbled over his own feet when Berthe insisted she was nothing special. It was expected, when one thought about it. Berthe didn't seem to be aware of Outrealm prior to this moment, even if this wasn't her first visit. Those who can enter Outrealm aren't too numerous, and Prodigies were less than 1% of all Asuras. The innocence game Berthe was playing seemingly twisted into reality -- she really didn't know which way was up in Outrealm. Exactly how much innocence though? That was the question. Her innocence convinced the Karma Society. Even Daggart buys it. Hell, he expected it. Perhaps he knows that she's hiding a bit more than you'd think subconsciously, but his subconscious wouldn't allow him to risk scaring or alienating a potential Prodigy.

"Nothing special? Why you? My dear, you have such low self-esteem for an Asura. My dear Asura, you are something special indeed." Daggart's tone remained calm and smooth. Almost buttery. The two reached a pair of white metal doors which opened horizontally after a green light scanned Daggart. He guided Berthe in by her hands, not letting go since he grasped them. "Come along, Asura."

The room was very large, to the point where the doors deceived one of its size. Rows of desks sat in the middle of the room, with various items scattered about on them: books, papers, miscellaneous devices. A smaller joined room could be seen to the west through a viewing glass. It looked like an interrogation room that police would use. It was white, just like the room and the rest of the building. In it was a white table with a matching chair. As fate would have it, Daggart would put her to sit in it, but not before running another scan. This one was a bit more invasive, and Berthe was likely to take issue with it because . . .

"Alright, Asura. Remove every article of clothing and step into this bio-pod." Daggart readied a clipboard and motioned towards a massive, cylindrical machine. Its door was opened. Nothing was inside, at all. On top of it all, Daggart seemed not even the least bit hesitant of asking -- more like ordering -- Berthe to remove her clothes. It was as if the concept of nakedness was lost to him, though everyone in Outrealm seemed to wear clothing. "Come on, dearest. Time is a gift, not a guarantee." He was getting a bit impatient, but his tone remained reassuring.

[MailWork]

It was clear to Berthe that this was an act she could not hold up, moreover it seemed detrimental to her overstanding on this potential of hers. She already had that small taste of it and the inclination to progress further was tempting. Incompetent or not, he sure seemed to know that she was what she'd been denying - so to Berthe, the point in keeping it up was moot. It was profoundly encouraging to entertain this notion ... of being much more important here than in the world which she came from would ever have let her. As comfortable as a mundane life was, she could not deny the thrill of excitement that surfaced in novels, movies, in her dreams, and here - where her just being herself was deemed threatening.

Nonetheless, becoming a lab experiment was not something she could force herself to be excited about. Looking about the room, her unease increased, piquing with the instruction to remove her clothes. What was she wearing, anyway? Her clothing always changed in dreams ... she certainly was not in her oversized t-shirt which comprised her pajamas. She looked down to find herself in a draping gown consisting of soft lavender fabric, much like silk. The moment she put her hand down to touch it, the area around the contact became translucent. She blinked at this, then looked to Daggart. "I don't have anything to remove, do I?" Clenching the gown tight, the translucence spread, her shapely figure exposed just like so many previous dreams. This time though, the setting had substance - but it was hard to say how substantial this world actually was, being so new to it. Maybe it was this place that was subject to her experiment. If she just let go of the urge to find all of this real, perhaps she could learn to enjoy it here.

Berthe approached the bio-pod. Her right hand slid down the gap, pausing in her entrance as she examined the interior. It didn't look like a prison, nor did it have any characteristics of a torture device. Granted, in this realm anything was possible - still, she took her chances. "Time." she echoed him, stepping in. Wondering, Time exists here? "Well," She couldn't help but snicker to herself, a feeling most freeing overcame her despite the capsule of containment she stood in - awaiting. "no time like the present."