Artificial Angel (a novel-style RP by FaithWynters and SkyGinge)

[SkyGinge]

Mira Le'Mar lives a peculiar life. Beautiful, witty, strong, she is almost unnaturally perfect, but she does not know. She can not know. What would the world think of her? What would its many evil citizens try to use her for? Thus, Project Jericho was formed, a mysterious scientific facility located in the depths of the Amazonian jungle, fronted by the enigmatic Doctor Lorinc, and also the home of young Mira.


But why is she regularly experimented on? Why is she really kept so distanced from normal society? What is the real purpose of Project Jericho? As Mira will discover, the real world is far more than a limitless fantasia of foliage and wildlife. Is she really ready for the truth?


(@FaithWynters )


Hello! This is a private RP between the two of us, but feel free to read along and follow our progess! Things will be going slowly, but we will be putting a lot into each post so we'd love to have you read along with our journey!

 

[FaithWynters]

If one could look out across the high tops of the trees on this morning, they would see the beautiful expanse of varying greens that spread out in every direction until the Earth curved and the scene was lost to the horizon. They could hear the exclamation of a howler monkey dominating his territory somewhere in the meatiest part of the trees. If you looked in almost any direction, the thick veins of life running through the jungle could be seen, pulsating with the energy of thousands of liters of water. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, but it cast a pink hue across the sky announcing its soon arrival.


Atop one of the highest trees sat a small smudge of turquoise contrasting with the morning sky. There, he could see all as he watched the sunrise. There was a slight breeze above the trees that added to the coolness of the morning. It would not stay this cool for much longer. The higher in the sky the sun rose, the warmer it would grow until the heat of the Amazon was true once again. The rainfall from the previous day would contribute to the ever-present thickness within the air. The turquoise bird was not thinking of the color of the trees, or the water, or even the sound of the howler monkey as he looked in the direction of the sunlight. Instead, his plum-colored chest puffed out and a call erupted from his beak. His sound mixed with the sound of the jungle until only those of his species could discern the sound.


For another half hour the male cotinga continued to puff out his chest and wail his mating call to the heavens. When he realized that his efforts were fruitless in this part of the jungle he shifted his weight on the branch, turned himself around, and looked away from the sun. His orange eyes stared blankly into the trees for a moment before he threw himself off of the branch, taking flight. The air had warmed up around him as the sun’s rays beamed across his beautiful feathers. He could go wherever he pleased, eat whatever he wished, and fly as far as his wings could take him. His instincts told him to do what he had to—to live in the moment.


Far below the thick canopy of trees another world existed. The bright upper canopy was nothing compared to the darkness here. Enough of the light reached the jungle floor to tell those that had already began to stir that it was—in fact—morning.


Within a clearing near the trees that the cotinga had roosted in was a group of buildings surrounded by a large fence. This place had been meticulously placed within the forest—single scar on nature. The large trees and foliage grew and hid any sign there might have been of this human life within this forest. This was the only option for these people and life would continue as normal around the thousands of animals that surrounded this little slice of something far greater. While not ignorant of one another, the two groups coexisted and—besides the intruding monkey or two—refrained from acknowledging the other whenever possible.


Two people walked silently beside each other down one of the sidewalks stretching between two buildings. It is obvious that these two are quite familiar with one another by the way they look at each other and speak quietly about things. One brings a cup of coffee to her lips, taking a deep swallow of the strong liquid. They stop about ten feet from the next building, staring inside.


The building they look into is strange in its construction. Of the four walls, two house very large windows looking out into the world. They stare into the sleeping figure curled into the warmth of her bed. They smile softly as they make small talk. They admire the form they cannot see. They know that in only a few minutes she will awaken on her own and begin getting ready for another day. They do not dare getting caught staring at her while they are supposed to be working—the animal in her cage.


. . .

Seven o’clock comes and Mira’s eyes open on the dot. A quiet groan escapes her lips as she feels that chill of cool air pushing out of the vents and into her room. Naturally, the girl curls herself up into a ball inside the covers so that she can continue to sleep. Just like every other morning, however, the attempt to just roll over, ignore her responsibilities, and sleep again is fruitless. Once her mind is awake, it stays awake, and does not tire until after the sun has set. Mira can feel the thoughts slowly begin to flow in. As hard as she tries to ignore the voice inside of her head telling her she needs to get up, the responsible part of her gets her to stir. The girl can’t help rolling over as the lazy part of her loses the battle.


Two bare feet touch the cold flooring as Mira pulls herself out of the warmth of the bed. She sits for a moment on the side of the bed, watching the backs of her eyelids. She pulls herself up until she is standing and, after a moment of silent thought, she stretches. Her back pops satisfyingly with little effort. The first sight Mira sees as she looks around the room is the scene outside of the large glass window. A 1.12x0.76 meter scene of the forest meets her view. Vines grow up trees and vivid purple flowers have begun to grow in the vines. It is a new growth that only began about a week before, but Mira has enjoyed it every morning since their appearance.


Normally, the girl would not have been so passive about having her privacy invaded, but the extra window on the opposing side was well worth the enjoyment of seeing the jungle every day. Sometimes she might see a sloth hanging from a tree or a macaw looking over the fence at her, and that made everything worth it. It was just enough of the wild to keep her curiosity at bay. It was enough of a glimpse without having to be in it that she enjoyed it. She would much have preferred viewing the dangers from behind the glass like she was than being faced with them.


She smiles, turning and walking towards the bathroom. She has to prepare for another long day ahead of her. Although she doesn’t know exactly what she has to do, she knows that it is best to be ready for anything. Even though she has only been awake for a few minutes, all traces of her sleep are gone. Some of the sun’s rays break through the canopy of the trees outside promising for a clear morning.

 

[SkyGinge]

“How is the subject?” the computer whispers but does not whisper to him, cracking and fizzing with distortion and interference, excitable and electronic. It has a rather pompous British accent, the kind of accent that fulfils every British stereotype imaginable, so much so that the lab-coat clad man sat by the screen struggled not to imagine the man whose voice the computer relayed without a neatly pressed suit and matching bowler hat atop his wrinkled skull. Funnily enough the wifi isn't brilliant in the middle of the Amazonian jungle.


“She has a name,” the man points out, though he has explained so many times before that he sees little point in bothering. “Still no solution, I'm afraid. We are trying everything that we can but no results so far.”


“Shame,” the computer-voice retorts casually, “Keep us updated, will you?” A quiet fizz, and the transmission cuts out.


Doctor Zsolti Lorinc extends a slender finger and presses a small blue button on the console. The screen fades to a vacant greyish glow, a glow so faint as to only reflect the doctor's features. His stony green eyes glint behind his owl-eye glasses like smooth, mossy rocks on a riverbed, his chestnut hair cascading in straightened torrents around his pale, wizened face, long and articulated like an ancient carving. He stands, blank and stony, like a statuesque figure in some age-old mechanism, and tucks his chair into the desk.


He closes his eyes, retrieves his glasses, stoops, and rubs the bridge of his nose. Another week without results. He'd lost count of the days, weeks, months, that he and his team had endured out in the wasteland of ragged green. A single silver speck amidst the jungle wilderness, they felt as secluded as they really were. Save for the helicopters that flew in once every while with food and resources, there was little reminder that the human race existed in its masses outside the endless emerald forest. It was easy to lose track of everything. Yourself included.


Doctor Lorinc considered himself a patient man. But fruitless activity riled him up. There was no point in continuing something if it were to prove utterly futile. Which it wasn't granted, but he had considered it, and that meant some of the others would too.


The control room was dim and gloomy, lit only by a few amber ceiling lights, like a hospital ward or a space-station on life-support. It was early, too early for most, but Lorinc had never been a good sleeper. After all, what was the point in sleeping when you could be up and doing something productive?


“Commander, she's awake,” yawned the man at the other desk, a balding German with eyes like shining jade. He'd been watching her for a few hours probably; it was usually unnecessary, but Lorinc had always adhered strictly to the phrase 'better safe than sorry'.


The doctor nodded. “Don't watch her too hard,” he said, and with that, promptly left the room.

 

[FaithWynters]

For the longest time, Mira stands in front of the small mirror inside the tiny bathroom, watching herself. She has done this for many weeks now, staring at the reflection in some unknown awe. She does so now, as she had before, while she waits for the water to warm in the shower. Once the steam has fogged up the mirror, she will turn around, undress herself, and step into the warm water. For now, however, she still has time to stand in front of the mirror and watch herself.


Mira fare from becoming Narcissus. She stares at herself not in awe of her beauty, but in awe of other things. She is curious. Why are her ears shaped the way they are? Why is her skin so light? Why does her hair grow the way it does? Why are her eyes colored like they are? What made it all happen? They are all simple questions that she asks herself every day. She—for the most part—looks like the rest of them.


Everything is shaped similarly to the others and works the same way. She understands the way people are created, but…Why? It is a curious idea that has haunted her mind every day she has looked into the mirror. She notices that it is now becoming foggy. She has never spoken of this curiosity to anyone, but the longer she thinks about it the more she realizes that she cannot come up with an answer. She will probably never be able to come up with an answer.


She is finally able to pull herself out of these deep thoughts that have been filling her mind, and she realizes that she can no longer see herself in the reflection. She smiles a soft smile and turns her back away. While she cares about the thoughts, she pushes them out of her mind as she undresses herself and steps into the shower. The warm water flows over her body and she forgets.


Mira takes a long time in the shower. It’s easy for her to get lost in the warmth and forget that she has other places to be. Her stomach grumbles almost in sync with the water being turned off. Everything is on some unknown schedule that she is prisoner to.


Soon after the sound of the water cuts off, Mira is walking out of the single door leading to the outside world. The warm humidity of the morning hits her in the face and the sound of the forest surrounds her. She smiles as she looks up to the trees that surround the facility on all sides. She can see the movement in the trees of animals as she starts down the path toward the food hall.


It is a short walk down the pathway to the building across the clearing. Mira can see no one outside and she can only assume that some of the men and women that live within the facility would be in the dining hall having breakfast. She pulls the door open and walks inside. The smell of cooked meats and pastries overwhelm her and Mira can’t help the delighted giggle as the door closes behind her.

 

[SkyGinge]

Lorinc traverses the amber corridors, his long arms nestled in the deep pockets of his lab-coat. His face is as still as the face of a stone sculpture from a cathedral pulpit, and just a calming. The scientists and researchers that pass him as streetside passerbies do steer clear from his path, but they are not nervous, they are not afraid.


Lorinc passes by the dining hall, where Mira (he refused to call her 'the subject') would be eating with some of the other workers. He seems to know her schedule to perfection; he had designed it after all. She would be eating away, without a thought in the world for what she could be missing. Or did she think and dream of the world outside the facility walls? Was she planning to escape? One of Lorinc's greatest regrets was the influence of his humanity. If he simply saw the girl as an experiment, a lab-rat, a thing, like the majority of his superiors did, he'd maybe have had the guts to go a step further. Her mind was the only thing he could not truly watch, and the secrets she could keep kept his wary.


After all, three employees would not get dispelled for planned assault if their subject were not so human. They wouldn't even think about it if she were rat or robot. They'd be repulsed if she were a thing. Unless of course they were seriously that strange. For Lorinc, even that is a possibility. The world is a place of limitless peculiarity, and he always prepares himself for any situation.


But who can deny the world's most beautiful woman? Who can't be swayed by somebody so perfect, somebody so like an angel they may have found in a dream of times far more idyllic. Sometimes Lorinc wonders who really holds the power in his facility. Thank everything for her piety. Were she as twisted as some this'd be hell to attempt.


Lorinc passes through corridor after identical corridor. There is no artistic flair at Project Jericho, no art-deco furnishing, no trivial decoration, no fancies or visual nicities. Nothing but bland white corridors. The environment is an important factor on the brain. Surround people with paintings and stags heads and even benches and they forget their purpose. We strive for practicality, unison in aims. We strive above humanity.