The Will To Live (Sanctuary)

[Nora Saint-Clair]

Nora did what she could among the people sheltering in the Sanctuary. At first she tried to stand a little straighter, to summon that  calm Brotherhood presence Seraphis always spoke of. She tried to talk about  balance and inner flame and of weathering storms both without and within. She even quoted a passage or two from the Codex she had dutifully memorized, but no one listened.

The storm dominated every conversation. Wind speeds. Road closures. Power grids flickering across outer districts. Messages from loved ones.  So she stopped preaching. Instead, she moved from cluster to cluster, asking who needed tea, who had heard from family, who needed a blanket. She listened more than she spoke. When someone’s voice broke mid-sentence, she placed a hand lightly at their shoulder, though she never quite knew what words ought to follow. Comfort, she was learning, was less about saying the right thing and more about not leaving.

Still, tension hummed in the hall like a wire drawn too tight. That was when the idea came to her. Perhaps some of those endless meditations and breathing exercises might serve a purpose after all.

“Would anyone care to try something calming?” she asked a small group near the far wall. “A sound bath. Just to settle the nerves. It’ll give you something to pass the time anyway.”

The term caught a few curious looks. Curiosity, at least, was better than indifference. Within minutes she had gathered a grand total of five people seated awkwardly on cushions she hastily borrowed from one of the smaller practice rooms. The Sanctuary kept crystal singing bowls for formal sessions, arranged on low stands in ascending size. Nora had seen them used dozens of times, but she had never led one.

The bowls shimmered, made of clear quartz, each tuned to a different note. They looked fragile, though she knew they were not, and some were obscenely heavy. She arranged them in what she hoped was the proper order, trying to recall which size corresponded to which tone.

Nora picked up the suede mallet and hesitated.

“Well,” she began, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “just… close your eyes.”

They obeyed, some more skeptically than others. She drew the mallet along the rim of the largest bowl.

The sound that emerged wavered thin and uncertain at first. Nora winced inwardly and adjusted her pressure, remembering to let the tone build rather than force it. The vibration deepened, growing fuller, until the note filled the air.

She moved to the next bowl. This one gave a brighter tone, almost too sharp at first. She softened her hand and slowed her breath. Inhale and exhale. Let the sound bloom instead of chasing it.

Around her, some shoulders began to lower. One woman’s tightly clasped hands loosened in her lap. A man who had been tapping his foot stilled without seeming to realize it.

Encouraged, Nora let the tones overlap. She had no grand understanding of harmonic theory and no elegant script to follow. She simply remembered how the sound had once felt when she had been seated among others, how it had pressed gently against the inside of her ribs and reminded her she possessed lungs.

So she breathed, and let the bowls answer. There were moments when the mallet slipped slightly or the note broke unevenly, and her heart jumped each time, certain she had ruined the effect.

When at last she allowed the final note to fade, the silence that followed felt different from the one before. There were a few nods of appreciation after.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just… sound.”

[Quillon Hawke]

“Welcome,” he said, offering Penny a nod before leaving her to the rest she clearly needed. He stopped briefly to check on Anita, lingering only long enough to reassure himself that she was stable, and then made his way back into the Sanctuary proper.

It was even busier than before. The storm had intensified. Snow hammered against the windows so thickly that the outside world had vanished entirely, the glass now nothing more than pale, shifting panels of white. The building felt sealed off, cut loose from the city. Inside, voices overlapped in low waves: worried, restless, searching for information that no one truly possessed.

He spotted Nora weaving through clusters of people, speaking earnestly, trying to soothe what could not be controlled. For a moment he considered joining her, but the Luminar had left him in charge. The weight of that instruction pressed uncomfortably at the back of his mind. Being in charge sounded decisive. It felt, in practice, like standing in the center of a room without knowing which fire to put out first.

So he moved. He began with the doors. The outer entrance resisted when he tested it, the wind pushing hard enough from the other side to make the frame groan. When he forced it open a few inches, snow immediately spilled through the gap. Drifts had risen nearly to waist height already, packed dense and unforgiving. Another hour and the doors might not open at all.

He shut them firmly and slid the locks into place. For a moment he stood there, hand resting on cold metal, wondering whether that was the correct decision. Leaving them accessible invited chaos. Sealing them invited risk. In the end he chose the certainty of control and hoped the mounting pressure outside would not compromise the structure itself.

From there he made his way to the security room. The monitors showed blankets lay draped over chairs. People sitting against walls. Children clinging to parents. Nothing appeared immediately wrong, yet the sheer number of people made his chest tighten. If something did go wrong, he had no clear plan for how to manage it.

He studied the feeds longer than necessary, as though vigilance alone might substitute for strategy. When he finally stepped back into the corridor, he paused beside the elevator. His gaze lifted toward the upper levels, toward the Luminar’s atrium. Part of him considered ascending, seeking guidance, confirmation, anything that resembled instruction. Yet even with command nominally placed in his hands, he doubted he truly had access. Authority, he was discovering, was not the same as permission.

After a moment’s hesitation, he turned away. He returned to the main Sanctuary floor, scanning the restless crowd with a growing awareness of practical needs. The storm showed no sign of relenting. People would need food soon. Tempers would fray long before the snow stopped falling as soon as people began to get uncomfortable not to mention deeply afraid.

Quillon clasped his hands behind his back, attempting the posture of a man who understood exactly what came next. In truth, he had never felt more idle.

[Penny]

Penny put down her wallet. She loved to read, but she had so much going through her head. Reading wasn't working as a distraction.  She didn't really feel sleepy either. Penny sighed and looked around the room. She smiled as she found a plant on Quillion's bedside table.  She picked up the plant and looked at it. It was a cylindar shaped cactus with a pink flower on top.

"Echinocereus rigidissimus," she said, quietly. "More commonly known as the rainbow hedgehog cactus."

She hadn't expected Quillion to be one to have plants, but the cute, prickly plant seemed to fit him. Penny frowned a bit at it.  The flower was looking a little peckish. She felt the soil, still moist, but not overly wet. Cacti would good for people who were bad with plants because they didn't require a lot of attention. It wouldn't need to be watered for awhile. What then had caused the slight wilting. It came to her quickly. A desert plant in the middle of a Moscow winter. The little one needed sunlight. She would have to suggest a sun lamp to Quillion. For now though, she sang softly to the plant. It was a simple melody and the flower seemed to perk a bit at her voice. The color even seemed a little more vibrant. She didn't know how it worked, but it wasn't that unusual. She felt something within her - a pleased feeling almost as if the small plant was thanking her.

"You're very welcome," she said, setting it back down in its place.

Penny then stood. She was impatient. Sleep wasn't going to happen. She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself before leaving the room. She went in the other two see how Anita was doing. She hadn't even gotten under a blanket. She was just lying on top of it in a deep sleep.  Penny grabbed the blanket from the side and covered Anita as best as she could before heading down stairs.

She found the main hall quickly and looked at the people there. There were quite a bit there. The thing that caught her attention the most were families. Moms and dads held their kids close. Penny felt the pain of loss and walked away for a bit. She sat down next to the wall. "I wish I had a family," she said, voicing her deepest desire out loud.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear," a voice said. Penny stood, the unexpected sound scaring her. A man stood there - not ugly, but neither was he attractive.  He had the face of one easily lost in a crowd. He raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "Apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you. You don't have a family?"

It had been a long time since Penny had heard the words, but every kid learned about "Stranger Danger." She was on edge, but found herself unable to move. Her dad - she had her dad, but no way to find him. "My dad - don't know where he is though. I never met him." Penny took a step back.

"I also lost my family when I was younger. I know how hard that can be, but if you have a dad - you still have a family. And maybe he has more kids. Maybe you have brothers and sisters too. Wouldn't that be nice? he smiled a disarming smile. "I could help you find them if you wish."

He was saying the right things. He didn't seem to be threatening, but he was offering her what she wanted. She had gone to the internet to ask for help. It seemed perfect. It seemed...wrong.

Penny's hackles rose.  She didn't answer the man's question. She just backed away, not turning her back on the man. He didn't move to follow her.  She headed into the main room, turned around and began to walk faster. She looked over her shoulder. The man was now leaning on the door frame. He wasn't looking at her, his eyes searched the crowd and when they passed over Penny, she shivered. She wasn't cold.  She was afraid. Her speed picked up and she turned around again, not wanting to turn her back on the man. He was gone. Her eyes searched the crowd, but the man was unremarkable. She couldn't find him.

Penny stopped when she felt herself back into a body.  She jumped and let out a short scream, taking a few steps away from whoever she had run into.  Whereas the man had been unremarkable and almost boring looking, the woman in front of Penny was the opposite.  She was beautiful. Penny took a couple of steps back.  She was still shivering in fear.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she said, apologizing to the woman, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. The people around the woman were looking at her concerned. Penny pulled the blanket around her tighter. She was terrified.

[[OoC: The woman she runs into is Nora]]