09-22-2019, 08:43 PM
Orders from the Matriarchy
Foster residence, Bjeorg
July 31, 1991 – early morning
Abbie Foster snuggled under a blanket reading a book, despite the fact the temperature was considerably warm. She enjoyed the heat, couldn’t get enough of it. The cold reminded her of being locked in a cold, bare cupboard as a child – her punishment for stepping out of line. So, she would curl up under covers regardless of the time of year, seeking warmth as a way of coping with her unordinary life.
She was presently engaged in the difficult task of trying to forget that at any point she could be discovered, captured and tortured. Since her activation, she had been having nightmares about that possibility, and she kind of hoped that her superiors were finished with her. So, when the phone rang, her heart sank completely.
“Foster residence, how may I help you?” she answered the phone cheerfully, her tone perfect despite the fact her cheer was entirely false.
“It is windy and raining in Tofino,” came a voice on the other end.
“Then I hope the animals have found shelter from the coming storm,” Abbie replied, her heart sinking as she replied using the code.
“This line is secure?” asked the voice.
“I made sure of it. I have more to lose here than you if I failed,” she retorted.
“You have developed an attitude during your deployment. These things are sometimes necessary to perfect your cover, I know. Nevertheless, do not use it when speaking to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I have orders for you. We are concerned about the Eirians. Their presence in Bjeorg was unexpected, and we do not know their motivations. We need you to find out everything you can about their operations, as quickly as possible. Today, if you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you have a preference for how this is accomplished?”
“Use your initiative, but stay undiscovered. And if you are about to be captured, use the contingency plan.”
“Y… yes ma’am.”
“Good,” said the voice, and the line went dead. Abbie, who had gone pale sat back down on her couch after replacing the phone on its hook. The contingency plan… she knew what that meant. Still, it had been inevitable, she knew. So she bit her lip and prepared to get to work.
Foster residence, Bjeorg
July 31, 1991 – early morning
Abbie Foster snuggled under a blanket reading a book, despite the fact the temperature was considerably warm. She enjoyed the heat, couldn’t get enough of it. The cold reminded her of being locked in a cold, bare cupboard as a child – her punishment for stepping out of line. So, she would curl up under covers regardless of the time of year, seeking warmth as a way of coping with her unordinary life.
She was presently engaged in the difficult task of trying to forget that at any point she could be discovered, captured and tortured. Since her activation, she had been having nightmares about that possibility, and she kind of hoped that her superiors were finished with her. So, when the phone rang, her heart sank completely.
“Foster residence, how may I help you?” she answered the phone cheerfully, her tone perfect despite the fact her cheer was entirely false.
“It is windy and raining in Tofino,” came a voice on the other end.
“Then I hope the animals have found shelter from the coming storm,” Abbie replied, her heart sinking as she replied using the code.
“This line is secure?” asked the voice.
“I made sure of it. I have more to lose here than you if I failed,” she retorted.
“You have developed an attitude during your deployment. These things are sometimes necessary to perfect your cover, I know. Nevertheless, do not use it when speaking to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I have orders for you. We are concerned about the Eirians. Their presence in Bjeorg was unexpected, and we do not know their motivations. We need you to find out everything you can about their operations, as quickly as possible. Today, if you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you have a preference for how this is accomplished?”
“Use your initiative, but stay undiscovered. And if you are about to be captured, use the contingency plan.”
“Y… yes ma’am.”
“Good,” said the voice, and the line went dead. Abbie, who had gone pale sat back down on her couch after replacing the phone on its hook. The contingency plan… she knew what that meant. Still, it had been inevitable, she knew. So she bit her lip and prepared to get to work.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax