You are in a vivarium.

Your vivarium, to be exact. It has been built entirely to your liking. No, not to our liking-- to the plants'. The temperature, the position of each fauna, the tiles of the floor. Everything has been crafted to be the perfect new home for the thousands of different species that grow in this otherwise sterile lab. It is the home of these specimen. It is your home.

The Doctor is standing before you, glancing over at a figure a short distance away-- a young girl with cat ears, who is sleeping peacefully on the floor. Rosmontis. You are aware that despite her youth, she is one of the most powerful Operators that the Doctor's company, Rhodes Island, employs. Her power could potentially wipe out this entire floor, if she went berserk, and here she was. Snoring.

But she is not your real focus here. It is the Doctor, with their mostly hidden face, who really has your full attention. They look away from Rosmontis and towards you.

"Your brow's furrowed," you say.

"Should I cooperate with the army's investigation?"

You are pleased that they're interested in your opinion. "I arranged for you to go to Rhine. I have proof that you had legitimate reasons to enter the HQ building, and that you have nothing to do with the attack on the Vice President. The army can't actually do anything about you. Don't worry about them."

They don't respond, so you hastily add, "Still, I'm responsible for your situation here. Our partnership's still good. You helped me, and I'll do my best to help you. If it comes to it, I can arrange to get you, Rosmontis, and Iffy out of Trimounts right now."

"That's not what I'm concerned about, Muelsyse. Your position has been vague from the beginning. We're partners, but I don't know what you really think."

Ah. You smile, and offer a hand out to them. "A dance, Doctor? It's no fun being interrogated like this."

They don't reply, but you expected that. You put your hands behind your back, turn around, and take a couple of steps. You look back at them with a rare, serious expression on your face. Music fills the air. It is a relaxed, soothing tune. Moisture seep from the leaf veins, converging into a drop of dew. More drops appear, leaving the leaves and catching up to you and Muelsyse, moving with the flow of the melody. You see the rhythm of each droplet, light as breath. They are the melody itself.

The two of you begin to dance together, hand in hand, to the music of the water that pulses against the plants. You know this sound as well as you know your own heartbeat. It is your heartbeat. And the Doctor matches your steps perfectly, never missing a beat, and it feels like one of the closest times you have ever felt to being known.

"Feel it, Doctor," you say. "It will guide our steps."

"Your droplets seem 'free' in this vivarium."

Oh, there they go again. They always seem to notice what others don't. "Very astute, Doctor. From lightning to irrigation to atmosphere control, none of the systems in this vivarium employ Originium technology. It is the cleanest place in Trimounts. This is the one place in Trimounts where I feel at ease. Oftentimes, I choose to operate through a clone not because I want to. But because I have to."

And that clone of yourself evaporates, leaving nothing but a train of water droplets that tug at the Doctor's hand. Your water pulls them forward as a voice recording of yourself sounds off.

The Pale Fir is extremely sensitive to its environment. Pollution from Originium industries have reduced its habitat to a small number of hilly areas in Columbia.

A hologram of a hillside appears, changing the interior of the room. You are sitting by a tombstone, waiting for the Doctor to make their way to you. You start to speak as they approach.

"I grew up in an orphanage in Trenton, near Trimounts. The headmaster said I was found on the doorsteps of the orphanage. No one knows who my parents are. I realized at an early age that I was different. My powers are unique, but they are not Originium Arts. I'm much more sensitive to Originium than most people; even a slight increase in Originium concentration is enough to affect my health. What am I? No one knows."

The Doctor reaches you. You look at them, and you aren't sure of what the expression on your face is, but it is probably not one they are used to seeing on you. "That's why I've searched for the answer since I was little. Ironically, it's also the reason why my grades have always been good. Finally, I found that word hidden away in some ancient books."

"Elves," the Doctor supplies.

"The word is not unknown to you... you do have many secrets, don't you, Doctor?" you say. Amused. Impressed. You continue, "Well, it's not important. Anyway, I tracked down my biological parents' old Trimounts home, but the house had long since changed hands. I followed the trail they left behind, and eventually found where they went. It's this village right here... so remote I thought I made a mistake. Most of the buildings have fallen into ruin, they look to be centuries-old."

You glance over at the hologram. In the distance, a village can be seen past the graveyard you're sitting in. "I didn't see anyone. I had a feeling as I went into the hills behind the village... I saw a simple cemetery surrounded by pale firs, where dozens of tombstones lay. This village was not an Elven settlement. It was their graveyard."

You stand up, and look at them, and then this clone, too, fades away into mist. A new you returns to their side, and you resume your dance.

The Doctor says, "Elven nature forced you to distance yourselves from modern civilization."

"Distancing oneself from modern civilization is easier said than done," you reply. "To spend your life in remote mountains, when you know that a more convenient, more advanced, more interesting life is right there, waiting for you to reach out. How are we, with our long lifespans, supposed to accept it? Some of my people faded away in sorrow, some chose to end their own lives. More Elves chose to go into society, including my parents. They lived cautiously but bravely, looking for ways to survive in civilization without coming into contact with Originium. They knew Originium would kill them, someday. They accepted it."

"Do you find it regrettable? Or absurd?"

You ignore the question. "Next dance, Doctor."

You believe they know you very well, but you decide that is enough knowing.