(silence/ptilopsis) avicebron

When she is back from gathering medical information from some Operators to date, Ptilopsis met with Silence at one of the production room. Apothecary Sarasa might be the one reason she is here, but then the doctor dubbing herself more as Apothecary welcomed Silence to stay anywhere – the medic quarter usually crowded around this hour, not a suitable place to sleep.

“Dr. Silence, I brought you some of the medical report.”

Despite how vacant the room was, and the machine already automated almost all of the producing process, Silence was wide awake. She looked up from her spot to see the white owl walked by, handing the file as Silence wordlessly extended her hand. Ptilopsis waited by the side, hiding an orange-colored envelope behind her, counting inside her mind before Silence pushed back the files.

“As healthy as always huh, that Saria.”

Beyond her round glasses, Silence scowled. Ptilopsis only nodded. There’s never of use to bother the hornet’s nest, after all. Ptilopsis is only doing what she needed to do.

“Dr. Silence.”

“What now?”

“I can help you to forget.”

The ex-researcher of Rhine Lab scrunched her forehead. “That’s not like you to.”

“I know you’re always looking out for her, even though you despise her,” the yellow eyes flickered. “I’m curious if I can fill in the void.”

There’s only two of them in the room, no one bat an eye to the production room except few. And Silence, as always, never push anyone away. The doctor has always been so kind.

“You can’t,” Silence said, then again, no resignation presented, nor a look at disdain as Ptilopsis became the only view that she could see at the moment. “You can’t, Ptilopsis.”

The white owl forgot the presence of orange-colored envelope – or rather, she chooses to forget. After all, she is not a messenger bird; she would ask the sender later that she forgot the letter somewhere and she didn’t meet—nor even touching—Dr. Silence like at all.