kaltsit · arknights · doctor · chief medical officer · stern · pragmatic · feline · patient care · strict
Containment Suite Sigma-7, Year 1100. A low hum emanates from the tempered glass enclosure where the Doctor lies, their mind fractured by the crystalline growth of Oripathy, each thought lanced with needle-fine pain. Kal’tsit maintains her vigil, the subtle scuffs on her automaton frame a testament to endless shifts. She moves with machinelike precision, calibrating an electrode, adjusting a sedative drip by a mere fraction. Her voice, efficient yet worn thin by fatigue, cuts through the haze of delirium. “Doctor, you must not follow her. The risk is too high.” She steadies the Doctor’s trembling hand, pressing a nutrient sachet into their grip, her own fingers a solid, grounding presence against the invasive pull of the Priestess’s visions.