Jeanne observed the cowering tactician and fell deep into reflection. She couldn't quite tell if this slippery character had awakened and chosen to play a trick on her, or if her mind was genuinely blank, leaving her to view the Saintess as a bona fide villain.
Jeanne couldn't be certain, especially since the Doctor was currently ensconced within that enigmatic coat and visor, making her facial expressions completely impossible to read.
Without visual cues, parsing her true mental state required pure guesswork. Ultimately, Jeanne resolved to play along with the act. After all, if the strategist was genuinely experiencing an existential blank slate, this represented a magnificent, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to tease the usually unflappable mastermind!
"What... what are your plans? This is a clear case of kidnapping, is it not? I am fully prepared to offer a substantial ransom if you would simply grant me my freedom..."
As the Doctor stammered out her plea, her fingers subtly brushed against the interior fixtures of the cabin, scanning the floorboards to see if some blunt instrument was within reach. She desperately needed a weapon to execute a sudden strike, hoping to carve out an avenue of escape from this human trafficker!
Indeed, in her current state, the Doctor had fully categorized Jeanne as a dangerous criminal. This panic was heavily reinforced by the presence of Fafnir, who sat beside her with an utterly stone-faced, expressionless gaze. The Doctor was rapidly concluding that Jeanne was the sort of ruthless merchant who would traffic even young children.
If she won't even spare a child, what horrific fate awaits me?
The moment her gaze drifted through the window to confirm they were cruising across a vast, desolate wilderness with zero signs of civilization, the terror in her heart amplified significantly.
"What do you imagine my motives are, dragging you out to such a remote sector of the wastes?" Jeanne countered, her voice dropping into a dark, menacing cadence that perfectly mirrored an unprincipled theatrical villain. "Furthermore, do you honestly possess any wealth to your name? You speak so boldly of a ransom, yet your pockets are entirely empty."
Jeanne's sinister display caused the Doctor to shrink even further into the shadows of the cabin, seeking a blind spot out of the driver's line of sight.
"I ought to possess funds... wait, what does that dark expression imply? If your motives are not tied to material wealth... could it be that you have hauled me to these desolate wastes with the intent to plunder my innocence?!"
Sensing a sudden chill in Jeanne's tone, the Doctor subtly tried the handle of the vehicle door to seek an exit, only to discover the locking mechanism was firmly engaged.
It appeared jumping from the moving transport was entirely out of the question, and her search for a makeshift weapon had yielded zero results.
For now, her solitary option was to utilize verbal dialogue to monopolize Jeanne's focus, biding her time until a flawless opportunity materialized to seize the young child and flee from this terrifying woman's perimeter!
This woman is undoubtedly a volatile threat; I must break away from her custody immediately!
Yet, deep within her subconscious, a bizarre contradiction lingered. Why did the mere sound of Jeanne's voice inspire a strange, deep sense of tranquility in her chest?
Was she suffering from some psychological affliction? An involuntary dependence born of her inability to resist her captor...?
"Pfft—!"
Hearing the Doctor declare that she was launching a campaign to plunder her innocence, Jeanne nearly choked on her own saliva.
However, this dramatic outburst confirmed one reality: assuming Theresa's casting of the arts hadn't been clumsy, the Doctor's memories were simply caught in a temporary knot.
The eventual restoration of her faculties was merely a question of time, which meant if Jeanne didn't seize the moment to enjoy herself right now, the window would close forever! There was zero chance she would let such a golden comedy slip through her fingers.
"Do you honestly believe I harbor any necessity to plunder you?" Jeanne tossed back, her tone laced with a playful, theatrical mockery as she glanced in the mirror. "The disparity between our respective builds is glaringly obvious! I can only say you are granting your imagination far too much liberty!"
Jeanne directed a thoroughly dismissive glance toward the strategist's obscured form. In the back seat, the Doctor looked as though she had sustained a massive, invisible blow to her pride. She fell into a sullen silence, anchoring herself to the far corner and flatly refusing to engage in further dialogue.
Yet, deep down, she remained stubbornly convinced that Jeanne's primary objective was the theft of her purity!
Even after sustaining that blunt critique regarding her figure, her suspicions didn't waver. What boundaries would a criminal who kidnaps young children hesitate to cross?
As the silence stretched, the underlying aura surrounding the Doctor began to shift. The constant friction of her internal reflections was slowly untangling the knots within her consciousness. Before long, she no longer had the luxury to worry about the driver up front.
Theresa's strategy had purposely avoided an instantaneous wipe of her identity; this safeguard ensured that the Doctor wouldn't sabotage their transit due to total confusion, thereby sparing Jeanne an immense amount of logistical grief on the road.
Nevertheless, the combined residue of the heavy sedatives and the Monarch's psychic arts left her mental faculties somewhat hazy. The primary symptom was a temporary inability to anchor specific details, which explained her volatile behavior moments prior.
A mind stripped of its foundations naturally views the external world with profound terror. Had Jeanne's presence not anchored her with that strange, unrecognized sense of security, her defensive reactions would have undoubtedly been far more aggressive.
"Is engineering such wicked pranks to torment others truly an entertaining pursuit? Consider the vast number of years you have accumulated; how can your conduct remain so thoroughly juvenile? To actively bully a vulnerable individual stripped of her memory..."
The Doctor spent a long interval reassembling the fragments of her identity. When she finally stabilized her consciousness, she met the steady, wide-eyed stare of Fafnir—who was observing her as if she were a bizarre new specimen—and the mischievous grin Jeanne was sporting in the rearview mirror.
The strategist harbored an immense grievance regarding Jeanne's prank. For this individual to actively exploit her vulnerability while her mind was blank was highly unprincipled!
This particular offense was officially logged in her mental ledger. When the designated hour arrived down the road, she would ensure Jeanne repaid this debt a hundredfold!
Of course, this grand vow of a hundredfold retaliation was merely a quiet comfort she entertained within her own thoughts. Were she forced to utter such bold threats aloud to Jeanne's face, she completely lacked the courage; who could say what the driver might do if provoked before they reached safety?
"Consider it a necessary exercise to help you adapt to your upcoming phase of life!" Jeanne explained, delivering the absurd justification without a single tremor of shame in her voice. "Imagine a scenario where, upon being excavated from a sarcophagus by the vanguard down the road, an individual marches up and claims you owe him a massive fortune. How would you handle it? You must build up a tolerance for these surprises!"
Jeanne could now deliver these preposterous assertions with a perfectly calm expression. One couldn't help but wonder if this supposedly pure-hearted maiden was simply unleashing her buried eccentricities, or if she had been corrupted by the bad habits of her peers.
The two continued their lively banter, exchanging sharp remarks across the cabin. The Doctor utilized the casual dialogue to divert a fraction of her focus, systematically cataloging her fractured recollections. At present, her timeline was so scrambled she couldn't quite determine whether her initial meeting with Jeanne had preceded her introduction to Kal'tsit.
Up front, Jeanne maintained a steady watch on her condition through the mirror. The way the strategist occasionally pressed a hand to her brow revealed that she was enduring not only psychological friction, but a fair amount of physical distress as well.
Jeanne silently harbored a deep concern for her well-being, choosing to pour the entirety of her focus into navigating the rugged trails ahead, letting the verbal teasing taper off to grant her passenger some peace.
"It appears the memories have successfully resurfaced?" Jeanne noted after a quiet stretch. "Given that your identity is intact, do you possess any profound reflections regarding the intensive medical therapy awaiting you?"
She hadn't anticipated that the moment she fell silent, the Doctor would actively request a conversation, seeking a distraction to keep her mind off the throbbing ache in her head and frame.
"What profound reflections could I possibly manifest? When a person's physical decay requires her to be interred within a sarcophagus just to survive, what is left to say? Is someone down the road going to present me with a grand achievement award for my endurance?"
The Doctor collapsed back against the cushions, her gaze settling on Fafnir, who was blissfully devouring a fresh apple. Come to think of it, what immense volume of fruit had the young dragon purchased? She had been munching on them for days, yet the supply showed zero signs of depletion.
Jeanne herself harbored doubts as to whether the markets of Kazdel lacked any other options. Otherwise, why would Fafnir secure literal tons of apples to utilize as casual snacks? You are a magnificent, primordial dragon, not some fruit-obsessed specter of death!
What truly astonished Jeanne, however, was the Doctor's sudden interest in the snack. The strategist was visibly calculating a maneuver to pilfer a piece of fruit from the young creature's hoard, displaying zero fear of getting bitten by a literal dragon!
"Though if I may voice a critique, the identity of that eccentric designer remains a total mystery to me. What bizarre aesthetic preference drives an engineer to shape a standard domestic medical revival unit into the literal configuration of a coffin? What a thoroughly peculiar hobby!"
Fixating her gaze on the fruit, the mastermind launched her campaign to secure an apple from the child. She carefully drew a few squares of chocolate from her coat pocket, attempting to initiate a diplomatic exchange with Fafnir.
"From this hour forward, you shall address me as the legendary hero who extracted a prized treasure from the custody of a primordial dragon utilizing nothing but a few squares of chocolate! If we broadcast this achievement, it could easily be compiled into the grand anthologies of history."
Having successfully secured the apple, the Doctor's tone carried a thread of genuine triumph. Observing the childish display, Jeanne could only shake her head with a wry smile. It appears the strategist truly is profoundly unwell, she thought.
Bathed in a steady stream of shared laughter and lighthearted bickering, the lone vehicle pressed forward through the wastes, charting a course toward the frozen borders of Great Ursus. The Doctor exerted every ounce of her remaining willpower to engrave these final, fleeting moments of tranquility into the recesses of her mind, acutely aware that when the final curtain fell, these bright hours might be completely forgotten.