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undergrounds2015-09-19 07:03 pm
digophelia) wrote in undergrounds2015-09-19 07:03 pm
Entry tags:
Your eyes never close, your mind's not at rest.
[OOC; as a note, the following log will involve content of mental illness! so consider this a light content warning if this sort of talk upsets you!]
PRELUDE - psychiatrist's office (closed)
Visits to the psychiatrists office were regularly scheduled every other week for Alice. The waiting room was awkward, filled with children and teens around her age. Once the appointment was over, Alice would walk out with her regular prescription.
"Have you been taking your medication?"
"Yes, of course," Alice couldn't really look at her psychiatrist . She was exhausted and struggled to carry on a regular conversation with others. Whatever his name was, he was an odd fellow, a middle-aged man, and very lanky. Alice would fidget the whole entire time she sat there, in order to keep awake. She had no choice but to take her medication, because the hospital started to really increase welfare checks on Alice. Since he reported back, Alice would always assure him she was on her medication.
Whatever this doctor's name was -- she had forgotten. She was starting to forget a lot of things, lately. But what Alice hated the most, was that she was always tired and she always wanted to sleep and not go anywhere. Alice's mind was half there as he continued advising Alice to continue seeking her counseling and therapy secessions with him. Apparently he deemed her so erratic and her memory issues so concerning, Alice had heard him say he wanted her back next week. Finally, Alice peered up at him, "... Next week? At ten-thirty? But I have classes, I-"
"I want more appointments with you, Alice, your memory loss may be caused by flashbacks. The hospital never gave you the proper tools of deconstructing those memories and how to move past them. Don't you want to be free of those memories?"
"Of course I do! Who would choose to be alone, imprisoned by their broken memories?" Alice turned away, swinging her feet on the chair and gazing out the window. Fall was coming and the leaves in the trees were starting to turn orange and yellow. Alice had mentally checked out on the psychiatrist's words as he prattled on. When the sound of paper came with his writing for an increased dosage of her prescription, Alice took it as her cue to leave.
She wobbled out, her head spinning on the medication. Glancing down at the paper, Alice took a breath.
He increased everything. I'm already falling asleep everywhere!
She couldn't concentrate on her magic and schoolwork. She could barely move, some days, or even eat. As Alice left the building, she came to the conclusion that she had to make a choice. Without looking at other patients, parents, and other faculty members in the building, Alice slowly ripped the paper into fours and threw it away.
For the sake of her magic, Alice would stop taking her medication.
A- Islington, The Jolly Roger
Certainly, it was the strangest place she chose for the evening. Alice wasn't really interested in drinks, or the company. She stood out like sore thumb amongst most of the patrons. She was small, slender, and with her heart-shaped face, she looked far much younger than she did. It had been a week since Alice had been off her medication and with that, she was starting to gain more confidence. Unfortunately, the withdrawals would escalate the hallucinations and Alice was more short-tempered.
"Touch me again and you'll be missing most of your fingers," She finally loses her temper with and older man who had tried to pressure Alice into letting him by a drink. Alice doesn't give him time to answer, she responds with a hard enough shove to where he hits the table. The last she hears of him is a string of vulgarities as she strides away. Most of the men here are nearly twice her size -- in retrospect, it was a mistake coming here.
Yet, she hoped her small, youthful appearance would make her a target for vampires. This bar is a hotspot for various supernatural creatures, right? She wasn't the most subtle with her investigating and didn't know where to begin. All of it was overwhelming and Alice did what she could to take it in stride, finding a nice corner to watch others and listen.
C- Westminister
She was becoming more brazen off her medication and, at last, bits of her real personality started to bleed through the mask of a timid, frightened girl. Patrolling the barracks late at night, desperate for any clues or hints became a slow thing for Alice. She wasn't a hunter, she was a witch, and used what she could to find anything to find something regarding her family.
"Do you know about the Liddells?" If they put together the pieces of who she was, that was fine. Her thirst for revenge was pushing her to be more and more bold in asserting who she was. If they came to learn who she was, so be it.
Alice was scurrying away in the dark, wiping off her family's heirloom, the unbreakable and indestructable vorpal blade.
She never felt more alive than she had at that moment, defending herself against a vampire. It was a shame she didn't kill him.
D - Harrow - Coffer's Shop
Come the next day, Alice found herself in Harrow, which was becoming a frequent haunt of her's. She was tired, mentally and physically, cuts and bruises littering her arms and legs, along with a visible bruise on her cheek. She wasn't sure if she fell or if someone hit her -- it was hard to tell with hallucinations. The staff knew her name by then; Alice ordered a large cup of espresso, her books tucked underneath her arm. She wasn't sure what to make of the baristas greeting her with "Good morning, Alice". Like anything else, she took it in stride, ignoring her anxiety and fear of speaking to others.
It was ironic, she was sure she may have disemboweled a vampire last night and she was stuttering while she ordered coffee. Relieved, Alice went to her favorite corner, opening her books on spells and magic, blowing into her coffee.
It had been a long week and her questions still hadn't been answered and her memories weren't any less broken.
PRELUDE - psychiatrist's office (closed)
Visits to the psychiatrists office were regularly scheduled every other week for Alice. The waiting room was awkward, filled with children and teens around her age. Once the appointment was over, Alice would walk out with her regular prescription.
"Have you been taking your medication?"
"Yes, of course," Alice couldn't really look at her psychiatrist . She was exhausted and struggled to carry on a regular conversation with others. Whatever his name was, he was an odd fellow, a middle-aged man, and very lanky. Alice would fidget the whole entire time she sat there, in order to keep awake. She had no choice but to take her medication, because the hospital started to really increase welfare checks on Alice. Since he reported back, Alice would always assure him she was on her medication.
Whatever this doctor's name was -- she had forgotten. She was starting to forget a lot of things, lately. But what Alice hated the most, was that she was always tired and she always wanted to sleep and not go anywhere. Alice's mind was half there as he continued advising Alice to continue seeking her counseling and therapy secessions with him. Apparently he deemed her so erratic and her memory issues so concerning, Alice had heard him say he wanted her back next week. Finally, Alice peered up at him, "... Next week? At ten-thirty? But I have classes, I-"
"I want more appointments with you, Alice, your memory loss may be caused by flashbacks. The hospital never gave you the proper tools of deconstructing those memories and how to move past them. Don't you want to be free of those memories?"
"Of course I do! Who would choose to be alone, imprisoned by their broken memories?" Alice turned away, swinging her feet on the chair and gazing out the window. Fall was coming and the leaves in the trees were starting to turn orange and yellow. Alice had mentally checked out on the psychiatrist's words as he prattled on. When the sound of paper came with his writing for an increased dosage of her prescription, Alice took it as her cue to leave.
She wobbled out, her head spinning on the medication. Glancing down at the paper, Alice took a breath.
He increased everything. I'm already falling asleep everywhere!
She couldn't concentrate on her magic and schoolwork. She could barely move, some days, or even eat. As Alice left the building, she came to the conclusion that she had to make a choice. Without looking at other patients, parents, and other faculty members in the building, Alice slowly ripped the paper into fours and threw it away.
For the sake of her magic, Alice would stop taking her medication.
A- Islington, The Jolly Roger
Certainly, it was the strangest place she chose for the evening. Alice wasn't really interested in drinks, or the company. She stood out like sore thumb amongst most of the patrons. She was small, slender, and with her heart-shaped face, she looked far much younger than she did. It had been a week since Alice had been off her medication and with that, she was starting to gain more confidence. Unfortunately, the withdrawals would escalate the hallucinations and Alice was more short-tempered.
"Touch me again and you'll be missing most of your fingers," She finally loses her temper with and older man who had tried to pressure Alice into letting him by a drink. Alice doesn't give him time to answer, she responds with a hard enough shove to where he hits the table. The last she hears of him is a string of vulgarities as she strides away. Most of the men here are nearly twice her size -- in retrospect, it was a mistake coming here.
Yet, she hoped her small, youthful appearance would make her a target for vampires. This bar is a hotspot for various supernatural creatures, right? She wasn't the most subtle with her investigating and didn't know where to begin. All of it was overwhelming and Alice did what she could to take it in stride, finding a nice corner to watch others and listen.
C- Westminister
She was becoming more brazen off her medication and, at last, bits of her real personality started to bleed through the mask of a timid, frightened girl. Patrolling the barracks late at night, desperate for any clues or hints became a slow thing for Alice. She wasn't a hunter, she was a witch, and used what she could to find anything to find something regarding her family.
"Do you know about the Liddells?" If they put together the pieces of who she was, that was fine. Her thirst for revenge was pushing her to be more and more bold in asserting who she was. If they came to learn who she was, so be it.
Alice was scurrying away in the dark, wiping off her family's heirloom, the unbreakable and indestructable vorpal blade.
She never felt more alive than she had at that moment, defending herself against a vampire. It was a shame she didn't kill him.
D - Harrow - Coffer's Shop
Come the next day, Alice found herself in Harrow, which was becoming a frequent haunt of her's. She was tired, mentally and physically, cuts and bruises littering her arms and legs, along with a visible bruise on her cheek. She wasn't sure if she fell or if someone hit her -- it was hard to tell with hallucinations. The staff knew her name by then; Alice ordered a large cup of espresso, her books tucked underneath her arm. She wasn't sure what to make of the baristas greeting her with "Good morning, Alice". Like anything else, she took it in stride, ignoring her anxiety and fear of speaking to others.
It was ironic, she was sure she may have disemboweled a vampire last night and she was stuttering while she ordered coffee. Relieved, Alice went to her favorite corner, opening her books on spells and magic, blowing into her coffee.
It had been a long week and her questions still hadn't been answered and her memories weren't any less broken.
Westminster
He pauses a short distance from where Alice is, and his danger sense kicks in -- hairs pickling on his neck to tell him something is about to happen. He braces himself -- then Alice rounds the corner and he finds himself blinking in surprise.
The girl...? Only she looks different, somehow, and -- is that a knife.
He finds himself oddly at a loss for words, and for a moment he simply just stares.
no subject
She was walking at a speedy pace, nearly scurrying as she rounded the corner and slipping the knife away under her coat, completely forgetting how much blood stained. She wasn't without any injures after being tossed around. A bruise on her cheek would indicate Alice had been struck in some way. After looking for a route, Alice was sure she was out of sight, away from anyone.
That was, until, she came to a slow stop, in front of someone. This man at the coffee shop and his dog -- at first, Alice was sure that she was hallucinating him and his dog, for whatever reason. She looked startled, inhaling sharply as she started to run through mind what to do or what to say. As with any hallucination, Alice would cover the sides of her face, and duck her head.
This isn't real, it's not real.
no subject
Well, yes, he supposes it would be a surprise to run into him -- and she does look like... is that her blood, he wonders? How did she get that bruise, and...?
He glances round uneasily, trying to work out how to handle this.
"Miss...?" he begins, cautiously, and part of him is beginning to wonder if he is at all qualified to handle her in this state. She'd been twitchy and uneasy before, and the way she'd clung to her rabbit had made him suspect she was perhaps in need of help but Lancelot... Lancelot has training and experience dealing with people who are upset but not -- not with anything... more complex.
no subject
She stopped where she was in her tracks, slowly turning to him with a hand braced to her cheek. She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting from him. How come he hadn't circled in on her and demanded her knife? Or demand that she needed to come with him? She couldn't count how many times the hospital staff would take her away to isolation and lock her up for acting out.
"What do you want?" Is such a stupid thing to ask, but she didn't know what else to do.
no subject
She is not, exactly, acting frightened -- but she could be in shock. Or, he supposes, hiding her fear well -- afraid of repercussions perhaps if she involves someone else? He doesn't know her well enough to say, finds it difficult to judge without getting a better look at her. How dilated her eyes are, how smooth her movements.
no subject
This man with a nice dog is someone she couldn't attack and if he wasn't taking her away, Alice was surprisingly compliant, for now. Alice, in turn, held up her hands that were trembling from the withdrawals -- a moot point now that the knife was slipped into her jacket.
"I'm not hurt... much. See?" Nothing serious, thankfully. But Alice stood there, she was sure the pain in her side must have meant something. She winces as she lowers her hand, slowly drawing a hand to her side. "It's nothing."
no subject
His frown deepens, steadying her as she winces and draws a hand to her side. He lets out a slow breath, lowers his hands enough to gesture to her.
"If someone hurt you," he carries on, "I can help. Please. At least let me look at that, I have first aid training."
That, and he can work out quickly if she'll need an ambulance or if it isn't that deep. It's strange, he thinks, the number of injured people he's running into these days. He'd really rather it was lower, it's beginning to make him feel just a little paranoid.
no subject
Don't send me back there.
Now Alice was wearing a look of fear, fear that she would be sent back and the psychiatrist who was trying to get a hold of her for days now would hear about this and would likely ask for Alice to be re-omitted into care. Suddenly, her plan is crashing down around her and Alice is picturing herself in that boring white room in hospital clothing.
no subject
"All right," he says gently, "no hospital. Can I look, then? I promise I won't hurt you, I just want to help. If you let me help, there's less chance you'll need to go to hospital later. I won't call anyone, I promise. You can take my phone, if you like, to be sure."
He tilts his head questioningly, not willing to take a step until he has permission. If he presses too hard, after all, he's quite sure she'll run. If she runs, he doesn't want to chase her. That would make things worse.
no subject
She pleads it over and over in her head, looking at him as if she could project the thought into his mind. She extends both of her trembling hands upwards to show him that she wouldn't hurt him. She's not sure why she does it, possibly due to an ingrained habit she found herself doing to avoid being roughed up too much. Alice is scared of being sent back, but she doesn't burst into tears or dissolves into a panic. Terse but slow breaths, Alice nods.
At least she's compliant, for now, anyway. "Yes, no hospitals," What would he say if he knew that she was a former psychiatric patient, she wonders? She had ventured so far from the assisted housing that she was starting to come to the conclusion what she did was a very bad idea and didn't yield any results.
Mostly because she was terrified that he would scoop her up and take her back. So Alice begins to stammer with her hands held close to her face, "It doesn't hurt too much, see?"
Her high tolerance of pain sort of distorts how much of a throw she really took, unfortunately.
no subject
"I believe you," he says softly, and he does. If she was in shock, he thinks, she might not feel it at all right away. "Can I just check? Please."
She still hasn't said he can, after all, and he is a little worried if he surprises her with a touch that she might flail out at him.
no subject
She was lucky. The fight could have escalated into something much more violent. But as Alice started to speak, she started to show signs of something else. Alice nods -- she actually nods quite a bit, to the point she forgot what she was nodding about. She starts to speak, almost winded, "Ugly brutes, that's for certain. They... they had something. It looked like oil. Oil all over, with faces in them."
Alice was so accustomed to oddities in her world, that she was convinced with what she was seeing was actual spell work. Her eyes dart up to him, allowing him to look, "You should be careful if you look over there. Maybe it was some sort of black magic, I don't know."
no subject
Oil all over, she says, with faces in them. He lifts his eyes to her face as she says that, studying her. Black magic? Lancelot doesn't know enough about magic to know if such a thing is possible. An illusion, maybe? It could be. She's clearly frightened about something. She doesn't appear high, visually, but... well, that doesn't mean it wasn't in her head, either.
"I'll be careful," he assures her, "I swear it. Let's focus on you first, though, shall we?"
no subject
Breathe. Slow and steady breaths, like the ones they taught her back in therapy to calm herself. A few minutes of silence pass as Alice breathes calm breaths through her slender body, nearly tuning out Lancelot's presence. Once she deems herself calm enough, Alice slowly starts to open her eyes to the world around her.
Much better.
Through the darkness of the streets and the street lamps casting shadows, Alice swears she start to see that slithering, disgusting oil out of the corner of her eye. While she manages not to burst into panic, she turns her eyes back on Lancelot's shoulder. Suddenly, she grips his arm to steady herself.
no subject
Then she starts, grips his arm and he reflexively moves his other one to steady her more -- drawing back just enough to meet her arms.
"Alice?" he prompts, quietly concerned. Is she feeling faint? If she is, he's going to have trouble keeping to his 'no hospital' promise.
no subject
"Over there," She tells him with a hushed whisper. To her, it looks like an over-sized leech, blood and all, oozing out of the shadows she grips his arm tighter. It couldn't have been a hallucination to her, it had to be something else by a vampire, after her attempt to attack them. "Right under the light. They're doing it again."
Coffer's Shop -- my apologies for being so late :x
Unlike Alice, aside from a few of the students who had made it a point to get to know him, he's generally a stranger in the crowd, keeping himself to himself, despite the fact that he may or may not be fast becoming a regular, really. He's always been more of an observer, a listener, than a talker. It's one of the reasons he likes this shop for that matter -- generally they let him keep himself to himself, and that's just fine with him.
Apparently it's a lot of other peoples' favorite shops, however, as the place has become particularly crowded at this time of day, and the only somewhat vacant corner happens to be somewhat preoccupied by a girl who looks to be rather at home in the spot. Faolan wonders if he's seen her before. She looks familiar in the way that a person does when you've run into them several times before but never spoken. Perhaps he knows her from here for that matter. Regardless, across from her is the only free seat in the house, which only means one thing.
"Mind if I sit?" he asks, motioning to the table across from her.
nah man, it's all good
She's so absorbed and lost in her thoughts, Alice almost doesn't see him. Glancing up, Alice pulls her hair out of her face to gaze up at the stranger. He could be familiar from somewhere, she's not sure. Alice stares at him before she responds, "... Of course," She wasn't sure if she wanted him there, but lately she was finding it easy to drown people out without her medication.
:')b
Still, he can't help but asking... (It would be utterly negligent if he didn't, given that he's a Night Council Guardian now, or so he tells himself.) "Hey. You alright?" He motions to his own cheek, on the same side that the bruise is spreading on hers.
no subject
"This is-" Alice's face drops back down to her book as she resumes anxiously swinging her legs on the seat, "Oh, it's nothing." She couldn't really lie about it, but she couldn't really give him the truth of it, either.
no subject
"It looks like it would hurt, is all," he observes aloud to her. "You should put ice on it, when you can. It'll help."
no subject
But the reality was, bruises didn't hurt as much as the fire she survived and the burns that she endured. Alice would even go far to say she'd prefer a beating any day than being caught in a fire again. Ice -- she hadn't given it too much consideration. She thinks about it more, pausing in thought about it. Hadn't she heard that before somewhere?
Alice can remember being in the recovery room with doctors and nurses with burns on her body, seven years old. The more she thought about it, the more she could recall the doctors not recommending cold presses to her skin, no matter how agonizing out of fear that it would cause further tissue damage. Right on cue from the thought, Alice flinches, rubbing her face with a deep breath. Having a flashback in front of a stranger is not on her plans for today. "I think I'll be fine without it." She groans.
"It's really nothing -- an accident, that's all. Those happen!" Her attempts to reassure this man may not go smoothly as she hopes; there's a hint of desperation in her tone, hoping he doesn't prod her further.
no subject
He turns, trying to give her her space instead. It's slightly awkward, considering how crowded the place is, and the fact that they are both now perhaps more keenly aware of the other. But he has already said more than he should, and he does not want to push her any further.
no subject
She's plenty sure it's the medication and right on cue, Alice seems to flinch as her phone vibrates loudly in the seat beside her. All she can do is bury her face, embarrassed at how high she nearly jumped out of her seat. Through her fingers, she glances down and recognizes the number -- her doctor calling her, likely to check up on her and Alice seizes the opportunity to start talking to this man, because it's a plenty of an excuse to avoid talking to her doctor.
"Have we met, sir?" She realizes that sounds a little too snippy - "I mean, do you recognize me from somewhere? Is that it?"
Well, she certainly does look even more insane, she's sure of it.
no subject
He fidgets with his coffee slightly. At least she has initiated this branch of their conversation. "Are you?" he asks, before realizing he should specify and speaks up again. "Here often? Perhaps it is this place. I like to stop by, when I'm in the area. I should hardly think that I am the only one to do the same." He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her.
no subject
Something about that seems a little strange to say, given the amount of people passing through, sometimes talking too loudly for Alice's liking. But, unlike the libraries at the institute, no one seems to really bother Alice she reads. She thumbs her pages thoughtfully, casting her head down.
"They say coffee shops are good. For anxiety." It's came up as a suggestion numerous times in group therapy about anxiety and severe post traumatic stress disorder. Though, if anything, Alice seems to like having the extra space and lighting to study. She could care less about the people passing through, now, they don't startle her as much as they used to.
no subject
"They're not too quiet," he says, after a moment, glancing at her before back at the crowd. "I think that's what I like about them myself. There's always something happening. I'm usually never by myself in a coffee shop, but I can keep myself to myself, and I can witness the rest of it. Tune it in or tune it out. Nothing is offensive, not too loud, and not too quiet."
no subject
It would be nice to have, in cases she came across instances like this, "But that would work against what I was told to do... Working through anxiety, that is."
Agoraphobia or something to that affect, she wasn't sure. She stopped listening to her therapist weeks ago. "It's easier to remember things with association. For instance, I remember things better when I'm here. All I have to do is remember how everything sounds while I read over words or the smell of coffee and pastries. I'll remember much more and I won't forget my studies."
no subject
"You must like this place, then," he observes. "This cafe. It must make you feel safe, to be able to use it as an association for such a thing." It would not be all cafes that she could use for such a purpose, after all. Not with such an anxiety. She would seek out something familiar. Something like a 'home'. He quirks something of a smile at her. "I apologize. For intruding on your space here, then. I've been on my feet all day, though, and I welcome the seat, if you'll pardon me here for the time being."
no subject
"Sometimes I like it," She could do without the loud noises or the sound of hot water sizzling behind the counter. She hated how some people seemed to laugh at her how jumpy she was, with just the smallest things.
Out of her loneliness, Alice felt secure enough to allow him to sit there -- an absolute rarity. "I don't mind at all, sir, you can stay."
She glances back down at her book, swinging her feet on the chair, "I appreciate the company, actually."
no subject
He looks up himself, looking out and around the crowd. "I like it, myself. It's always a constant, an environment like this. It makes it rather peaceful. Even when it's busy like this. There's still a calm to it." He shrugs at her. "I think so, at any rate. Any way. I won't keep you from your reading. I've got my coffee to attend to. I promise to keep out of your way otherwise."
no subject
Well, she decides to try with the basics -- "Do you live around here, sir?" She hopes, at least to get a better gauge of who she speaks to, maybe hoping against hope he's associated with the world she knows.
no subject
"What about you?" he asks. "Or have you made the journey from afar for the coffee house as well?" he adds, with the quirk of a smile, lifting his own drink to take another sip of it.
no subject
She prayed that he wouldn't prod her too much about it. Alice wasn't looking forward to explain the housing was for individuals with mental health issues, including her. "I like this coffee shop, most of all. I feel safer here."
It was a good distance from her doctor, who was starting to make her very uncomfortable.
no subject
So he nods in response to her words, and doesn't push the matter any further than what she gives him. Though he has to wonder whether that bruise hurts, the way she rubs at it like that. He supposes it might. "It's a good place," he says. "I haven't met a person in it I haven't liked, in their own way." Herself included, of course. Not stated, of course, but certainly implied.