The Common Room Showing 1,051-1,100 of 1,208

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

She shook her head gently against his shoulder. She understood some Spanish, enough to understand Carlos at least. She lifted her head, rubbing her puffy red eyes while she shook her head. "No. No, it's not okay," she insisted. She was still terribly shaken, but he had pulled herself together enough to talk and felt she didn't need Carlos in an embrace to support her at the moment. "I'm am such a horrible person." She leaned into the corner and buried her head in her hands. What was Raven doing right now? Ranting? Raving? Using the blood-covered knife? She shuddered at the thought of it.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Rosemarie." He let her go, and when she curled up again simply replaced his hand on her shoulder. His voice was gentle, concerned. "Talk to me. Please. It's not going to get better if you keep it bottled up inside. Did something happen to Raven?" Again?

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Her head slacked back in defeat. "Isn't it always?" She said miserably, fighting back tears yet again. It was true, wasn't it? She never cried unless something went wrong with Raven, and that was often. Something occurred at least once a week, two at the most when she actually saw him. True, it wasn't always as bad as him threatening her with a knife (although ever so discreetly), but they had never used to even argue. They used to be like the couple placed in a fairy tale with a poor environment, but not anymore. Now Rosemarie was falling apart, breaking over and over again and very fragile like the porcelain her skin looked so much like. She felt awful, she was convinced she was the worst girlfriend in the world, let alone the worst person in the world.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Yes, Carlos had to admit, it usually was. Rosemarie didn't cry, and when she did cry, the Indian sadist was usually the cause. After he'd hit her in the infirmary. After he'd broken up with her in the file room. After he'd stabbed her in the graveyard, tried to kill his only love, and now...God, what could it have possibly been this time? The Hispanic didn't know, he didn't even want to try to guess. He focused on Rosemarie, what was now instead of what had been. He squeezed her shoulder. "It isn't your fault, amiga," he said softly, as if reading her thoughts. In a way, he could. He had been in precariously similar situations on the plantation. "After this many times, it can't be your fault. Raven is just...he's loco, Rosemarie. He's got problems. He just does, and it's not your fault, and you shouldn't take on the burden of trying to fix them because you can't do that, sweetheart. You just can't." He spoke urgently, in a low voice, knowing in some back part of his mind that Rosemarie wasn't going to listen but knowing, as well, that she needed to hear these things. Because they were absolutely true. It was what it was, and they, a traumatized former slave and a wannabe sadist, were powerless to fix it.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"Maybe not all the other times, but this time it really was." She wiped away more tears and ran her hands through her hair. She grabbed at her locks with her fingers, entwining them into knots that she almost couldn't undo. "I just left him." Her tone was full of her self-disgust. Who left their boyfriend when he was in such obvious need? She should have been there for him, terrified or not she should have been there. "And don't say that about him," he chided softly with a voice lacking in effort to sound very chastising at all. Mostly she just sounded tired and drained. "It's not his fault he's not himself." As far as she knew, he wasn't, but hadn't she decided that maybe he wasn't so strange? Perhaps, this really was what he was like, a sadistic monster with the need to see blood. "But he really needed me and I left him. I straight up left him. What the hell is wrong with me? Girlfriends don't do that to their boyfriends!"

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

And when he spoke, his voice was quiet. He said seven words. "What did he need you for, Rosemarie?" Perhaps that was a question which could pierce her armor, and get him some answers. Perhaps that was a question that would make her see sense. Who knew. Sometimes, reviewing the events helped one identify the causes, effects, and their own place in everything. He wasn't sure if it would help Rosemarie to reflect, but he could certainly try his luck at finding out.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"He just wanted me to come over by him, but I wasn't okay with it. I had this really bad feeling." She paused, eyes drifting to the carpet and staying there as she thought. She thought about the knife and how terrifying it had been. She had wanted to help him, but she couldn't even go near him. "He had a knife," she said slowly, eyes looking down on the carpet still. She wasn't sure she wanted to look at Carlos, she was too ashamed of how she had abandoned Raven. "I couldn't go anywhere near him. I ran out of there as soon as he asked me to come over and see him. I know it was bad and he could have hurt me but I wanted to help him. He looked so different and so out of touch. He obviously needed help but I abandoned him. I feel awful." Carlos was right, talking it out was helping her just a little.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

He had a knife. He looked so different and out of touch. He obviously needed help. Oh, God. Rosemarie hadn't given him too many specifics, but Carlos could already see a picture forming in his mind: it was the nightmares, or it was the drugs, or it was too much time on his own. It was messing with Raven's head. Shattering him, breaking him slowly, slowly. And he knew the feelings all too well--he himself had been in a similar sort of situation, once. Several years ago. And he by no means wished that pain on anyone, not even someone like the Indian sadist. Because it was hell. It was hell on earth. "No, Rosemarie, you did just right." He squeezed her shoulder once more, gave her an urgent look. His eyes shone with worry. "Believe me, you did absolutely right. You never go near him--or anyone, but mostly him because I know how much he means to you--when he's like that, Rosemarie. Never. Not even if he begs. Because I've been there before, and I know. All he wanted to do was hurt you. He might have said different, but he was lying when he did. I promise you, he was." This talk brought back memories for the former slave: terrible memories. He could hear a slight buzz in his ears now, and feel the beast beginning to awake from the deep sleep it had sank into. He shook his head quickly to be rid of the thoughts. "And I'm so glad you--and him--didn't do anything you would regret later. It makes it easier. It may not seem like it now, but it does. When all is said and done." He took her chin in his free hand, turned her head up so that she was looking into his eyes. "Do you believe me, Rosemarie?"

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

It wasn't hard to not believe, in all honesty. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had had already figured this out, maybe a long time ago, she wasn't really sure when. Rosemarie never really confronted these beliefs, they were painful, but knowing that Carlos saw the same thing made it just a little bit easier to deal with. It wasn't her fault, the way he was acting, and it was also out of her control, which was a relief. But Rosemarie still felt awful. Raven was not himself, he was mad, but she also didn't know how to help him. Reaching out would do no good, it would only leave her hurt and bleeding, or worse. "What's wrong with him, Carlos?" She asked, turning her head with the aid of his hand willingly enough. She didn't want Carlos to see the way her eyes were flooding with tears again. "What the hell am I going to do? How am I even supposed to help him?"

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"You're not going to, Rosemarie," Carlos said sadly. "You can't. I'm sorry to break it to you, but it's true. You can't even offer him help right now. You shouldn't have visited him in the first place, and I would advise you not to do it again until you see him out of his room. He's outside of your control." He's outside of everyone's control, the Hispanic thought, and a grim cast came over his features. His own episode had lasted for months. He had been nearly thirteen, just rescued from the plantation, and he had been an absolute mess. It had been bad. He'd nearly killed a nurse. He'd almost--it pained him to think it now--he'd almost attacked his mother more grievously than would have been forgivable. She had forgiven him, in the end; they all had. But that didn't make it any easier. With a little sigh--his head was beginning to ache, too--he turned back to the small redhead. "Tell you what," he told her. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go visit Raven, and I'll see what I can do about getting the knife away from him so he can't hurt himself or anyone else with it anymore. It's better me than you." Because he was stronger, and probably faster when panicking (Rosemarie had the scars to prove that) and he wouldn't be afraid to hit the Indian if he had to--and he probably would. That was the thing. The former slave didn't think in the least that Raven's frightened lover would ever be able to lay a finger on the man again.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

[Let's revisit Raven's dorm months ago after Morgan's attack...]

"Thank you," the small redhead breathed out a small sigh of relief. She even managed the smallest and weakest of smiles. The hole in her chest was still large and gaping, but it helped the pain and the panic that she had a friend who was willing to help. She'd heard around that Raven and Carlos weren't exactly the closest of friends, but the Hispanic's attempt was much appreciated nonetheless. "Thanks for everything, Carlos. I'm sorry.... you shouldn't have to be the one to always fix the mess between Raven and I. You're not even involved with it, but you're still always here when something goes wrong. Thanks." Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only time the two friends ever saw each other. Rosemarie made a mental note to change that. It wasn't right to take advantage of someone who was a supposed friend that way.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((Shall we fade?))

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

[Sure.]

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Grayish eyes had seen the sobbing girl as well, and yet the blonde didn't approach the unfamiliar figure. No, she wasn't one to open up to strangers, especially when they were such an emotional wreck as the girl appeared to be. The blonde girl sat there, eyeing the girl nonchalantly as her hands were occupied by two needles and a soft, cream-coloured yarn, and even hours after the crying girl had left the blonde sat in the same seat.

Beatrice's eyes were slightly heavy, and lids hung low over her eyes. The clock told her it was a few minutes after eight at night, which meant curfew was not long. Most patients would already be heading to their dorms (or others' dorms) to spend the remainder of their evening. The common room, for one, was entirely empty. Beatrice sat beside the fireplace, the heat warming her bare feet, and the girl looked rather at peace with the orange glow illuminating her blonde locks. Only the occasional wince and shaking of her left wrist told that the twin was indeed herself, and not in some sort of reverie.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

But the knitting girl was not alone as she had thought. At least, not when she had looked up at the clock. At that time a tall boy with dark hair came into the room, dark gray eyes on the clock. His build wasn't lean, but he wasn't exactly porky either. Domonic was just starting his nightly rounds, but upon entering the common room, realized that he had some time to spare before he started to check the dorms. The nurse strolled inside and took a seat into one of the large, overstuffed armchairs. This was when he noticed the girl sitting on the couch with the knitting needles. He tilted his head slightly in thought at the sight if the knitting needles. Weapons, couldn't they be? That was strange, Domonic didn't know of any patients allowed to have sharp objects like needles (granted he knew patients snuck blades all the time).

"Good evening," he began with a small nod in greeting. He tried to make his voice sound as authoritative and stern as possible. He still wasn't very sure about the potential weapons in the small girl's hand.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Gray gaze flashed up momentarily and landed upon the nurse's face. "Evening," she returned in a quiet tone, her mousy voice hardly carrying across the room. She continued knitting without another word, glancing up a few moments later back to the nurse, and a little grin crossed her expression when she noticed his discomfort.

"Relax, Mister Taylore," she said in the drawling tone that frequented her tiny voice. "I'm no danger in the asylum's eyes." She pronounced "asylum" rather strange, so that it sounded more like "ah-sih-lum", and it rolled off of her tongue just as easily as any other word might. Her voice was distant, as if she weren't exactly paying attention to Domonic, but the sass was still there. "These have been permitted by the staff." Her hands moved as if they had a mind of their own, pulling the cream yarn across each needle with expertise.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Domonic faltered for a moment, his eyes on the girl a moment longer. He thought he had detected some sarcasm from the girl, but with the peculiar tone of her voice it was hard to tell. He decided to let it go and let his shoulders sag when they had been stiff with tension before. "All right," he allowed with a small smile that hinted at friendliness and he sank back in the armchair. "I just have to make sure. It's sort of my job, you know." He paused again, glancing back at the girl and furrowing his brow ever so slightly. "I don't believe I gave you my name." In fact, he was positive that he hadn't. What, was this shy looking girl yet another patient that often snuck into the file room? Of course, it was always possible that she had heard of him from other people, but he didn't think that many people knew of him at the asylum.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Again, it was almost as if the strange girl read his mind. "I'm not one to break into the file room, if that's what you're thinking," she said in that same slightly-off tone, one that hinted at only half of her being there. "They don't hold any appeal to me." Gray gaze didn't acknowledge the nurse before her, and was only focused on the needles in her hands. "Mister Taylore, I make it my job to know who's who around here. Ana and I don't exactly want to get involved in the wrong crowd, you know." And then, just once, the gray gaze flashed up to Domonic, registering his rather incredulous expression with a little half-smirk.

"I suppose I should introduce myself, then. I'm Beatrice."

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"Ah." A simple reply but effective for small talk. The pieces were starting to fall together now, the blanks in his mind were being filled. Being a nurse, it was his job to think about the situation he was in with what patient and anything about then because knowing the patient meant knowing their reactions which was very important. This patient seemed harmless enough for actual conversation. "Yes, the name sounds familiar. I think I know a little bit about you." In all honesty, he didn't know much about the patient but would be sure to do so after his night shift. "I would introduce myself, but you seem to know me well enough already."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Her hands paused. "Oh?"

Shock and confusion were not emotions that frequented Beatrice, no, those kinder, more human emotions were given to Anastasia. But there was honestly no other word to explain Beatrice's expression of momentary surprise. It was gone in seconds, the smug expression returning, however, and Beatrice chuckled a little. Her hands kept going habitually, but now her gray gaze was staring at Domonic.

"You think you know a little bit about me?" Eyebrows were arched in a rather incredulous expression, and her lips quirked up in a little smirk. "Tell me, then, Mister Taylore, what do you think you know about me?"

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"Yes, I think I do," he said slowly, perhaps sensing a bit of her smugness. He wasn't one to really like those who were smug and overly-confident, and he was beginning to get that sort of impression from the girl. She obviously wasn't happy that he thought he knew about her. Domonic could have become haughty with the girl, prove with his own smirk that he did know her, but that wasn't like Dominic. Besides, those knitting needles could always be a weapon if he made the girl angry.

"Well, for starters, I know you're a low-security patient," he said with a pointed glance at the knitting needles she was holding. "Secondly, I know you have a twin sister, and you have to be relatively new here." His hands turned over so their palms face the ceiling and outward with a small, humble shrug. "And that's the little bit I know. That's it."

[Tea in Chapter Three]

The common room was surprisingly quiet, for this time of the evening. Normally, it was quite packed with the after-dinner folks, and the patients milled around, looking fairly foolish as they wandered person to person, chatting. However, many patients had apparently taken up residing in their rooms for the evening, or locations elsewhere, leaving this particular room rather free. Unfortunately, the nurses were still ever present, and ever annoying, with their wide noses, and beady eyes.
The girl was perched in front of the fire, waiting for the moment when the nurses would look away, so she could attempt vainly to put it out. It had become a silly little game for the ice princess, where she'd take the sand or whatever else kept by the fire, and attempt to extinguish it.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

For the first time in a long time, October Elise was herself. Tobie didn't exactly know who she had been, or rather where she had been. Little things left on her body told her it had been quite some time since she herself had been out: remnants of red lipstick was found on her lips and also on her hand (obviously rubbed away), and her left hand was covered in graphite. Both Rosalind and Katrina had been out lately. A thick necklace around her neck had announced Rowena's outing. When Tobie woke up in her dorm, she had absolutely no idea about how she had gotten there, or how long ago she had left that very room. With a very quick change of clothes, and washing every evidence of the three girls off of her, Tobie found herself once again in the common room, sitting on the floor by the fire, with her knees pulled up to her chest. She had a habit of showering whenever she first returned-- she didn't have the slightest clue where the girls had been, you see-- and so her hair was still damp and hanging down her back, left to dry in front of the fire. A few drops of water dripped down her thin white sweater, leaving little trails like tears in their path. Tobie seemed tired, blue gaze staring out across from her at practically nothing. She was alone, and she was tired. Her head was silent, much different from the usual pounding arguments, and so she was completely and utterly alone. And her exhaustion showed.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

She was not alone. There was another boy in the common room with her, and it had been that way for quite a long time--it was only that his chair was turned around, towards the window, and in her exhausted state Tobie was in no shape to notice; and oh, how it would have been better if she had. For it was Raven who sat in that chair--and for once in his life, he was feeling fine. The depression, while it had not gone, had slunk away to whatever corner of his mind it lived in when not bogging him down. With his sister's help, he had vanquished the last of the nightmares, and (thanks to a plan between Anna and Rosemarie that had been kept completely secret from him) he no longer even had most of the knives which he'd been using to harm himself over the past several months. They had been hidden, Anna had told him when the deed was done. Hidden in a spot where they were sure to remain, don't worry about that, but out of his sight and hopefully, then, out of his mind. And for once, something had gone right in his life. The bandages had finally come off of his wrists, leaving only impenetrable scars behind; scars which the Indian could look at, but had no desire to open now that the opportunity was not so readily available. Yes indeed, he was feeling absolutely fine for the first time in a long time--and now, he was ready to play a game. The chair did not turn, and Raven did not move, but quiet, casual words were sent across the common room to the girl he knew was listening:

"Hello, Tobie. I see you managed to finally fight your way out."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

The girl jumped almost instantly, the few quiet words pounding in her head as if the Indian had shouted at her. The little peace that was apparent on Tobie's expression was gone instantly, and her lapis blue gaze was as wide as a deer caught in headlights. She couldn't see the Indian who had spoken to her, but she had heard a voice like that before, somewhere dark and deep down inside the mess of the three other girls that called her fragile head a home. He sounded familiar. Scarily familiar. And, despite the fact that she didn't know who he was (not yet, at least), his voice struck a fear deep inside of her. His words spoke knowledge, things that most people in the asylum didn't have the privilege to know, and that scared her as well, maybe more than his sly voice.

"Who are you?" Her voice was shaky, unused, raw. Fear was not something that Tobie hid well, and as much as her voice shook from lack of use it also shook from fear. With these three words, Tobie herself stepped into the lion's den, and unfortunately she had no idea what she was getting into.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

The line sounded so much as though it belonged in some bad melodrama--dangerous, cunning villain speaks, poor innocent heroine demands an introduction--that Raven almost laughed. Almost. But his walk in the dark had left him with little memory of how to make the sound (thankfully or cursedly, he could not say) and thus he remained silent. All the same, when he turned around to face the young girl, his lips were pressed into a thin line of amusement, as though, indeed, he had to force himself to be silent. "Who am I?" he repeated. "Why, that's a question I haven't had in a while. Everyone knows who I am these days." He gave a chuckle, a low, quick sound that was not entirely...safe. For the Indian was not a fan of the reasons why he was so widely known; knowledge was power, after all--as poor Tobie was soon to learn--and he did not like it when anyone had power over him. But now he smiled. A wide, slow smile. "How is it that you don't, sweetheart? Are you new? A hermit? Living under a rock...or just in multiple bodies?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Well, Tobie didn't like that smile at all. It reminded her of a wolf's grin, and that was exactly what she had heard people describe the Indian as. A wolf. A wolf who enjoyed the hunt. A wolf who enjoyed the game he played. And a wolf who would rip your throat out without a second thought. Skittish blue eyes scanned the man sitting in front of her, and yet there was zero recognition in her gaze. Rosalind knew who the Indian was. Rowena knew of his dangers. Katrina seemed to always brag about how she could take him on, and yet she never did anything about it. But Tobie... poor Tobie had scarcely been out and about in her own body. She didn't know the gossip of the asylum. She hardly knew any of the asylum's patients at all. The poor young girl had no idea who she was dealing with. "You obviously know that it's the last one," she offered quietly, her voice meek and small. The word sweetheart made her uncomfortable, made her think of her stupid stepfather. This Indian in front of her was like your textbook psychopath, offering kind words and soft names to his victims before he tore them apart. And, even a little against her will, a shiver ran down Tobie's spine.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Raven saw that shudder. And when he did, the fingers of his left hand drummed against his thigh--quickly, just once. Sometimes a sign of boredom, sometimes a sign of restlessness; today, it was the latter. "So I do," he replied, with a little nod of approval. Whether he was nodding at the admission or the physical sign of her fear it was hard to tell, but the gesture was there either way. "I know a lot of things, Tobie. Rowena. Katrina, Rosalind. Whichever name you prefer." Tell me, he thought of saying, who's screaming the loudest in your head just now? Maybe I'll call you by their name. But though the thought brought a silent laugh to his lips, the Indian left it unspoken. Instead, he stood up and crossed the room, his bare feet making no sound on the plush carpet, and took a seat beside the frightened girl. "I know a lot of things," he said again, but this time his voice was closer--close enough, he hoped, to provoke something else from his quarry. He liked to savor the little things, after all. "But you seem to know very little. Which surprises me, to be perfectly honest, considering the fact you just said it yourself: you have three other girls living in your head with you, and I know for a fact I've met at least one and seen the others around. Even you. Have you not seen me?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Tobie leaned back, as far as she could move herself away from the Indian without physically scooting backwards. Little drips from her wet hair continued to run down her back, again reminding her of tears that she wanted to let loose. Tobie wasn't like the others in her head. She wasn't brave. She wasn't sultry. She didn't get out of these situations by fighting or flirting or smiling. No, all she wanted to do right now was cry. But someone's voice in her head told her that the Indian would only take pleasure in that. And so she tried to keep her emotions behind a wall. She tried to keep her expression empty. She shook her head very quickly in response, a few strands of hair coming out of place and adding to her harried appearance. She was terrified. "No, I've never seen you. I've heard of you. I think. But I haven't seen you." The fact that she hadn't seen him, but that he had seen her, terrified her, to be honest. The wolf lurked in shadows, shadows that Tobie couldn't see behind. Terror lit in her lapis gaze. What a great day out, Tobie thought to herself, a bit of Katrina's sarcasm peeking out into her own mind. I should stay away more often. It's safer there.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Ahhh." The sound was part a sigh and part a chuckle. "I see. A little piece of advice, then, sweetheart: open those pretty eyes of yours. Always have them open. You never know when you might see something important...or useful." Like the shine of fear in bright blue eyes, or the way poor Tobie leaned back and away from him, as far as she could go while remaining still. Indeed, those things were useful to him--part of him anyway. To the rest, they were simply amusing. Raven allowed a smile to part his lips to show that; and why not? This was clearly not a girl he had to worry about being subtle around. He didn't have to put on any masks. No, the Indian had been able to tell at first glance that this was going to be an easy game (precisely why he played) and Tobie's reactions now only encouraged the line of thought. Today, all he had to do to leave satisfied was be himself. A difficult task a few months ago, maybe, even a few days ago, but here and now? Nothing more than a walk in the park.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Tobie didn't answer. Her lips were pressed tightly in a thin line and her eyes were wide and full of terror. Absolute terror. Poor Tobie had made it nearly a year in the asylum without personally running into the famed Indian, but today broke that track record, something Tobie was not happy about. The way he used the word sweetheart stung. It reminded her too much of her father-- stepfather, she reminded herself (the familiarities were too easy to get into). Sweetheart wasn't a word used gently now, much like it hadn't been then. She could almost feel herself reverting back inside her shell; her own mind wanted to disappear and allow someone out. Maybe Katrina. Katrina wouldn't take this. Katrina would put this Indian in her place. But a little voice in the back of her head, which was never a coincidence with Tobie, told her that not even Katrina could deal with this one. A shudder ran through Tobie's spine as her lapis gaze stared blankly at Raven, not saying a word except for the terror radiating from them.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

The smile which grew on his lips could have curdled milk--and the laughter that came after it could have done a number, too. It was soft, but somehow impossible to ignore; had there been anyone else in the common room, he was sure heads would have turned. "Oh, come on now," the Indian purred, in a voice just as quiet as his amusement but nonetheless dripping with malice. "I can't be that bad, surely? Bad enough to make a girl mute." Of course, he knew he could. He'd done it before. But rarely did it ever happen when he only laughed and made a few comments--poor Tobie's walls were weaker than usual. Even the mousiest of patients were usually able to muster up some frightened sound of sorts, even if they couldn't form actual words. "Come on," he urged. His smile turned softer, somehow pleasant, though it was not by any means a light expression. "You really have nothing to say? Nothing at all? I find that hard to believe. After all, you have three sisters always with you."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

They're afraid of you too. Tobie would never have admitted it, and if she did she would never hear the end of it from those very sisters, but every one of the Elise girls was utterly terrified of the Indian that sat before them. Tobie would have happily disappeared into the recesses of her mind, but none of the other girls wanted to come out. Tobie had no other option than to suffer through this. She could try to make it out unscathed, and there was a hope for that. Perhaps Raven only wanted to play a game and he wasn't out to hurt her. Yeah... that sounded nice. Tobie allowed herself to believe that one. Lapis gaze was wide, still, but it looked a little defeated. "What do you want me to say?" Her voice was meek and a little empty. "I'm sure you know it all anyways." There was no sarcasm in her voice, no pinch, no tight edge to it. Her words were empty and dull, as if the Elise girl had given up entirely. And she had.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Know it all?" Raven grinned. "Megalomaniac I may be, but I'm not stupid. Or a narcissist. I know a lot, sweetheart, that's very true, but you'll never catch me bragging that I know everything." He chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment, though. I know it's not your forte to flatter." He shook his head at her in an amused gesture, as though he found the thought--and the girl associated with it--to be funny (and that wasn't too far off the mark). For his afternoon was proving quite enjoyable, if a little boring.

It doesn't have to be boring. You know how to spice things up. Don't you?

The words came unbidden, and the grin on the Indian's face flipped around so that he was frowning, just slightly. It had been a long time since he'd had a thought like that, a long time since he'd heard that mocking, almost cynical drawl in the back of his mind, his own voice but sounding almost as if it came from another person. He shook his head again, this time as though to clear it, and for a second--or two, or three, or more--the terrified girl in front of him was given a respite, momentarily forgotten.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

As frightened as she was, Tobie saw the change in the Indian almost instantly. His gaze that had been so focused on her now seemed a little far-off, unfocused even. Something had happened with the Indian, and Tobie wasn't about to question it. This was her only opportunity, and she wasn't going to let it slide. She had to get somewhere alone, somewhere where she could just disappear back inside her mind and let one of the other girls come out. Somewhere where the other girls wanted to come out. And nearly the instant his gaze became unfocused, Tobie was on her way to the door. She wasn't exactly running, but she wasn't taking her sweet time either. Her heart was pounding. God she had made a mistake. She knew the horror stories of Raven and she knew what would happen if she couldn't get away. The door wasn't opening. Katrina couldn't save her. The door wasn't opening. None of her sisters would take this one for her. The door wasn't opening. Her hands fumbled with the doorknob and her she couldn't turn it and it was slipping out of her hands and it wasn't opening. What had she done?

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"What are you doing?" Raven's voice was sharp, nothing like the amused purr he had been using just a few minutes before. "Tobie, sweetheart, we're not done." Indeed, in that single moment that it had taken the poor girl to race for the door, a drastic change had taken place in the Indian. Some switch had clicked off (or on), some trivial gear had stopped (or started) turning--or maybe, just maybe, something had finally broken free. The casual, relaxed pose he had taken on as he spoke with Tobie had melted away, and now he sat ramrod straight, both hands clenched loosely in his lap. His expression, too, had transformed; there was something keen about it now, something cruel in the set to his mouth and the light in his eyes, something...malevolent. Something powerful. Raven had not moved from his seat, but suddenly the atmosphere in the room was different. Tenser. Darker. His lips parted in a smile, and it was an expression that belonged on no human face.

"No, we aren't done...we've only just gotten started."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

No no no no no no no. The words were hers, or maybe Rowena's, or Rosalind's, or Katrina's... Tobie didn't know but it didn't matter. He was still sitting. That was good. She had some time. Seconds felt like hours for poor Tobie Elise, and within a few of whatever they were, the knob finally turned. Lapis gaze flashed behind her, saw the expression. Her stomach fell and then she was running. She hadn't closed the door. It didn't matter. Yes it did, he would follow her. No he wouldn't, he'd just find her later. Find her later. Find her later and hurt her. But it didn't matter. Tobie ran and ran and tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was shaking with terror and before she knew it the common room was far behind her. She was safe. She was free. She was unharmed. For now. Wherever she was, she was lost, but the common room was gone. And October Elise slid down against the wall and cried.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((And fade.))

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

[Dude, that was a nice RP. I forgot how intense it was xD]

Riley Abbey was a rare sight nowadays, as she didn't tend to leave her room as much as she had before. She had been a strange sight that day, that fateful day she tried oh so hard to forget, the day the nurses had found her curled up under the peach tree in a ball of tears. Still, but very faintly, her skin was dotted with burnt lines from that cruel weapon he used, from the backs of her legs to her stomach and hips. And since that day, Riley tended to stay in her room. To see her out of her room was a rare sight indeed, but the wide-eyed look was not. Riley sat with big eyes and a mess of hair, curled up on the couch by the fireplace. The nurses had suggested that she leave for once, go out and get fresh air as opposed to the dank smell of her own room, and so she had. But she didn't have to like it.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((Tobie was near about to be the first person to meet demon-Raven in person and canon.))

When Anna walked into the common room with her miniature entourage of guards (she was going to sew today, which required needles, which required staff nearby, much to her annoyance) she realized immediately why they had assigned her here: there was no one in the room this evening save the lone, haggard girl curled up on the couch. No one to take the needles and attack her, but more importantly, no one who appeared worthy of attack. It frustrated her greatly, to be treated like such a danger to the asylum when she had never done anyone--save Akantha Anderson, she supposed--any harm, but that was a byproduct of being Raven's twin sister and it was something she had begrudgingly started accepting after her first month here. She was infamous by association; and when the person everyone always saw you with was her brother, people tended to get very suspicious, very quickly. The Indian girl didn't like it, but she recognized things for what they were and did not like wasting energy trying to change them. And thus, she did not object when the guards brought her into the cozy main room, and sat quietly and patiently as they warned her that this was a privilege they could take away, if she misbehaved, and when they finally gave her the needles and her skins, she set the materials on her lap to show she meant no harm until the men had returned to their spots outside the door, closing it gently behind them. "Spirits!" she exclaimed when they had gone (but softly, so they would not hear and so she would not disturb the other patient), "what am I, a convict? What did I ever do to anyone? I swear, it would kill them to have to put their trust in somebody."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Gray-blue gaze had followed Anna and the guards into the room, and as the guards left and the girl was left alone with needles, Riley had to stifle a gulp. She had never been so frightened and jumpy before, and she didn't enjoy appearing weak; it only got her into more trouble than it was worth. The girl seemed familiar, with dark eyes and dark skin and dark hair that heralded an Indian heritage, which only made Riley tie the girl to Raven. But Raven didn't have siblings here... right? Hadn't he killed his sister or something? Riley didn't know, and she certainly didn't want to find out. When the girl spoke, despite how quietly it was, Riley nearly leapt out of her seat, eyes wide as a doe and looking almost fearfully at Anna and her sewing. And yet, despite her panic, a strong sense of courtesy was still present in Riley, and led her to regretfully murmur a "Hello."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Hello," Anna replied, amiably enough. Her head raised and dark eyes focused on the girl across the room, though her hands continued their work in her lap with practiced surety; she had been sewing for so long she hardly had to look at what she was doing anymore. Today, it was a pair of leggings she was making--the pair she was currently wearing now had grown too short--but she lost almost all interest in that when she saw the expression on the stranger's face. She looked absolutely terrified, her eyes so big the whites around them were ever-so-slightly visible, and she looked as though she were ready to jump up and bolt at the first sign of trouble. Poor little rabbit, Anna thought (for that was what the girl looked like to her). What on earth happened to her? But on this front she remained quiet, unwilling to ask too many questions lest it frighten her fellow patient even more and give her the wrong idea--people seemed to think she was Raven's spy, going out and collecting information for him because he was now so easy to recognize that no one ever opened up, even when he played amiable. It simply wasn't true--she was more likely to help Raven than others if he needed it, yes, but she knew (or at least had some idea) of what he did to the people here, and wanted little part in it. Besides, even that was rare; usually she operated for herself, by herself. And so, to break the ice and reassure the girl, she made herself smile and said, in a tone as light as she could make it, "My name's Anna. Who're you?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Honesty took hold over Riley; had she had a different condition, she would have lied, and made up a fake name, a fake back story, something more substansiable than her cute little honesty-policy. But that wasn't a possibility with Riley, and she was forced to tell the truth. She didn't like the looks of this girl, this dark girl who reminded her so much of Raven. That name itself was enough to send an spasm of fear through her, and the name Anna rung some kind of a bell as well. The more she thought of it, the more she convinced herself that Anna was tied to Raven, and that didn't make this any easier. As the fear wracked through her, ever so slightly, she realized she hadn't answered the question. "Riley. My name is Riley."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Hi, Riley," Anna said, though it took her a moment to get the words out. She could not help faltering a little--the girl with the terrified eyes had jerked suddenly where she sat when she heard the question, innocent as it was, and it was quite clear that the very thought of responding terrified her. Again, the Indian girl could not help but wonder exactly what had happened to her. Was she this afraid around everyone? Only people her age? Only girls?

Only Indians?

The thought came suddenly, and the realization hit Anna hard: Raven. Perhaps he had done something to prompt this fear--and if he had, no wonder Riley was afraid. She thought the words with bitterness, but they were true: she and Raven bore such a startling resemblance that one was often mistaken for the other--mostly her for him--and she was sure that could be enough to cause an instinctive fear reaction. Besides, hadn't the asylum already proved that it did not trust her, simply because of who she shared blood with? It made perfect sense in everybody's mind but hers that she should be collaborating with Raven, and end up just as frightening as he was. Why would Riley be any different? She's not, Anna realized with a long, internal sigh. And she's terrified of me, just because I look like him. Goddamn it, Raven, what in the name of the spirits did you do? But again, the girl kept her tongue. Bringing her brother up in this pleasant conversation would no doubt shatter the girl, and possibly quite badly, if her assumptions were correct. So, instead, she simply smiled (trying to communicate friendlessness and a lack of danger) and turned back to her sewing, threading the needle carefully through each seam with slow, deliberate movements. She didn't know what else she could do to calm the frightened girl down, and hoped that for now, this would be enough.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

It took a few minutes. Riley had to convince herself that this girl was okay, that Anna seemed nice, and that she wasn't here to hurt Riley. Wide gaze eyed the sewing needles with just a hint of suspicion, but then again, would the nurses have let her come if she were that dangerous? Riley sure didn't think so. That thought eased her worried mind slightly, and a little bit of the tightness left her figure. "You're... you're Raven's sister, right?" It was better to ask now than to find out later, yes? And once Riley allowed the words to slip, it was almost as if a huge pressure was lifted off of her. "I know him." He knew me. He knew my condition. He was the first person since Nikole to use it against me. He tried to make me kill someone. He hurt me. He broke me. Raven Adair had done much more to the honest girl than one would think from first sight, and Riley almost wanted this Anna to ask her what her brother did so that she could talk about it. She had been so afraid to mention even his name, lest he come find her and hurt her again. But if someone demanded details... wouldn't that help? Wouldn't the wound close? Riley could hope, and with a wary gaze she nodded. "Yeah. I know him."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"You do?" Anna put on a pleasant expression, looking up from her sewing with a little smile as though she had not already figured this out, and the knowledge pleased her. She didn't usually like to over-exaggerate niceness like she was, but she got the feeling that it would help this Riley. Besides, it was better than narrowing her eyes and demanding to know what he'd done to her, surely? Of course, she had no knowledge of the Welsh girl's little condition--unlike Raven, she did not frequent the file room--and even if she had, the thought to use it to wring the girl for information would never have crossed her mind except for in desperate circumstances. So she kept the pleasant expression in place, hands stopping once again to show that Riley had her attention, and then she said (and tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice): "A lot of people do, around here. How did you two meet?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

He knew about me. He threatened me. He asked me to kill someone and I failed. He hurt me. He told me to keep my mouth shut. But would the sister of that very man really want to hear any of that? Riley quickly decided that the answer was no, but there wasn't much she could do about it. Anna had asked her a question, and she had to tell the truth.

But did she have to tell the whole truth? Riley decided that answer was also no.

"I just ran into him one day," she said slowly, carefully, quietly. "He knew about my condition and--" And he used it against me. "And we talked." That was all. That was all she would allow Anna. And Riley fell quiet again.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

And they talked. Anna knew what that meant--or, at least, she had some idea. We talked was generally asylum-code for we fought or we played a game; rarely did it pertain to actual innocent, friendly conversation. And she could tell by the girl's body language (eyes wide and downcast, body tense, soft and slow vocalization) that it most likely had not been a pleasant little "talk." Long hours of learning to hunt in the woods with her father, and sneaking about observing the animals, had given the Indian girl a keen eye--just as keen as Raven's, if not moreso--and it saw things which her conscious mind may have missed. Indeed, the younger Adair was a very perceptive woman, and everything about Riley just screamed that she was afraid, and holding back. But when she spoke, she did not accuse, nor demand true answers: instead, her voice was quiet and understanding. "I get it. I think I do, anyway." She almost apologized, almost went and said she was sorry on behalf of her brother, who could so cruelly (at least, so she was told) play with his fellow patients, they the mice and he a cat. But she had a feeling Raven wouldn't like that at all--his business was generally not hers, after all--and so she kept silent. Besides, she expecting the same courtesy from him; and she could not hope to receive what she did not give.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

"Thanks." She understood. That was all Anna had said. Anna hadn't pushed for more details, she hadn't demanded the truth, and more importantly, she hadn't demanded that she tell the truth. That was a relief to Riley, and it was visibly obvious that she was pleased by the Indian's answer. Maybe Anna wasn't something to be afraid of. Riley would have loved to convince herself that she could trust Anna, that she at least had no reason to be afraid of her. And even if she wasn't entirely comfortable out with the girl, or even out of her room at all, as Anna drew the words about Raven to an end, Riley seemed to visibly relax. Still wary, and still shy, Riley's expression added curiosity to it. "What's that?" She inclined her head towards the fabric in Anna's lap and the needle in her hands.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Buckskin," Anna replied, with no hint of self-consciousness. She had been sewing clothes for herself since she was a little girl; any snickers or mocking, quasi-racist comments had long ceased to bother her--she was now more likely to hit the mocker than cry over their words. Besides, that was really all they were anyway, at the end of the day. Words were wind, and they could not harm her. She nodded down at her current outfit--a long-sleeved shirt and leggings, undecorated except for fringe about the seams--for clarification. "I sew it into clothes when I outgrow my wardrobe, in the way of my people. My mother taught me how. There are different skins for different things: deer is for regular clothes, rabbit for underwear and stuff like that, and if you want to get fancy you can take other materials, like feathers or teeth or beads, and decorate what you make. I haven't done that in a long time, though. Usually I just use plain old hide." And for once, the mentioning of Willow Adair and the life she'd had when she was young did not sting; they were pleasant, the memories of learning how to sew, finding out the properties of different animals and figuring out how to use them. The thoughts even went as far as to bring a little smile to the Indian girl's lips. Perhaps Riley would get curious and ask a question and she could tell a story or something like that. Perhaps it would help get the frightened girl to trust.