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Post by GingerMetuchenPI on Dec 27, 2012 17:59:26 GMT -5
The old asylum stood tall and proud on its hill. It creaked with age every time the wind blew past, but it was sturdy and it was home. Home to many lost and confused souls and their caretakers. The widow Pennyfeather owned the place and kept a tight rope on her staff. Potter was security, Fred made the food, Edith and Mckenzie took care of the medical needs and Rospev dealt with the mental health.
The most bizarre thing about this asylum was that every single patient was stuck in the same delusion. They all believed they were part of some town in the west during the time of cowboys and bandits. Most notably, that they had dinosaurs instead of horses and cattle. Rospev found this whole things utterly mind boggling. He had never once found a group with this many people sharing the same delusion. It was gettign to him so much that he was starting to dream about it.
But the whole situation made for an interesting study. The short psychologist walked the halls, newspaper in hand, for one of his daily sessions. The patient was viewed as hopeless, but the man knew different. He had seen some lucidity in the boy, it was only a matter of time before he snapped out of it.
The short Russian entered a single clean white room that held that very patient and a cat. The ginger sat on the bed as if in a trance and Rospev frowned. Hopefully he'd make some progress today. The man took a seat next to the ginger and laid the newspaper in his lap. "Hello Reinhardt," The man spoke in a hushed tone, "I've got the paper for you."
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Post by vladimir on Dec 27, 2012 18:40:10 GMT -5
The cat responded far more quickly than the young man, coiling into itself slightly and eyeing the doctor malevolently from over Reinhardt's knee. Hissing quietly, the cat tried to squeeze itself farther away from the approaching Hindrick, up until its only option was to leap away and off of the bed, leaving a visible look of dismay on Reinhardt's face. He'd been rubbing the little beast behind the ears as was his custom when finding the cat curled up in his lap, which was often; it was a gesture that brought almost as much calmness to him as it did the cat, though whether or not he was totally aware that it was indeed a cat (and not a large dinosaur) that he was caring for was debatable.
It seemed a physical effort for him to respond fully to something as simple as Balam's jumping down to the floor, a visible lagging between events, his mental responses and his physical responses, and by the time Hindrick was safely in the room he had only just managed to look upwards. His lips moved in what was probably a greeting, but somewhere along the line he had forgotten to actually vocalize, leaving it a wordless gesture up until his voicebox suddenly kicked in-- behind schedule a lot like everything else.
"-- say... where's that little raptor of yours gotten to? Ah'v gotten fond o' 'im, chirping and all," as lackadaisical as his tone was, the way he wrung one splotched wrist belied his anxiety to actually get to the news. It was one of the few on-schedule events in Reinhardt's life which he enjoyed, set apart in most ways from the unpleasant monthly psychological assessments and the routine administration of Aripiprozole, Zotepine and Mosapramine-- not that he ever complained, his understanding of these things was mostly restricted to abstract emotions and disjointed physical sensations anyways.
Slowly, Reinhardt's system of response began to speed up to a functional level, his expression sobering and his words beginning to make sense, hitching rarely. The whole process wasn't dissimilar from starting a car up in winter, slow and frustrating in the beginning but with steady progress. "Thank 'ya fer doin' this fer me, ah'd read on my own if ah could."
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Post by GingerMetuchenPI on Dec 27, 2012 19:17:58 GMT -5
The Doctor watched as Reinhardt slowly reacted. The boy took a little bit to start up, it was saddening to see him process a few words. But he gave a small and waited for the boy to get his words out and come to the surface. "You know I can't bring Alaois in here with Balam around Reinhardt," He replied to the boy and opened the newspaper getting ready for his weekly duty. "Maybe you can see him later."
The man leaned back and looked for something that would amuse the boy. "You know I enjoy this, there's no trouble," He looked over the paper and smiled at Rey, "Let's see- Ah, here is a good one. The museum is doing an exhibit you might like Reinhardt. " The man looked at Rey, gauging his reactions, wondering if he was lucid this time.
The action was stopped when a loud crash sounded from the other wall. Rospev jumped a little and jerked his head to see where the noise had come from. Dean's room. "Oh no, not again. I'll be back Rey." The doctor jumped up and let the paper faSll from his hands. It hit the ground with a soft thud, barely heard over the sound of the doctor's heavy footsteps and the closing of the door.
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Post by vladimir on Dec 27, 2012 19:36:10 GMT -5
Reinhardt studied the paper for longer than necessary before he nodded his understanding on the matter, of course Hindrick wouldn't put his dinosaur in a position where it might be in harm's way. He was disappointed in himself for not realizing that earlier, but he was used to such faults in his reasoning, there were often times when he didn't fully comprehend from where or why certain thoughts came to him. At least the news was a good distraction from that, although he couldn't say it confused him that much less-- only that the confusion was a vaguely pleasant sort. "Th' Museum? Well ain't that a shame, then. Ain't no way ah 'kin afford to leave town 'ntil this Pennyfeather business's done with." he leaned forwards slightly on the bed, nearly falling forwards as he did but managing to maintain balance by gripping at the edge of the mattress with what fingers he had left. He was about to ask what exhibit there could possibly be that he might take an interest in (he hoped it had something to do with firearms) when the sound of something colliding with the wall cut the beginning of the question short.
For a second, he coupled the sound with the image of a jello cup splattering against a white wall, but as soon as he did he found himself wondering what any part of that brief vision meant. There were no sterile white walled buildings or rooms in Gwangi, only fouled off-white plaster in some of the inn's rooms, and the jello cup meant nothing sensible to him, too bright and too odd to mesh correctly with anything he knew. Troubled by this sudden break in his thought process, nonconforming with his wild-west perception, he only nodded in silent understanding when Hindrick left. There was no real need to close the door, Reinhardt wouldn't have so much as thought to leave if it had been left wide open.
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Post by Dox on Dec 27, 2012 19:54:34 GMT -5
It was with a panicked gasp that he sat up, clawing at his throat and feeling for the scars. He let out a short screech, feeling something wet sting his eyes, a seemingly automatic reaction to the pain brought by his fingernails on his tender throat. It closed up and he fell back against his bed, reaching, grasping for something. Anything. His hand found a cup. Throw it. Break it.
The glass shattered against the wall. He didn't understand-- everything was so clean. Where was he? He knew this place. He knew that he knew this place. You're in Gwangi. Gwangi? The town? The asylum. He was in an asylum. Why was he in an asylum? He had been dreaming again. He was still dreaming. No, Gwangi, the town. His mouth opened and closed in a silent scream. What was going on?
You are Dean. Your name is Nicholas Dean. You are in an asylum. They're coming for you, you're broken. They want to break you more, don't they? You know this. He knew this. He felt again for the scars. The wrinkles, the age. Gone. They were all gone. What had happened? Did they fix him? Did they fix his voice?
Dean. They're coming for you. Dean. Dean. Get out. Now. They're coming. He screamed and tore at his hair, trying to stop them. What were these voices? He couldn't think. Oh dear God, it hurt!
Where was he? Where was-- where was his wife? She had been with him last he remembered. Where was she? "L-Loranne?!" What was happening? He was hyperventilating. He couldn't think. Voices--silent voices, screaming at him-- told him things, yelled his life. He was in Gwangi. Where was Renner? Where were his guns? His knife? His wife? Objects were sent flying across the room and smashed into walls and door as he cried out. Nothing made any sense. The dirt, the heat, the cleanliness, the cold sheets. His legs wobbled as he tried stepping off the bed. Standing. He was so young! How? Everything was lost. Why couldn't he remember? Details, memories, he needed memories, something farmiliar. Tears streamed down his face in his confusion and he screamed again. The voices, why wouldn't they stop? Why wouldn't they leave him alone?
Where was everyone?
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Post by GingerMetuchenPI on Dec 27, 2012 20:16:08 GMT -5
Hindrick skidded to a stop in front of Dean's door and peered inside, feeling a sudden dread to what he'd see inside. The boy inside was angrily throwing things against the wall and screaming. Hindrick frowned, he needed to do something before Nicholas hurt himself and who the hell gave him breakables again? The doctor sighed and hit his head against the glass window. Why was work always so stressful?
The man looked up and called for an orderly, he needed some help. With backup secured he opened the door slowly and stepped in. "Nicholas," He called out with a non-threatening tone, "Nicholas, it's okay." The doctor held out his hands to show he was non threatening. But was answered with a glass being thrown in his direction. A dodge from years of working with the mentally disturbed saved him from a hit, but he was showered with broken glass as the cup shattered. This was going to be a long day.
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Post by vladimir on Dec 27, 2012 20:33:15 GMT -5
As introverted as he was in everything he did, when Reinhardt flinched away from the sounds coming from the room next over the action presented itself purely as the twitching of his remaining fingers and one slow blink. It wasn't abnormal for his neighbor to go ballistic every few days, though the outbursts were infrequent at their worst-- he could only assume that the fellow on the other side of the wall was kept peaceable with some cocktail of psyche drugs.
Where had that thought come to him? Crossing his legs at the ankles, Reinhardt settled back against the headboard of his old, beaten bed and reconsidered his room. Mr.O'Saka had really let the place to disrepair, but he'd have to live with it; he could fix his own room up once he'd gotten the rest of Eddy's decrepit manor back into shape. Still, he couldn't help but think with some frustration that such a thing would be much easier done if only he wasn't interrupted so often.
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Post by Dox on Dec 27, 2012 23:54:41 GMT -5
"No! No!" He cried. He was crying. Why was he crying? They want to hurt you, like the raptors. They want to kill you, like the laws in Gwangi. It's all the same. You have to hurt them first. Kill them, Dean. That's who you are. That's--No! That's not who--- was it? Everything was so clean.... so clean.... so distant, so cold. His back hit the wall and he grasped at the flat and ungiving surface desperately. People. People at the door, they loomed. The voices made them out to him, described what the panic stopped him from seeing.
"It-- it hurts.... I-- N-no. No! Don't! Don't call me Nicholas!" Dean shook his head. "I'm-- I'm not Nicholas. No! Please.... My name isn't Nicholas..." No. Your name is Dean. She put you here, but you need to go back. You need to get back to her. They are your way out. They are blocking your escape, Dean. "Please......" He whimpered, sliding down the wall a little and dragging his nails along where his scars were. Where they should have been. The skin was red and raw, nearly bleeding. He was making new scars. "I c- I can talk..... Where is Loranne?! Please, bring me back to her. Please...."
He screamed again as another wave of voices washed over his mind, all of them screaming, yelling, telling him things. They tore at him, speaking lies, truths, things he couldn't decipher. His hands flew from his throat to his head, trying to pound away the voices. They are poisoning you. They want you to be broken, Dean. They are poisoning your mind and you don't even know it. His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room and something seemed to slowly let go of his mind. But as that something let go, the voices, that cacophony of voices, invaded more and more, clawing into his brain and cutting out any other sound. It didn't register when his hand grasped another object, when he flung it across the room.
She doesn't care. THEY don't care.
It hurt. It hurt so badly! Make it stop. Make it stop!
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Post by Nisha on Dec 28, 2012 9:44:42 GMT -5
The voices and screaming from a door or so over startled the woman whom was curled up on her side in her bed. A small bluebird peeped from its cage and fluttered a bit from the outburst echoing through the halls. The woman slowly pushed herself up, her expression blank and hollow as she walked to her door, peering though the window and returned to the caged bird. "Its okay Nova... tis just another barfight" she said in a soothing tone to the bird that she saw as a flying reptile known as a pterasaur. Although she unlocked the cage and let the bird hop onto her finger to pull it out, in her mind the 'large' flyer climbed off of the back of a chair and was hooked to her entire forearm rather then just a small portion of her finger.
Nova let out another chirp and fluttered onto the window sill to the outside world, a vast barren waistland in the eyes of Evelyn and many others of this asylum, outside the window she could see the horse ranch. BigRed 'the allosaurus' as she claims was out grazing in the fields. "Looks like ol' red helped himself to a kill" she stated to the bird.
Of all the cases Evelyn was considered a bit more normal, although she spoke and saw the world as gwangi like the others she could still make complete sentences and thoughts no matter how crazy they may seem. She holds a strange record that lead up to the events of her coming to Gwangi Asylum her fiance dead, addiction to cocaine, and her consistent confession of killing her own fiance. It is thought that extreme stress, depression, and the effects of coke on her body has lead her into this state of mind she was in, and with lack of evidence holding her from going to jail or having a judge date several people doubted she actually harmed her future husband and her dilution of a false world wasn't helping her for her case in anyway.
She had managed to block out the screaming of the boy, picking up a crayon from under her bed and began writing on her walls. Her 'journal' in her head, her walls were covered in crayon writings, only one was was fully clear from the crowded markings of the others beside it. Her writings of her experiences in gwangi universe were like pages of a story, some of her writtings actually made sense with compleate and full sentences and paragraghs, while others were just random letters and symbols.. almost like gibberish or a possible inscription or another language. Other things on her walls were drawings, that held a realistic tone of what she 'saw' dinos, people, and even scenery's.
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Post by alexharvey on Dec 28, 2012 9:53:07 GMT -5
The small framed ginger girl was crouching in the hallway nearby the ruckus that went on. Dean tended to have these fits once in a while, she would often stand there and watch because usually it made everyone focus on him, rather than her. Her dull, dark brown eyes hurried through her surroundings soaking in every minor detail, leaving her head twitching and her eyes with dark circles. She was yet again wearing Reinhardts oversized bathrobe, he wasn't anyways and hers was too thin and short for her taste.
Her long ginger hair hung into her face, it was tousled and unkempt and sometimes she'd try to get it out of her face by twitching her head. She twitched a lot. And flinched. But now from here, from here corner she had a perfect view into most of the other rooms. The important ones at least. She glanced through the half open door at the other ginger, biting her lip and grinning lightly. Carefully she petted the little rat in her lap, cheeping at her.
"Alright alright", she whispered, "you'll get your food you greedy little Protoceratops."
Her head twitched around again checking her surroundings, hiding the (rat) little Dinosaur by pressing it to her chest, swiftly getting to her feet and carefully tiptoeing past the ruckus to her room. Not before throwing another glance at Rey and blushing.
"Don't you bite him again, Maximus", she scolded, "It's not nice."
Then she crossed another corner, checking her surroundings carefully, she wouldn't want to be caught smuggling the little Dino by Perry.
"Let's see if you can fit under my bed", she whispered, and finally shuffled away from the screaming mute. The fact that a mute couldn't scream went by her entirely.
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Post by GingerMetuchenPI on Dec 28, 2012 13:35:52 GMT -5
Hindrick's eyes widened behind his glasses as the teen descended deeper into his violent fit. The Psychologist didn't have as much experience with the teen when he was in this state as the orderlies or nurses. They usually sedated him while the Russian used words to calm down his patients. Clearly this wasn't going to work. The orderly sensed this and moved to restrain the boy.
"It's okay Dean," Hindrick switched names hoping that one worked better. But his attempts were cut short when the next object was tossed at him. He barely even saw as the object flew across the room and connected with his forehead. The man had to admit that Dean had quite an arm for the hit he just took. Rospev fell onto the wall and blinked as he leaned, stunned, against the wall.
He looked down slightly dazed to see the object that hit him. A figurine of a dinosaur. Seriously? By the time he looked up he saw that the orderly had grabbed Dean. Hopefully no one else would get hurt. Damn, was he bleeding. He couldn't tell.
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elgie
Bandit
Perrick "Perry" Calborne
Posts: 47
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Post by elgie on Dec 28, 2012 13:38:45 GMT -5
((hi guysss. Tentatively stepping into this, I hope that's okay ;u;
Not sure how often I'll be replying so bare with me orz))
Perry had just finished cleaning up and making the beds in a few of the rooms that were currently unoccupied when he heard smashing going on elsewhere. He hurries out of the room he was in to look down the hallway, only to see Hindrick already taking care of the situation with another orderly.
He was about to check if more help was needed when the smashing and screams continued, but was distracted by one of the patients who seemed to be sneaking around. Perry furrows his brows at the sight of the familar woman, then he finally leaves the room he was in so he could approach her.
"Hello, Prudence." he says from behind her, tilting his head a little in her direction.
"How are you doing today?" He didn't want to seem suspicious of her right off the bat, so he would keep his warm and friendly manner so as to not appear threatening and scare her off.
Not that he was very good at being threatening in the first place...
((He's an orderly by the way, if that wasn't clear @^@))
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Post by vladimir on Dec 28, 2012 14:43:36 GMT -5
((Welcome to the club, Elgie C:))
The next audible collision was about ten times louder than the earlier one, and the surprise of it sent him reeling off of the bed. That time it was a legitimate flinch and one of the most active reactions he'd had to anything in a very long time. Part of it was the realization that such a sound could only have been the result of something huge hitting the wall, like a tv, or a chair, or... someone. That was the part that got to him. For a moment, he understood where he was and what was happening, had enough of his motor skills to get to his feet and begin stumbling towards the door, intending to call an orderly for help. He'd forgotten how to walk, beyond that he'd forgotten how to keep himself up, and when he began to trip on his own feet he instinctively clutched at his shirt, the thing closest to him, without realizing that it'd do him no good in terms of balance. One of the first full sensations that Reinhardt had of the waking world in what might have been weeks was that of unprecedented pain as his face smashed right into the door. Both ankles buckled, a shooting pain going up from one and into his calf. He made no sound to signal that he felt anything, wobbling back with one knee half-bent to ease the pressure on the twisted ankle and bringing his hand up against his face. The blood looked worse on the white fabric of his shirt than it really was, and he knew that, but the orderlies wouldn't. Not wanting to detract attention from the actual situation in the room next over, he held his forearm against his nose and leaned just enough out the door to call down the hall, a place he recognized only vaguely, for help. As he did, he made sure to wave his hand in the general direction of Dean's room.
By the time anyone got there, of course, he'd forgotten where he was and what he was doing, shrinking back into his room in sudden confusion and leaning against the doorframe with a look of absolute puzzlement on his face. Beyond the blood dripping from his nose, which thankfully wasn't broken, he bore the look not dissimilar from that of a lost puppy. For the life of him, Reinhardt could not recall where any of his recent thoughts had come from, the sensations and experiences of the last three minutes reduced to a mental fog not unlike déjà vu. Every sight, sound and feeling was suddenly vague and formless to him and befitting of the wild west, and he could not remember at what point in his life he had ever seen a white hall.
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Post by Dox on Dec 28, 2012 15:20:59 GMT -5
"No..... No! Please!" Dean pleaded, shrinking back as far into the wall as he could. THEY'RE GOING TO HURT YOU, DEAN. His palms clamped against the sides of his head and covered his ears, and he screeched as the orderly moved closer. Don't let them touch you. Back. He needed to get back. "Stop.... Stop!"
Almost as if they obeyed, the voices shrank back a moment. But in that moment the orderly made contact and finally grabbed him. There was a two second lull where his panicked breathing slowed. Then, with a start, he screamed again and thrashed violently, trying to pull away as the voices came back. You know they don't want to help you, Dean. They're lying to you, Dean. You have to get out. Get out now. They hurt so badly! But.... Were they right? He hissed at the orderly and renewed his attempt to pull away, frantically searching for some way out. It's too late now. What should he do then?
It was over relatively quickly, as soon as he was within the orderly's grasp it was only a few moments before he stopped moving entirely, just stared up at the man with wide, beady eyes. "Don't... Don't hurt me, please.... Please....!" He whimpered pathetically.
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Post by Nisha on Dec 28, 2012 15:57:45 GMT -5
The more frantic screaming and the introduced thudding about the thin walls of the rooms nearby snapped her back into attention as she finished her writing, a mash up of new unreadable letters and symbol's. She turned slightly to face her door with a hollow golden gaze, around her eyes was a darker tone of skin from lack of sleep, her hair a pail silver formerly from a childhood sickness was just a mop of strait hair unstylized and covering almost half her face, and her skin was almost pail white from her ill looking state. If it wasn't for her still tight skin she would have looked much much older then she really was.
Tentivly she took the crayon from the wall and put it in her pocket before slowly stepping toward the door, almost ghost-like in motion as she swayed lazily and her feet barely lifting of the floor. She looked down at the door handle, twisting it with her hand and opening it. Her bluebird fluttered from the windowsill onto her shoulder as Evelyn peered out of the door, every thing wasn't white to her, it was all wood, she was inside the bucking bronto upstairs where her room as well as others stood. She practacly lept out of her skin and a small yelp escaped her as a thud sounded from beside her. She recognized the man looking for help from some men to calm down his neighbor. "Misure Kaufmann..?"
She stood on the sidelines, on the border from her room to the hallway. Her brows furrowed at the blood on Reinhardt's shirt, blinking once before her eyes widened as her mind jumping to the real world briefly. She glanced around the hallways once more bright whiteness engulfing her, her corset and cape replaced with a long patients gown. She gasped quickly in confusion and shock turning to her room only to quickly back up/fall backward into the doorway across from her, Nova getting startled flew up and attached herself on top of the open door. Her hands grasping her head and she curled up into a ball and twitched, her wide fearful eyes darting all over the scene she was in. She suddenly didn't know where she was, what she was doing here, or even whom she was for a moment. She laid on the ground momentarily, going still, eyes shut, soft murmuring to herself silently in this unfamiliar world. She had almost never fell into fits like others, almost never seeing the real world, but suddenly she was... at least for a moment.
((Idk the Asylum is going crazy today xD tho it prolly happeneds almost daily))
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