St. Peter's Asylum discussion

Eyes were widened immediately, and her tiny little hand was placed over her heart. "Oh goodness. That sounds awful; I never thought of it like that." The little strawberry-blonde pursed her lips in a frown and gently reached a hand onto Eric's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, much like Rosemarie would do to her. "That sounds really... sad."

Eric shrugged, a little uncomfortable by her pity and the hand on his shoulder that went with it. The doctors he had met had done similar things when he got here, and had kept doing so since. He couldn't say he really liked it. "It's not so bad," he mumbled, knowing that on some days, it was nearly unbearable to bot eat. The doctors had told him if he drank as much water and juice as he could, he should be okay for a little while, at least. The trouble was that Eric forgot to drink a lot of times, usually only drinking at what would be his mealtime in the cafeteria. If the doctors knew, he knew they would be upset with him, so he didn't ever tell them. "So long as I don't eat the Bad Food, I'm okay." Silently, Eric begged that this girl didn't ask about what the Bad Food did to him. He didn't want to have to explain the violence, the punching, the meanness that the Bad Food drug out of him. It was a crappy way to gain a friend.

Well, this conversation had certainly taken a turn for the worst. Morgan offered a little pout, and then another gentle squeeze before removing her hand and immediately brightening her face. If one could say Morgan was good at one thing, that one thing would be lightening the mood around her. Something about her little giggles and her infectious smile was appealing to others, and Morgan excelled in bringing the smiles out of the darkest of patients.

"Well enough about that! Do you like it here, Eric? Is it pretty?" Something she had always wondered. Having never been able to see her home herself, Morgan had absolutely no idea of the dreary outlook that accompanied her living quarters. She offered an innocent smile, dropping her hand from her curl and cocking her head to the side with a little giggle.

A large smile crossed over the boy's pinched features caused not only by his relief that Morgan had changed the subject, but her smile was just as infectious as always, even to Eric, who had to admit, he was a little bit homesick. Her bubbly giggles only widened his grin as he answered her question. "Not really, honestly." He took a glance around the room, frowning slightly in distaste at the blank white of the walls. "There are hardly any colorful things around here. Even the grass outside is yucky and brown. It hurts to sit on." That was one of the first things he had tried when he arrived. He thought maybe playing and exploring outside would make him feel better, but he had tired very quickly, only making it to the park outside and all he could really do was walk around or sit on the grass. He gad been too tired to climb a tree. "The walls are nothing but white. That's the only color around here, and it's boring." He had hoped to be able to give the girl good news, but he wasn't one to lie (he had learned his lesson on lying last year with lots of soap and chores) and that was his honest opinion of the dreary asylum.

Morgan shrugged with a little laugh. "I guess it makes sense. Asylums aren't exactly supposed to be the best of places. Have you been to the peach tree, yet?" The strawberry-blonde cocked her head to the side and bit down on her plush lip. "It's big and the grass feels nice and it smells really good."

Whereas she couldn't see the out-of-place beauty of the peach tree, Morgan knew what soft grass felt like and knew that the peach tree smelled better than any other part of the asylum she had ever seen. She wouldn't lie, though, she was rather disappointed to hear that the asylum was rather bland. Not as if it made any difference to her, of course, but Morgan would have liked to think she lived somewhere pretty. Oh well.

"Do you like it so far?"

The peach tree? Eric had heard of it passing by a couple of the patients in the hall the other day, but he hadn't yet been up there. He had been told that it was very far away from the asylum, about a mile or maybe even more, possibly less, but he couldn't remember. A mile was a long ways, too long for his weak legs. "Nope," he said with a little shake of the head as he popped the 'p' in the word. "I'm not allowed past the park for now. The doctors say I won't be able to go out there, it's too far for me and I might get too tired to come back. At least, I can't go out alone." He knew why such precautions were being made for him, he was too weak to go anywhere by himself and if he did go, he needed a bigger person to go with him just in case he passed out so he could be carried back. Still, he didn't like the restrictions being set on him. "Sort of," Eric said with another undecided shrug. "I don't really know anybody, though, and I haven't talked to anybody nice before today. It's kind of boring."

((Derp. Fade?))

Raven had found himself frequenting some rather unusual haunts lately. The art room, the pool, a storage closet at the end of the hall--not this hall, though that would certainly be a lucky find since hardly anyone at all ever came this way--and now, here. The classroom. This tiny room with its overbright lights and faded whiteboard and markers that probably didn't work, just like ninety percent of the material, the nurses who taught it, and the patients who came to learn. Hell, there were even guards outside the door! Two of them tonight, a man and a woman (the former of whom had smiled at him and the latter offering a hello before they quizzed him on why he was coming down this way--and he had smiled his most charming smile and said only that it was quiet, he was bored, and at least there was something to do in this room, even if it was just read old textbooks--first test passed, A+).

On some level, that was true. The Indian had not told a lie. It was indeed quiet in this little room, and there was indeed things to do--but he had no interest in doing any of them, for he was not bored. No, sitting in the rosy glow of the fading sun with his hair tied back and one hand drumming incessantly on the desk, Raven was sick. Tired and worried and oh-so-sick, sick unto death of resisting, of feeling his will and reason crumble away like old stone under wind and rain, of feeling the poison in his mind spread out and out and out until his head was absolutely buzzing with horror--fantasy sometimes, but of late, it had been a voice that filled his mind, a voice which was at the same time his own but not his own, drawling and vicious and black like

(its poison)

the night: Oh, come on now. How much more do I have to say, honestly? You've never held back before. What's different? What's changed? Come on, Raven. You shouldn't be afraid of a padded room. If you're smarter than you were last time, and you don't dissolve into an utter hot mess like a pathetic little bitch, you won't have anything to worry about. I promise.

"Won't I?" he said aloud, the drumming of his fingers slowing to a stop as the words reached the air. He saw one of the guards--the woman--peek in the window as though she had heard him speak, and ignored her. "I think I will. And I've stopped listening to you, because you know what? You're a little liar. And if there's one thing I hate in this world, it's a liar."

Well! That certainly explains a lot, doesn't it? About why you hate yourself so much?

"Shut up."

Make me. Try and off yourself again, Nathan, hm? Why don't you? Take people's advice for once and die. Go to hell.

"I said shut up."

No. Why did it sound like that voice was smiling? I don't think I will. I like it when I make you angry. You yell at me, and that makes you look even crazier.

"Fuck you."

Move your hand and let's see what we can do. I'm you remember? You're talking out loud, to yourself, for no reason. Poor Nathan. Poor silly little psycho Nathan.

"SHUT UP!" And that had been when he'd flown to his feet and leapt the desk and grabbed the markers off the board and thrown them, hard, one by one, across the room. He'd gotten to three--only one of them broke--before the door flew open and both guards sprang into the room, and the man had grabbed his arm and taken the other markers while the woman asked him what was wrong, what was wrong, who was he screaming at, calm down, it's okay, there's no one here. And he had snarled and nearly hit her, and the male guard had seen it, and in two seconds both his arms were behind his back and they were telling him to calm down right now, please, or we'll have to take you back to your room, do you want to see your sister do you want to see a nurse should we call somebody, and he had said no, get the fuck off of me right this minute before I lose it--and they had complied. Remarkably, the man and the woman had complied. They'd let him go, and he'd sat down and buried his head in his hands and breathed deeply, in and out, until they had gone back to their positions outside the door.

That had been a few hours ago. Raven was better now.

He wanted to think that he was better now.

Little Elaine unknowingly came skipping to the classroom, with a sweet smile and her hair pulled into off-set pigtails. She had not yet been granted leave of the body, like the other girls in her head had, but that was okay. She was working her way around learning the asylum, and that was good for her, the nice ladies had decided. Perhaps once she felt more comfortable here one of the nice ladies would come back out. Elaine sure was tired.

When she approached the classroom, she saw a man and a woman who seemed to be having one of those conversations that the nice ladies told her were "not for kids". They were talking all quiet-like under their breath, and when the woman spotted Elaine she frowned and poked the man, who then turned to face her. He asked what she was doing here, with emphasis on the she. Elaine looked confused, and then the woman (she seemed much kinder and Elaine liked her much better) asked her name. Elaine told her her name, and then the lady proceeded in saying that it wasn't a smart idea for her to go into the classroom right now. The man said there was an incident with one of the more violent patients and he was trying to calm himself alone. Elaine only understood every few of those words, and she knit her brows and then asked if she could go in, almost oblivious to the prior conversation. The woman sighed, and said sure. As Elaine made her way to the door, she thought she heard the man say "your grave," which she didn't understand, and she kept going.

But when Elaine opened the door and closed it behind her, and looked up, she saw why she shouldn't be there, and almost instantly she pressed her back against the door and her hand was on the knob. A little shriek of terror left her as her eyes fell on the Bird Man, the creature who haunted her sleep and waited for her in the shadows.

Raven did not move a muscle when he heard that door open and close. He didn't even twitch when the scream split the air--but the chuckling was there just as soon as it ended, a low, deep, horribly amused sound, and it rolled across the room like thunder, like darkness, like smoke. He recognized that voice. There was no way he wouldn't--it was featuring in his head more often than his lover's, these days, and that was saying something...at least, it might have been, if it had been a sultry voice, a certain Southern belle's. But it was not. Of course it was not. Not of late. No, these days, that voice was all too often raised in a scream. He was nothing if not good at recognizing individual screams.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is." And his voice was like his laughter, low and deep and horribly amused, and then he did move: he lowered his hands and turned his head and looked at her, the little girl he had made himself, this child in a woman's body; and his eyes were dark as onyx and shone like glass, and the smile on his face was of the kind reserved for madmen and skeletons. Too wide. All teeth. No humor. "How much do you love me, sweet lady Elise?" he murmured, though that smile. "You keep seeking me out. It's like you can't stay away, no matter how hard you try. Even after I gave you my promise. Even after I told you I would find you." I had plans for that night. He'd made them, anyway. Acted them out in his head time after time after time in his room, in the basement, in the graveyard when making his rounds.

He had never acted on them. Perhaps that was for the better.

"But I understand. You get bored, or the apprehension gets too strong, or you have one too many nightmares. And you think, might as well get it over with. Right? I mean, is there a point to the waiting? The fear? The jumping at every little noise and looking wildly over your shoulder when you're walking down the hall, especially at night, especially in the dark, because that's where he lives, that's where he always gets you, and by God he's got fangs and claws and wings on his back and eyes that would cow the Devil himself, and there's no point to it, is there, maybe if I just find him and take him by surprise he can't do anything bad to me, he won't hurt me like he hurt my sisters, no, please don't hurt me like you hurt my sisters." And then his voice dropped low, low, to an almost inaudible whisper. "I don't want you to hurt me like you hurt my sisters."

And then Raven stood, and circled slowly, deliberately, around the desk, and he sat upon it and crossed one leg neatly over the other. He made no other move towards the young girl in a woman's body. But he smiled.

"And that's okay, sweetheart. That's just fine. Because I'm not here to hurt you, and you're not here to be hurt. Are you?"

Laughter.

"Of course not. You don't scream when you want the pain. Not until you're asked." And then he chuckled, and shook his head, and put a finger briefly to his lips and gave her that look elder children so often gave their juniors, the one that said Don't tell anyone we talked about that. "But I didn't ask you. So you know what, here's what we'll do. We'll start simple. We'll play on easy. We'll start with names." He gestured down at himself. "I know who I am. You know who I am. I am Raven, I am the Bird Man, I am the thing with wings in the dark that walks in your sleep and haunts your shadow." A flash of a smile. "I am, all things considered, your father." Scary thought.

"Now, sweetheart. Your turn. Who are you?"

Every word that came out of the Bird Man's mouth was like an arrow, an arrow with an iron head that had already seen the inside of her body and had already tasted her blood, and an arrow that was coming back for so much more. Elaine didn't even have a chance to interrupt the man of her nightmares; her throat was tight and it was hard to breathe and she found herself sipping in little tiny breaths of air and she found her vision growing blurry and then all of a sudden it was quiet and she could breathe again. She seemed to visibly relax when the Bird Man stopped talking; the offense was over and each side now had a chance to recover and Elaine took that chance and struggled to breathe.

Perhaps it would have been a smarter decision to listen to the nurses. They had seemed to know what they were talking about. The one had looked so terrified, and the other so ambivalent, and yet they were so kind to her it was clear they hadn't known what she would be getting into. Any nurse who knew the connection between the Elise girls and Raven would have taken Elaine by the hair and dragged her away, away before Raven could see her and before Raven could hurt her. Raven had that part right; in her head Elaine found herself saying those exact words: I don't want you to hurt me like you hurt my sisters. And for the first time, Elaine was alone in her head.

It was amazing what one person could do, really. Since her blue eyes fell upon the Bird Man, her head had been silent. The other girls had all but disappeared, leaving her alone for the first time. There were no training wheels. There was no help. Elaine had no one to listen to and no one to cry to and no one to walk her through this. She had never faced a creature of this much darkness before, and she honestly was at a loss of what to do. Did she answer him? Did she pretend to be calm and relaxed? Did she scream and beg and plead? Elaine didn't know, and Elaine had no one to tell her what to do. And so Elaine refused to look the Bird Man in the eye as she said: "I'm Elaine."

Two simple words brought a flush to her cheeks, a sweat to her brow, and excitement in her stomach. Elaine was utterly terrified, and she felt as if she were going to pass out or vomit any second. Of course, she wouldn't, but she didn't know that. Elaine crossed her arms over her stomach, almost as if she were holding herself together, and she kept her eyes downcast and she tried to make herself as small as possible. Most of the things this Bird Man said to her didn't make any sense. He was talking about wanting pain, and speaking in riddles, and talking of games, and he called her sweetheart which she knew she was not okay with. Elaine didn't like this Bird Man; he had haunted her sleep for as long as she could remember and she saw him in all of the shadows around her, but she had never braved speaking to him before. And speaking to him, Elaine came to realize that it may have been better off if she had simply left him alone. Left herself alone. Stayed in her room and sulked and been brought food and entertainment and have nice nurses and doctors come in and give you yummy food. Elaine would have much rather had that pampered lifestyle than the situation she was in right now.

She would have much preferred that indeed.

((Thank you. *bows*))

"Question time!" Raven purred. He rose to his feet and crossed the room to her, bare feet making no sound on the floor, and because poor Elaine Elise was too frightened to look up she might not have realized that he'd moved at all--but then his hand slipped under her chin, and two fingers were tilting her head up, up, until terrified eyes met dark ones, until trembling lips met a smile. "Why does everyone have so much trouble looking me in the eye when I talk to them?" he asked her. "Can you answer that for me, Elaine? That's a lovely name, by the way. A lovely name for a lovely girl." A chuckle sounded from deep in his chest, and it would have told the observant that for a moment, just a moment, he was thinking about exactly how lovely Elaine--or at least, the body she lived in--could be. But of course he didn't have to worry about her catching on, did he? So frightened was this girl-child that she'd met his whole speech with two words, the bare minimum he had asked for. So frightened was she that she stood there, hunched against the door, one hand back against the knob, for crying out loud, like she thought she could turn and run, like he wouldn't follow, like he wouldn't catch her and finish what he'd started--

But that was just it, wasn't it? He wouldn't. He knew that, just as surely as he knew that poor little Elaine would disappear right this very moment if she could. Because he couldn't break today, this evening, could he? Not with guards posted right outside the door. Not when, at any moment, one of them could turn to look to make sure everything was all right and catch sight of him, of them, whatever they were doing. Not when it would earn him little more than a needle in his arm and a nice long stay in a large while room with padded walls. No, Raven was not stupid. He knew that all this girl had to do to ruin his night and many nights after was let out a scream.

But she would not scream. This, he also knew. She would not scream, because terror had a way of robbing the throat of its voice and the mind of its will and the tongue and lips of their liveliness, and Elaine was more terrified than she had ever been in her life, of that he was positive; so, yes. He knew he was safe, just as well as he knew any other thing. Better, even--especially these days. Little Elaine would not ruin his night. She wouldn't dare. Because he would come back for her, wouldn't he?

Of course he would.

He'd promised.

And now, standing with his head fingers tucked beneath the girl-child's chin and an expectant, waiting smile on his lips, Raven promised himself another thing: a game. He promised himself that he would play a round or two--not long, not brutally, just enough to keep the thing in the back of his mind (which spoke to him in his own voice, sometimes, and made a habit of laughing and taunting and laughing)--sated until he could find another. Until he could finalize some plan, find himself a better target, a better place, a better time. Until he could hold a knife in his hand again, and free for one sole, single night that darkness building up inside his mind. Until he could experience, for a few short hours--days, if he was lucky--the beautiful and all-consuming high that came with sweet release. He promised himself that now, silently, never moving, never speaking.

And then he thought that for the nonce, he was going to content himself with this one here. He had waited a long, long time to finally meet the girl who knew him only as a demon, a monster, a creature of darkness to fear. A very long time, indeed.

And they were just getting started. Come on, sweetheart. Be good for me, hm? Make this last. If you do...I dare say, everyone wins.

Especially me.

Elaine didn't answer. She had gazed for a moment or two into the terrifying eyes of her nightmare, and then she had shifted her eyes; she was far too scared to move her head away from him, but she refused to look at him. She found a little spot on the floor, a stain of some kind (blood, she thought with a terrified look, but then it wasn't the right colour for blood) and she focused her eyes there. Elaine didn't have to look at him, right? And so she didn't.

Elaine had heard horror stories of the Bird Man from her own sisters, stories of how he broke Tobie and how he seduced Rosalind and how the others had nothing good to say of him, though they thankfully could claim they had not run into him before. And these were eighteen year old women who knew what they were doing and how to handle themselves in situations such as this. Elaine was ten, for crying out loud. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to get out of this, and she was absolutely terrified. Had she not been in the presence of the Bird Man she would have cried (it truly seemed to get her out of anything), but this was the Bird Man and not some amateur psychopath and not some kindly nurse. Elaine didn't think she could get out of this one.

That's a lovely name. Elaine didn't like the way he spoke of her, as if she were some precious little gem. She had been told that she was the first to come in a long, long time, and even the Bird Man himself had called himself her "father", which none of the girls would later like, but the way he said her name was almost beastly, which fit; to her, this Bird Man wasn't human, and wasn't real. He was a monster and she was terrified and this had to be another nightmare, right? But she could feel his hand under her chin and she could almost hear his heavy, excited breathing, and Elaine knew it was not a nightmare.

She hadn't answered, though, and she was afraid that would make him angry. Elaine gave the Bird Man another second of her eyes, a second where blue met the dark pit that was his gaze, and a second where he would be able to see the sheer confusion on her expression. Elaine didn't know what Raven was talking about, she didn't understand all of those words put together so quickly (and maybe she would if she weren't so terrified) and she couldn't have answered if she had wanted to. Maybe the Bird Man would know that. Maybe he would let this one question go. With more thought, though, Elaine thought those answers would be no.

Raven was no mind reader, but in that moment, staring into those terrified lapis-blue eyes, he could see so clearly into little Elaine's head that she might as well have had her thoughts written on her forehead in bold black ink: No, please, please, I don't get it! I'm confused I don't get it I don't want to I'm so scared please please please don't be mad don't hit me don't hurt me!

And so he smiled. A wide, slow, very indulgent smile. "I can see," he said softly, with something that was almost kindness in his voice, "that you're confused, sweetheart. That's plain as day."

You know what else is plain as day? Your fear. It's seeping out of your pores, you'd be shaking if I didn't have my hands on you--that's plain as day too, lovely girl, even plainer, like fresh blood on snow--and I can almost smell it on you. In the air. I can almost smell it, for fuck's sake, don't tease me like that I thought you knew better thought I'd told Rosalind--

Raven cut the thoughts off there, calmly, sharply, and just like that they ended. He felt it: like the smooth stroke of good pliers through a live wire in his mind. The current was alive and eager and running, running, running, but one cool, collected motion had stopped it. Of course, that was not without reason. There was a time and a place and a path for that current, after all, and it was right in front of him in all its glory--it was only that he didn't want to spoil anything too soon, and he knew with a rock-solid certainty that if he got overeager and allowed any excitement (however pleasurable) to trickle through the mask he was wearing and the game he was playing, all would be lost.

And so the Indian did not crack. He looked at the girl-child before him with that cousin of kindness that had showed in his voice a few moments ago, and that look actually managed to soften the bite of his gaze a little as he continued: "So I'm going to see what I can do to help you out. All right? All you have to do is turn my way and pay attention." And then without further ado he slipped his hand out from beneath her chin, turned on his heel, and padded silently to the whiteboard. He plucked two markers from the metal lip--one red, the other green--and showcased them to her, one in either hand.

"Now look, Elaine," Raven told her, tossing the red marker once up and down. "This isn't so difficult, I promise you." He uncapped the marker, turned to the board, and drew a wide, neat circle. "This circle here is people who look others in the eye when talking to them. See how big it is? It's a lot of people, Elaine." The markers swapped hands, the green lid came free, and then he wrote his name with a flourish some distance away from that circle, underlining it once. He set the green marker down, flipped the red one back into his writing hand, and drew a much smaller circle next to his name, then an arrow connecting the two. "But this circle is the number of people who look me in the eye while they're talking. See the difference? See how much smaller it is?" Both markers were capped once again and returned to the whiteboard's metal lip, and Raven turned to address Elaine with his full attention. His voice dropped to a murmur. "All I want to know, Elaine, sweetheart, is the reason for the discrepancy. All the fear."

Shark smile cat smile wolf smile. The Indian felt a quick heat spread through him, but he swallowed it down and did not shudder. Calm, he reminded himself. Calm and in control. There was nothing to be excited about. Yet. All you did, he thought, was put her in the spotlight.

And what he needed now was to see her shine.

He waited.

And as Raven fell silent, and the room became quiet, aside from the hushed murmur of the guards standing outside, Elaine could hear again. She could hear the lack of voices scrambling around in her head, she could hear the silence that had been her solace in her room for days? weeks? and perhaps even months? and the silence was now deafening. Poor little Elaine was alone, utterly alone, and she couldn't get away with not talking. The longer she stood here, silent, the angrier the Bird Man would get, and the more demanding he would become, and then Elaine would find herself unable to talk. Elaine knew her opportunity was dwindling.

Discrepancy was a big word, but fear was not, and Elaine certainly knew what the latter meant. Elaine knew what the Bird Man was asking, and, in her ten-year-old mind, she knew an answer, and it made sense to her. And so ELaine took a shaky step forward from the door, removed her hand from the knob, and cautiously made her way to the whiteboard as well, picking up the green marker, and uncapping it. She looked at the marker for a while, then looked at the Bird Man, and then she turned to the whiteboard.

Elaine liked this body, because she was so tall, and because she didn't have to stand up on her tippy-toes to reach the board. But, out of habit, as she drew, she extended herself onto the tips of her toes, just to make herself reach a little better. Around the initial circle the Bird Man drew, the smaller circle, and even his own name, Elaine drew a large circle in the green. She looked at it for a moment, and she could feel the Bird Man looking at her, waiting, and Elaine then took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"This circle here," she began, her voice quiet and meek. Elaine paused, then, as the butterflies began to dance around in her stomach, and she cleared her throat again and began again. "This circle here is all the people that are scared of you." Elaine's lapis-blue eyes were wide, and scared, but she kept talking, because she didn't have a choice, not if she wanted to make it out of here unharmed. "And when people are scared, they don't like to look at other people. If they don't look at people it makes them feel better. And," Elaine gestured to the circle behind her, "There are a lot of people that are afraid of you. Everyone, actually. And so no one looks you in the eye because they're all scared." Elaine's stomach was churning, and she fit into the large circle she had drawn, because Elaine looked at the marker as she capped it and set it down on the lip of the whiteboard, and then at her feet as she turned back to face the Bird Man. She knew that if she could hear the ladies in her head, that they would be yelling at her for even initiating conversation, well, everyone except for the nice Southern one, who was always so kind to her. And Elaine herself knew that now that she had initiated, now that she had spoken, she was hopeless. And yes, there was the possibility of her getting away unscathed, but Elaine didn't think she could handle talking to the Bird Man for very long without doing something to end up back inside the soft room where the nice ladies talked to her.

Elaine was scared. That was plain as day.

There was a few moments of silence after the poor girl finished and eyed her feet--and then Raven threw back his head and roared laughter. He couldn't help it; it was just so damn funny that this had worked, that Elaine had understood everything she'd been "confused" about after he'd drawn a simple diagram. Hell, she'd even added to it! Somehow, it was not his demeanor or the implications of his words or the way he had explained it to her that had made her catch on--it was just some markers and a couple circles. That was all.

And Raven didn't know why, but that tickled him to no end. He couldn't stop laughing for the life of him, he was bent over with the force of it and he actually had to hug his sides before he could force the gale down into something more manageable, and even then the sound he made was only a quieter version of the great howl which had preceded it. "I'm sorry," he gasped, grinning madly, eyes shining with mirth. He stumbled forward to the desk and braced his hands on the worn wood, shoulders shaking from the effort of suppression. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just gimmie a--oh, fuck--" And then for some reason he was laughing again, and he didn't know why but he could not stop it, it burst forth out of him like an animal in and of itself, howling and desperate to be free. His hands curled into claws on the desk, and then he thumped it, pounded it, once, twice, three times, to no avail. His knees buckled beneath him and he nearly collapsed, and only just managed to catch himself on the corner of the desk with one hand and swing around so that he fell into the seat. He sat there, hugging himself again, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and smiling so wide his jaw started to hurt. His head swung from side to side, as though that motion alone could force the laughter away.

It didn't. But eventually Raven did get himself under control again, and eventually he was able to sit up without being overtaken by spasms that sent him down again, and eventually he managed to steady his breathing and fold his hands on the desk without them shaking, and look at the little girl-child who had witnessed the whole thing. "That," he told her, grinning hugely in the aftermath of his unexpected glee, "was not in the script. Completely unexpected, actually, and I don't know what came over me. My humblest apologies, Elaine. It was a massive interruption." Calm and seemingly in control again, the Indian sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He forced the smile to wilt a little. He made himself raise his head and look Elaine in the eye (at least, as close as he could get with her staring at the floor) and swallowed down the chuckle that bubbled up within him.

What the hell was that? he demanded of himself, but received no answer. He wanted to believe that it was only because whatever that soft and cynical drawl belonged to,

(yourself what are you talking about you know who)

it didn't like to show up when he actually addressed it of his own will, but of course he knew that was not the case. Of course, he knew exactly what that "massive interruption" had been: release. A brief decrease in pressure, the same thing that happened when maintenance men released the valves on old-fashioned boilers. That had been anxiety and desire and madness, exploding violently out of him as they churned and whirled about inside his mind only to reach critical mass rather than find a gaping hole through which to pour, as they usually did. Because usually it was over by now, and he was in recovery (or a deep depression). Usually he did not last this long.

Raven, sitting grinning in the desk, did not know what that meant for Elaine--or himself--as things stood. He had absolutely no idea, no preconceived notions, no past event to be a predictor of future results. No, right now, he too was all alone. He too was in the dark. The difference was that it did not bother him. The difference was that he was not panicking. The difference was that he was waiting again, expectant, even eager. Because as he'd said, his minor meltdown had not been anticipated. He had not even fathomed a situation even similar to this. And if he hadn't done it, that meant Elaine certainly hadn't either--and that made her unpredictable. That meant her reaction could take this little game down a whole new path, even to a whole new level.

So he sat and watched her, grinning still.

There was silence.

The laughing had frightened Elaine, she wasn't going to try and lie to herself (and even if she did attempt it, there were three other women in her head who knew every truth and every lie that Elaine had ever tried to tell). This kind of maniacal laughter portrayed the Bird Man as a madman, which didn't surprise her, but at the same time it did. She knew the Bird Man as a calm and collected psychopath, a paradox of sorts. And this encounter with him had taught her otherwise. Elaine didn't know if that made her more afraid or less, though it was of course more than likely the former.

The pounding on the table made Elaine jump once, twice, three times, and as she stared at her feet she could feel the Bird Man staring at her. She was afraid, of course she was, and she didn't know what to do. An imaginative young girl, Elaine found herself inventing all possible outcomes of what could happen next. The Bird Man wasn't talking, and he didn't look like he was going to anytime soon. And, as Elaine had just learned, the Bird Man was a very unpredictable man. And, as she had also just learned, so was she.

Elaine found herself wishing, really wishing, that the nice ladies in her head were there. They would have been able to tell her what to do. They would have saved her from this situation. They would have told her how to get out of it, because most of them had managed to escape the Bird Man's claws before. It was ridiculous, really, how much Elaine relied upon the women in her head, but at the same time, if you thought about it, it really wasn't. The women were like her family-- mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, all in one. It was alright for her to need them. It was commendable, actually, that she was doing this on her own.

She took a deep breath. Elaine looked up, with a little frown, and she met the Bird Man's gaze as she said, "Can I go now, Mister?"

A pause. And then a petulant thought floated through his head without prompting, and it was cryptic in its words:

Oh, the kitten wants to leave so soon? But she's not even learned how to sharpen her claws!

Raven had no idea what that meant. For a moment, visible confusion flashed across his face, but then it was gone and he was smiling once again, shrugging, saying, "Sure, sweetheart. Sure you can go. Just don't tell anybody I'm coming, okay? I want it to be a surprise." He had said it aloud, but it was really another drifting thought, and it too was odder than he liked. What the hell was going on? Was this the thanks he got by holding out and not trying to cut the throat of anything and everything that would scream and flee? The Indian certainly hoped not; it was too much work for a bunch of mad mystery. Still, he did let Elaine go. Almost as soon as he finished speaking, the girl-child was up and out the door. She didn't even pause to answer the questions of the guards as she passed (guards who would, Raven figured, be coming in for him quite soon).

But to his surprise, they did not. Not in a minute, three, five.

The classroom was empty, but his mind was not. Now there was only one thought, circling around and around and around:

what was he going to do now?

((Fade.))