St. Peter's Asylum discussion

"Something," Sarah insisted. She walked over to the girl and sat next to her on the couch, bent on findind out what she was looking at. "What do you see?" she asked again. "What? What?"

Amalthea shook her head. "It's nothing."

The younger girl continued to wipe paint off her hands. The Killer was mad when she was dirty. Mad, yes, but not as mad as the Killer's Assistant. She was horrible.

((Sorry, I forgot about this RP.))


"You're lying," Sarah declared, fixing the younger girl with a glare and crossing her arms. "I'm not leaving until you tell."

((Who are you Rping with?))

((Nobody i just came in here because i got bored O.o))

Maya walked in and sat on a small couch. She began to mutter the letters of the alphabet

Hope wrote: "((Sorry, I forgot about this RP.))


"You're lying," Sarah declared, fixing the younger girl with a glare and crossing her arms. "I'm not leaving until you tell.""

((XD Me too.))

Amalthea looked up at Sarah, and flinched slightly at the angry expression. Eyes flickered over to the Killer-- standing to Sarah's right. He nodded his head, encouraged her.

Burnt honey danced to the Killer's Assistant, to Sarah's left. She was furious. And shook her head at both Amalthea and her master.

A shudder, and the young girl looked back down at her hands, furiously rubbing offpaint.

"Tell me!" The little girl insisted, almost forceful. "Tell me. I want to know!"

Swish of a long skirt, straightening out of her black turtleneck. Lastly, she had found herself working to impress Zach, as he was one of the few people she became visible for.

Mocha waves were tied up into a messy bun, with a few strands tricking here and there. Spying the boy through the shelves, she donned her imaginary-ness and came up beside him.

"Hey."

An arch of one eyebrow at the nickname, but Penelope shrugged it off. "I'm fine; same as always. Yourself?"

"Smart."

Penelope walked away from the bookshelves, sitting down on the plush sofa in front of them. She patted the seat beside her.

"Take a seat. Maybe relaxing'll get your mind off of it, and then you'll remember."

Maya walked past the others in the room and sat on o couch and read a small,short book while clutching Rosie

"So." Penelope turned to face him-- proximity wasn't an issue with her. Blue eyes scanned his, for any hint of emotion.

"How've you been, besides Elin?"

A shrug. "Same. No visitors, questions about Detroit... The works."

Zach was one of the few people she had shared her past with. The times at home, the orphanage, and during the trials. He knew it all as well as she did.

She shrugged lightly, with a DGAF expression. "I guess you could say I'm used to it." Penelope smiled softly.

((don't give a fuck))

Penelope sighed. A skittish glance up from her ever-changing blue eyes, and she hesitantly leaned against his exposed side, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.

A test.

A small smile crossed her lips, and she sighed. "It must be hard for you, yes?"

"No one asking your opinion, and there being this... Expectation about you."

Penelope sighed, realizing she was more alike with the Fainter's Assistant than she had realized.

"No one asks what you want, or gives a damn. You're just... an accessory."

Be it an accessory to drunkenness, or an accessory to fainting, the both of them were or had been an accessory to something.

Penelope looked up at Zach, leaning her head back on his shoulder to let blue eyes meet blue.

"It sucks," she said, quietly and bluntly.

Ever-changing blue met Zach's steady gaze. A few spare strands of mousy brown hung in front of her eyes, but she didn't push them away. A slight shudder ran through her. She didn't break the moment.

((Now?))

((reminds me of Here Comes My Baby.
(view spoiler)[
"Here comes my baby,
Here she comes now,
Walkin' with a love, with a love
That's oh-so-fine,
Never to be mine,
No matter how I try." (hide spoiler)]))

((thanks for getting that stuck in my head Thera:3))

The imaginary girl could have had a heart attack at that moment. If Penelope freaked when anyone was so much as nice to her, imagine her reaction to a kiss.

A slight jump, but then, slowly, a single, hesitant hand trailed behind his neck.

Slowly, little by little, Penelope began to relax. Unused to care or fond emotions to others, this came as a shock to the girl.

As lips were pressed to lips, nose to nose and body to body, only one thought ran through her head: Someone actually cares.

((Mhm;3))

[Damn. :) ]

Dominic had arrived in the library to seek some light reading. Cadenza didn't need him right now, so he had some time on his hands. He'd decided to spend some of that time reading.

Jacob sat down the room a ways, a small blue-tipped paint brush in his hand as he continued working on his plane. The park, he had decided, was too crowded, too loud, and too full of people who might ruin the project. And so he came to the library. This place was nice and calm and quiet. It suited him.

Domonic moved past the painter, offering a bright smile. "Hey."

Jacob did little more than glance up. "Hi," he muttered. Yes that was it. Be polite, like Kalin said. Greet people. Respond, even if you don't want to. He looked back down to the plane, painting with careful, easy strokes.

Suddenly a book seemed like the least of his concerns. He looked at the plane. "Well, that's cool. What is it?"

Fianlly, something he wanted to talk about. "It's a plane," Jacob replied. "A Boeing 747. A type of airliner, you know." He gestured to the big, bold numbers on the side of the aircraft before dipping his brush back inot the small cup of blue paint and drawing it across the nose of his model.

"Not really," Domonic admitted with a smile. "I never really got into the whole planes obsession when I was younger. But, why are you painting in the library, anyways?"

"It's quiet. Nothing hurts my ears." Jacob's eyes were back on his model. He noticeably tensed as he spoke, he was wondering if Domonic would purposely become loud and rowdy just because he'd mentioned that he liked the quiet. It had happened before. Why not now?

Domonic thought about it, then nodded. Yes, he supposed he was right, the library was very quiet. "But isn't your dorm quiet, too?"

"Sometimes. But Kalin says I have to come out." Wow. This was the longest conversation he'd ever held with someone in...well, years. Maybe the therapy really was starting to work.

"Oh, so Kalin must be your nurse?"

Jacob nodded as he painted his plane. It was almost done now; he just had to do the wings.

"Cool. I think I know her."

((I hope you don't mind a quick fade, Silvy...))

Alayna sat in one of the plush chairs, swinging her legs back and forth, her heels thumping against the bottom of her chair. Once again, killing was on her mind. It would have to be soon; she was getting antsy. She had decided against trying to sneak out a night; much too hard. But now she was faced with the problem of how to get it done while keeping it drawn out long enough to satisfy her cravings and not getting caught afterwards. She fingered her rose necklace, thoughtful. Hmm...

Stephen stood, pretending to be examining books. But out of the corner of one eye he was watching the girl. Casually, he plucked one medium length book out of the pile and examined it. He hated creeping around like this, but he was given a duty. He had nothing else to do, and when ever he was alone...

No. Don't think, just act. He then got very spirited about pretending to examine a book while watching her.

Alayna's thoughts began to wander. Could you use a book to kill a person? Maybe, if it was big enough. The thought facinated her. She stood and made her way across the library until she found the encyclopedias, selecting one and testing its weight in one hand, then in both. Yes, very heavy. Good. Maybe she'd use a book as a weapon later. She added it to the list of possible useful objects. Just to test, she let the book fall to the floor. The loud bang that resulted made her smile. Yes, an encyclopedia could definitely be a possible weapon.

Stephen turned, and peered at her with a confused expression. He believed that action could be conceived as trouble.
"I don't believe you're supposed to do that." He commented, astranged to hearing his own voice. Dark curls fell into his eyes and he set the book down.

"Oh!" Alayna looked over at Stephen, surprised. She'd thought she was the only one in the room. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see how heavy it was." Quickly she picked up the book and put it back into its proper place, shooting the veteran a reassuring, if not angelic, smile.

Hope wrote: "((I hope you don't mind a quick fade, Silvy...))

Alayna sat in one of the plush chairs, swinging her legs back and forth, her heels thumping against the bottom of her chair. Once again, killing ..."

[Not at all, I was derping. ;) ]

((As was I.))

London carefully ran his index finger up and down the spine of Nicholas Nickelby. It had been sort of hidden behind another book and was on the wrong shelf. Why, he had no idea. He was contemplating picking it up, but his mind had wandered once he spotted a lone pencil sitting on a plush chair. There were so many things you could do with pencils... Of course, that particular pencil was way too dull and short to cause any real damage. But a guy could dream.

It took a while for London to realize that someone was talking to him. He turned in the direction of the voice and found indeed that he was being addressed. Not even by a doctor or nurse. A blondeish looking girl. He nodded towards her, blinking as he did so.

((Gotta go for dinner in a bit!))

((Back!))

A direct question...that couldn't be answered with a short yes or no. Great. "London," he replied reluctantly, pulling Nicholas Nickelby off the shelf.

London nodded again, but couldn't bring himself to thank Gail for her compliment. Why was she even talking to him? She surely could have picked someone more important. "It's a city," he mumbled, finding it likely that anyone occupying an asylum wasn't very well versed in geography. Well. Besides himself. But that was only because he used to have tutors.