St. Peter's Asylum discussion

Julie was just on the other side of the tree, unaware of the green-eyed girl that sat around the trunk. Sitting there with her knees tucked up under her shin, hands around her legs and hair done in a single braid to outsmart the wind, she looked rather innocent and naive. Her eyes were closed, her expression slack in a neutrality that meant she was either sleeping or at least deep inside her own mind.

Lena was as well, unaware of the usually frightened girl that sat near her, on the other side of the vast tree. Marking her page with a blade of grass - Lena used unusual things for bookmarks - she taped her chin in thought. A character had met a peculiar end to their journey, the journey of life that is. It was an odd circumstance and the emerald eyed girl had to figure it out, before the book informed her what had happened. She enjoyed this, solving the tiny mysteries that popped up randomly throughout a novel. Smiling an odd, little victorious smile, she reopened the pages. "Silly, silly." Lena muttered, as if speaking to the characters herself.

The comment didn't go unnoticed--very little escaped the overdrive that her senses were constantly in--and with a little jump Julie was jerked out of her head. She peered around the tree trunk, curious and perhaps a little fearful (who knew what kind of person was behind the bark?) and let a gentle frown of confusion bring her lips down at the corners. "Excuse me," she said quietly, ever polite, "Were you talking to me?"

Lena very nearly jumped, jolted from the other world that was her reading. She set the book down and swiveled her body to look at the girl. "No. I was talking? Silly me." She remarked, biting her lip. Well, Lena did have an annoying tendacy to speak to her books. "Sorry if I disturbed you."

A slight smile made her lips part, the substitution for a laugh. It was hard to get the little Colombian to laugh these days. "That's all right," Julie said with a quick shake of her head. "I wasn't doing anything important. I'm actually more worried that I disturbed you. I'm sorry if I did; curiosity just has a way of getting the better of me sometimes."

Lena smirked. "I don't normally get startled easily. You are the first of few." She said. A curious girl. Wonderful. Curiousity often got the better of Lena herself. "Don't worry, I am often curious as well. Occasionally too much for my own good." She added.

Julie's smile widened. Curiosity was a good trait, especially when it came to the people here. She'd noticed a trend over her time here: the more dangerous patients were often stoic or at the very least keeping to their own business, while the less dangerous were often much more open, even sometimes friendly. It allowed the girl to slide up on Julie's self-kept sliding scale of patient trustworthiness. "Well, while we're on the topic of curiosity, might I know your name?" The immigrant leaned forward a bit to show Lena that she was truly interested in the information and not simply someone who wanted to know because of ulterior motives.

Lena flashed a tiny little smile, a simple lifting of the corners of her lips. "Lena. And little bird, might I know yours?"

"Juliana Alvarez. But if you're one for nicknames, you may call me Julie."

Lena smiled a little wider. "Juliana, what a pretty name." Truly, it was. A strong Spanish name, Juliana.

"Gracias," Julie murmured, blushing slightly. It was always a little awkward when she was complimented on her name, for it seemed to happen a lot and whenever it did she was at a loss for what to say. "Lena is a lovely name too," she added, out of impulse. It never hurt to redirect the conversation from herself.

"Thank you little bird." The ebony haired girl replied, turning solemn once more. "Now, why don't I leave you alone so you may bask in the sunlight once more?"

"If you'd like." With one last tiny smile Julie went back around the tree, resuming her former position of peace and letting her eyes drift closed again.

((Fade?))

((Indeed.))

The muttered sound of prayers--old prayers, Latin prayers--came from the tree, their source the lone girl beneath it. Malinda's hair was plaited in a complicated braid, wide and flat like a beaver's tail, and around her knees a white dress pooled. It was ceremonial garb (ceremonial for her, anyway) and under the shade of the tree was the perfect place to conduct a ritual, especially tonight while the moon was new. So the Satanist was doing so now, beseeching the demon Sargatanas and asking him to send her to the cult through her dreams, just to check up and see how they were doing.

Underneath the peach tree, another line figure approached to meet the first, creating a duo. Domonic, who had just finished his rounds, had decided to escape to the cool outside. After a full day of sorting documents and tending to needy patients, it was good to be free of responsibility, even for a few moments. When Domonic reched the base of the tree and then he heard a low, soft mumbling coming from above. A talking bird, or a lonesome patient. He looked up at the too of the branches and depicted the form of a small girl in the branches, mumbling what soused like a foreign language.

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she got the feeling that she was being watched. Malinda finished her prayers with a quick "Avete omnes Satanam, dominum magistrumque atrum meum." Hail Satan, my dark lord and master. She then turned to glare at the figure underneath her branches, eyebrows drawing together in a slight crease of frustration. "Excuse me, my lord Barbatos," she said dryly, dropping down to the ground with a light thump and a crunch of leaves, "I was praying. Can one not do so without being interrupted on these grounds? Whenever I come out to pray, I am always disrupted by the nosy. Tell me, why is that?"

Lord Barbatos? This must be the satanist who's documents he remembered putting away earlier that night. "My apologies-" his sentence fell short and he quickly scrambled to find a name to match the face. "Malinda. I didn't realize anyone was here. I came out here to get away from the asylum and just heard your erm, prayers when I was under the tree." Dimonic wasn't sure on the satanists temperament- the documents were beginning to blur together- and so he attempted to explain himself best as possible.

Malinda raised her eyebrows dubiously and gave a little 'hmmph.' "I am not in trouble, I hope?" she asked, rather briskly and almost scornful. "It is not against the rules to venture out of the building after Witching Hour?"

The nurse shook his head earnestly. "Of course not. And if it were, you're not doing anyone harm as far as I know, so I don't have a problem with it."

"Good." She nodded approvingly and reached up to undo the ties in her hair. She shook her head, sending light-brown waves tumbling about her shoulders. She looked at Domonic for a moment. "I hesitate to pry, my lord," she said, leaning against the trunk, "But what happened to your hand? I heard it was broken a little while ago and I'm curious."

"Oh," Domonic said hesitantly and quickly tried to think of an excuse. "It was nothing, really. I was being clumsy and slipped while I was walking in the hall and fell on my wrist." He shrugged absently with a week smile. "That's it."

((*weak))

Malinda frowned. "You broke it falling," she repeated. How would that have happened? Maybe to someone with weak bones and no muscle, but Domonic was an average boy and as far as she knew, didn't have some disorder that made his bones brittle. "You don't have to lie to me," she told him. "I am not a gossiper. My lord, if something worse happened to you, you can tell me. It is bothering you, I can tell. I won't speak of this to anyone, I promise." She looked at him, blue eyes dark with concern. Whatever had happened, it bothered the boy to talk about it, and that was never good, especially for the hosts of the demon Barbatos.

[LOL oops. XD Typo.]

This satanist seemed very worried about his health state, which puzzled Dylan's and caused him to raise a brow. It had to have something to do with the demon she insisted on calling him, but her worry seemed earnest. It was a little bit odd. "No, I assure you, I feel hard on my arm. All my weight, right on it. I'm fine now, though, but I guess I'm sort of a klutz." He forced his expression to turn to a sheepish one. "But thanks for the concern."

Malinda shook her head slowly, lips thinning in a frown of thought. "You know," she said softly, "Your attitude reminds me very much of the dead nurse Arabelle's, my lord. It was Raven--Lord Andras--who was plaguing her thoughts. I don't think he is above trying to ruin yet another mind. Has he done something to you?" The hunch had only came because of Domonic's unconvincing, almost nervous air; Arabelle had been exactly like that, too, right before she died. The Satanist couldn't help but wonder if something else was going on once again.

Shock flashed through Domonic like a hot poker stick. Raven was usually the culprit to a lot of things, true, but this accusation was creepishly correct. "No, Malinda, I assure you, everything is fine. Don't go accusing other patients, that could just lead you into trouble you don't need to get into. Nothing's gone in except my own clumsiness."

At this, Malinda couldn't help but laugh. "Trouble? My lord, I have already fallen out of favor with life. My family hates me, society deems me completely insane, and everyone here goes out of their way to avoid interacting with the poor, poor delusional Satanist." She smiled without humor. "Very little 'trouble', as you call it, can faze me. Now, I saw the shock I had given you, so tell me truly: did my lord Andras do something...wrong?" The word was spoken softly, almost gently, like she was a mother trying to coax a confession out of a frightened child. She was truly concerned for Domonic's welfare; he was too nervous to be anything but wounded. With the current state of the asylum, she didn't want yet more fear thrown into the mix.

The nurse shook his head quickly almost with irritation at Malinda's protests. "Well that is sad to hear, and I'm sorry for that, but really, I'm telling you that nothing has happened with Raven. And if you want it to say that way, I suggest you not press the subject." His tone was firm, but not threatening as he ran a hurried hand through his hair.

Malinda sighed. "All right, Lord Barbatos," she said finally. "All right." She watched him for a moment, keeping up a poker face though she wanted to frown, and raised her eyebrows. "Did you threaten me?" she asked, almost suddenly, eying the nurse carefully. "When you asked if I wanted it to stay that way? Or are you just warning me of an oncoming temper?"

"No, I wasn't threatening you at all." domonic assured quickly, shaking his hands towards her with a quick smike. "I was simply saying that I wouldn't want you to be the cause of any trouble with Raven, especially with the reputation he has. I'd rather you not have to deal with that. Or for anyone to for that matter."

Malinda laughed again, though more quietly than the last time. "Believe me, I don't want any trouble with him either. But I assure you, had something between us come up I would be able to handle myself. I have a much stronger mind, I think, than many of the unfortunate souls here." Because the truth was that she wasn't all that scared of Raven, reputation and all. She had spoken truly when she'd told Domonic that very little fazed her.

Domonic shrugged as if to say, okay, fair enough. "Well even despite all of that, I would rather you not bring it up and not dog people for answers. I hear he's a bit touchy when it comes to accusations."

Malinda grinned. "Everybody here is touchy when it comes to accusations, my lord," she replied, shrugging. "Again, reputation aside, Raven is only a boy. A dangerous one, perhaps, but not one to be avoided at all costs out of fear."

Domonic shook his head. "That I don't agree with. I'd just stay out of his way if I were you, really. He's really someone who you shouldn't mess with. Actually, it's bet if you just drop it. Okay?"

"I doubt that I will. My lord, I am a curious girl. As such, I like to know things. If I have to speak to Raven to sate my curiosity, so be it." She shrugged again, unconcerned. "Your insistence that I 'drop it' is unnecessary."

"There's no point, truly," Domonic soothed with an easy going grin. "There's truly nothing to talk to him about to begin with.

"But of course there is!" Malinda chuckled and retunred the slight smile without parting her lips. "My lord, Raven is Raven. There is always something to talk about when it comes to that boy. And why shouldn't I? Just because none of the nurses like him doesn't mean the patients must be wary, does it?"

"Well it wouldn't be a very bad idea," he mused thoughtfully with a low laugh that was short lived. "There are quite a few patients it's best you stay away from just if you want to stay in one piece."

Malinda only smiled slightly. "And those patients often don't attempt murder until you provoke them. The solution, my lord, is to steer quite clear of breaking points. I know what Raven's are, and as such I know what to avoid speaking of. His sister, for instance. Raven is very, very particular about his sister. Dead, I heard. It's a sad thing." And it was. Patients that actually cared were rare, but Malinda was one of them and she didn't plan on acting like the others, with their scorn and fear.

"Yes, I know all about that. And it's truly best if you never ever mention the name Anna around Raven. It could be potentially fatal to you and those around you." He lowered his voice then, as if he feared that he was being overheard. "You can never be sure what will provoke them donuts truly best to stay out of their way at all times."

"Sounds to me like you're almost paranoid, Domonic." Malinda smiled and chuckled lightly. "I know how to take care of myself, as I have already said. You, I think, are only so concerned because you haven't been around those types of people very often. But you must remember: I was raised around lunatics. What is frightening to you is startlingly mundane to me." She paused and regarded him shrewdly for a moment. "Why do you even care who I do and don't associate myself with?" she asked. "After all, I am only just another crazy. What can my safety matter to the sane ones such as you?"

"It's my responsibility to take care of all the patients here," he explained patiently with a small smile. "I like the crazies here. The tolerable ones, that is." He thought of Cadenza, whim had been moved to a different asylum after long months of declining improvement and how he had told her te same thing. "It's not your fault you're stuck in here, and you're all people. I see no reason why I can't treat you as such."

Malinda had to bite her tongue to keep from giving a barbed retort--Raven, however unlikeable and host to one of the more malevolent demons though he was, was a person too, and he was treated as vermin. She closed her eyes and sighed, not wanting to receive another nurse-like retort but unable to keep her thoughts to herself. "Forgive my thorned tongue, Lord Barbatos," she began, "But with all due respect, is Raven not human? Is Jason not human? Both twins--do they fit your description as human? Or the five-year-old Suzy? The actions of your superiors against some of the patients, coupled with your words, contradict each other. Explain this to me." Host to a demon or not, Malinda was not going to add a polite 'please' on to the end of the request. She truly wanted to know, because Domonic's words had struck a foul chord in her: not all of them were treated as people.

Dominic nodded, able to see a point in the satanist's words. "I don't disagree with you, Malinda, but I can't control how every patient is treated by another nurse or the doctors or other staff. I'm just one nurse in this huge asylum, I can only do so much." He raises his hands helplessly, as if showing her just how small and helpless he must look compared to the other, higher ranking nurses. "And though Raven and Jason aren't exactly treated as you'd want them to be, there are different types of treatment for every patient. If that's something that helps them with their mental illnesses, then we'll do what we can to help them. At St. Peter's, there's a reason for everything.

"Reason!" Malinda spat. At the words, rage arose inside her--and now she glared at Domonic, her eyes blue fire. "Reason? Do you really think your cause so just?" She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to quell her sudden anger; still, she could not stop herself from trembling with it. What lies they were feeding their staff here! When she spoke again, her voice was low and dangerous. "I don't know what they've told you, my lord," she hissed, "but whatever it was, they lie. You say you do what you can, that you care, and yet I cannot practice freely my faith without being sent to my cell like a criminal. Tell me, what care are you showing through that? What care are you showing when you take away the patients' things, perhaps even the only objects they brought to remind them of their home, when they enter your facility? What care show you when you strip us of our rights simply because we are not like you? What goddamned care, boy?"

Dominic's jaw clenched, but he did not speak. He simply gazed at the trembling girl before him. She was obviously angry, but maybe also frightened as well. She knew she may never leave this place, as most patients did. His jaw then unclenched and he said, "That's for the asylum to blame. As an asylum of the state, we have to go by the state's law and regulations in order to have a, er- a "fitting asylum"." His fingers created quotes around the words and then they dropped again. "You can be as angry with us if you want, but let me tell you that your anger is being misdirected at the wrong people. We don't take you to your cell for praying because we want to. Honestly, if it doesn't anger another patient or cause a disturbance, I don't see a problem with your praying- it gives you comfort for now. But it's not our decision. We have to follow rules just like you do." Dominic smirked, as if he found something funny in his own words.

And Malinda whirled to face the tree, slamming her fists into the bark instead of the nurse. "Misdirected anger," she said. Her voice was hollow with bitterness, and perhaps even resentment. "You have courage, Lord Barbatos, to dare to tell me that." She turned back to him and took several steps forward, one side of her mouth curled up in a harsh half-smile. "I do not think you know half as much as you pretend to," she told him. "I do not think you understand half as much as you pretend to. But do you know what I do think? I do think that you are a foolishly loyal dog. You are a little bird, Domonic, faithfully repeating what they tell you to say instead of having your own thoughts. I pity you. Reflect on that." With that, the Satanist turned and walked away.

((Fade?))

[Fade.]

Dominic watched her go, feeling pity in his heart as well as frustration. Some patients would forever be hostile, and that was something counseling, medication, or any kind of treatment could change. Feeling the long day's events weighing down on his shoulders, Dominic shook his heavy head and walked towards the asylum. Hopefully his night would be more peaceful than his day.

"Her headaches
are constant
Increasing in pain
with each passing day

She can't even manage to stand on her own,
it's gotten so bad
And you think of saying
there's no use in praying
But still, she bows her head
So she can say...
"Thank You for just one more day."

Supernatural patience
graces her face
and her voice never raises..."

The words to the song drifted gently on the cool breeze. Underneath the broad trunk of the peach tree sat a girl, her knees drawn up under her chin and her eyes closed. Cat was at rest, for once--this was one of the peaceful spots in the asylum. The little tree always seemed to be bare of others. So she'd come, and sat beneath the branches to sing. It was very nice, this still quiet.

Roxie had cleaned herself up from the run in at the library. Her jaw was back in place, her breathing was much more comfortable, and her ribs were bound tightly.

Her hands were stuffed in her pockets, and from the outside nothing seemed wrong. Roxie even had a small smirk on her face.

She had examined the files, holding true to her promise, and so the black marketeer knew when she approached Cat. She knew that if she wanted anything she had to be gentle.

Not her strong point.

Placing a small smile on her face, Roxie gently approached the girl.

"Mind if I sit?"