St. Peter's Asylum discussion

"Bye," Domonic called back cheerfully. Glancing at Cadenza, he could tell his blonde-haired companion was growing tired of the fresh air. "Let's go back inside and see if we can't take you to that circus, okay?"

"Okay."

[Poof?]

[püph]

[Kk. Dorm?]

[sure]

[otays.]

Lucille perched on one of the lower branches, with her feet against the main root, sprouting out around her. She used her lap as a desk, her head resting on a bunched up winter coat. Though it was chilly, there was no snow. The sun was shining, but there was a slight breeze so she buttoned her cardigan tighter and tucked her skirt in between her knees. Her eyes were focused on the paper before her, gently pressing the pen to the paper.

Her eyes flicked away from the paper, landing on the man.
"I suppose so." She quietly agreed, setting her pen down but not closing the notebook. Crossing her ankles, she peered at him. From her position she was only a few feet from eye level.

She looked appauled, staring at him with a set jaw and dark, offened eyes.
"What makes you say that?" Inquiring with a slightly hurt tone, she returned her gaze to the notebook.

She mirrored his shrug. "I thought you meant something else. But I am in fact a patient." She answered, more calmly than before. She began to spiral in the margins of her notebook with the pen. "Though I shouldn't be..." She whispered under her breath.

"Yes. I'm not a murderer, or skitzophrenic. I just happen to be a little sensitive, that doesn't make me insane." She defended, jumping down from the branch and landing on her feet lightly. She pulled on the jacket, her skirt swirling around her.

((Brb have to cut some fudge))

((Nvm, gotta wait for it to warm up))
"Lucille Voney, or Lucy." She replied, shaking his hand with a smaller one. Holding the notebook and pen in the crook of her other arm, she then leaned against the tree.

"What brings you here?" She asked.

I meant the Peach Tree... She thought to herself but dismissed it. "Pleasure to meet you too." She thoughtfully bowed her head, but her mind was somewhere else. "So why is this friend so special you'd travel across sea?" She asked, noting his accent.

"Yes; and that you have better manners than most Americans. I was born in Britan, anyway." She explained.

She smiled, which wasn't exactly rare but didn't happen often. "I am honored." She played along, curtsying.

((Uh-oh :P Doesn't he know anything about patients?))
She shrugged, determined not to let the situation bother her. His question needed an answer though, so she batted her eye lashes dramatically. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that." Her depression pills helped her emotion, so it wouldn't change drastically in a milisecond, but the message was clear: Moving on.

"Perhaps." She was self-concious about it, as she was everything. Her writings were scattered rambles mixed with drawings and poems. Her hands were ink-stained, and she had her favorite Bic marker out of her pack that she had been using to write. It was a pastel green. Her notebook shifted in her hold, so it was out in front of her.

"Oh, well I hardly do anything worth that. My pack was ten dollars from a local target, it was a gift from a nice nurse for my eighteenth birthday." She blushed a rosy pink. "That's rather inpressive." She commented.

"When you have to write an official document and there's no computer around?" She asked sarcastically but with a light tone to it, flipping through her pages.

"Hobbies are good. They keep you distracted." She settled on a half-finished page. It was a pastel cross, though with angular tips and layered colors. It was a few inches thick, and she set about outlining it.

((What's something that he likes to do besides calligraphy? Oh, I got it.))

"I like reading, too. Especially Dickens works." She commented.

"It's magnificent." She obviously had. "I remember when I was twelve my mother had these old glass enclosed shelves full of the books, and that was the first one I snuck out."

"Are your parents a little uptight? Over achieving, as well as over expectant and predictable?" She asked.

"Ah, well I was talking about before I was sent here. After? Distant, as if they never knew me." She replied.

"Do you play any sports? Or are you some kind of trivia genius?" She inquired curiously.

"That must me either ravagely exciting or death bearingly boring." She said with fake enthusiasm.

"So why do you stay? Stress is not good for your life expectancy, sleeping rate or just health in general. There are plenty of people here that can take care of your particular patient. Plus, who ever this is probably doesn't want you wasting away the golden years of your life in a mental hospital." There was a hint of jealousy in her voice. He could stand up and leave, anytime he wanted. It was insane, she wasn't mad at him just a little confused and frustrated.

"So, you're dying here. It's great to be caring, but it sounds like you're using your life to sustain her's. I know it sounds cruel, but it'd probably do her some good to walk out. She could live forever with you by her side, but then she'd just be a four year old for the rest of her life. And you'd never get to do anything. So you'd really be wasting two lives, when one of you-or both eventually- could be happy. She could learn to be independant. Wouldn't it be so much easier? Not a one- way relationship." She explained.

"Maybe I don't understand your exact predicament. But do you think you can start walking perfectly before falling down a few times? Or if your parents are constantly holding you? It's the same concept."

She scoffed. "I just said I didn't, nice contradiction." She sarcastically muttered, not really caring if he heard or not.

((eah))

((Hope it's okay if Raven comes here, Kat. Could you specify whether moderate-security patients can come to the tree, please?))

Loud, sharp snapping sounds hailed Raven as he fell from the upper boughs of the tree. The jarring impact shocked him as he landed on his back, but only for a moment. "Damn it," he cursed quietly, climbing to his feet. A rare smile of laughter decorated his features as he gazed ruefully up at the top of the tree. "Thought I was gonna make it that time."

The rather alluring girl approached the tree, kicking around a few peaches that had fallen with feet clad in royal blue ballet flats. Coffee-coloured waves were hanging loose around her shoulders, which were bare. Sleeves had drifted down to the top of her arm, revealing rather obnoxious neon bra-straps.

Bennett glanced at the boy on the ground with an arch of one eyebrow, and sat herself with her back against the fence. Blue-green orbs studied him.

((Floor? You mean ground.))

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Raven got the feeling he was being watched. Not exactly uncommon, but all the same...he turned his head to meet the eyes of a girl he didn't know leaning against the fence. He glared at her for a moment with a what're-you-looking-at expression before turning back to the leaf-strewn ground. His ring had fallen out of his pocket when he'd fell. Where was it now?

[... *edits* XD]

As a simple answer, the ring was being turned back and forth between Bennett's index finger and thumb. Blue-green gaze looked up at him from under long lashes, and she held her hand out. "Is this what you're looking for?"

"Hm?" Raven turned around again, frowning as he saw his ring. "Yep, that's it," he said. He plucked the little trinket from her hand and slid it onto his own finger. Best not to lose it again. "Thanks. What's your name?"

"Bennett," she answered, extending a hand. "Bennett Peregrine."

"Raven," he replied, shaking her hand. "What brings you out to the peach tree, Bennett? I thought everyone esle was inside."

Bennett shrugged. "Most people stay inside. I don't like interacting with most people. Therefore, I come out here."

She smiled sweetly, though sarcasm was heavy.

Raven shrugged. "You must not hate it that much," he pointed out with a slight grin, leaning against the tree trunk. "After all, you're talking to me now."

"Notice how I said most people."

Bennett paused, and began toying with her dark locks. "So, Raven... Is that your real name?"

To tell or not to tell, that was the question. After a few moments, Raven decided to go with tell. "Nope," he said, "but that's what everybody's been calling me for the past...I don't know, year. That's not about to change," he added with a warning glare at her. "So don't ask."

((Idea! When/if they get into a romantic relationship, what if Raven tells her his real name? It'd be all sweet.))

Hands rose in surrender. "Alright, alright. I was just curious."

[XD Okay.]

"'Curious' is a term the cops and nurses and doctors here have also applied to themselves," Raven reminded her, "so just understand that I don't like the term very much." He winked at Bennett. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

She smirked. "Of course."

Pale hand gently pushed one side of her sleeve back up, hiding the obnoxious pink strap without a second thought. "So then, Raven, what put you in here?"

"Criminal activity," Raven answered. He wasn't going to elaborate if she didn't ask. Why would he? His past was his and his alone.

The answer was good enough for Bennett. The brunette arched an eyebrow. "That's so... Normal. Wouldn't they just throw you jn prison?"

"They tried," Raven said with a shrug. "But I'm too young, they said. So now I'm here. The idiots keep tabs on me." He nodded over at the guards by the door and flipped the bird in their direction. "I've seriously come to hate them."

Bennett chuckled, both at his comment and as she thought of their dolls sitting atop her desk.

"I know exactly what you mean."