St. Peter's Asylum discussion

((Poof. I didn't know Cleo had a dorm.))

[If she doesn't, I'll make her one. XD]

((Okayz.))

Roxie knew something was off the minute she stepped into the attic.

Looking back on it, she should have been more careful, more cautious, more suspicious. Looking back on it, she could see where the lies stood, where the fake smiles and friendships arose. Looking back on it, she could have saved herself a lot of trouble, had she only been a little bit smarter.

Roxie wouldn't admit to it, but the blonde was excited for her "date" with Jason. Foolishly so. Like a little girl she had spent at least an hour in front of the mirror, trying on clothes, lipstick, and other simple commodities. Roxie had been naive, clueless.

Roxie had been someone else entirely.

Having settled on something similar to her usual attire, a deep mahogany sweater, blue jeans and boots, the blonde had made her way to the attic. She encountered no obstacles, whether it be people or cautions.

Roxie walked straight into the trap.

One might say it was the moment when her green gaze fell upon Silas that she snapped. The betrayal could have easily done so. Though that wasn't necessarily true.

No, few will ever know what truly broke Roxanne Hathaway. If it wasn't the betrayal, nor the deed, nor the memory, then it must have been something deeper. A hidden secret. Something very few knew, or would ever know.

But Roxie didn't run from her fate. When she spotted Silas, saw his intent, saw the fury and the resent, Roxanne didn't run. She didn't turn, she didn't hide, she didn't fight.

No, Roxanne Teagan Hathaway walked straight into her demise, head held high.

((That. Was. Fantastic.))

"Hello, Roxanne." The voice, as sharp and cold as a winter wind, belonged to Silas. He stood in the back of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his head up, his gaze hard. His lips were pressed into a thin line, a product of anger, but when he saw the girl they curled up at the corners, just a little. His expression waned steadily from fury to almost smug resentment, and the boy walked forward. His steps were brisk, purposeful, not at all hindered by the clutter of the attic floor.

When he reached her, he struck quickly. One blow; one solid kick to the head. His intention was not to knock her unconscious, just to get her on the floor. He knelt beside her, put his hand on her shoulder. When he spoke, his voice had a edge that could have cut steel. "Were you expecting someone else?"

((Thanks love c: ))

Roxanne didn't give Silas the pleasure of an answer. Green face filled with tears, though whether it was from the pain of the blow, the realization of her betrayal, or her impending situation it was unclear. But Roxanne also refused to look at Silas.

Had she been expecting someone else? Yes, of course she had. It hurt a little, now that the lies and the betrayal came to light, but Roxanne would never admit to that.

Despite her remarks at bravery, her denial of fear, Roxanne was truly afraid. Maybe for the first time, the blonde had screwed up, had jumped past the point of no return.

Roxanne was scared. And for that reason, she refused to look her fear in the face.

"You may scream if you like--no one patrols the halls below the door at this hour; you will not be heard. But you're going to have to hold still."

((Aaaand cut to black.))

[Let's ads a happier RP to this now.]

The attic was apparently much larger than anticipated by other patients because Rosemarie was in a section where there were few boxes and even fewer weapons around. She sat on an old rug that smelled terribly moldy, but wasn't too terribly moth eaten to sit on. She had found this fun little room by exploring around the roof again, hoping to see another smiling, familiar face much like hers was today. She found nothing but the room, which was just as exciting as a person, maybe even more. She doubted many people knew about it, and she figured it could be quite peaceful for when she needed to be alone and away from other people. Now though, she was just taking in her own glory of finding the place as she sat and admired some of the artifacts lying around, which was mostly miscellaneous but beautiful antique knick knacks.

(9There's lots of negative energy here.))

"Pssst. Hey. Hey, Rosie. Have you checked the corners yet?" The voice, soft but seeming almost alarmingly loud in the quiet of the room, did of course come from the back corner, where a shadow detached itself from the wall and took several steps towards her. "Artemis must be so disappointed with you--if I were dangerous, you would be such a dead woman right now."

Rosemarie jumped sky high, her heart jumping fast in her chest. "For the love of Hades, Raven! You scared the ambrosia out of me!" She took the first thing that he found-lucky for him it was only a pillow- and chucked it at the Raven-forming shadow in the darkness. She stood up and made her way towards the back corner. "You don't know anything about Artemis, deary. Thanks to you, now, Artemis will probably never smile down on me again. It's your fault I can never become a huntress again." She feigned anger, crossing her arms and fixing him with a frown and glittering eyes.

Raven caught the pillow as it glided towards him, and continued forward so that at least part of his face was visible. It gave him an odd, almost monstrous look, but of course he was too busy thinking of a comeback to notice. "Rosie, that was perfectly consensual and you know it." He smirked, an expression only visible on half of his face, and chuckled a little. "If don't understand how Artemis expects to get new Hunters if she has such a problem with sex." But he shrugged, laughing a little and waving a dismissive hand. "Nevermind, don't respond to that. You're just going to get all holier-than-thou on me."

Rosemarie made a face at Raven's, or what half she could see. He looked creepishly scary in the dim light. "Come out here so I can see your gorgeous face. You look a lot like Jack the Ripper hiding in a street corner." Amusement filled her features, sparkling her eyes. "And that just shows how much you don't know about Artemis, obviously. If you want to be immortal, you have to sacrifice be an eternal maiden. Rape's the only exception. If you willingly have sex with a man, you're pretty much out of the club. And it's not that hard to say I'm more holy than you. I am." She smirked and leaned against the wall of the attic. It was not exactly comfortable, she could already feel the splinters going into her back. She ignored it, it wouldn't be a big deal to stand there like that for at least a little while.

"Ooh, really? Sweet. Hold on a moment." Raven turned to the boxes at his left, pawing through until he at last pulled out a surprisingly long machete--the point was dull and the blade a bit rusted, but it didn't matter much. He turned back to Rosemarie and grinned, brandishing the weapon at her. He had, of course, taken her funniest comment and run with it (as he had a tendency to do) and ignored all the others. "How about now?" he asked her, and chuckled. "I doubt I look any more convincing with the weapon, because I haven't chopped up and sexually assaulted prostitutes, but you should at least give me props for trying. And I'm not English, but whatever. Rate me on my creepiness factor anyway--scale of one to ten."

"Hmmmm, that's true. You're starting to look less and less like the Ripper." She made a grab at the machete, keeping her hand on the handle, her thumb just touching Raven's curled fingers. "This weapon, but the way, is crap, as cool as it is that you have one." She twisted her face up in a thoughtful manner, looking up at the ceiling. Finally, she looked back at him after several moments of thinking. "You're already a ten on a creepy scale level just by yourself, so you're off the charts in the creepy charts with the weapon, as crappy as it is."

"Success! And give me that, would you? I have to go decapitate that freaky looking teddy bear in that box. It has a full set of human teeth, for crying out loud." Raven pulled the machete away and turned to show her--where there was, indeed, a stuffed bear with what looked like a set of dentures in its open mouth. "It's seriously starting to concern me." And with that, he strode over, gave the odd toy little more than a courteous glance, and swept off its head with one stoke of the blade. He paused a moment, looked at the head staring up at him, and then kicked it behind a box. "There. All better. Of course, that's not accounting for whether a demon lived in that bear--if there was one, it's probably pissed at me now for trying to kill it and I'm probably screwed." He shrugged, then burst out laughing as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. "Ah, well. Live and learn, right?"

Rosemarie rolled her eyes, and kicked at the air in Raven's direction. "You're such a freak. The demon would probably run away from you in fear." She took a disdainful glance at the bear head. It certainly did look freaky with the set of teeth inside of it. Yuck, gross. He seemed very excited about the new little toys he had found. She watched him play like a kid in the new sandbox with amusement. Speaking of kids, Rosemarie has to remember to somehow weave Morgan and Raven's big brother act with her into their lovely conversation.

Raven gave her an almost disdainful look in return, raising one eyebrow. "Rosie, have you ever seen an evil spirit? There's no way in hell I'm going to stand there long enough for it to memorize my face and only possibly have it running away screaming. You know, because I kind of like having my heart inside of my chest, where it belongs." He chuckled and walked forwards, dragging the machete along on the ground behind him. "You can understand that, can't you, darling? I have some odd attachment to my heart."

Cobalt blue eyes widened in the sun lighting in mock bewilderment, her jaw slacking slightly. "I don't understand what you're so worried about. I mean, you have a heart? It would be very hard to convince anyone of that, even a demon." She walked up behind him and poked him in the back that was facing her, but she has to stand up on her tiptoes to reach his ear. He was now considerably taller than she was, so much she'd thought she'd shrunk. "Well, I mean, no one thinks you have a heart except for Morgan. She simply adores you. She thinks you're the greatest thing in the world next to sliced bread."

"Really? The demon I might have just attacked would beg to differ." Raven turned to her, amused, and then swatted her head away from his own as if she were a bothersome fly. Nonetheless, he looked slightly curious. "How do you know about Morgan and myself?" he asked. "Did someone repeat some rumor they'd been hearing?" Because I thought she agreed not to talk about it.

Rosemarie shook her head, her arms crossing firmly over her chest. "Since when do I answer a question just because you ask? This is not how this thing has ever worked." She pointed between the little space between them with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, you don't have to answer." Raven waved a dismissive hand. "Of course you don't." He raised the machete, and poked at her stomach with the dull point. Definitely hard enough to prick her, but not hard enough to hurt--unless she had a very sensitive stomach. "However," he went on, giving Rosemarie a look that for once not teasing but very nearly deadly serious, "considering that I have a weapon and you can't get to one faster than I can cut you, I certainly suggest you do so. Who else knows about Morgan and I, Rosie, and how much did they tell you?" This was the closest Raven had come to threatening his girl in a long time, but he didn't think for a second that he was overdoing it. He didn't like the idea that someone else knew about his relationship with the little girl, someone whose knowledge he had been previously unaware of. No, he didn't like it at all.

The blade of the machete poked her in the stomach, an it did hurt, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She figured that she couldn't get to a weapon faster than him, no, but she could certainly jump down from the trap door faster than he could cut her. "As much as I doubt your ability to cut me for information, I'll tell you to spare you the torture." She swatted the blade away from her, still careful as to not get cut. Even with a dull blade, she knew it could cut her, and the rust of the blade would certainly give her some sort if nasty disease. "Just easy there, Tiger. I'll tell you if you promise to behave." She patted his arm tenderly before speaking again. "I ran into the cutest little patient here, Morgan. She was telling me about the bad people she knew, and how some of the bad people were really good people. At least, to her. She mentioned your name and I said that I knew you and you could be very nice when you wanted to be and she asked me how I knew you, I told her you were my boyfriend." She stopped then, glaring up at Raven again. "By the way, do you really have to address me as Rosie to other people? It's bad enough you say it to me."

When he heard that, Raven lowered the blade. "All right," he said with a nod. "Good." It had been Morgan, then. That was good--that meant his little secret was safe, and that no one outside of the three of them. Still, he thought, if she knew, then he needed to give Morgan a little talking-to. He had, after all, asked her not to speak of them to anyone else, and though he was confident that Rosemarie was a safe ear to be talking to, he still wanted to be sure of things. For once, no response was given to Rosemarie's insistent teasing; he was too busy mulling over other matters. The expression on his face wasn't dark, but it had gone somewhere close.

Rosemarie's face was the one that darkened when she saw Raven's expression. It was an expression meaning he was thinking hard, and it was one she had become familiarly acquainted with in the past. She let him think for a few minutes, figuring he would come back relatively soon. When he didn't, she waved a hand delicately near his head for his eyes to catch, making sure she had his attention. "What're you thinking about? You look like you have to go stick someone now." No, that wasn't exactly what he looked like, what he looked like was a boy who had to do a difficult chore and was planning his way of how to do it because he had to, not because he wanted to.

Raven shook his head impatiently. "Would you quit it?" he snapped at her, and then waved her away. "I have things to take care of now," he said, then turned to the trap door. "You can hunt me down to taunt me later, Rosemarie. Right now, I have more important things to worry about." He dropped the weapon and was gone, his body tense, his features dark.

((Fade?))

Rosemarie faltered, shocked at his small outburst. She wondered, had he ever snapped at her like that before? She couldn't think of a time when he had. It made Rosemarie wonder if he was back to himself again. Worry for the little girl seeped into her stomach a well, because that was when he had gone dark and unresponsive. Rosemarie thought, prayed, that he didn't have it in him to harm a small, innocent child. Oh, please, give him a break, a voice in her head commanded, and Rosemarie decided that little voice was right. Raven had certain mood swings from time to time, and maybe something she had said about Morgan had reminded him of Anna. But it was the dark, menacing look on his face when he left that made Rosemarie return to her dorm and pray to Artemis. It was the first time she had done so in a long time.

No one exactly knows what actually started the fire. But of you talk to the right patient, or pressure the right nurse, they will tell you that they have some idea of what might have happened: one of the asylum's patients, Samantha Senatra (a girl with dissociative identity disorder) came up to the attic one warm afternoon, dressed and acting on the part of one of her meaner, more vengeful personalities and decided to set fire to the whole place in a plot to kill both herself and as many people as she could get the fire to reach. They say it was a match that did it (though where the sixteen-year-old would have gotten matches is fairly uncertain.)

There was absolutely no hope for the attic room. Old and wooden and absolutely full of all sorts of flammable things, it went up like a pile of kindling and didn't burn itself out until the roof collapsed in onto the second floor and found itself with nowhere else to go. Six people total died in the fire: all patients, all female. Samantha Senatra, Ruby Wolfe, Catalina Frost, Cadenza de Luca, Roxanne Hathaway, and Bennett [surname]. According to popular belief, Samantha herself was the first one to die--the personality didn't know that the attic would burn so well, and it took a very short time before smoke inhalation killed her. The flames very quickly disposed of the body.

The collapsing roof took the life of Cat--there was no time for her to run by the time she realized the floor above her was ablaze. There was no pain; just a loud, crackling sound, and then? Darkness. Her stepbrother, Silas Frost, disappeared soon after hearing of her death. According to sources, he was let out of the asylum's care by the owner of St. Peter's, due to having only been enrolled for his stepsister's benefit prior. Some say he went home. Others say he took his own life. No one really knows what happened to the elder Frost after July 20th, 2013--he was not heard from again.

Cadenza de Luca was said to panic and get lost on her way out of the asylum--whether it was disorientation and panic or the smoke that caused her to faint was unclear. But faint she did, and the fire took another life.

Poor Bennett was sleeping in her room when the roof came down, and not even the screams of the patients and staff were enough to wake her. She would not open her eyes again.

Ruby is said to have been trapped on the upper floors when she died--but not by any living being. Her primary hallucinations, shadows, are said to have forced her to stay where she was using first words and then violence, even as the fire began to roar and patients screamed and ran outside the room. Felix Newbury's dorm was her last place of residence.

Roxanne Hathaway was the only patient who is rumored to have intentionally committed suicide. The stories say that she was feeling particularly down on the day of the fire, and even as the burning roof fell down around her wouldn't move a single muscle. Some even say she welcomed the flames when they took her. Some even say she died with a smile on her lips.

All other residents of the asylum at the time are said to have gotten through the tragedy without injury. The staff and guards worked hard to corral all living patients--in shock or not, terrified or not--out into the graveyard, which sat on a hill a mile away from the asylum building proper and was therefore safe from harm. There, reunions were made: nurses found their charges, lovers embraced, friends called out to each other. It is said that even those patients who were enemies just a day before worked to help each other out, helping each other to recover from the shock and leading the lost to their loved ones.

After a headcount had been taken and all reunions made, it is said that the surviving population of St. Peter's simply stood and watched their prison burn.

[Beautiful.]

((I thank you.))

[That was amazing, Hope. ~love~❤]