St. Peter's Asylum discussion

Trees, benches nailed to the ground, and dead grass decorate this lovely area. High walls with barbed wire at the top border the perimeter, and a number lock is on the door. Surveillance cameras spot each corner, and you can only come out with a nurse's key.

Tommi was let out in the park by one of her favorites, she held a book in her hands. Her eyes scanned over the pages intently, sitting below a tree. She had spread her bed sheets down for comfort, and ignored the comments in her head about the reading.

Laurne was sitting on a bench, legs pulled up to her chest. The ground hurt her legs; it was far too rough for her delicate skin. They made her go outside. They thought it would be good for her. It hurt her more. It hurt her eyes and her skin. But the two dolls stayed with her, reassured her, and that was just fine.

{{Too touch?}}
Tommi was interuppted by her book trance when a farmiliar voice joined the jumble, but stood prominent from the rest. She hadn't heard it in years, it was like a second concious to her. Go up to her. Her grandmother instructed. Tommi, being the obedient goody-goody mumbled something about her head killing her.

Approaching the little girl, her tone was soft but cautious. "Do you want a blanket?" She asked tentively.

((rough, sorry. ))
"Too rough," Lauren muttered. "Too bright." Her head was lowered, and she was playing with one if the dolls again. Only then did she seem to realize she wasn't alone.

"Who is that?" she whispered to the doll. "She's bright like them. But not the same. Not the same."

((Oh))
"The blaket will help with the roughness." She tried again, a little scared. She was quiet and stood a few feet away, she didn't want to set her off. She knew personal space was a big thing to many patients here.

"Not the same," she muttered. "She's not the same. Still hurts. But not the same." Then she went silent, as if she were listening for something.

Now Tommi was just weirded out, she still hadn't gotten used to all the people in this place. "Umm.. Can you hear me?" She asked, peering at the girl with concern.

Lauren pressed a finger to her lips as she drew her doll closer. "Yes, Mr. Bubbles, she does seem different,' she muttered.

"Uhhh..." Tommie stood there, not sure what to say. More encouragements, warnings, commentaries and requests flooded into her mind. "Agh! Go away!" She muttered, then realized she said it out loud and grimaced. "Sorry." She apologized.

"Do they visit her, too?" she asked the doll softly. "Do they visit her? During the day. Do the ghosts visit her, Mr. Bubbles?" Lauren looked up at the girl warily, as if she would jump out at her any moment.

((Sorry I was only on for a min))
Tommi frowned, eyeing the girl and wondering if she really knew or if she was rambling. "Ghosts?" Tommi questioned quietly.

((tis kay))

"Ghosts," Lauren repeated. "That tell me things at night. With the angels. With the angels like Mr. Bubbles."

"Oh." She said, shrugging. It wasn't impossible or insane to her, she heard them all the time. "They tell me things all the time. It's annoying." Tommi explained, rolling her eyes at her own predicament.

Lauren didn't seemed to be phased by her story; in fact, she seemed to have not heard her at all, and was instead listening intently to something else.

Iviana (The Sign Painter!) wrote: "Lauren didn't seemed to be phased by her story; in fact, she seemed to have not heard her at all, and was instead listening intently to something else."

[Psst. It's *fazed.]

((... I so knew that.)

((SORRY I HAD TO GO TO ICE))
"You-who?" Tommi frowned, wondering what happened. She observed the younger girl precariously, then peered around to see if anyone else noticed. The medication she took was dulling the voices but they kept whispering and she was getting annoyed.

((IT'S FINE))
Lauren blinked, and turned her gaze down at her dolls. "What do you think, Mr. Bubbles? Should we tell her?" she whispered to them.

((:D))
Now, Tommi was used to weirdness in this place, but now she was a little creeped out. But being concerned, she sat down on the very edge of the bench carefully not to touch her. "What's your name?" She asked kindly, in a tone she'd use for a child.

"Lauren," the girl answered in a faraway, slightly singsong type tone. "Little, little Lauren, is what they used to say. But now they're gone. Gone, gone, gone."

Tommi opened her mouth to say something but just found her self staring at the girl in horror. She's a child, with a horrible disability. It's not her fault. She tried to convince herself. "I'm Tommi." She introduced herself shakily.

"She's not certain, Mr. Bubbles," she muttered. "She says her name is Tommi, but she's not certain." She hadn't looked up at the older girl the entire time, but instead hugged the twin dolls closer to her.

"My name is Tommi." She repeated, now more confident. Avoiding eye contact, confiding in inanimate objects, possible record of murder. Must've had a rough childhood with no one to talk to. One of the voices commented.

"Now she's certain, Mr. Bubbles. But she wasn't before. She wasn't before," Lauren murmured. "She sees the ghosts, too, doesn't she?"

"No, I hear them." She informed her, her brow furrowing. "How did you know?"

"I see them," she replied simply. "They tell me stories. They're here right now. They like you."

((Back))
"They like me because I can communicate with them." She explained, her feelings obviously negative on the subject. "But they can get awfully pushy and sometimes I can't take it." She added with a slightly insane smile, her stress getting to her.

((:D))
"Mr. Bubbles likes them," Lauren muttered. "He likes them." She patted her dolls. "I do, too. Their stories are nice."

((How old should my new character be? It's a guy named Charlie..))
"Which one's Mr. Bubbles?" Tommi asked, changing the subject. She glanced at the dolls, frowning. They probably weren't the healthiest thing..

((How old does he look?))
"They're both Mr. Bubbles," she answered. "They're identical. Identical Mr. Bubbles."

((Back. Umm.. I picked one model but he's pretty young.))
"How do you tell which one is which?" She asked.

((Define "young" xD What did you want him to be? Volunteer, patient, etc.?))
"They're the same Mr. Bubbles. Identical, same Mr. Bubbles," she murmured.

((I'm not sure!!! I was just wondering what you thought the group needed. :D))
"So, they're the same person just in two bodies?" Thinking she was beginning to understand, Tommi scooted a little closer to the girl.

((The group needs nurses, because there are like, none.))
She didn't seem to mind Tommi moving closer. "Identical, same Mr. Bubbles," she repeated quietly. "Identical, same Mr. Bubbles."

((Okies))
"So their the same spirit?" Tommi tried again, watching the younger girl. She didn't want to push it, but she scooted over another inch.

((can i join? (: ))

((it's up to you, Kat))
"Same Mr. Bubbles," Lauren repeated, frowning. "Same." She was struggling to communicate, as she so often did when someone did manage to catch her interest.

((Umm... sorry a bit preocupied with Charlie Baker. :D You could ask in Charrie-Self Chat!))
Tommi didn't want to ask again, worried she'd scare her. "Oh, that's nice. Did you make him?" She hoped she made the right move.

((tis fine, but seriously. Should she come or not?))
Lauren thought for a moment. She couldn't remember making her little angels. She only remembered him being there, whispering things. "I don't know. Did I make you, Mr. Bubbles?" she asked the doll. "Did I make you?"

((I don't know!))
"Can you tell me something about Mr. Bubbles?" Tommi said, deciding to skip that question for cautious reasons. Tucking hair behind her ear she touched the hem of her shirt, a habit that happened when she was nervous or not sure what to do.

((xD nice.))
"Yes." She let one of the dolls sit up against the back of the park bench, allowing the other to be cradled between her chest and knees as she wrapped her arms around her legs. "Yes, yes, yes."

"What is it about Mr. Bubbles you want to tell me?" She persisted. She looked at the doll, and resisted the urge to shudder.

"Whatever you want," she replied simply. "Whatever you want." She placed the other doll on the other side of her, and drew her knees tighter to her chest

"Um, how old is he?" She asked tentatively, wrapping her arms around her own petite body.

Lauren turned to the doll furthest from Tommi. "How old are you, Mr. Bubbles?" she asked the doll quietly. She waited a moment before replying. "He doesn't know."

"Oh, well I'm fifteen. How old are you?" She offered, seeing if she'll stop communicating through her doll.

"He thinks I'm ten. He was uncertain though," she replied. "Mr. Bubbles doesn't know either."

"He? Who's he? Is it Mr. Bubbles?" She questioned, now more curious. Then realizing she probably sounds like an interrogator she looked at the ground shamefully.

"Matt," Lauren answered. "Matt. He wasn't as bright."