St. Peter's Asylum discussion

A small room, one lying directly under the Common Room. It can only be accessed from the inside of the asylum, and few know how. Only the trickiest of sneaks have found their way into this room.

Walls are made of solid oak, and a red velvet rug lines the floor. Two couches, each made of black leather, and a chair of black wolf-fur surround a single glass table. Hung upon the walls are pictures, drawings, writings... Anything and everything shared by patients of the past and present.

Few nurses come this way, so it is a great place to come if you're avoiding them. The staff does know it exists, but they also know that the patients enjoy their one place d solitude.

RP Here.

Hada's disposition was oddly -- sunny, after her meeting with her newest friend. In fact, the sheer idea that the tiny, tormented girl could make a friend was a huge improvement. As her nurse had been whisked away to deal with a high security patient, Hada had wandered down to the basement. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but, curious instead of her usual fear, She surveyed the lavish decor with red-rimmed chocolate eyes.

Bennett frequented the basement, as few people came and so she got even fewer questions about her dolls. Her dolls decorated the walls of the wooden basement, dolls she didn't use anymore or were bored with.

Bennet sat in the fur-lines chair. In her lap were scraps of fabric. Her brain was dull-- no one new to make, recently. Perhaps her nurse finally deserved a doll....?

A sound drew Bennett away from her dark thoughts, and blue-green gaze flitted to the young girl. A small smile flashed.

Eyes found the girl sitting in the furry chair, and involuntarily Hadassah shrank back. "H-h-hello?" She asked tentatively, tiny body shaking slightly.

The doll-maker smiled at the young girl. "Hi there, kiddo."

Hada bit her already-shredded lip. She plopped down on the couch across from the girl. "Who are you?" She asked, in her bravest voice, thin and reedy, wavering a bit. Turning her head down, Hada picked at the huge dress that hung off her thin frame.

Hands stilled, and one rose from the fabric in her lap. "I'm Bennett. The girl who makes the dolls." Why dodge the truth?

Her hand was offered to the younger girl. "And you?"

"I'm Hadassah. But mostly people call me Hada." She answered softly, taking Bennett's hand in her own bony one. "I had a doll once. But I lost it in the temple." She said darkly, shuttering. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

"I'm sorry. Would you like another one?"

"Ok." Hada said distantly, her knees pulled up to her chest. Don't think about it. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. She gave in and mouth opening in a silent scream as the scene replayed in her mind. Gasping, Hada buried her head in her knees, trying to regain composure.

[*composure]

Bennett arched an eyebrow. "Who do you want it to look like?" she asked simply.

((Thanks.))

"Like me?" The voice was muffled as Hada raised her head slightly, eyes terrified as she fought to control herself. She let her knees relax and took deep breaths. "Sorry." She said softly.

"It's alright," Bennett murmured as her hands began moving. Eyes flashed between the girl, the fabric, and the needle stitching everything together.

Hada watched at the needle flitted in and out of the fabric with interest. "Zach said that I can't scream or they're gonna lock me up, and I didn't scream." She said proudly at her latest improvement.

Bennett smiled. "That's good."

A slight pause, and a few moments where the only sound was the slipping needle. "Tell me about yourself, Hada. Why are you here?"

"People brought me here after the big guy with the metal thingy came to my temple and went PWOF! And then Mama and Papa and Abraham and the Rabbi were alllll red and I hid and then I can here." Hada rushed through the story, then hugged herself tightly and bit her lip again, refraining from crying.

Bennett nodded. "That's sad. I'm sorry."

"It's OK." Hada smiled softly.

Bennett returned the smile, and fell silent. The only sound once again was the ripping, tearing and stitching together of fabric.

Hada watched as the pieces of fabric started to morph into a tiny figure. "How do you do that? She breathed, eyes wide.

Bennett shrugged. "Lots and lots of practise."

"Oh. It's pretty." Hada said simply.

A wide smile broke through. "Thanks."

"You're welcome!" came the spirited reply, a rare smile lighting her face.

[derp?]

((derp.))

[So let's not have them already all over each other today. XD]

Being in the basement by himself soft of disturbed Domonic. The basement was an obvious "off guards" place for nurses. He was in I foreign territory, where he didn't belong.

Sprawled in what he hoped would pass for a lazy fashion, Domonic was trying to ignore the hostile stares of the patients. Maybe once Cadenza arrived and wound herself to him like she always sees to do every time she saw him, they would lighten up. Or darken down.

The nurse sighed, laying an arm over a charcoal gaze.

Ginger footsteps, perfectly in time with one another, announced the arrival of the short-haired beauty. Wary, icy gaze flashed around, and a smile was offered to the few patients she did recognise.

Cadenza spotted her nurse, and the smile turned into a grin as she completed the last stairs and took a seat beside him.

"Well hello," Domonic murmured in a relieved tone. His patient was given a quick brush of the lips. "Next time can we please go somewhere where I'm stated down the whole time?"

Cadenza giggled and threw her legs across his lap, resting her head upon the arm of the leather sofa.

"Sorry about them. They're just not used to you."

"Believe me," he said wryly, "I noticed."

Hand slipped through smaller, paler hand, fingers linking together, enveloping the warmth. "So why the basement?"

A shrug. "It's usually not this full, and I like being alone."

"Ah, I see. But you don't mind being alone with me?"

"Of course not."

Another smile flickered over the nurse's features. He leaned down, delivering another kiss over the lips. "So what do you want to do today? The possibilities are practically endless."

Cadenza shrugged. "Dunno."

"Okay," he replied with a light shrug. "We can sit and wait." He sprawled beside Cadenza in the tight space between her and the couch. He let one arm drape over her waist.

"I didn't know little girls liked the basement." The words came from across the room, where Raven leaned with a casual arrogance against the wall. "It doesn't seen the proper place for them, if you know what I mean." He tilted his head and studied the girl before him, the small, dark-haired creature with her comb and accessories. He didn't think he'd seen her around before.

"You're a high-security, then." Raven narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. What had this seemingly harmless child done to earn her that sort of title? He walked forward and knelt down next to her, curious. "So what'd you do, kid? Kill somebody?" He smirked; the comment was clearly a sarcastic one.

His dark brows shot up in surprise. That was certainly new, a five-year-old killer. Unheard of, almost. He studied her eyes, looking for traces of untruth. He found none. "I suppose not," he said a moment later, in response to her question but shrugging at the bite of her words. "But I'm not one to mind my own business, kiddo. Other peoples' stories are normally so much more interesting than my own, you know."

"Huh. You mean, psychopathic rampages and the like?" Raven looked almost amused. "Sounds nice."

"People call me Raven," he said by way of a response. "I won't be surprised if you don't recognize me. I'm not in here because I'm crazy and so I'm not that famous."

"Well then!" Raven grinned at her. "Congratulations." Regardless, he took her pale hand in his brown one, shook once, and let go.

"Behave yourself and maybe you'll get something," he told her. "Like a beanbag chair. What harm could that do, after all?"

"I doubt you could do much damage even if you could throw it," Raven agreed. He rose to his feet. "I've got business to attend to, Suzy," he said. "I'll have to cut this conversation short."

Startled, surprised, Raven turned to the stairs and shouted a warning. Footsteps clattered down the stone--nurses rushing to see what was going on. Wordlessly Raven pointed at the little girl and melted into the shadows of the corner to watch.

Raven raised an eyebrow but didn't react, simply leaned against the wall. He could take a five-year-old. A calm, slow smile was aimed at Suzy: a question. What's going on?

((Good line.))

Reflexively, Raven hopped to one side, avoiding Suzy, muscles tense. Waiting--what was she going to do next? His dark eyes swept over her, back and forth, watching. He wouldn't miss it if she so much as twitched.

"Damn it!" Raven swore. He allowed Suzy to barrel into him and, ignoring the brief starburst of pain in his chest, shook her off and rolled away, on his feet in an instant. He kicked at her, two swift strikes near her ribs, blinking the stars from behind his eyelids. Hoping to discourage his tiny attacker, or maybe even hurt her. He wasn't sure which.

Raven dodged around her with the skill of a streetfighter, concentrating. Now behind the murder machine, he lunged forward, grabbed both her wrists, and twisted hard before yanking them behind her back. He held them there. Maybe that would hold her. Probably not, but it at least gave him time to think about his own next move.