Anyone Need a Doctor? [Open]

[Luka]

Luka made her way down the halls as calm as always. Humans were subject to habit to and she was no exception. Today she was in charge of checking each patient’s mentality for the week. Even they had standards; it was for their own safety after all. Some of the few amplified individuals seem to get a bit cocky at times and strike out. It was up to the psychiatrists to make sure their stability before testing. It seemed that no one else wanted or rather could take the job except for her. She never majored or minored in psychology but she had done independent research enough that she was well informed. This wasn’t her first time through this task either so experience helped as well.

A loud bang from a door beside her caused her to return from her train of thoughts. A man glared back at her, silent but she knew it held only malice. She looked to check the room number and then back to the paper. Edward was his first name he has been known to show violence towards the staff members. It was simple enough and she found herself checking him off as clear. He was bound to struggle so she was careful to note that. The lock at his door has gone through some obvious wear but his eyes told it all. Within the hate there was also fear, an important factor in their work. If worse comes to worse they always had their tranquilizers, well at least she kept some on her.

With that peace of mind she continued to the next door, her boots striking the floor rhythmically. Some nurses preferred to wear high heels but she found it more of a hindrance and far less practical than regular shoes or boots. It was far better and reinsuring than those stilts for shoes. It also seem to make her a popular attraction among the other doctors and nurses.

It wasn’t long until she reached the next room. The door was open and she could hear noises of a man chatting inside. She recognized him from her former visits, his name was Alexander as she recalled. He was a friendly sort at, least upfront.

“Good day Luka, it…its not my turn right?” he asked, as he noticed her come by. He had opened the door a little more so his face was showing. His eyes had many dark sacks hanging due to the horrors he witnessed. To her, she never had trouble sleeping, than again she wasn’t the one being operated on. She checked her list and found he wasn’t due for another experiment for another two weeks.

“No, not yet,” she reassured and the man quickly eased and thanked her. They were on friendly enough terms and she checked her list again. Today was going as routine as ever in her book but she knew better than to be allured to a false sense of safety. Netherings has always been good in finding new things to throw at her, let it be deranged patients or a new operation they tell her to follow. Regardless no matter the chore she found herself doing it with the same apathetic nature.

Just exactly where did she belong in this world? Sometimes she felt more at ease socializing with the patients than with her fellow workers.

[Thyme]

The usual sounds of the mental institution echoed down the corridors loud enough to drive anyone crazy, but, unlike many other patients, Jeremy Henry did not stand at the door, begging to be let out. Instead, he remained flat on his stomach on his bed, ignoring the sounds, his chin propped up by his maimed hand, and continued to draw invisible swirls on the pillowcase. His good eye was shining with his usual merriment as he sang under his breath. The song was in Corsican -- which, if asked, he would be forced to admit he didn't speak -- and was well-matched to his powerful tenor voice.

"Sognu di ste labbre..." The swirls turned into circles, and the circles into hearts. "Di sta voce chjara è pura. Mai spentu ricordu di tè -- quella notte cui cun tè!" He flattened out all the wrinkles in the fabric with one sweep of his good hand, then turned the pillow over and started drawing swirls again. "Sognu, mi lamentu, u moi core, ‘n hà primura... Di a vita aspettu dumane invinuchjatu, guardu u mare."

He stopped singing momentarily, turned the pillow back over again, and hopped off of the bed. The next verse of the song became much more melodic, and he wanted to dance. God, he hadn't truly danced in such a long time... He had done it all the time before. It was all the rage, of course -- any proper gentleman of the nineteenth century had to know how to dance. 1894 had brought a wave of new fashions and trends, and, of course, he didn't know all of them, but the dances he had learned eagerly...

"Spart’u mondu cun tè, ma tu, ti ne vogli’andà. " Closing his eyes, he pretended he could actually hear the music playing and took the first step of the sequence. Left, two three, right, two three, left right left then relevé, relevé, plant the left foot and turn. His bad leg lagged behind his good one, making it to every step late. "Canteraghju vittoria luntanu da tè," he sang as his danced, his voice crescendoing steadily, "pensu sempre che, sei intornu a mè, sognu di tè. Canteraghju, canteraghju a tè a canzona l’o i mé!"

The sound of footsteps outside his door stopped him before he could go on to the next verse. Suddenly and intensely aware that he was being both watched and judged, he dropped his voice down to a gentle mezzo-piano and stopped dancing. He also decided it would probably be best to finish the song sooner rather than later. Skipping to the final line was easy since he knew the tune so well. Still, his sudden sense of embarrassment couldn't stop his good mood from winning over, and as the last line crescendoed to a bold finish, so did he. He struck a pose down on one knee, hands outstretched as if to implore a lover to return. "Sè tu mori, eu dinò!"

His voice faltered after three or four counts, which was strange. For Jeremy Henry, hitting -- and holding -- the final note was much harder when he was singing quietly. He let his shoulders slump and his hands fall back to his sides, but the grin on his face showed no sign of regret. In the sudden silence, he heard approaching footsteps in the corridor. They weren't the sounds produced by high heels clicking on the tile, but they weren't heavy enough to be a man's steps. This made Jeremy Henry smile a little more: he liked the doctors with boots quite a bit -- at least in comparison to how he felt about the others.

Crossing the distance from the wall to his bed swiftly, the patient sat down merrily, waiting for the doctor to come in. He knew she would: most people liked talking to him. Sometimes, he thought the doctors just wanted to know why he refused to hate them even after all they'd done to him -- as this thought crossed his mind, Jeremy Henry adjusted the bandage over his ruined eye pensively -- but sometimes he thought they genuinely enjoyed his company. It had to make a nice change to talk to someone who didn't want to rip their throats out, or who wasn't completely psychotic.

character ;; jeremy henry~
word count ;; 723
tags ;; luka~
notes ;; hope you don't mind me joining in~

[Luka]

Luka continued on down the halls, except for the occasional threat and shouts she was doing great. Many of the patients had talked to her enough that they know she would rarely call for a beating. She was also quite easy to talk with and had always been reasonable.

Unlike many of the other doctors she never demeaned the people here. They were humans and needed to be treated as such. The only problem with her thought process was she had no problem cutting other humans up. The others hid in self delusions of labeling the patients as lab rats. She needed no shielding due to her own psychological problems.

As she reached the next room, she found that she was also making great time. The next patient was Jeremy Henry Leeland. As she looked over the other notes she found that the other doctors' opinion were mixed. Some loved him for his attitude and others wanted to use the rest of his life up as quickly as possible.

Luka peered into the room for a look at his condition. He definitely been through quite a few experiments. With only that much information she can hardly finish her work. She tested the door. Locked. That was fine many of the patients weren't let out on schedule anyways.

She took out her keys, there were many, her room, desk, the wards. Sometimes she found that there were just too many to keep track of at one time. It took her a few seconds before she finally unlocked the door and walked in.

Upon closer examination he appeared relatively tame. She never talked to him before though. It was natural, many patients and not enough time. She let out a sigh as she still had trouble fully telling the man's psychotic levels. It didn't help that she only saw one eyes and the reviews were all mixed up.

"Good day Mr. Leeland. It seems we never had a formal introduction, I am Dr. Briston and I will be your doctor for this check-up. So how are you feeling today?" she asked in her usual respectful tone. When she arrived at the institution, everyone found it odd that she was a doctor. Even in this day and age female doctors were still an oddity it seems. At times she was mistaken for a nurse. It both annoyed and humored her even when she found herself knowing more on a subject than the other doctors.

[Thyme]

The soft clinking noise was still coming from outside the door, telling Jeremy Henry that the doctor was either unfamiliar with the ward's keys or unfamiliar with the job itself. The latter was less likely -- no one had been allowed on or off the island for years -- but he asked that others keep an open mind, so he tried to do the same. When the jangling still continued, he stood smoothly, his movements graceful despite his leg dragging behind him, and made for the door. But, as always, the moment he decided to stand up was the one when the key clicked in the lock. The door swung open, and a young woman -- younger than he was, at least -- walked in.

It surprised him to see that the doctor was not one he was familiar with. Generally, each staff member had their own wards where they stayed most of the time, but they had been known to switch. Perhaps that was the case now. He greeted her with a small smile, however, regardless of his surprise. If he had been wearing a hat, he would have taken it off -- but, of course, hats weren't allowed most of the time. "Good day Mr. Leeland," she said. "It seems we never had a formal introduction." This made him laugh. "Just Jeremy Henry, if you would," he corrected amiably. "Mr. Leeland was my father -- and, no, I do not believe I have the pleasure, Doctor....?" He looked at her for her name, which she supplied presently. "Doctor Briston." He gave her a flourishing bow. "It is my pleasure. Please, won't you sit down?" He gestured towards the bed. It felt strange to only have a cot to offer as a seat to the young doctor -- had he been still living in his room in the country, Jeremy Henry would have offered her tea and a seat by the fire -- but his manners hadn't been left behind when he moved to Nethering's. "I know you don't have much time to spare," he added by way of an explanation, "But it is an unparalleled pleasure to talk to new people, and I have had few opportunities to do so as of late."

While he spoke, Jeremy Henry watched to see how this doctor would react to what he said -- and, more importantly, how she would react to him in general. He knew he could stay in most doctors' good graces fairly easily: all he had to do was be his usual cheery self. Some of them didn't like his 'usual cheery self' for some reason, however, and it was good to know who those people were. Being on a staff member's bad side meant being on the list for experiments more often, and if Jeremy Henry could do anything to keep himself off those lists, he would. He wasn't always fully in control of himself, of course -- from time to time he became manic, or fell into depression -- but he hadn't lost any of his intelligence when he became delusional.

"It never fails to amaze me that our society has progressed quite as much as it has," he said in response to Dr. Briston's inquiry. "Women as doctors? Ah, how times change. It is hard to believe that it is still 1894. Anyways... How do you do, Dr. Briston, on a day like this?" He ran his good hand through his hair, then leaned back against the wall, watching the woman carefully, but with a great deal of amusement. There wasn't anything funny to be laughing at, but Jeremy Henry just happened to be in one of those moods in which he couldn't quite quench his cheerfulness, which bubbled over despite any attempts to stop it.

That was the one good thing about Nethering's, he reflected: no one judged his euphoric or depressed moods overly harshly. If this was the outside world, that would be different. Other people would look at him strangely, and he would stare back at them, unable to understand when the nineteenth century had grown so judgmental. Last time he checked, the 1890's were a time for progress, for scientific discoveries, and for building a new society where individuality could be accepted. There were things here at the institute that confused Jeremy Henry -- such as the lamps that had no flames, or the mirrors with changing pictures inside -- but at least here he was one of the normal ones.

character ;; jeremy henry~
word count ;; 770
tags ;; luka~
notes ;; yayyy for jeremy henry~

[Luka]

Luka was glad to note that the man had manners to say the least. She graciously took a seat at the well used cot and looked over at the man. His condition was fair in her book and he seemed capable of a few more experiments at the very least. His demeanor was pleasant enough and refreshing compared to some of the others she had to dealt with even among the doctors. Although his hat was clear violation to the standards she ignored it. Personal choice in clothing should be left to the individual to decide. Uniforms were simply quick and easy to wear in her opinion but if she had more convenient clothing she would wear those.

As she listened to the man talk, she noted the year that he stated. 1894? That thought made her right eyebrow to rise in question. She looked over the notes and found a specific description. If this delusion is what he believed it might be best to just go with it. What can she do, she rarely kept track of the dates herself. As far as she was concerned it might really be 1894. How long has she been working in the institution now? Really, she needed quite a bit of answers for herself.

"Very good Jeremy Henry," she started looking out through the singular window of the room. It was a pleasant winter day of the new year she believed. The warmth was indeed coming up and she felt it in her bones. She really must be getting old nowadays if she was sensitive to the weather. Maybe she should take better care of herself.

"Pleasant beginnings of the year, time truly flies," she said, looking out the windows with quite a serene look on her face. Jeremy's own hyper attitude was infectious and she could feel a smile creep onto her lips.

"Before you know it, it might already be 1895 or even the new century!" she remarked with earnest enthusiasm and belief. To be part of a turn in a millennium, that would be a truly inviting experience. All this pleasant talk was truly refreshing compared to the mediocre and habitual life up to now. It almost made her forget that she was in the middle of an important assignment.

"It is a shame that I never earned a chance to speak with you," she remarked, twirling her pencil at hand. She preferred the pencils, it lasted long and you can erase your mistakes. If only the same can be said with experiments. If such a thing existed they wouldn't have to worry nearly as much about losing test subjects. Sure there were still plenty left but the some doctors were beginning to grumble. People always strives for more, let it be a path of evil or love.

"But you must understand, they keep me in the labs most of the time, treating more of the physical ailments of patients than idly speaking with them," she stated her claim. This was the truth of the matter. She specialized in cutting people open after all and operating on whatever the operation was stated. At some point she even did an outrageous experiment that involved her attaching various parts of animal limbs to another person. It was bound to fail and sure enough the patient died with two nights of the operation. However he managed that long was still a mystery that kept her working late into the night.

Oh yes, she was so very zealous of her work. Perhaps that was why she was referred to as a workaholic around the workplace. It also lead to her often forgetting to eat at times. Fatigue was her major enemy in her line of work. While others find it hard to hold their stomach at times. That does remind her that she needed something in her stomach.

Luka shuffled in her pockets to take out a chocolate bar. It wasn't much of a meal but it had to serve as one for the day at least. After this task she was asked to write a few reports on some experiments she had done this weekend. She might barely make it for dinner time. As to not be rude as she unwrapped the chocolate, she split it in two. A whole bar was a bit much for her anyways.

"You are free have some if you wish Jeremy Henry," she offered, taking a small bite from her half of the chocolate. The milky and sweet candy quickly melted in her mouth. It wasn't a lie that women enjoyed chocolate for a reason. The man had treated her with courtesy and she felt she needed to return the same.