St. Peter's Asylum discussion

This is where my (regularly rotating) characters will write down whatever the heck strikes the flame of thought in their heads. Give 'em something to write about!

You may see entries from...

~Nathan Adair (Raven)

~Jason Turner

~Carlos Rivera

~Phoenix von Brandt

~Jacob Fox

~Anna Adair

Name: Nathan Adair
Date: 5-3-2012
Mood: Amused, scheming
Status: Patient

I'd forgotten I had this little thing, this journal. Just remembered this morning, actually; and good thing too. I've been a busy boy.

So I met a girl in the basement today. Madeleine Jenson, the resident demon wannabe. I startled her down there, and really I at least thought something interesting would happen--aren't vampires supposed to be feisty little things? I mean, the girl's supposed to be rash, impulsive, snappish. That's what her file says, and I at least expected a nice little exchange between the two of us taunt-wise. I'm sorry to say I was sorely disappointed. Madeleine's got a weak mind, and a weak body. She's absolutely pathetic, and the height of my time down there was when I broke her finger and knocked her down hard (what can I say? She touched me and got up in my face). I have reason to believe I scared the poor thing out of her wits, by the time I was done down there she looked more than a little uneasy. Hm, wonder why that was?

Let's talk Rosemarie now...God, that girl is by far the most interesting one here. I met up with her in the graveyard yesterday (déjà vu, anyone?) and I swear it must have been the best round of my little game yet. She'd lost her act there, but after some prodding at her walls we took turns singing to each other, and that was nice. Oddly enough, she sang The Band Perry's 'If I Die Young.' (Anna's funeral song--it meant things to me.) I sang Barlowgirl's 'Million Voices.' Round's highlight? I kissed her. And then she kissed me back. Now that--that was amazing. I think I'm finally getting somewhere with that little wildcat.

One last thing, dear journal. The words 'Arabelle' and 'bad news' are now synonyms. She's talked, I know she has. I saw her in the cafeteria a couple days ago with the Satanist--Malinda, I think--and that's bad enough but not what I'm worried about. I've seen the way that girl looks at me; she's scared too. What I'm worried about is what Arabelle might have told officials. They've updated my file and worse, my watch (it's already in effect--the guards are especially tense around me) and I think I'm going to have to start being a little more discreet in what I do.

I also think it's time I had another talk with my little spy. A long talk. Are you reading this, Arabelle? I hope for your sake that you are, because I'm coming for you--and I am not happy.

That...was...simply amazing. I am in awe. In awe. Now you must add something about Lena with Raven. Hehe. And Jake. :P

I know, but 'twas too long already. Maybe he'll write about them in his next entry.

Arabelle: HOLY SH/T.

Me: This is what you get when you go crazy, Arabelle.

Flame- Yes! An amazing song! One of my favorites.

Oh my gods Hope that was incredible! XD Why can't we have a love x2000000000000000000000000000 on here?

Oh, come on. It's not that good. I wrote it on a whim.

It is that good lol.

Ooh, write another Hope!

A Jason entry seems appropriate. If you write one about Jason, I'll do one or Cleo.

I liked it Hope. Nicely done!

Name: Nathan Adair
Date: 7-28-2012
Mood: Angry
Status: Patient

It's been a while since I've last written, so I got up today and figured I might as well treat whoever the hell reads this with another entry. Just be warned that it won't be a happy one. Keeping my composure outside my room's taking the toll on my emotional health, so I'm going to use this little thing as an outlet. Anyway, a lot of stuff has happened since last month and none of it is good.

People these days seem to be going out of their way to piss me off. Fucking security already had me at the top of their suspect list for everything that went wrong in the asylum, Taylore and that bitch Yvette didn't need to go and ruin what fragile secrecy I'd managed to build up.

What they did doesn't matter. What matters is the amount of trouble they managed to cause me (and I say they, but I really mean Domonic Taylore as he was the one who started this nightmare.) If it weren't for him and his big mouth, I wouldn't have to deal with all this suspicion placed under my name. And you know, I really did think that the memory of the scene with me would keep him quiet--I suppose I miscalculated.

But I didn't sit down just to rant about one nurse who doesn't know what's good for him. I can make a list of the other people who've all infuriated me since him. Let's see...

-Margot Middleton, who really didn't do all that much if you look at it from a normal person's perspective--but I'm not a normal person and her threats about tattling me to the guards really made me mad.

-Lena Paters. My God, Lena fucking Paters. I'm probably only getting so angry at memories now because I've worked myself into a bad mood, but now that I think about it she did a pretty good job of making me lose my head too, what with her insisting my parents and Arabelle were both innocents. We've made up since, though, which is good (because I kind of like her).

-Wesley Miller; who really didn't do anything to me, but still deserves a mention. Him and Dom, I hear, have been collaborating behind my back, and I think it's time I remind the latter of why he swore to keep quiet in the first place.

-And, last but not least, Cleo Rizzo. In addition to lying to my face several times over a rumor, she happened to remind me why I really really really hate stereotypical idiots. And I'd almost gotten over that hurdle, too. Sigh.


I'm done with my humongous rant now. You probably stopped reading after the first paragraph, but maybe now that I've gotten that thing off my chest by writing it down here the medical staff will finally realize why I've been so, quote "uncooperative and angry."

I considered adding her but she didn't really make him mad in the strict sense of the word. Just irritated him.

Hm?

Yay! He spoke about my dear Lena!

Most of te characters he's pissed at are mine... XD

That's because you're online a lot so we roleplay a bunch. XD

Yeah LMAO true. XD

Name: Jason Turner
Date: 2/10/13
Mood: amused
Status: Patient

So I met a boy a couple of days ago. I don't know his name (he told me to call him Fox) or his status, or his issues--I don't know anything about him, but I do know that he's offered me a very, very sweet deal. There's a girl here at the asylum named Roxie. Bitch thinks she runs the place and has all the murderers wrapped around her finger, but we all know she doesn't--and she proved that a few days ago when she pissed this guy off. Apparently, she did something to his sister--made her break down and have a fit and shit like that. And it really made him mad. He wants to get back at her. And he asked me to help.

Fox wants Roxie punished, and he knows just the way to do it. Problem is, he says, he's not good at getting people to trust him. That's where I come in. He wants me to get Roxie on my side. He wants her to trust me. And then...well, I don't know what then. He said he's going to help me leap that hurdle when we get to it.

I asked this guy what I'd get out of the deal. He said he could get my weapons back. Ares. Dragon. I don't know how he knew I'd got them taken away, but shit--if he's offering, I'm not about to pass him up. I'm not an idiot.

So I'm going to play it up. I'm going to get to Little Miss Thinks-She's-Badass, and then I'm going to have my weapons and Roxie will have gotten in deep shit. Bonus. I hope Cleo understands when I tell her--I'm gonna be having to spend a lot of time with our black marketeer.

But so help me God, it's going to be worth it.

Dude I'm so stoked about this story line :D

Well, until Silvy comes back and we do the basement, you can continue being stoked.

O.o OMG COOL! I wanna hear about this storyline! Awesome.

It happened xD It led to the Silas fiasco.

Oh... I like!

Name: Nathan Adair
Date: 8-9-2013
Mood: Angry. Confused. Sad. Longing. Conflicted. Uncertain. Hateful. Afraid. You know what? Fuck it. There are no words.

Entry: I'm going to have to give this entry some context, aren't I? For whoever the hell reads this. Fine. It's midnight in the asylum, and I'm writing this on my knees by the light of the moon with the journal perched on my windowsill. I just had a nightmare--a very bad nightmare. It was weird, too. I was sitting in the middle of some clearing in the woods back in Oklahoma. My wrists were tied with a rope laced with thorns, and there was this very long string that went from them to another guy sitting a few yards away, who was holding it. I couldn't see his face, but when he started talking, I realized who he was. He was me. He had my voice. My eyes. My smile. And my passion for cruelty. I asked where I was, and he just waved me off. He started talking to me about every single horrible act I've ever committed over my life. Letting Anna drown. Killing my parents. Shooting Arabelle and Margot to death. Beating...beating her. He was counting them off his fingers. And every single time I tried to tell him to stop, he would yank on his string and the thorns would dig into my wrists. They must have been poisoned or something, because it felt like someone was shooting fire into my wrists, through my veins, up my arms. It was agony. The night was agony. Just this giant, white sheet of pain. There was nothing else. Even though I've been up for almost half an hour, I'm still shaking. I keep checking my wrists for scratches and blood or maybe some black poison. Part of me keeps forcing my head up and making me look out the window to make sure he's not actually there with his ropes of thorns.

And I get the feeling that the moon is laughing at me. The moon. Shit. Follows Moon. It reminds me of her. Everything I say, everything I do, everything I look at reminds me of her. I can't get away from it. There's nowhere to go. But I shouldn't be the one running. I shouldn't be the one always looking over my shoulder, praying I don't run into her. I shouldn't be the goddamn prey. And yet, here I am. She ripped my heart out and shoved it right down my throat, and she still wants to play the game. There's nothing left to win, Rosemarie. Nothing left to take. Are you reading this? I hope you are. I have nothing. Left. You've stripped me bare, all right? How many times do I have to say it? What do I have to do, announce it to the whole asylum? Because I will. If that's what you want, I'll do it. I'll do it if that's what it takes to...to get you off of my back. I can't live like this anymore. It's tearing me apart. I don't eat, I can't sleep. And now I'm having nightmares about her. I suppose it's to be expected though, isn't it? Snakes eat ravens. Ravens eat snakes. She's simply turned the tables on me now.

I love her.

I hate her.

I want her dead, but I can't survive without her.

Sometimes I think Jason was pretty spot-on when he talked to Cleo about committing suicide. A gun, a dark room, two minutes. Then I could end it all. I could be with Anna. But that's just it, isn't it? I wouldn't go to Anna and we all know it. It would be straight to the Lower World--and don't we all know that there are so many demons who can't wait to get their hands on me there.

[There are jagged, sharp lines here, as if Raven were still trying to write but kept getting his hand knocked about. Eventually, the words become legible again.]

Sorry, I had a laugh attack and I kept trying to write through it. Great, now I not only write like a loon but I sound like one too. Did you hear that, tsásginas? Did you hear that, you fucks? You're winning! You might as well save a spot for my soul down in hell because I'll be there soon enough! But you know what, it's that thought that keeps me going. The thought that I'm letting all the devils win. By now, it's out of pure spite and pure spite only that I don't just end things my own way. Is it selfish? Sure it is. I'm going to keep dragging myself through this wretched, miserable thing we call existence not because I want to but because I don't want to make it easy for all my demons. There's nothing waiting for me in death, anyway. I'm certainly not going to be having any happy reunions with Anna.

Anna. Sunalei Atsilásgi. Tsulásada Nokuisi. My Morning Flower, my Bright Star. What I wouldn't give to have her by my side right now! She was always the levelheaded one, the one who could look at the individual trees and not just at the forest. She would know exactly what to do about this clusterfuck of a romance I've gotten myself involved with. And to all you naysayers who are reading this and warning me to be careful what I wish for: shut your fucking mouths right this goddamn minute. I know exactly what I would offer up in exchange for her, alive, my age, well. If the demon from my dreams really were to appear outside of my window right now, I know exactly what kind of deal I would make with him, and in the end, I think it would work out well for everyone.

But that's a story for another time, isn't it? My writing hand is cramping. I don't exactly know what I'm supposed to do now, though. Spirits know I'm not going back to the world of nightmares. Brrr. Not happening. I suppose I might as well end this on a goodbye. I hope you've enjoyed reading about my misery, you sick fucks. Go on, share it. There's plenty to go around.

Dodadagohái!

[At the bottom of the page, there are several small, rough sketches that look as if they were drawn very quickly, almost compulsively. A rose. A full moon. A gravestone. Several pairs animal tracks: a wolf's, a fox's, a doe's. And at the end, a red-eyed raven, wings spread, talons extended. The sleek form of a snake lunges up to it. Blood drips from its fangs.]

I'm trying not to cry, and failing. D: Oh, Raven. >.<

Beautiful, Hope. Just beautiful.

I do thank you.