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Post by sage on Aug 4, 2011 21:07:18 GMT -5
The lights in the infirmary were not completely off, but since it was nearing the end of the day, when Nicolai Sage would venture back into the darkness of his room, they were dimmed. He rarely got students at that time, when the sun was about to descend, so his guard was down and he allowed himself to do in the privacy of his office what he would normally not when the sun was high up in the blue sky and the hallways were bustling with life. At that particular moment, Sage was drawing from the lip of a vial filled with dark brown liquid a millimeter’s worth of fluids, into a needle-topped syringe. He held it up to the fluorescent gleam of his lamplight, his face quite impassive as he examined it thoroughly. Sage seemed satisfied, then pressed the tip of the sharp metallic implement into his wrist, in particular his vein. He watched his flesh throb with pressure as he pressed down upon the syringe and let the fluids slowly escape into his body system.
He watched tersely as nothing happened. Carefully, he put the syringe down and narrowed his eyes, watching his arm. Sage lifted his hand in the air, so that it could be inspected in the limelight. Then he grabbed a knife and slowly slit his wrist. Blood trickled from the wound, but Sage barely blinked, ignoring the steady throb of pain. He glared at the slit, willing his flesh to move. He could feel his brain slowly turn his power on, like a light switch. His flesh started to close up. Then around the cut, it bubbled, and writhed, and then suddenly expanded, bulging out around it as if it were filling up with air. Sage gave a sharp ‘tsk’ and observed the erratic movements of his flesh; the skin as multiplying at an excessive rate. “Another failure.” He said to no one, blandly. Sage waited for the skin to stop reacting. It bubbled and grew for a couple minutes more, and he watched in silence. Then the skin eased its way to a stop, and Sage sighed. He took the sharp end of the knife, and then sliced off the excess skin. It fell on the top of his desk with a heavy, watery thud, leaking blood slightly. Sage willed the rest of the skin to close over the wound. When everything looked normal again he walked over to his private sink, and washed off the blood, glancing up in the mirror. Chilly blue eyes gazed back.
“I’ll try again later.” He told his reflection, the went back to his desk to wipe up the excess flesh. Surprisingly enough, as he was toweling down the remaining liquid on the mahogany fur nature, there was a slight commotion at the door. Sage immediately dropped the rag, and transformed his demeanor; his usual kind smile attaching itself easily. “Yes, who is it?” He called, peering through his office door.
This is what I’m listening to.
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 4, 2011 23:17:14 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
Damian stood in front of a door, not listening as a teacher explained that he (the teacher) had a huge workload in his office and couldn't take Damian in and introduce him to the nurse. He was instructed to "just go right in," the teacher endured a slightly awkward pause waiting for Damian's answer, and then the teacher moved away. Damian listened to him go, grateful that the man had at least not tried to hold his hand through it all. Figuratively, of course. He was fairly certain he'd have launched the man through the air if he'd tried actually holding Damian's hand.
Still musing over that thought, he fumbled for the door handle. It took him three tries, and he scraped his knuckles once before finally getting a grip. He hated this. Hated being blind; hated how it made him feel helpless. The only consolation was that it must not have always been that way; his body seemed able to remember how to cope. The schedule and room assignment in the folder in his backpack were in Braille, and he'd had no trouble reading it. On top of that, he could hear things that had surprised the doctors, and he had attacked a nurse because he tell from her voice that she was lying. The doctors had insisted it meant the blindness had not come from the car crash he couldn't remember. They said it was from "solar retinopathy" and usually came from staring at the sun. He hadn't told the doctors, but just the thought of doing that made his stomach hurt, and he couldn't imagine what would have driven him to stare long enough for that kind of damage...
Frustrated, Damian shook out the thoughts and pushed open the door, muttering, "Here goes nothing." The first few limping steps into the room were hesitant, his hands outstretched in the hopes of detecting any obstacles before he hit them. Somewhere in the back he could hear water running, and he made that sound his goal. One hand brushed against cold metal, and he paused a moment to figure out what he was touching. The end of a bed frame, very hospital-y by the feel of it. Slowly, he edged along the bed, holding out one hand to find the next bed. As soon as he had a hold that one, he mentally calculated the distance. Sixish feet between the two. There was a good chance all the beds were the same distance... Satisfied, Damian aligned himself with the end of the end of the bed, and tried to make his steps confident.
He made it past the second bed before having an accident. The third bed had been moved just a little at some point so that it jutted slightly into the room. His bad knee discovered this, cracking against the metal frame hard enough to make the bed screech a few inches across the floor. Pain exploded through Damian's whole leg. It was so bad he could only make a small noise as he sank on to the bed, one hand griping the injured body part and the other tangled in the bed's blanket. He rocked once, hissing air through his teeth, and a blast of air came from nowhere, slamming the second bed against the first.
The noise had finally caught the nurse's attention. Damian heard the call from the area of the running water, and he eased his grip on the bed, trying to do the same to his knee. A moment of testing revealed he could stand, though his limp would be worse for a few minutes. He limped to the end of the bed and faced the voice, his useless gaze fixed on the floor. "It's Damian O'Callaghan, Sir." He knew his accent was thick, and the fact that he kept his voice low probably wasn't helping him being understood. Still, he hated being loud. "The Headmistress said you'd been told I was coming."
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Post by sage on Aug 5, 2011 0:24:47 GMT -5
Sage could see the source of the clatter now. It was no one he knew, and no one he was expecting. The new person looked young enough to be a student, so he probably was. Sage glanced down at his clothing, making sure there were not stray stains on his fabric. There weren’t. He closed the door behind him, wondering why the boy had made such a clatter. Naturally clumsy? Sage smiled at him, but the boy kept his gaze fixed on the floor. "It's Damian O'Callaghan, Sir." Not a name he recognized in the least bit. Irish, by the accent, and soft-spoken as well. Properly respectful. Perhaps it was a newly enrolled student; he wouldn’t be the first to drop in unexpected. Of course, he had thought even Lillian Palmer could maintain that much respect for him, school nurse he may be… "The Headmistress said you'd been told I was coming." What the fuck? Sage let himself look momentarily confused, and the briskly turned to reach a pile of paper, shuffling through them. He filed quickly, brows furrowed. Then he finally came to find the paper; a notification of enrollment, and a thick file attached. It was much thicker than he was used to. Sage raised an eyebrow animatedly just for the sake of it, though he felt less curious than he had ought to and no one was facing him to see. Sage turned, and smiled at Damian, even though he was looking down.
“I see. Damian… O’Callaghan.” Sage’s voice was genuinely kind. At least on the outside. Inside he was practically emotionless, scientifically inclined, experimenting with emotions though he had none. But he had fooled lie detectors before, and the only person he truly feared was Lillian Palmer herself. She was not a bit of machinery that could read brain waves. She used her own special form of accurate readings, and though Sage didn’t know how, she could always tell what was the truth and what wasn’t. That, more than anything, was horrifying to him. He had grown up with his false personality, and for twenty eight years he had perfected it. “I am terribly unprepared. It’s rather embarrassing, actually. I forgot about your arrival and I didn’t even get a chance to read your file.” That was both a lie and a truth, the lie being his ‘embarrassment.’ He wondered absently why Damian had gotten himself into that position, and why he looked pained. “Let me skim through it for a couple seconds and we can…” He glanced at Lillian’s instructional paper. “Do the checkup in a minute.” Sage turned and began rifling through the papers, only pausing when something came across as useful. Sage paused at his medical bio, and figured out why he had so many papers.
“It says here you are legally blind and incapacitated in your…” He glanced down at the paper, “right leg. It that true to today? Sage knew it wasn’t the social norm, but he gave no emotion to the sentence. He recognized his mistake after he committed it; generally, people would use some sort of sympathetic tone when applying that question. The truth was, Sage didn’t care. Not one bit. Sure, this was his first blind student, but he had come across blindness before. After another skim of the paper, he saw that Damian was an amnesiac. That was much more interesting than him being blind.
This is what is playing.
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 5, 2011 1:01:07 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
Damian heard the footsteps of the nurse, knew he was being watched by the man. The hair on the back of his necks stood and he shifted position, uncomfortable. He hated not being able to see the faces of new people, not being able to see their reactions to him. At least he could hear the reaction to a certain extent. His comment about the Headmistress had the nurse shuffling through papers.
"Damian...O'Callaghan." The nurse's voice was kind enough, and Damian nodded accepting the explanation about his arrival. That explained the shuffling of paper, though Damian didn't like the idea that this man might know more about him than he did himself. Even so, he tried not to show it as he shifted position in an attempt to ease the pain in his leg as the Nurse shuffled through more papers. After a moment of that, the Nurse directed a question at him, and he lifted his head. There was something odd about the question itself, though Damian couldn't place how right away. And then it occurred to him - the question had been very unattached and official, zero emotion. That wasn't usually how people asked that question, though he thought it was more truthful in a lot of ways; usually people sympathized and pitied him. Maybe the nurse was just too distracted to pretend he felt sorry. "I think I'm blind in every sense of the word, Sir." He smiled weakly before continuing, "And yes, my right knee is pretty shot. I've got..." He hated admitting it, hated showing any sort of weakness, but he knew the nurse needed the information. "I've got a bit of a limp. Nothing bad, but..." He shrugged weakly, letting the words trail off. Hopefully the checkup wouldn't involve too many of these questions - not only did they make Damian uncomfortable, there were several he simply wouldn't be able to answer. Maybe the nurse could help him, though, or knew someone who could. ...Damian could dream, right?
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Post by sage on Aug 5, 2011 19:43:07 GMT -5
Sage glanced up, impassive as he took in the rather interesting new student. He could feel a tiny hint of something likened to shame in his voice; something similar to chagrin, but a faded form of it. He could tell that there was once a great deal of embarrassment concerning his unknown history and his physical state. Perhaps onslaughts of pity and falsified personas had tired him out. Sage didn’t feel anything but curiosity. His eyes wandered up the boy’s leg, until he saw him gripping unto his knee with a pained expression, and connected two and two. He tilted his head a bit to the right, a bit like a confused dog. His expression was no longer that of his regular smooth suaveness. He could drop his guard a bit, around this boy. Sage looked back to the papers. The detailed box stated that there was ‘severe inconsistency regarding the strength of his leg,’ which didn’t sound like “a bit of a limp.” He narrowed his eyes a bit, before smiling again. It was easier to keep a gentle voice when having a friendly face. “You can call me Mr. Sage.”
“Well, since it’s getting late, we should probably start the exam soon. Did you have a nice tour? Everything was easy to navigate?” He walked to the back, and grabbed a file, taking out the papers and riling through them. Some of it was basic, allergies and shots that he had taken when in the hospital, but there was an overabundance of papers related to what he didn’t have; reports on his lack of surgical history, lack of needed medications, and more than half of the files dedicated to his amnesia. Sage would look through them thoroughly later; it was too interesting to pass up. For the moment, though, he needed to concentrate on Damian. When he was done transferring the papers, he walked back to Damian with a clipboard with a paper on it, for extra notes. “I need to know if you have trouble getting around without help. Please, try to be truthful. If you do, I have something that could help you.” His voice remained friendly but informative.
This is what I’m listening to.
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 5, 2011 22:47:12 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
Damian was rapidly deciding he did not like being in the Infirmary. It wasn't the nurse - he seemed like a a good bloke - but there was something. The file, maybe. The nurse had in his hands every bit of information about Damian that Damian did, and that bothered him. A lot. Plus, he thought the man knew he was lying about his knee. Blood rushed to his face, and he let his head fall a little further, hoping to hide the evidence. So his limp was a more than "slight"...it wasn't debilitating either. The flush deepened and he couldn't help hoping the nurse was staring at the stupid file - at least then he could be sure the telltale blush. His hopes were thwarted by the man's friendly introduction. People looked at each other when they gave their names. Damian sighed slightly and nodded, trying to keep a smile on his face, which was easier when the promised checkup was offered.
"The tour was great, Si-er, Mr. Sage. I think I've got a pretty good idea of the school. Just got my dorm left to...see." And his roommate left to meet. That was going to be...interesting, to say the least. Damian listened to Mr. Sage move toward the back of the Infirmary once more, and he shifted position once more, uncertain if he should follow or not. Yet again he heard the dreaded sound of the papers in his file - he wondered suddenly if there was anything in there that he didn't know - and he decided to just stay put. After a moment, he was rewarded by Mr. Sage's footsteps returning. Excellent. Of course, the next comment crushed all his good feelings, and he cringed internally. More questions...ah well, he hadn't really thought he'd get out of awkward questions anyway. This one, though...
He was on the verge of denying any such problems, when he registered the end of the sentence. Help? There was no way he was actually getting the miracle he'd asked for. He couldn't decide for a moment, and knew the pause ruined his lie. Still, he couldn't help but try. "Not too much trouble. It's being in a new place more than anything. A few days, I should be fine." This, he had convinced himself, was not untrue. Despite his words, Damian still clung to the hope that the help being offered was actually going to help the darkness in his memories...or the same in his vision.
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Post by sage on Aug 7, 2011 0:31:05 GMT -5
Damian was getting increasingly more nervous as Sage started, which wasn’t entirely good for sage. His brain was working in a different way though; calculating all the ways he could help the boy in front of him. Not because he was going to offer anything more than he needed to, but because he loved to calculate. An interesting idea popped up in his head; if the problem in his head was due to an emaciated muscle of a twisted nerve, then Sage could probably have fixed it, and easily too. All it would take was a bit of rooting around the flesh with his power, and he could have manipulated the leg to work again. It was so basic for him, it would probably have only taken a couple minutes. But gnarled flesh was something normal doctors couldn’t easily fix, and he was supposed to have regular healing powers. And also; he didn’t give a damn what happened to the kids leg. He wanted to play around with the science of amnesia. He was frowning again; not good for his audible persona. He lifted his corners up into a grin.
“Ah, well I’m glad it went well for you. I hope you will enjoy Silas Academy. It has the perks of privacy from the outside world.” But not privacy from Lillian Palmer, the bitch. The smile twisted into some kind of grimace, though it really was just a faux reaction he got from feeling anger and hatred. He cleared his throat, swallowing down the strong emotion so it didn’t mess with his vocal chords, and then slapped the papers down, turning and walking back to his office. He opened the doors just a crack so he could squeeze through; he knew the boy was blind, but he couldn’t help being cautious. Even in the darkness he knew where everything was; he opened the closet door and flipped the switch, so he wasn’t completely lost. After a couple seconds of rooting around in the very back, he found what he was looking for, and briskly locked the closet once more. Once he was out of his office, he approached Damian slowly, holding the cane out to him, though he knew without indication the boy couldn’t take it. He placed it gently in his lap, and then turned back to the papers, still smiling.
“This is called a white cane. I’m sure you are familiar with the term? It’s what clinically blind people use to navigate safely. Now,” He turned, his voice becoming stern, “I know you aren’t going to like the idea of walking around with a cane all the time. Trust me, I wouldn’t like it either. But it will be useful to you, and keep you from running into…” he paused, then smiled again “bed corners. It will be good for you.”
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 7, 2011 23:16:21 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
Damian smiled at Mr. Sage's cheerful words. Privacy? Yes and no, he thought. The outside world knew little of them, if rumors were to be believed, but inside...Damian wondered if there were secrets inside the walls. Maybe he could even find the key to unlocking his own secrets somewhere in this school. The short sound of Mr. Sage clearing his throat made him jump slightly, and he lifted his head in the nurse's direction, waiting to hear what else would be said. Instead of speaking, Mr. Sage threw down the files and strolled away, leaving Damian once more alone and confused. For a moment, Damian considered running. The thought was only there for a moment before he dismissed it, however. Even if he decided to run, he didn't think he could get very far; either he'd run into something again or Mr. Sage would come back. So, instead, he heaved a sigh and settled on the bed, waiting in curiosity.
Mr. Sage rummaged around through something in the same back room the water sound had come from - it had to be a back room, because it sounded too muffled to be in the same room. While the nurse was gone, Damian took the chance to practice his power, blowing air out of his cheeks to get a picture of the room. All he got back was a muddled picture of shapes and shadows. It was way too much information all at once, and it left Damian stunned with confusion. So much so that he didn't even notice Mr. Sage's return until he'd laid something in Damian's lap. Curious, Damian explored the object with his fingers and found a very long, narrow cane.
“This is called a white cane. I’m sure you are familiar with the term?" Damian jerked his hands away from the cane at Mr. Sage's words. Yes, he'd heard of the canes. The doctors at the last hospital had tried to make him take one too. They would have continued insisting too, he was sure, if not for the incident with the nurse. He had allowed himself to be relieved when no cane was sent with him, and now...now it was being pushed on him again. Only, he liked Mr. Sage, and the nurse was stern, rather than wheedling. (He'd driven the other doctors to that point, and he was kind of curious as to what it would take to get Mr. Sage there.) Besides, Mr. Sage had mentioned the "running into bed corners" thing. Damian felt himself flush, but he still refused to touch the cane. "Mr. Sage, I know you're helping me, but I'm not going to use the cane. You say it'll help, but...but the bed corners don't really hurt that bad." He smiled to hide his lie as his knee throbbed in complaint. And then, suddenly, more words were coming out. "Besides, you have no idea," It sounded like a soap opera, but he couldn't stop the bitter words from coming out, "what it's like using one of those things. Brand 'incapable' on your forehead and walk around for a while. See what you think of it."
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Post by sage on Aug 8, 2011 13:01:04 GMT -5
It was evident to Sage now that this boy was so deeply, stubbornly in denial that he would even be willing to run into walls all day instead of except his own disability. For a moment, Sage let himself become his usual, emotionless self, staring at Damian coldly. It was a completely uninteresting and pedestrian thing for Damian to be this way; it made Sage almost pity him. Of course, the doctor had no use for such things like ‘pity,’ since feeling picayune emotions would only interfere with his ideals. He tilted his head to the side, his serpentine eyes looking Damian up and down. Denial was another emotion he didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t grasp it really, and it was hard to act it out. So troublesome. Sage smiled again, so that he could conform his voice, and approached slowly. He sat down on the cot opposite of Damian, and leaned back on his palms.
“I don’t know if you have been told this before, but this is something I genuinely believe; if you deny yourself acceptance, you are draining your potential.” This was something Sage did think was true; it was a saying he lived by. It sounded much nicer when he said it so kindly. Inside his head, it was just another method to help himself. Frankly, he didn’t even know why he was even trying to convince Damian to do anything. Perhaps he was just bored. “Of course, it’s your choice if you want to use it or not, but I implore you to take it. Believe me; I don’t see you any more incapable as the next student, cane or not. You’re all the same to me.” Which was true. Nobody was ‘disabled’ and ‘able-bodied’ to him. Nobody was ‘pitiful’ or ‘a charity case.’ Everyone was either ‘useful’ or ‘not useful,’ no matter what their problems were. He recognized the irony and almost gave a snort, but remembered himself and clapped Damian on his shoulder, gentle but firm. Just a part of the role he was playing. The ‘caring school nurse.’ What a joke.
“In any case, I want you to take it, whether you think you’ll use it or not. Maybe you can beat your new roommate with it, if he gets out of hand?” Sage gave a chuckle that was almost genuine, and certainly sounded like it. “That was a joke. Don’t do that. But maybe you’ll use it sometime. What was your ability again?” He had almost forgotten to ask such a basic question. Sage turned, ready with his pencil and paper.
This is my jam.
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 8, 2011 20:54:11 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
For a moment there was no answer to Damian's outburst, and he began to feel embarrassed for having said anything. Stubbornly, he squashed the feeling, refusing to back down from what he'd said. He knew the stupidity of it, knew the supposed benefits of using the cane...and knew it didn't matter to him. It was redundant, he was ready to tell anyone who asked why; because of his power. ...Or, it would be, once he'd figured out the kinks. Right now he could only get the vague confusion from earlier, save for a few lucky times when he'd gotten details. The fact that he could sometimes get a clear picture made him believe, however, that he could get to the point where he could see things properly. And if he relied on the cane all the time, then he'd never learn to use his powers to that extent.
The nurse's silence was starting to get to Damian, and he resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. He could feel the man's eyes on him, calculating. He didn't like being calculated - what if Mr. Sage learned something Damian didn't want known? Or, worse, that Damian didn't know? He was about to demand that the nurse answer him when said man settled on the bed across from Damian. The mattress made a soft noise as Mr. Sage shifted, and then the man was speaking. “...if you deny yourself acceptance, you are draining your potential.” Damian let his head drop as he thought over the words. The nurse thought he was in denial, and that it made him weak. That only made Damian irritated, because, really, what did Sage know? Only the nurse's next words redeemed him, the insistence that he take the cane, not necessarily use it. Which was followed by an insistence that Mr. Sage didn't find Damian any less capable than the rest of the students. Damian wasn't sure he believed that, simply because everyone looked at other people and made decisions about them of some sort. Mr. Sage ended by clapping Damian on the shoulder and suggesting that Damian could use the cane against his roommate. Caught off-guard, Damian actually laughed aloud.
Paper shifted, and Damian lifted his face again at the question about his power. It surprised him that Mr. Sage even needed to ask, surely it was in the file? And then he remembered that Mr. Sage had admitted to not reading over the file, though he had skimmed it since Damian's arrival. Frowning slightly, Damian answered slowly, "Air manipulation. I can use it to see, a little bit."
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Post by sage on Aug 9, 2011 21:42:23 GMT -5
Sage’s interest seemed to pique again as Damian said that he could use his abilities to sort of navigate where he was going. It always interested him when others used their powers creatively, even with benefits to those around them. Or harm. He himself had no creative license with his own power; he knew exactly what he could do, how he did it, and needed no more knowledge than that. It was a bit boring, and sometimes his anger bubbled up, tempted by jealously when someone expanded their powers a bit more. Of course, there was always a limit to how much a person could do, but Sage didn’t believe his power was enough. He had always been a bit greedy when it came to knowledge, to interest, and to other people’s pain. Perhaps that sadistic satisfaction came from seeing people’s faces in pain before he solved the puzzles to how to fix their medical problems. A two in one deal. Plus, the privacy of his office allowed him to do a lot of things that he otherwise wouldn’t have been able to. Sage glanced behind Damian’s shoulder, and smiled. It wasn’t a wholesome, gentle smile.
“Well, that’s very interesting. How does that work? Airwaves, or something?” He asked, intrigued. Sage leaned forward, the tops of his knuckles grazing his own cheek as he watched Damian from his sideways glance. An amnesiac crash victim, found blind and naïve. And also a wind-manipulator. The things Sage could do with that… he cleared his throat and pulled back, realizing that he was almost too close, and then scribbled something down on the paper. “And it also says here you have amnesia. You can’t remember anything, can you?” It was more of a statement than a question. Sage didn’t want him to know how very interested in Damian’s situation he really was.
Ew, sorry about the length
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 11, 2011 17:52:14 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
Damian could hear Mr. Sage shifting around, and he wondered what he was doing. Thinking, judging from the moment of silence. When he finally did speak, he sounded interested. Damian hadn't really found his own power very interesting when put next to some of the things in the school, and it was weird to find someone who did. (Admittedly, he hadn't seen that many yet, but still...) "How does that work? Airwaves, or something?" Damian shrugged, feel embarrassed - he didn't have the faintest idea. It had never occurred him to ask, to be honest, and he doubted any of the doctors would have known anyway. "I'm not sure how it works. I can feel the wind, and it...feels different when it's hitting things..." It was a terrible explanation and he knew it, so he gave up with another weak shrug.
Mr. Sage cleared his throat, the sound coming from much closer to Damian than he had expected. Surprised, he flinched back a bit, his heart leaping into his throat at the unexpected proximity. That reaction had been there from the start; the first doctor that had come into his hospital room had scared him so bad that he had tried to scramble out of the bed. It hadn't worked very well. Mr. Sage making the same mistake had nearly prompted the same result, though he managed not to swing at the school nurse. He was calmed by the sound of a pen on paper coming from the proper distance, and he took a slightly shaky breath. A second later came the question “And it also says here you have amnesia. You can’t remember anything, can you?” Damian wasn't sure how he should answer that question. He knew what was true, but... After a moment, he shook his head. "No, I can't remember anything from before waking up at the hospital a few months ago. The doctors could tell me a little about the crash, but nothing else."
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Post by sage on Aug 13, 2011 0:36:26 GMT -5
Sage watched Damian jump back with cold eyes once more. He knew he was letting his guard down with the boy too much, which was slightly refreshing in a sense, but highly dangerous. Sage prided himself in his act. Secretly, of course. There had only been one person in the whole world that had completely confirmed his identity, his true personality, and Sage had killed him. Now that that dreadful man was dead, he could brag inwardly about his suave abilities once more. Well, except for the fact that Lillian Palmer could see right through him. But that was just another polite dance of stealth for him to ease right on by. Sage wanted very much to ask more questions about this interesting new student’s amnesia problems, but realized that it would be out of character, and he was already stretching it. He cracked his knuckles, let out what he hoped was a satisfied grunt from stretching, and then stood.
“Well, actually, I don’t think I need to ask any more questions. This file here pretty much covers everything.” So far from true, but Damian’s discomfort with the knowledge Sage held didn’t go past Sage’s calculating eyes. He had experienced the same sort of feelings of distrust and frustration from lack of knowledge with other human patients before. He couldn’t help but feel amused with their fretting over something so stupid. Stupid to him anyway. He smiled as he turned to push the papers back into the manila container where they belonged. “It covers a lot actually.” He said nonchalantly. How fun it was, to play the unknowing doctor. Maybe he could see sometime what happened when you pushed a student too far. How interesting that would be. He licked his lips, still smiling, and then turned to touch Damian’s shoulder again, sporting his signature ‘comforting’ grip. “I might call you in later if I need something else. Thanks for being so compliant with me. Oh,” Sage turned with finality, walking away slowly. “And if you have any problems, social or otherwise, you can always come to me, Damian. I’m on your side.” He made sure to sound honest, even though the intentions were a sickly sort of bad.
(you can end it, if you want)
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Post by Damian O'Callaghan on Aug 19, 2011 20:27:59 GMT -5
. tell the world
i'm coming home .
There was a pause after his answer, and Damian remained tensed, still riding the discomfort of the teacher's earlier proximity. He couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Sage was thinking. How much did he know about amnesia? Enough to help, maybe. Or would he just ask a bunch of questions like doctors at the last hospital? "For the benefit of medicine," they had said. "To help people who got amnesia in the future." It wasn't that he didn't want other people to get their memories back, but he wanted his own back too. He wanted to know why he couldn't see, and why he'd been in America. He wanted to know why his upper body was a labyrinth of old scars. But if all he was going to get were questions from another doctor who wanted answers he couldn't remember...! He realized suddenly he was getting mad at Mr. Sage for something he hadn't even done yet. Frustrated, Damian shoved the anger down below the surface. It'd cool and go away, eventually.
Mr. Sage straightened off the other bed, grunted in satisfaction at the popping of several bones. “Well, actually, I don’t think I need to ask any more questions. This file here pretty much covers everything.” That file. Damian tried not to scowl, and was not helped by the nurse repeating that the file covered so much. How much? The urge to run as fast as he could was building quickly, and he shifted. Mr. Sage put a hand on his shoulder and he almost flinched again, too high-strung to feel any comfort prom the touch. "I might call you in later..." Come back? Damian wasn't sure he could make himself do that. The nurse was walking away, speaking over his shoulder. "... I’m on your side.”
Damian swallowed hard, shoving the white cane into his backpack, and then throwing the bag over his shoulder. "Yes, Sir. Thank you." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he groped around the end of the bed and hurried for the door.
THREAD ENDED
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