[size=65pt][shadow=black,right]BRIAR MANOR[/shadow][/size]
[size=32pt][shadow=#190707,right]ROLEPLAYING THREAD[/shadow][/size]
[size=19pt][shadow=black,right]THREADS[/shadow][/size]
sign up thread
http://warriorcatsrpg.com/inde…7.msg79278429#msg79278429
chatting and plotting thread
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S A O I R S E
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[size=15pt]OOC[/size]
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Track.
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[size=15pt]IC[/size]
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✦тeddy тerry!✦
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[fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 0px dashed red; border-radius: 0px; overflow: auto; width: 100px; height: 255px; opacity: 0.50;] ooc: Tracker Jacker! [/fancypost] |
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[size=3pt] #fazzyfoxyfazbear
| [img width=244 height=300]http://media.giphy.com/media/10dDT2W3YqsJu8/giphy.gif[/img] | [img width=244 height=300]http://media.giphy.com/media/VSe6p2gMFsqEU/giphy.gif[/img] |
[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 32pt; margin-top: -20px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; color: white; text-shadow: 0px 0px 4px black;][b]marilyn quinton[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 7pt; margin-top: -3px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; color: black; text-transform: uppercase;][b]feminine ★ twenty ★ bisexual ★ witch ★ patient[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; margin-top: -10px;][hr][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; color: white; font-size: 6pt; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; margin-top: -7px;]the sound of loud banging against the door of her room instantly woke the blonde woman that had been peacefully sleeping in the rock-hard bed. "quinton! wake up! breakfast is in thirty minutes!" the booming sound of the man's voice made marilyn groan in annoyance as she stood from the bed, slowly making her way to the small dresser that resided in the corner of her small room. thank god they had actually provided a dresser. opening the top drawer, she pulled out a pair of sweatpants, slipping them on underneath the night gown they had given her the night before. gently sighing, marilyn tugged on the thin, brown, wool jacket that one of her friends had given her before she got shipped to a different facility. the green eyes of the young witch gazed over to the door of her room as she walked away from the small dresser and toward the door that led to a small amount of freedom. letting her hand rest on the cold handle, she twisted it, opening the wooden door.
stepping out into the hallway, marilyn gazed around. she didn't see too many people that she recognized, but then again, the staff was just now making the rounds to wake the patients up. she pulled the jacket around her a bit more, the sudden chill in the hallway causing her to grimace a bit. damned ghosts. marilyn walked down the white hallway, ignoring the beating on doors and the slightly loud yells of the staff as they woke up the patients for breakfast. considering that she didn't have another thirty minutes until she had to be in the mess hall, she walked a bit slow, letting the sleep leave her body a bit before she went into overdrive. the witch gave a half-hearted wave to the elder patients as she walked down the hallway, making a few turns here and there as she made her way to the mess hall.
after about five minutes, marilyn arrived at the mess hall, standing in the extremely short line as they served breakfast. in her opinion, the food that they served tasted a bit like prison food; not that she would actually know what prison food tasted like, but she guessed it was horrible. as she got closer, she gazed over the options, wondering what she wanted. scrambled eggs or french toast. biting her lip, she pointed to the scrambled eggs, watching as the cook of the kitchen put a spoonful of eggs onto her tray, along with some orange slices and an apple juice. marilyn took the tray as it was handed to her, instantly walking to the table that was situated in the back corner of the room. she had been sitting at that table ever since she arrived. it was like a small safe place for her.
sitting down in one of the seats, the blonde took a bite of the eggs, resisting the urge to gag. they were horrible, as usual. at least the orange slices were good. that's what she usually stuck to, which would explain her small frame. grimacing a bit at the taste, she opened her apple juice, downing it, thanking god that the retched taste of those eggs were out of her mouth. as she glanced around the mess hall, she watched as it got a bit more crowded, more and more patients entering to get their breakfast as she nibbled on an orange slice.
[ sorry guys. this isn't my best. ][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; margin-top: -10px;][hr][align=center][size=5pt][b]TEMPLATE © BOKEH[/size]
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[b]Calum Meek
The light from the hallway shined through the Plexiglas window and onto a stirring Calum's eyelid. He was locked up due to a violent confrontation between himself and another patient last night.
Ice grey orbs fluttered open and Calum jerked up suddenly then stood.
He began to pace inside the tiny space; each time he entered the darker corners of the solitary his eyes to glowed a bright cobalt blue. He was all too familiar with the 'quiet room'. In the seven years of living inside Briar Calum had probably spent more nights in here than he had in his assigned quarters.
The wooden eighteen year old crept towards the door; his lethargy proving that the sedatives still ran through his bloodstream. Blankly Calum stared through the tiny window at the wall across from it. Lights on, he thought to himself They'll be here any moment.
[align=center] [Nothing compared to Inhale - exhales astounding writing. Sorry guys! This ones my very first advanced.]
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skulduggery
[size=7pt]noun - underhanded or unscrupulous behavior[/size][/fancypost][/fancypost]
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tick. tock. tick. tock. tick. tock.
The sound of Conan's clock reverberated through her little room. She lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Her bed was nothing more than a thin mattress and a few jumbled, cotton blankets. Her walls were painted black, and a bucket of purple paint sat in the corner, a small brush laying next to it. Intricate designs and symbols were scattered across the walls. This was her home, all she ever knew, so the little bit of self expression was greatly appreciated. Paint covered her hands, the purple matching that of the bruises across her arms, legs, and chest. Yes, Conan was pale and her veins were close to the surface of her skin. She bruised like a peach, but that didn't stop her from starting fights.
Conan could hear the footsteps of the staff members long before they ever got even close to her door. She sat up and stretched, yawning. Her abnormally long, pointed tongue snaked out of her mouth and curled before retreating. Conan stood now, and headed to her dresser. All she wore at the moment were some black, cotton boy shorts and bandage wrap around her chest. However, after digging through her top drawer, the hell hound retrieved a white t-shirt and a leather jacket her adoptive father had given her for her last birthday. Pulling the two items on, she retrieved a pair of jeans and slipped them on as well, cuffing the ends. After slicking her hair back, she looked pretty much like your average wannabe greaser, though considering she's never seen one before, she would've never guessed.
It took another five minutes before the knock came, and Conan was finally allowed to leave her room. She tugged at her collar and grunted, twisting her head to the side until a loud crack could be heard from her neck. She did it the opposite way as well, and started down the hall. Combat boots clicked against the clean tiles of the floor, and she held a blank expression. Those who passed her looked down and quickened their pace, satisfying Conan.
Conan entered the cafeteria and glanced at the food. Her nose scrunched and she glared at the cafeteria maid, reluctantly grabbing a plate of eggs. She strictly ate meat, no matter the taste, and eggs, albeit part of her diet, were not her favorite. She sat down at a vacant table and wolfed them down anyways, pushing the plate to the side once she was done. Her father was nowhere in sight, so she rested her head on the table and grumbled something to herself.
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[align=center][size=6pt](c) #near
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The Improv Identity
[align=center][size=9pt]"This is a very mad world we live in."[/size]
[fancypost borderwidth=0px; overflow: auto; width: 250px; height: 110px; text-align: justify;][size=7pt]Matthieu's pale blue orbs snapped open at a thunderous voice outside of his door. "Wake up, Scott!" a crude man's voice called in. The angel flinched at the sound of it.
He was laying on his stomach-- how he had to sleep each night in order for the fragile bones in his wings to not be broken. He already had to have steel restrains on his downy black feathers, and that pain was enough.
He placed his bare feet on the floor, standing up and stretching his thin, pale arms. His wings would have stretched, but again, the harness of metal he wore over it would cause him quite a bit of pain. He could wear a shirt, and didn't care to change out of his plain gray sweatpants. He walked over to the door, the wooden slab towering over his short, bone-thin frame. It opened when he knocked, and the man took him by his skinny forearm to practically drag the teen to the main room. He realized he was one of the first as he brushed several clumps of ruffled white hair out of his eyes.
He was shoved down into a seat away from everyone else, one without a back for his wings. The man returned a moment later with a tray of dull food before marching away.
Matthieu looked down at it, poking at the eggs with his fork, uninterested.
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[align=center][color=black][size=6pt]©ghostieglxx[/size]
| [img width=244 height=300]http://media.giphy.com/media/10dDT2W3YqsJu8/giphy.gif[/img] | [img width=244 height=300]http://media.giphy.com/media/VSe6p2gMFsqEU/giphy.gif[/img] |
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her eyes caught sight of a particular someone as they marched into the mess hall. she was, well, quite obvious against the crowd of people in night gowns. marilyn's green-eyed gaze followed the woman all the way until she sat down. the blonde had seen her around, but never bothered to speak to her considering that she was a hellhound. she didn't stand quite on good terms with them yet since she still had a slight fear of them. it really wasn't there anymore, but it brewed up every now and then. marilyn glanced back to her orange slice, looking over at the pale woman every now and then. sooner or later, looking over at her had turned into quite a challenge since the mess hall just got more crowded by the minute. marilyn finished her first orange slice, playing with another before she began nibbling on it. running a hand through her long, sandy blonde hair, she allowed her gaze to diverse from the hellhound that was seated a few tables away from her and back down to her tray.
marilyn bit her lip lightly as she stared down at the tray, the orange of the fruit slices bright against the tan tray. looking at her small carton of apple juice, she noticed that it was gone. well, farewell to soothing the small amount of thirst that was bothering her. at least she would get a bit from the orange slice that she was eating. the young witch looked back down at the orange slices that lay on her tray, incoherent words coming from her lips, barely audible. she watched as some of the juice from the remainder of her slices extracted itself from the slices. grabbing her straw, she easily sipped up the juice.
ah, witchcraft could be so helpful.[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; margin-top: -10px;][hr][align=center][size=5pt][b]TEMPLATE © BOKEH[/size]
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The Improv Identity
[align=center][size=9pt]"This is a very mad world we live in."[/size]
[fancypost borderwidth=0px; overflow: auto; width: 250px; height: 110px; text-align: justify;][size=7pt]Matthieu's wings fluttered, pain shuddering his spine. His face contorted into a wince, and he choked down a bite of bitter eggs as if to null the ache.
Until his wings were 'neutered', he'd be stuck with his uncomfortable iron braces that dug into his soft bones. The man in charge of his should be coming in later with the shot.
Neutering his wings, per say, was a simple process. A black-suited man or woman would come in with two shots, one for each wing. It would render his wings completely numb and lazy. Just to make sure he wouldn't escape-- not that he would, anyways. The Canadian was only allowed to fly on Saturdays. Tomorrow was Saturday, not today.
He sighed lightly, his white ruffles falling into his face again as he took a drink of water. The cool breeze brushed his exposed back, leaving him cold.
{Not one of my better posts. I'll post Selvig later.}
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[align=center][color=black][size=6pt]©ghostieglxx[/size]
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✦тeddy тerry!✦
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| [fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 0px dashed red; border-radius: 0px; overflow: auto; width: 100px; height: 255px; opacity: 0.50;] ic: A loud, beating sound against the door could be heard inside the cold, silent room. "Wake up Saunders! Breakfast!" A staff member yelled out. Constance groaned before propping herself up from the solid bed. She pulled out a baggy sweatshirt from the drawer and a pair of white sweatpants. She grabbed a beanie and stuffed it in her pocket before placing her frail hand on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. She stepped out into the crowded, chilling halls and made her way to the mess Hall. She passed many unfamiliar faces on her way. The halls had been chilly for a long time, mostly caused by fellow ghosts like Constance. She had been lucky to bring a large sweater, even if the temperature drop didn't affect her. The young adult had made her way to the crowded mess hall. She grabbed a tray and headed to the long line for breakfast. She blankly stared down at her tray before she heard a spoon slam. A lunch lady had yelled at Constance for not pay attention. This caused Constance to stand more upright and say, "French toast and a orange please." The lunch lady dropped the food on the young woman's tray. Constance then ran out of the line and sat down, fiddling with her food. Constance had found it difficult to eat since she wasn't very hungry. I might as well eat now. This might be my only meal until lunch. she had decided in her head. She picked up the French toast and ate it. She grimaced and almost spluttered it out. It tasted like toast, but very burnt. She huffed and ate some orange slices instead. [/fancypost] |
[fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 0px dashed red; border-radius: 0px; overflow: auto; width: 100px; height: 255px; opacity: 0.50;] ooc: I hope its ok! I'm still new to being advanced. [/fancypost] |
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[size=3pt] #fazzyfoxyfazbear
Lillian groaned and rolled over in her bed. She sighed as the knocking didn't go away. "GRR! IM UP IM UP GRR!!!" she snarled as the beast tried to take over. She got up and got dressed in some old, worn-out clothes. So much for wanting to sleep in... Lillian promptly opened the door to her room and went outside of it.
OOC: Did Sirius get accepted or he didn't because he was a grouch gee let me guess, the second option XD The answer is 47 XD
Speech code:
Red=The wolf
Blue=Neutral
Italicized=Thoughts
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S A O I R S E
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[size=15pt]OOC[/size]
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This is going to be short. Oh well.
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[size=15pt]IC[/size]
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A glimmer of speckled gray split the shimmering blue veil, like a sleek comet amid the watery cosmos. Indeed, a seal frolicked through the currents, free and swift in her ocean home. [editing, need to get on the computer]
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[b]Calum Meek
[align=center]Beneath his pale cheek Calum's jaw clenched, the changeling's impatience grew rapidly .
He stretched his hands causing his fingertips tear wide open and nails to split so his sharp black talons could revealed themselves.
Jaw still clenched and darkness in his void cobalt eyes Calum raked his claws across the metal door with unsettling calmness causing a horrible scraping sound to echo in the halls of Briar Manor.
[My muse has honestly never been this low. I'm so incredibly sorry.]
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✦тeddy тerry!✦
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| [fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 0px dashed red; border-radius: 0px; overflow: auto; width: 100px; height: 255px; opacity: 0.50;] ic: Constance had heard the scrapes. She bit her lip before slowly fading into a more transparent look. She picked up her tray and threw the garbage into the trash bin. She sat back down at the table she was at beforehand. Constance's gaze had shifted around the mess hall. She noticed many people she have seen but never spoke to. Her eyes wandered around some more. [/fancypost] |
[fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 0px dashed red; border-radius: 0px; overflow: auto; width: 100px; height: 255px; opacity: 0.50;] ooc: Sorry it's so short. I also have a low muse /).(\ |
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[size=3pt] #fazzyfoxyfazbear
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Josie had a restless night's sleep. Even after a year three years, she still couldn't get used to the hard bed and scheduled sleeping hours. Waking up early, she paced around her room, waiting for the much anticipated knock. Upon hearing a man's harsh voice call her name to wake up, she darted for the door, stopping just in time to remember she still hadn't changed out of her night clothes. She changed into some sweatpants and a large gray jacket that she wore on her first day at Briar. When she slid it on, she couldn't help but remember when her step dad gave it to her, and didn't ask for it back when she accidentally kept it.
She shrugged the memory off as she walked out into the hallway. Looking around she saw the people who's faces she saw almost every day, but couldn't remember their names. She passed by a few that she recognized a little as she entered the cafeteria. I wonder how I've lived with these people for three years, but don't know barely any of their names. She thought as she took her plate of french toast, orange slices, and juice to the first available spot. Josie managed to eat the french toast before moving on to the oranges. Her taste buds were revived by the sweetness of the orange. She sucked on an orange piece while she looked around for other's she might recognize.
(Short post before homework)
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skulduggery
[size=7pt]noun - underhanded or unscrupulous behavior[/size][/fancypost][/fancypost]
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After a minute or two, Conan lifted her head from the table. She ran a hand through her greased back hair and grabbed her tray, walking it to the trashcan before dumping it. She left the tray on top of the metallic, reinforced bin and returned to her seat. It was a long and boring wait, watching others as they went about their meals. Cliques were beginning to form here and there, and the voices of others interrupted the silence. The entire cafeteria had become a roar of life. It was slightly annoying to poor Conan, whom had a very acute sense of hearing.
Over the sound, however, Conan's sixth sense kicked in. She knew someone was watching her, and she didn't mind it much. The witch did it often, whether she knew it or not. In all honestly, Conan found it slightly amusing. She turned her head, Crystal eyes that glowed like opals locking onto the blonde witch. She waited patiently, wondering whether Marilyn was going to look up or not. Either way, she didn't care.
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| [img width=244 height=300]http://media.giphy.com/media/10dDT2W3YqsJu8/giphy.gif[/img] | [img width=244 height=300]http://media.giphy.com/media/VSe6p2gMFsqEU/giphy.gif[/img] |
[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 32pt; margin-top: -20px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; color: white; text-shadow: 0px 0px 4px black;][b]marilyn quinton[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 7pt; margin-top: -3px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; color: black; text-transform: uppercase;][b]feminine ★ twenty ★ bisexual ★ witch ★ patient[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; margin-top: -10px;][hr][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; color: white; font-size: 6pt; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; margin-top: -7px;]as marilyn laid her straw down on the table, a small, familiar feeling wracked through her body. she lifted her gaze from her tray, mindlessly staring at the wall in front of her before looking around the cafeteria. she already knew whom was looking at her; conan. it was quite obvious since she was bound to have known that the blonde had been looking her way. she was a hellhound. it's practically in her blood to know these little details. her forest green optics landed on conan before she stood with her tray in her hand, walking toward the trash bin, dumping the remainder of her food and the empty bottle of apple juice before she laid the tray on top. returning to her seat, she watched the seats around her fill, except for a couple here and there. compared to how full the other tables were of occupants, hers was practically empty, only consisting of two other patients and herself.
in all honesty, marilyn was a bit surprised that conan had been staring back at her. of course, she knew it was bound to happen considering that she had been staring quite often. who wouldn't? she figured that the hellhound that she knew so little about had probably thought it was amusing; a small game, perhaps. a small smile overcame her as she ran her hand through her hair, remembering the small memories of the "games" she had played in high school; just staring at each other. it got quite annoying to her friends, which would result in her always getting chewed out for not paying attention for what was being said to her. overall, it was worth it.
the young witch tapped her fingers on the table as she let her gaze drift from conan, looking around the crowded cafeteria. less people were arriving, which meant that the staff had almost everyone up, which was good, she guessed. the closer it got to the end of breakfast, the better. her heart had nearly jumped out of her chest when she remembered that she left her spell-book underneath the mattress in her room. she knew that she wasn't supposed to have those kinds of novels, but curiosity had always taken her over when it came to learning what kinds of spells there were. but as her mother had always told her; curiosity killed the cat. [/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; margin-top: -10px;][hr][align=center][size=5pt][b]TEMPLATE © BOKEH[/size]
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skulduggery
[size=7pt]noun - underhanded or unscrupulous behavior[/size][/fancypost][/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=white; borderwidth=0px; height: 50px; width: 265px; opacity: 0.55; margin-top: -70px; margin-left: -15px; font-family: cursive; font-size: 22px; color: #000; line-height: 48px; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase;]- as sly as a fox -[/fancypost]
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Conan smirked, her eyes following the blonde from the trashcan and back. Once she returned to her seat, however, Conan lost interest. She cracked her knuckles, and went to work cracking her individual fingers to pass the time. It only took a few moments before a staff member noticed her and gave her permission to exit and move to her room or the recreational center. In reality, Conan had free roam to wherever she wanted. Unlike many, she wasn't a caged hound scratching at her door. Her adoptive father allowed her many things, like occasional smokes and walks out in the forest behind the asylum.
Conan stood and headed out, stopping at the witch's table. She placed her hand down on the table top, leaning over the table. The action was enough to capture the attention of a few members, mostly those at the table. "You're excused", she said in an affirmative tone, directing it towards Marilyn. None of the staff members stepped in, though she was fairly certain she saw one reaching for their walkie-talkie, ready to inform her father. After a long stare, she stood straight once more and made a b-line for the exit.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 32pt; margin-top: -20px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; color: white; text-shadow: 0px 0px 4px black;]marilyn quinton[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 7pt; margin-top: -3px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; color: black; text-transform: uppercase;][b]feminine ★ twenty ★ bisexual ★ witch ★ patient[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; margin-top: -10px;][hr][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 405px; color: white; font-size: 6pt; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; margin-top: -7px;]catching a glimpse out of the corner of her eye as she looked around the cafeteria, marilyn's attention was brought away from the others around the room, looking at the figure as she approached the table that she was sitting at. watching conan closely as she leaned over the table, she listened to what she had to say. the two words that had been spoke instantly made her begin to think. excused from what? staring at her? returning the stare that had been directed to her, she waited until conan walked out of the cafeteria before looking over to the nearest staff member, hoping to receive the same nod of approval that the hellhound had gotten. she needed to hide that book before she got thrown in solitary for god knows how long.
as usual, she was let down as the staff member simply turned around, ignoring her completely. she frowned. the twenty-year-old laid her head down on the table, groaning in slight annoyance. solitary wasn't her game, and she wasn't going to willingly play it either. it was twenty minutes before everyone was dismissed from breakfast, but to mari, it felt like an eternity. as soon as the word 'dismissed' escaped a staff member's mouth, she instantly stood from her seat, not even bothering to push it underneath the table before she walked out of the cafeteria, practically jogging to her room. as soon as she rounded the corner to enter the hallway that consisted of the patient rooms, she nearly jumped out of her skin when the loud voice of a staff member filled her ears.
[b]"stop running, quinton. there's two speeds here. walking and power walking." as much as marilyn wanted to correct him about running, she refrained herself, knowing she would probably get in trouble for back-talking. ignoring him, she slowed to a power walk, instantly making her way to her room, closing the wooden door behind her. walking toward her bed, her slightly tanned hands grasped the corner of her mattress, easily pulling it up. holding up the thin mattress with one hand, she grabbed the spell book with the other, letting her mattress fall back onto the frame once she managed to pull the book out.
allowing her fingers to flip through the pages to check if the mark on her current page was still intact, her eyes scanned over the top right corner of every page. finally, the marked page came into view, and that was when marilyn closed the book, her eyes lifting from the novel as she walked toward her more unusual hiding place. knowing that the staff always came to collect laundry and put it away, she had managed to keep herself from hiding it in her dresser, knowing it would be exposed as soon as the drawer had been opened. on the other hand, that didn't mean that she couldn't keep her own little compartment in the side of the wooden dresser. thanks to a certain spell, the small opening had been hidden, allowing her to stuff whatever she pleased into the small space, but that book was the only thing she kept there, nothing more.
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The Improv Identity
[align=center][size=9pt]"This is a very mad world we live in."[/size]
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Matthieu sighed, leaving his tray on the table as he rose to a stand. His pale blue eyes darted around nervously, and he began to walk towards the exit, hoping to stall the injection of the neutering serum.
With a simple nod from a black-suited man in the entryway, the fallen angel was allowed to shuffle down the hallway back towards his rather confined room at a painstakingly slow pace.
His shoulder shivered as the cool atmosphere touched his pale skin with soft kisses. The scars on his arms and around the bases of his black wings stuck out like black sheep in a snowstorm.
His wings struggled against the straightedged braces, their soft feathers in a panic from being confined. In all honesty, he didn't want to go a back to his room. It made him feel claustrophobic and asthmatic. It made him feel like the caged, broken-winged bird that he was, and tat he was slowly being led to an overused guillotine.
He found himself at his already-familiar door, staring at the handle in childish fear and spite. He was loathe to enter his room.
His hand shook as he gripped the handle, waiting for him to turn the rusted gold sphere and enter a world of drugs trapped in needles. His eyes were wide, his back hunched, making the angel shorter than he already was. He didn't want the neuterer. He didn't want the cage.
Selvig twirled the spoon within his classic Russian teacup, the antique silver entwined with century-old decorations and carvings. The cup was made of pure porcelain, and filled with a tea meant only for the royalty of the olden times. The government man liked to think he was classy-- that he learned lessons from the past.
Maybe that was so. But, in all reality, he was in it for the profit. The fame and recognition of being a government official. It gave him an excuse to look good, not that he needed one, anyways.
His black-tinted glasses were lower on his nose as he sat in his own office, reading file after file of every patient in the facility. Currently, he was on someone by the name of Marilyn Quinton. It said that she was apparently a witch.
The Russian's nose wrinkled, and he continued down the inked letters. He really hated these 'special' patients. They were freaks in the percent world of the time.
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