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 Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 5:10 pm
In Leevi's mind, the whole therapy idea worked out perfectly. People realized that they had issues, faced them, and overcame them. People walked out of his office as fixed people, full of hope and idealism.
While he was wishing for things, he thought to himself in a minor fit of cynicism, he might as well as for a unicorn too. Wearily, he wiped his hands across his eyes. He'd expected some violence. Of course there'd be some violence. He hadn't expected the creative inventiveness of the murderous human mind. It turned out, if you prevented them from having weapons, they'd make weapons themselves. Out of anything, really. Gingerly, he touched his side. The shiv had been made out of solidified bathroom tissue. How did that even happen?
And what could a mind like that achieve if it had been reached early enough? A mind that could painstakingly pile on layer after layer of tissues just to make an implement to kill someone with. Well, attempt to kill. Leevi had surprisingly fast reflexes, and the guard outside was surprisingly quick on the uptake when that cheerful mindhealer suddenly shut up.
Still, Leevi wasn't the sort to let a little thing like a mild stabbing stop his day. He had more patients to see. He tipped the chart towards him long enough to read the next name on the list.
Oliver, huh? In for murder, had a younger brother... Leevi scanned the information as quickly as he could. No sense in being entirely uninformed. He waited until the patient----really, he hated to think of them as 'prisoners'; that just soaked everything with negative energy----was seated before looking up with a smile.
"So... Oliver, right?" he asked, just to make sure. "I'm Leevi."
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 5:24 pm
Oliver had not been in the best mood. Since his session with Jessan and the refusal to bring him tea, the only caffeine source he found palatable, he had been attempting to sleep off the worse of the caffeine withdrawal. There wasn't anything else to do in the cell but slumber and he had went from insomnia to lethargic in a matter of days.
He walked in, hands upfront in the shinny cuffs. Boring looking room really... and it wasn't Jessan this time. Oliver shifted slightly, looking over the young man and he did look young but Oliver doubt they would have a teenager taking patients in Wardens. If mind healing was anything like healing in general the youthful man should be at least eighteen but probably older, perhaps a bit younger then he was. He knew he looked older than his own twenty six turns. That curly hair and round face wasn't helping the poor kid.
He blinked blearily, wishing for a cup of tea. "Raspberry tea, would be nice." Why did they always have to smile? Was it a mind healing trait that they had to smile for hours on end... though Leevi's seem genuine at least. He really wish he had some tea at the moment.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 5:48 pm
Ah. Something clicked in Leevi's head. Jessan had mentioned a patient trying to bribe her for raspberry tea. No names had been mentioned, of course, given the whole patient confidentiality thing, but how many patients would specifically request raspberry tea? Leevi hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," he said brightly.
There was no harm in giving a patient tea.
...
Actually, there was a potential for some harm. Stabbing with broken shards of a cup or trying to splash boiling tea in someone's vulnerable babyface, but Leevi was a bit too optimistic to think in such terms.
Really, it was a minor miracle that he was still alive in Warden's. That and his guards tended to have very, very good reflexes. He poked his head outside of the door and politely asked, "Hey, could you run down to the kitchens and bring some raspberry tea?"
Really, there was every reason not to get the tea, but Leevi lived on optimism. "It'll be here in a few minutes, Oliver," he said as he returned to his seat. "So, you've been here for... a month or so?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 5:58 pm
Oliver blinked twice. What? Wasn't there some rule about not being bribed with delicious caffeinated beverages? Don't say anything... or else they might change their minds and not bring you refreshing tea. He tipped his head, looking over Leevi and relaxed slightly in the chair, lanky legs slightly spread and hands relaxed in his lap.
He licked his lips, bright green eyes intensely reading Leevi's face. "Perhaps... the days tend to blur together." Had he really been here for a month? Oliver gave a soft smile. "Thank you... for the tea," he added.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 6:48 pm
What Leevi didn't do was ask stupid questions like, 'and how do you like being here'. He'd tried that before. That was the question that directly preceded stabbing attempts. He was just optimistic and naiive, not completely stupid. "You're welcome," he said, pleased to see a change in Oliver's mood immediately.
"I just got here not long ago myself. It's been... two weeks now, I think. Seems like a lot longer already." But at least he came to Warden's willingly and could, theoretically, walk away whenever he wanted to. But the conversation and session wasn't supposed to be about him.
"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" There. That was always a good starting question. At least, it was supposed to be. Leevi learned that, at Warden's, it was just as likely to result in glowers and shouted threats. He looked rather like an eager canine, if a canine could sit properly in a chair and hold a pen at ready, the nib already touching the paper.
So not very much like a canine after all.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 7:00 pm
"Mmhm, I hate Jessan and find her creepy," Oliver grumbled, eyes becoming narrow slits and lips pressed taunt together. He was going to trust that confidentiality extended to patients and his words would not get back to her. "I'm also terribly, terribly bored. Which is unlikely to change any time soon, since she had informed me that prisoners in my position are not allowed to work in the infirmary."
Oliver expelled air, eyes shutting and shrugged slightly. "Been sleeping a lot, but then... there isn't much to do. Not healthy though." He knew that but he couldn't count the cracks, dreams where an escape. "Worried about my brother..." Hollin was napping more as well. He really wish his brother wasn't here.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 7:20 pm
Leevi blinked in surprise at the statement of hatred for, of all people in the Weyr, Jessan. "That was... blunt," he said, trying to find the kindest word. Well, it was probably better than a sharp one, he had to admit. He made a note on the paper, because hatred for one particular person seemed a bit odd. Not at the person who put Oliver in Warden's, not for the guards, but for a mindhealer, of all people. "Why do you dislike her so much? Is it just because she told you that you can't work in the Infirmary?"
Which, admittedly, looking at his records made sense. There was no point in letting someone with a record of killing anywhere near the sick, weak, or injured. But Leevi hated to see skill go unused and occupational therapy showed some real promise. Oliver seemed to realize that sleeping all the time wasn't healthy. The mindhealer made another note of that: self-awareness was a rarer trait than people thought.
"That would be Hollin. Yeah, it's not good for kids to be cooped up. When I was his age, I couldn't stand sitting in my room for a long period of time. Is there anything in particular that worries you about him? Besides that he's sleeping a lot?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 7:44 pm
"Let's put it this way. She smiles without meaning it. She always seems to be smiling and kind and compassionate and it sets my teeth on edge because people are not like that. She wants something... and the last person that wanted something from me was Fahd which is the reason why I'm sharding here." Oliver grunted, displeased as his voice crack and settled back into the chair, seething. He didn't want to be owned again. He talked to Jessan to alleviate the boredom, and to attempt to puzzle out what she wanted from their talks.
"Mmhm, he needs stimulation. It is worse for him then for me... I'm afraid it going to affect his personality negatively. Or his health... neither of us have been eating much." He couldn't really pick up the urge to care about food and it was rather bland and disgusting. His sibling though was still growing and needed to eat. He had stopped gaining any sort of height in his late teens. "Which also isn't good... I'm thin enough as it is but, I just can't find a reason to eat."
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 8:05 pm
Paranoid. V. important. 1st mntn, Leevi wrote down as Oliver explained why he so deeply distrusted Jessan. Whatever twists and turns of life that had led Oliver to becoming a murderer had left the man----young man; younger than Leevi thought; criminal life made Oliver seem older than he actually was----left the prisoner with a deep distrust of anyone who seemed 'nice'. "You think that everyone has ulterior motives?"
Csned for brother. Absnt parents? his pen scribbled. That wasn't much of a leap. Nearly every single criminal had some sort of family issue buried in their past. It was as obvious as writing 'mother issues' on the profile of a man who kept killing women. Depression was another obvious note. It was quite common among the prisoners. And the guards.
Really, the prison was about as joyful as a morgue.
"What was his Craft? Did he have one? Occupational therapy can be a wonderful tool to keep him active."
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 8:14 pm
"Mmh, most people do have motives but it usually an exchange of goods. I get paid, I fix people up. Unless the poor crackskull is dying, then we end up playing drinking games to attempt to make him or her comfortable." Oliver motioned one handed and hissed, starting crankily at the shackles and huffed. "You want to know about me. I really would like some tea. Hence an exchange. You have actual emotions beside pleasantly cheerful. Which means we will get along better and you don't seem to be fake."
Oliver sighed and shook his head."Mmh, gang scout isn't really a occupation that carries over well. He's literate, if that would help any." He smiled, voice warm and prideful at his younger sibling. "Quick to... he was helping me out with patients... but that not going to happen either."
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 8:44 pm
“Your tea should be here so---” Leevi's reassurance was both cut off and confirmed by a knock at the door. The mindhealer stood up once more, with a slight wince, and answered the door. Tendrils of sweetly-flavored steam twisted and twined their way over a small teapot. It was not an elegant work of art, but rather something that had been hamfistedly put together for the sake of having a teapot. It made no statement except that someone intended to have tea. It wasn't even a particularly attractive color, being a dull brown. The cups were similar. The pot had one more trait: it had been much-mended. The lid had been cracked in two at least once before being painstakingly mended by someone with some care.
The mindhealer placed the tray on a small table and shoved the table between himself and Oliver. “Ther you go. Raspberry tea,” he said generously, pouring a cup for the man. It's not a bribe, he told himself as he poured another cup for himself, just to prove that it wasn't poisoned or whatever paranoid dread might lurk in the patient's brain. It's a way in.
Unlike Jessan, Leevi wasn't too proud to use whatever tricks he had at hand to get into someone else's mind. He supposed that made her a better person than him. A better mindhealer, certainly, since she didn't have to rely on cheap tricks. She simply was.
“Literacy helps. They might need another scribe in Record Keeping. They usually do. And I could make a good argument for it.”
He took a long sip of the tea before cautiously edging into his next question. “So,” he started. “Do you want to tell me about your childhood?”
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 8:53 pm
Oliver paused, catching the wince and twisted to watch Leevi walk to the door. He focused on the tea pot, then back to the healer and pursed his lips in thought. Well, wasn't that interesting. He twisted and resituated himself on the chair. Though he could have been a bit more careful moving the tea pot and table towards him. Still, actual tea, he could smell the sweet aroma and see the steam, could nearly taste it.
He reached out and cupped the dull brown clay work cup, bringing it to his lips and savored the smell, blowing lightly on the liquid, eyes nearly shut in bliss. Tea. He sipped slowly, half listening to Leevi but much more focus on the cup and reacquainted himself with his bad habits. He finished the liquid off, setting the cup down, regretful and hummed slightly. "Do you want to tell me what you did to your side?" He questioned back, not angry but puzzled why everyone cared about his childhood.
Leevi's injury was actually more of a curiosity and he rather talk about that.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 9:18 pm
For the first time, that smile of Leevi's faded. It wasn't much. In the grand scheme of things, it was about as significant as the difference between, say, an off-white cat and a completely white cat. But it was definitely there. The smile returned soon enough, but it simply wasn't as real. He thought he hid it well b... well, Oliver was a Healer. Never officially trained, but that didn't mean he hadn't picked up skills here and there.
“This session is about you,” he reminded Oliver carefully. In other words, it was a firm, but polite 'no'. He supposed that the redirected question was the patient's version of 'no' too. He wrote that down. That was fine. He could always come back to the issue in a later session. It wasn't as though either of them would be going anywhere.
“Alright then what do you want to talk about?” There. They'd find a comfortable setting like that. Eventually.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 6:51 am
"Mind healers must be horrible patients," Oliver muttered, focusing on the tea pot and reached over, cupping the bottom and top in wide, long finger hands and poured himself a other cup of tea. He paused and topped off Leevi's cup before setting the ancient kettle back down. "I'm beginning to figure out why both my teachers had nothing kind to say about the profession. You have the avoidance dance down pat." He picked up his cup, breathing the smell and steam deep before giving a wide smile at Leevi.
"You are good at hiding it, not the best skill with injuries but then you have a proper healer to go to... and considering the change of topic. I'm going to deduct you got shivved. The area wounded is awkward for anything." Oliver snorted, lips curling in a sneer." You know... I've seen people die because they been to paranoid to admit they were hurt. They wait... till the wound infected and they are ragging fevers and drenched in sweat. So, unless you want me to recall the worse cases of my medical career... I really think we are done."
Oliver hmph, closing his bright green eyes and refused to say anything else focusing on savoring his tea. Mind healers. They wanted things and ugh... it was Fahd and killing the poor bastards all over again. Jessan was getting simply basics, a bit more expressed but really. So his mother was likely a prostitute and his father was a duster. Big whoop. He really hated Jessan but to insult his practice and in turn his teacher's and to give him a mirror of that fake smile... ugh. Leevi could bite him.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 10:26 am
Leevi waited patiently until his patient quieted down. People generally didn't like mindhealers. From what Leevi could tell, it was because mindhealers couldn't just stop mindhealing at the drop of a hat. They simply never went off duty unlike, say, a guard. Perhaps even a hired killer got a moment to quiet down and not think about the best way to kill the man in the fruit shop. But not mindhealers. Nope, when they went to a fruit shop, they'd find themselves absentmindedly analyzing another shopper's choice of fruit (rumor had it that F'reud had most of his breakthroughs in a vegetable shop). The point was, Leevi didn't take the ire of his patient personally.
…
Well, too personally.
Instead, he simply wrote down a few more notes. Antagonistic, he wrote, not even bothering with his own form of shorthand. Focusing on writing all the letters down helped keep his stomach down, which was doing its gallant best to rebel against the pseudo-Healer's descriptions of gangrene.
“Are you done?” he asked when the silence stretched out into a few minutes. “Alright then. I suppose we are done and we can sit in silence for the next twenty or so minutes. I have no problem with that. I've got a paper to write anyway.”
The mindhealer tried to keep the snippiness from his tone, but some undoubtedly leaked through. It would've been like trying to block a faucet with a finger. He delicately placed Oliver's files to one side and opened up another one. Apparently he was serious about the whole 'we can sit in silence, if you prefer' idea.
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