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 Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2015 12:16 pm
Title: Christmas Tree Shopping
Starring Characters: Zurine, Revontulet
Summary: [ In Progress ]
Phiel's Opinion: RESERVED
Zurine's Opinion: RESERVED
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2015 12:21 pm
Starring Characters: Phiel, Zurine, Nara [Patmos of Endtimes' non-owner character]
[ Setting up the Christmas tree ]
Phiel's Opinion: Reserved
Zurine's Opinion: Reserved
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2015 12:26 pm
[ Christmas at the Cereus household ]
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 9:13 pm
It was drizzling a little on New Year's Eve, and Phiel had taken an early shift that was supposed to only be from six PM to eleven, something as a favor for Nara -- who had apologized profusely to Zuri for taking him away that night, as if the New Year was something that they really celebrated. It wasn't, and it didn't really bother Zurine all that much. Besides, she liked her guardian's friend well enough. He certainly didn't bother her, his presence cool and surprisingly soothing. He made Phiel relax a little, though he had said he was a psychiatrist (a head doctor, Phiel had teased wryly) which meant it sort of made sense. So, if Phiel was doing a job for him, he must be watching over someone who was having a bad brain day. She could empathize with that, so she didn't mind too much.
Still, that left her by herself again, watching the people on the television screen party like the world was ending. It had been a hard year, and she found herself strangely hopeful for the next one. Surely two tough ones couldn't come back to back, right? Even Phiel was looking a little threadbare around the edges, the salt-and-pepper grey of his hair a little more salt at the temples, the crinkles at the edges of his eyes and the worry line between his brows that you could only see at the top of the scar, slightly more toward the left side of his brow. Zuri worried, and Phiel worried, and they both tried to quietly mother each other, without being obtrusive.
"We're a lot alike, you and I," Phiel had said recently, looking at her while they sat quietly one evening, watching the television. "At least, from what I can tell. I know I'm no kind of father, but... you know I always want to see you well and happy." He had paused, drinking coffee, and she had thought about that comment, how off-handedly he'd said it, until minutes later he had said again, "And you take care of me, too. We help each other go on."
It was a good thought, Zuri felt. A good thought to imagine taking care of Phiel, who wasn't a father, not like the ones in the movies or the ones she'd seen out on the streets with their little human daughters, teaching them to walk and run and play. Had she ever been that helpless? Sure, he'd seen to her food, and she could remember him patiently reading to her until she grasped the shapes and sounds of words and the way they looked on the page. Until she could figure them out for herself, and then he had stepped back to let her learn on her own.
Maybe he was a parent like an owl, like her soul. Zurine had researched them a little, wanting to know about the parts that had gone into making her. It worked. She certainly had never been like the cute, chubby human babies, so he had taught her the way that seemed most appropriate, and Zuri was grateful for it.
While she was thinking, the door opened and shut, and there was the soft sound of shuffling feet. "Zuri?" Phiel called gently, looking around for her. She perked a bit, and rose over the back of the couch, looking up at her guardian. He stood in his jacket and boots, looking cold and tired, but he held a plastic cup in either hand, with a straw sticking out. "Oh good," he said, and smiled, a brief warm thing. "I hoped you'd still be awake. Look, it's almost midnight. I brought you a treat so we can toast in the new year, start it off right." He carried the cup over to Zuri, and she couldn't help it. Impulse took over, and she burst over the top of the couch. If she had been heavier, he would have gone tumbling, but since she was all lightness and chill, when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed, he stood firm. A little flabbergasted, but still calm. "Hey, what's this all about?" he asked gently, one arm gently lowering to wrap around his dainty little charge.
"Thank you," Zurine mumbled softly, her cheek pressed against his jacket. He was still cool from being outside, and he smelled of unfamiliar places, but it was comforting. "For taking care of me and being my guardian. I'm really... really grateful."
He visibly warred between pressing her further about it, and just letting it be -- and the latter won after a few moments. He smiled, though she couldn't see it, and squeezed her gently. "You're more than welcome, Zuri. Thank you for taking care of me, too." After a moment, when the hug parted, he smiled down at her, and offered her the cup. "Let's watch the ball drop, okay? And then you should head to bed. It's late."
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 9:14 pm
A birthday was a strange thing, especially this time -- because this time last year, things had been very different for Zuri. She had spent most of the last February in a blissful haze, and now, it seemed strangely anticlimactic, uneventful, to sit at home, restless.
Five whole years. It seemed like such a long time, a long time to spend within these four walls. The last one seemed to have taken so long, filled with such extremes of emotion, that to see February 15 roll around again on Phiel's tear-off calendar, the one with the cute cats that Nara had given him for Christmas. His neat, prim handwriting marked 'Zurine's birthday - 5' on the corner, below the picture of the fluffy orange kitten with the enormous blue eyes and the catnip mouse. Had it been that long?
She wasn't sure what had drawn her into his room, other than perhaps the fact that he had asked her to feed Blue. She had gingerly sprinkled a couple of the little pellets onto the surface of the water, and found herself wandering -- and now, completely arrested by that little '5' on paper.
It had occurred to her that perhaps she was missing something, that perhaps there was something wrong with her. Cesc had grown, and it had taken her some time to really question that. He'd endured something, and found his way through it, and grown, so that there was a newness in those familiar eyes, something that spoke of experience he had that she didn't, even though she was older. But she had been through dark times, too -- Zuri had seen how far she could fall, and then how quickly she could claw back out of the hole, hand-over-hand. And yet here she was, still small, still fragile, still just as she had always been.
For a moment, she felt that familiar distant rumble -- the quiet reminder that seemed to be with her in the quiet moments, a warning. It really was like a hole. You could get out of it, stay above ground, but the hole was still there, and if you weren't careful, you could slide back into it, and fall all the way to the bottom without realizing you'd even misstepped. But she'd gotten used to moving around it, sidestepping it neatly, avoiding the edge. If nothing else, at least there was that: a lesson she'd learned in her fourth year. That she was stronger than she had ever thought she could be. And that she wasn't alone, not really. But that she had to reach out for that support when she needed it.
Her phone was cool and heavy in her pocket, and Zuri picked it up thoughtfully, rubbing a cold thumb over the smooth glass screen. She felt a little better, though the question still weighed in her mind -- but it was her birthday, after all. A day for celebration! Perhaps, she thought as she scrolled through her contacts, she could get someone to celebrate with her. Heavy questions could wait until later.
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 9:17 pm
Title: A Carnival Smorgasbord
Starring Characters: Zurine, Cesc
Summary: A trip to the carnival, to explore the tastes and sights.
Phiel's Opinion: Wasn't here for this.
Zurine's Opinion: This was wonderful! I had the best time...
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Posted: Sat May 30, 2015 1:52 pm
It always starts the same way, every time Zurine dreams it -- she is alone in a place that she has never, in her recollection, been. The air is biting, bitter cold, and the wind is sharp as knives, edged and brittle. The world is white, clear and glaring; there are flashes of sun that only make the world seem colder, deader. When she turns, it's the same in every direction: wind at her back, disorientation, the dazing sensation of lostness and wrongness. The ground is featureless, flat, covered in endless mounds of snow with no direct light to remind her where she stands. The wind carries wet grains of ice, the scent and feeling of wetness in its bite. You could get lost here forever, with nothing to guide you and the whole world white and empty like this, she thinks.
Her heart beats faster, her breaths come shorter, and she tries her best to calm down. She knows what's coming, after the first time the dream comes, because it's always the same. No matter how many times she tries to change it, to wake up, to do anything but dream of this, it's like a movie, a record her mind plays until it skips in the deepest grooves and gets stuck on the same words, the same images and impressions. Her eyes squeeze shut, furrows between her brow appear, and she holds her breath (sharp cold bright in the bottom of her chest) and her head angles downward despite everything in her screaming not to.
At the end of her ribbon is something dark and cold, its bulk half-buried in the snow, so still and heavy that the predator in her knows, dead, without even having to touch or look closer. The dread intensifies, lands heavy and thick in her chest like wet paper and stones. Like slow motion she feels herself shift to the side, lower herself just a little, and her too-keen sight focuses. She doesn't have to get closer than she is to see --
a flag of hair, long and dark and wet with melted snow
a tan coat, torn with claw marks down the back, stained red at the ragged edges
-- and suddenly she feels too big, too clumsy; the world tilts, sick and staggering. She feels as if she might burst from her skin, that it might split along the edges and something new, larger and darker and egg-wet emerge, feathers slicked red-white-sticky against its skin --
Zuri sat bolt upright in the hazy uncertain light, her skin frosted with uneasy perspiration and her hair stuck limply to her cheeks and lips. The air conditioner in her window was limping along, sputtering softly. As she looked on in post-sleep haziness, it coughed, shuddered hard enough to rattle the windowpane, and died. The room was strangely silent without its eternal clatter -- only the dreaming, rushing sigh of the sea outside, and the quiet burbling of the fish tanks outside the room. The spring morning outside the window was promising a beautiful day. Grey light had already begun to slant into the room, carrying with it the soft peeping chirps of the earliest birds. All this, and as she planted her hands on the familiar plush of her sugar glider, she felt the wide edges of the dream that had opened up to swallow her begin to recede, slowly closing and folding in upon itself until it was small enough to deal with.
This was fine. Nothing to really worry about, or at least nothing she couldn't deal with. Still, even as she turned to fish her phone out from under the pillow, ready to start the day, the dull concern clung like cobwebs at the edge of her thoughts.
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Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2015 5:27 pm
Now, she sat back while Phiel set it up. He had been sitting in the floor of her bedroom with four screwdrivers for nearly a half hour now, looking thunderous. He scratched the top of his head with the handle of a screwdriver she'd never seen before as he squinted at the instructions with his face screwed up tight in frustration. She knew that look well; he could put together the most detailed tiny thing, but present him with something bigger than a soft bean doll, and he'd get inevitably frustrated. "This is definitely Swedish," he sighed after awhile, and Zurine leaned in to peer at the unfolded sheet.
"I've never seen a letter with that marking over it before," she commented, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. She'd picked the lamp out herself, and it was pretty -- a floor lamp, it was intended to sit beside her desk, where she spent a good bit of time each day working on the computer or painting. It was tall, with a slender silver stem intended to be shaped like a plant's, and the shade was a soft, frosted blue glass, which would softly lean over the desk to blossom like a bellflower over her computer and workspace.
Right now, though, that meant that the space she'd carved out for herself in the world -- her nest -- had been invaded. She lay on the bed, arms wrapped around the enormous sugar glider plush that had taken the pride of place in the center of the mattress. Her ribbon was wrapped loosely around the thing's soft, minky tail, and her chin was snuggled into the head of the fuzzy creature, between the ears. It was her favorite comfort item these days, and it made the whole situation a little easier to deal with. The lamp had been ordered according to the guidelines from Zeke, all the wattages checked and double-checked, and still it was an intimidating thing because she knew what it was for, what it would do. She had tried telling herself that it was just a lamp. Just a light to sit under while she did videos or worked on her hair or played with makeup. It would make the quality of her videos higher, make it easier to get good photos. She'd repeated the affirmations in her mind -- she deserved to be well, deserved not to suffer in silence alone during the summers.
But the worry didn't ease up even then, which left her feeling cornered on her bed, clutching her favorite comfort item while Phiel set the thing upright, tightening bolts until it stood steady. It was pretty, Zuri had to admit. And if it could make the encroaching spring and summer less hellish, it would be worth it. Even though she had come to that conclusion in Zeke's office at the Lab, and come to it again when they ordered the damned lamp, it felt much more final now that she could see it tangibly in her space, being a part of her life.
"There," Phiel said, straightening up and smiling. "All ready. D'you want to be the first to turn it on?" He looked at her, and Zuri could see the hope easing away the lines of irritation and worry in her guardian's face, the grey eyes smiling more than his mouth ever did. She pushed herself up off the familiar fuzzy back of the sugar glider plush, glad that she could feel her own face still and impassive. Bird-princess, she thought to herself, remembering years ago hiding her worry under a cold facade of calm, chilly perfection. Draw in all the anxiety, push out nothing but frosty certainty in her body language. Nothing at all was wrong, why would it ever be? And the worry would condense itself down small in her chest to be dealt with later. Simple. Easy.
"Of course," she heard herself saying, despite the pounding of her heart in her ears. "Just... not yet, okay?" The last thing she wanted was for Phiel to watch, after all. His look turned sharp, inscrutable, and Zuri was almost sure that he could peer straight through her and see that dense little ball of nerves tucked away, but when he relaxed and nodded, she thought she might fall down with relief.
"All right," he murmured, nodding. "I'll be home all night, so if you need me -- I'm here." He gently put a gloved hand atop Zuri's head as he moved toward the door, and she closed her eyes for a moment, taking the gesture as the comfort it was meant to be.
"Thank you," she said softly, as he left, closing the door behind him and leaving her alone with her thoughts.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2015 12:16 pm
Taking a deep breath, she reached out and flicked the slim little switch on the lamp. It came alive with a soft hum. The light was mild at first, and she was a little relieved as the dim, silvery glow filtered down, washing out the colors of everything on the desk. Beneath it, she looked nearly translucent, her slim arms and hands almost glowing, and she couldn't help letting out a soft laugh of relieved tension. Not so bad, she thought. Easy to get used to, this part anyway, despite the too-fast beating of her heart. The light built slowly, the glow softened by the blue-frosted glass. She had been afraid that it would feel like stuffing the whole of the summer sun into her bedroom, blinding heat and light that would burn, but this was much easier to deal with, even though she could already feel it brightening and heating up slowly. Easy, she thought, and she drew a deep breath, setting the timer on her computer. Twenty minutes should be more than enough for a first try, right? She steeled herself, and set to ignoring it as best she could.
The first few minutes were fine. The slow-building light was easy enough to ignore while she worked on editing an older video. One earbud was plugged into her ear as she listened to the audio, her ribbon's tip twitching slowly back and forth, back and forth, a quiet metronome of anxiety that only she could feel, the equivalent of someone's foot bouncing softly, heel thumping against carpet, over and over again. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She was trying to repeat that to herself, as if by saying so she could make it true. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing new --
-- except there was, and it was new. The light was growing hot above her, and she bent her head, trying to ignore it and the way it made her feel a little dazed already. It was hard to focus on the computer, hard to make herself think about anything but hot, increasing slowly as if it were a predator breathing down her neck. The air conditioner was still out, and the small fan that was blowing was not making much of a difference, its intermittent breeze only barely moving her hair as she shifted uncomfortably.
Flick, flick went the end of her ribbon, and her wings shifted, a cold trickle of water slowly rolling down the flight-primaries, followed by another, a soft plop as they rolled down to pat onto the wooden floor. She shifted, looking down in alarm. The clock on her computer screen read nine minutes, and counting slowly up to ten. She had promised herself that she would last for twenty minutes, but the building heat made it hard. For anyone else, this would have been pleasant, she knew. For anyone else, the warm golden-white light would have felt like basking in cozy comfort. But for her, it was distinctly unpleasant, and already she felt as if she was sweating, perspiring beneath even this easy warmth. Her body's automatic response was to tense up, to chill. Cold frosted over the perspiration on her skin, rolling out from inside her like a shiver, until a hand she ran up her arm felt like it rasped softly, wet against her palm.
It was draining -- the sunlamp trying to warm her and her own biology trying to rebel against it, to cool her. She stopped focusing on the video, letting herself droop a little. Her forehead rested on her forearm, and she drew a deep breath. Twenty minutes was all she had to do this first time, and then she'd let herself relax, right? Couldn't be that hard. Couldn't be. There was a thin drip of water, still slowly patting down onto the floor. Sweat or condensation, she didn't know, only that her wings shifted and ached, feeling heavy and sodden and a little deflated. There was no sound of frost tinkling as the feathers slid over each other, only a soft wet writhe. It was going to be okay -- going to be okay. This had a purpose, and all she had to do was endure.
The alarm rang with a soft, quiet ding. One hand shot out, and the switch flipped again. The lamp's light flickered out, leaving the room in the relative dimness of the evening. Zuri felt heavy, the wind of the fan blowing her hair against her skin. It felt like waking up from a nightmare, sweat-damp and sticky, with a dull anxious nausea twisted up in her chest. She swallowed hard, sat up, and exhaled. Against her damp hands her breath felt strangely warm -- not the familiar coolness that it usually had. She was trembling a little, but she turned to face the fan, letting the wind blow over her face. She sighed softly, slouching a little at it unstuck her hair from her cheeks.
Not so bad, she thought after a moment, trying to get herself to believe it.
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Posted: Thu Jun 04, 2015 9:12 pm
But it wasn't as easy as that. Though she felt soaked, wrung out, her body still tried its hardest to make the frost, to rime feathers and skin with familiar crispness. She closed her eyes. It was easy enough to just bear it, to just let it be, to let it drain every ounce of energy she had taken in. Drip, and there went the taste of the icy treat Phiel had brought home that morning. Drip, and there went last night's dinner, everything melting away softly and innocuously into a round, gleaming puddle under her chair. The loose shirt she had been wearing was wet, and she recognized it dimly, distantly. A half-hour's worth of misery, and what, if she kept taking it back? What was it for, if she just went and ate and ate, if she stuffed herself again full of ice and cold?
When the alarm's familiar chime rang, she raised her head, and flipped off the lamp. The already-familiar dizziness had settled in, set her senses to spinning. Her throat felt tight, dry; Zuri's hands felt clumsy, fingers swollen from clenching too tightly as she relaxed, quiet. She rubbed her face, pushed her sodden hair back impatiently from her face with wet palms, smoothing back the damp-edged white feathers at her temples that the fan was still stirring.
Therein did lay the problem, though, didn't it?
If she took in only cold, then she was feeding it -- the icy part of her, hiding beneath feathers, that wilted and drooped beneath summer heat. If she fed that, then nothing would ever change. Everything would go on as it had before. The sun would continue to hurt, and her world would shrink down to nothing by July. By August, she'd be staring down that darkness from across the room, like an old enemy come back with bigger, sharper claws, longer fangs, to dig deeper this time. Everything would be lost, every drop of progress that she'd made, and she wasn't willing to let that happen. She thought of him, and how she had nearly lost her best friend -- of how he'd suffered, too. How she'd comforted him the summer before, how she'd been alone when she could have asked him for help. When she could have asked anyone for help, but she hadn't, and it had nearly cost her everything.
Not this time. She closed her eyes tight, swallowed with clammy dry lips and tongue. Summer wasn't that long, was it? It was a delirious, foolish, head-spinning thought -- but maybe if she just could teach her body that what it wanted couldn't control her... she could do what she wanted to do, be what she wanted to be. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself, pale, damp with sweat, dazed. Her lips were pressed together, a thin line of determination and frustration, her eyes wide and dark and wet with tears.
All she had to do was not give in.
She could do that. If Zurine was good at anything, it was being stubborn.
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2015 4:04 pm
Zurine flinched when she heard Phiel speak. It had been a week since she had started using the lamp, and tonight, the heat had felt especially harsh. She hadn't eaten much today, and it had been worse than before. Without the frost to melt, the heat belting down was all landing on her. She had french-braided her hair back tightly, and she made a striking picture in the hallway. Even Phiel took a second look, his brows furrowing a little. Before he could open his mouth to say anything else, Zuri managed a laugh, light and evanescent.
"I'm fine," she said, feeling dizzy, a little unbalanced. It was half a truth -- she felt better now that she wasn't under the light for the day, that was true. The other half, well, that was the lie. Her chest ached with hunger, the freezer's bounty of ready ice called, but she had seen in the mirror the flush in her cheeks, the arch of her brows, and knew she didn't look bad. She looked like she had come from a day at the beach, in fact, didn't she? Nearly glowing... Zurine couldn't help it, she nearly preened. "Really, I am. You look so... doubting."
Phiel tilted his head, observed his charge for a moment, the way she tilted her head defiantly, the starkness of her flushed cheeks against the white of her skin, the round darkness of her eyes -- but she seemed very determined, didn't she? That had to be better than blank misery. "Sorry," he said after a moment. "I was worried the lamp might have made you feel bad." He sounded so unsure that Zuri felt her chest ache a little more.
"It's a little rough," she said, softening. "But... I think I'm getting the hang of it after all." She managed a smile. Zuri wasn't going to look at the kitchen. She wasn't going to let herself be tempted, not this time. "A-all I needed was time!" She shrugged, crossing her arms. Her wings shifted, shivering just a little as she fluffed them up, insecure.
"I'm not surprised," Phiel said, and his smile was broad and warm, an attempt at comforting. She wouldn't quite meet his eyes, just the same. "Look, I did have something I wanted to tell you. Do you remember Na-- ah, Mister Shidon? My, my associate, he was here around Christmas --"
"Helped us decorate the tree," Zurine supplied, and now she was interested, her attention piqued. So Phiel had been talking with him more, had he? The tree-decorating had been a surprisingly intimate little affair -- because Nara was taller than Phiel, he'd done a lot of the work getting it into the stand, and Zuri had even relented and allowed him to put the owl on top as a reward. She liked him, and she had thought, perhaps, that Phiel liked him too, at least a little. "Of course I remember him, why?"
"Well, he said that since it's summer and you can't go out very often, he thought perhaps you might like to come and, and spend some time at his office," Phiel said, rubbing at his upper arm and chuckling a little. "He'll pay you, of course; it's just filing and straightening things out a little while his actual secretary is on leave, so nothing too stressful. And of course you are more than welcome to--"
"I'd like that," Zuri said, looking up at Phiel earnestly. It would give her a chance to escape the house, something to think about other than the light and the hunger. Though Phiel had never denied her anything she asked for monetarily speaking, it would be nice to be able to do something, too, instead of spending endless hours fussing with the computer, though she was good at that, too. "When... does he want me to start?" She couldn't help feeling relief when Phiel grinned.
"Tomorrow, if you want to!"
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Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2015 4:56 pm
Starring Characters: Zurine, Cesc
Summary: Texting conversation about a new job! Chatlog under spoiler cut for size.
Zurine's Opinion: I'm nervous. And I hate being evasive...
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Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2015 4:58 pm
It was a balmy morning, and Zurine couldn't help being secretly excited about the fact that it didn't hurt, not really -- a temperature in the mid-eighties usually would have been uncomfortable for her, and now other than the glare of the early-morning sun and the usual heavy dullness she had come to expect, it wasn't misery. She still gathered her windbreaker around her tightly as Phiel pulled the car up to the door of the building where Nara practiced, trying to comfort herself with it. She'd never worked outside of the house before, and despite her tendencies to gather her confidence around her like a shroud, she was vibrating a little with nerves.
"Going to be okay, Zuri?" Phiel asked, trying not to look at her too hard. "I can walk you in if you like..."
"No," she said hastily, looking at him with a wry smile. "I'll be fine." Without waiting for another word to question her, she opened the car door and slipped out into the morning sunshine and up the walk to the building.
It was one of those very square places with a staircase up the front to a balcony running the length of the second level, containing four offices. The paint was a non-descript grey-blue, and the front was planted with boxwoods, marigolds, and pansies. Overall, it was very boring to look at.
Zuri already liked it -- the flowers were pretty, and the building was one of those buildings that you just assumed you'd seen a million times, whether you had or not. But that suited her just fine -- immediate comfort with a place was nice, especially right now when she had so little to make her comfortable. She squared her slim shoulders, tugging at her cardigan, and puffed out her chest as she approached the door of the place. Briefly she debated over knocking, but instead, she pushed the door open cautiously, peering inside.
Cool air wafted out below her ribbon as the warm air outside zipped in under the doorframe. After the brightness of the day, the dimness of the reception room made immediate scanning impossible. Slowly, it resolved: A great big couch, deep and fluffy, blue, sitting against the left wall, fronted by a massive, sturdy coffee table of dark wood; that short, tight carpet on the floor, as grey-blue as the outside of the building; beige walls with wide paintings of stark, peaceful landscapes; dim lamps on side tables, the light of one falling over a massive cozy chair of dark brown suede, another making a soft haven of a businessy desk backed by filing cabinets and a cushy office chair. There was a water cooler, a blue rug, and a rather large fern, to really drive home how very office-y the place was.
Despite herself, Zuri drew in a deep breath of that cool air, feeling every hair stand on end, the feathers at her temples quivering and perking, her wings fluffing and shuddering with a soft whisper. Oh, that shouldn't have felt so nice -- almost sinful -- and she fought a little wash of guilt. The cool air wasn't what she should be wanting, but after the heat of the day and the self-deprivation, oh, it felt like heaven.
She slipped inside the room fully and let the door close behind her, letting her guard down a little despite herself as she looked around. "Hello?" Zurine tried softly, drifting past the fern and lightly running her fingertips along the edge of one frond. No answering frost rose along the leafy greenness, and she felt an irrational surge of smugness.
Sounds immediately started behind the door next to the desk, and shortly it opened to reveal her new employer. He was of a similar height to Phiel, but lanky and thin in his sweater vest, button up, and slacks. What really caught a person's attention first, though, was the long scar twisting down the right side of his face, peaking out from under his hair, which was styled long in the front to cover that side of his face. His visible eye was a vivid orange-brown.
He brightened when he saw her, smiling politely. "Well, hullo there, Zurine! So good to see you again." He came forward to offer his hand. "I really appreciate you coming to help me out."
She brightened as she looked up at him, smiling and putting her hand in his daintily. "Good to see you again, too," she said softly. "I'm really happy to be able to help... and to be able to get out of the house. I spend so much time at home..."
Nara nodded, understanding. "Well, it's a relief on me, too. It's an easy job, but too much of it. I don't have time between patients to do it all." He let go of her hand and gestured to the desk in one movement. "Here's where you go. The filing cabinets are arranged by alphabetical order according to last name. All my billing is done through a service, so you'll only need to mess with that if there is a new patient, and I'm not taking any at the moment. All you have to do is put away and retrieve files for me, answer phones, and keep the place tidy. Any questions?"
She looked around, the tip of her ribbon slowly twitching back and forth, chewing her lower lip. "I think I can do that... what should I say when I answer the phone?" she asked, looking up at him and feeling a little bit nervous, but competent. She was going to be the best damn secretary, wasn't she? She approached the desk, looking at the previous secretary's baubles. A silly little cat bobblehead was featured most prominently, and she couldn't help smiling a little bit as she reached out to make its head wobble.
He chuckled softly over her interest. "Merilyn was very thorough. She left a little binder in one of your desk drawers with scripts." He motioned to the drawers as he came around the desk.
"The bathroom," he continued, long legs needing only a couple steps to get to the other door behind the desk and to the side. "Is right off the little kitchen here. You can store your things in the lock cabinet, and the bathroom has the cleaning supplies. I don't serve coffee here, mainly because my patients don't need to be strung any tighter, but I have tea and snacks, and juice and water in the fridge."
She nodded, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve and relishing the cool air flowing around them, drawing a deep breath as the explanations eased her worries. "Okay. And you'll be where, in case I have questions...?"
Nara smiled and went back to the door he had come out of before, opening it. "My office."
Inside, the room was more of the grey-blues with just enough warm browns and oranges to keep it from feeling cold. His desk was well-lit by both window and lamps, the better to keep him from appearing hidden. There were potted indoor trees -- real ones, not those fake kind -- in the corners of the room, making it more rounded and less like a box. There were more paintings in here, though they were the abstract kind, meant to break up a space rather than distract.
Two semi-cozy chairs were in front of the desk, with the distinct look of bank chairs. On the other side of the space was a huge couch to match the one in the waiting room, with floppy throw-pillows in green and blue, and a lovely big blanket in burnt orange. Bracketing it were two match chairs, and between them all was a small coffee table inset with a zen garden. One wall had a bookshelf, and instead of hanging his certificates and such on the walls, the frames were propped atop this, next to a clear teal vase containing fresh daffodils. There was also a trunk sitting on a rug near the corner, a couple of stuffed animals around it.
Zurine peered in curiously, eyes widening. "Ooh. It looks really cozy in here," she admitted, smiling. "I guess it would be, if you want people to spend time there..."
He nodded and closed the door. "I don't like to be disturbed while I'm in a session, mostly because it distracts the patient. However, my computer in there is on silent, and the computer out here has a messaging client connected to me in there. If you have an emergency or a question, you can message me."
She nodded, feeling a little relieved. "Okay. I can do that, that doesn't sound hard," Zurine murmured, looking up at him. "It'll just take some getting used to!" She fluffed herself up a bit, trying to look brave and self-assured.
He put his hands on his slim hips and grinned. "I have every confidence in you. Everyone must start somewhere, after all."
She nodded firmly, and then moved to drift back behind the desk, looking down at everything. "This will be fine," she said, mostly to herself. At least, whatever happened, she was doing something more productive than sitting around the house and obsessing all summer.
He put his hand on a stack of folders. "I prepared some files for you. All the names are clearly marked, as you can see." Indeed, each folder's little tab had in bold, black letters a last name, then a first and an initial. "And the file cabinets are marked too. Just put them in where they go. Phiel says you like English as a subject, so I trust you know how to do that." His voice was kind, not at all condescending.
Zurine nodded, looking down at the folders. She was tempted to peer inside, but she knew better. That was private stuff, and she certainly wouldn't have wanted anyone else to look at hers, especially not now. "So, I just find where it goes in the cabinet, and put it in alphabetical order. That's it?"
He nodded, perching on the arm of one of the sturdy chairs before her desk. "I'll ask you to get out folders, too. Now, see those dots?" He pointed to the top folder. On the corner, near the name, was a red round sticker dot, and a blue one too. "Red means they're on medication, blue means they have insurance." He looked her straight in the eye, growing solemn suddenly. "I need to trust you never to tell anyone what the stickers mean, because there are other colors, and they can mean more serious things. I put them there so that you can react appropriately to phone calls."
She nodded, feeling that solemnity, and settling down in the chair behind the desk. "I promise," Zurine said. "I wouldn't want anybody else knowing what was wrong with my head, either..."
"Not wrong, sweetie, just not balanced." He smiled a small, sad smile. "Now. Yellow means that the patient has been hospitalized for their illness before, and should they call at all in distress, I am to be notified with two knocks on the door. Purple means that the patient has no insurance, and that they are being seen for free. This doesn't make them less important, but it does mean they have less resources than others, and you should make them as comfortable as possible. They also get vouchers for medications at the pharmacy down the road, if they are taking medication. I do not prescribe medication, but I make recommendations to my partner in the office beside us, and she prescibes it. Orange means the patient has a history of violence, or a police record, and should be treated calmly. I try to get those patients seen to quickly. Last is green. Green stickers are for children. I do see children sometimes, and their parents or guardians may call about them. Their names will be written down at the bottom of the folder, along with a password. This is for the safety of the child."
Zuri listened, and bent to take notes on a scrap piece of paper too, so that she could remember. "Are there a lot of children that come here?" she asked softly.
"Not so many. Children are best left to specialists, but I do take on some autistic patients, and the bookish types that just need monthly sessions." He gestured to the files. "Go ahead. Give it a shot."
She picked up a file, peering down at it. It was the top one he'd been demonstrating on, and she looked a little smug. "So just file them, right?" She turned to look at the filing cabinets, each labeled with the correct letter. Simple, right? Carrying the folder over, she opened the drawer, and slipped the file in where it belonged.
He nodded. "Exactly so. Now, there's those five drawers for patient files, and the last has blank folders and forms, and that sort of thing. When a new patient first arrives, you give them the forms, then make sure they filled them all out, assign a folder, and put it on a clipboard for me so that I can finalize it."
"I can do that," Zurine agreed. "And if I have any questions, all I do is message you on the computer."
"Precisely." He spent a minute or so showing her the computer system. "Well, there we are. Feeling alright about it?"
She nodded, feeling relieved about the simplicity of what was expected of her. "It seems very easy..."
"The work is easy, but sometimes patients might do some unexpected things. The key, Zurine, is to stay calm and understand that the person is someone who is hurting. Hurt people tend to react in unusual ways. I'll do my best to care for them, but you might witness some frightening things. Is that something you can accept?"
She bit her lip, looking up at him. Could she accept that? It wasn't as if she didn't have the ability to defend herself if she needed to, perhaps moreso than a human might have. Or at least, she usually did -- a little pang of worry sparked in her chest, but she nodded. "I... can do my best," she said solemnly. "Especially if it's because someone's hurting."
"I'm glad." He stretched a little, then straightened his sweater vest out. "If you would, please finish filing those, and fill out your employment forms. I'll bring out the real work once you're done there, and I should have a patient in about half an hour. The appointment list is on the computer."
"Okay," Zuri agreed with a smile. "I-I think I can get that done. And... thank you again for this, sir." She leaned back against the back of the chair for a moment, looking up at him thoughtfully. "Phiel said he'll come pick me up later, too." For a moment, there was a slightly crafty look in her eyes, and she smiled slyly. "You could come get dinner with us."
His one visible eyebrow went up and he fidgeted with a pen he had plucked from the deck. "Well, I... you should make sure he's alright with that before just inviting me," he said, somewhat wistful and a little embarrassed.
Zuri couldn't help smiling up at Nara. "I'm sure it will be fine," she said, mock-innocently, as she turned to begin putting away the example folders, feeling relatively confident about this bit at least. She knew that look well enough to know what it meant, and she felt a little smug about it.
"Thank you, then," he said, then sighed and went for his door. "Let me know if you need me for anything."
"I will," Zuri said, lifting her head to look at him as he escaped to the door of his office, and waving a little as if to reassure him that she was going to be fine. She was going to be fine, after all! She had puffed herself up with false confidence, her feathers standing up, though she missed the soft tinkle of ice that was usually there. The chill of the room was going straight through her, and she couldn't help a sort of perverse smugness about the shiver that raced up her spine. Yes, this could only be a good thing.
[ Co-written with Patmos of Endtimes ]
Phiel's Opinion: I'm just glad they get along.
Zurine's Opinion: I've got this.
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Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2015 5:04 pm
Warmer? Worse? Better?
Miserable?
She couldn't quite pinpoint how exactly she was feeling after tonight's session, as she bent to take hold of a shirt she'd worn the previous day, tucking it into the dirty clothes basket. Her head was spinning, yes; her cheeks were flushed, her head light, her hands trembling. That was becoming familiar already. The aching was not, not yet; the tension of her shoulders, the tightness at the center of her, the need -- that was all new, and Zurine wondered if she ever would get used to that. It didn't seem like a thing that would be easy to get used to, the dull misery of hunger gnawing at the pit of her belly like some small, moaning, anxious animal periodically clawing.
She paused, looking down at a discarded shirt that was peeking out from under her bed. It was one of her favorites, a long-sleeved, soft pink thing with an enormous bow at the neck, and she bent to pick it up with a deep, impatient sigh at her own messy tendencies, and when it didn't pick up, she gave it an irritable tug, too absorbed in her own thoughts to wonder why it didn't immediately pick up. Her heart felt like it dropped to the end of her ribbon when the cloth gave a soft, low r-r-rriiiiip, the sleeve caught now visibly under one of the legs of her bedframe. The soft pink fabric had torn messily at the shoulder, starting at the seam, and fraying into a mass of silky, irreparable fibers. The half-full laundry basket fell to the floor with a useless thump.
"No!" she hissed, eyes wide. Tears sprang immediately to them, and she bent to try and push at the leg of the bed, biting her lip so hard it hurt. "No, that's -- that's my favorite --" Weak as she was, she couldn't move it at all, and the torn shirt was well and truly caught. Upset tangled up in her chest, knotting disappointment and hunger and exhaustion up into a blind ball of unhappiness and anger as she slumped down onto the ground, gathering up the shirt's remains except for the now-missing sleeve. She wanted to cry, to let it out, but something tweaked in her chest, and instead of sorrow, she found herself filled with a strange, cold, incandescent rage. Dimly she realized her hands had stopped shaking, her fingers curled into the fabric as if her nails, kept clipped neatly, could rend it further. How very dare it, that guilty wretched thing, wrong her in such a way, when she was already so tired, so miserable, so indefinably upset already?
The world seemed too-sharp at the edges, and her vision swam slightly as she looked up, and for a moment she didn't recognize the dim, skewed reflection in her full-length mirror as her, her face high with bright blue color and her black eyes too-big, glassy with tears, her lips pressed tight and her knuckles white, tangled in the fabric like a predator's claws. The sheen of the room's light on the satin gave it the illusion of something strangely organic, wet and gleaming like something twisted and formerly-alive--
She sprang back, dropping it as if it had bitten her. The unreasonable, frozen rage dropped out of her as suddenly as it had come, leaving her numb and hot and empty, arms feeling leaden and tingly, her breath catching too-short in her throat. Nausea lurched hungry and hollow in her chest, and she bent over, covering her face with her hands, swallowing again and again to quiet it as the world came slowly back into focus. She had frightened herself, but nothing was wrong, was it? Just overwhelmed, it had been a long day -- the comforting excuses began to flow after a moment, and she tried each and every one on for size -- a long day, and she was still getting used to work, and maybe she had sat too long under the light tonight, and maybe she needed to get out of the house tomorrow and do something that wasn't work. Yes, of course, that was it -- Zurine just needed some downtime, right?
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:31 pm
She hadn't had the dream since she had started on this little quest, and yet Zurine had still woken this morning uneasy and dazed, as if she'd had it. She couldn't remember what she had been dreaming, only that it hadn't been pleasant, and she opened her eyes slowly, just to remind herself where she was. In the dark she could make out the familiar shapes of her room, the laptop closed and asleep on her desk, its tiny blue light slowly fading in and out like it was breathing, the canopy above her bed and its gauzy curtains tied back with bows, the soft shag rugs on the floor that were meant for feet, something Zurine had often wondered if she'd ever have. Over the desk was the glass bloom of the sun-lamp, silent and dark for now, and already it too seemed as if it belonged there with everything else. She had stopped fighting it, and now it was only a little foreboding. She didn't like it, but it was a means to an end now.
She could see those things without even moving, and the laundry basket too, lying on its side, its contents tipped out on the floor beside the torn remnants of her shirt. It wasn't such a big loss, she thought now, muzzily. Not really something to get that worked up about. But what did worry her was the panic it had sent her into, that strange state where everything had seemed so sharp and clear and full of something that she couldn't even rightly have called anger, not really. It had seemed too cold, too calculating -- the edges of the world had sharpened so that she felt as if she could have cut glass with her focus. The hunger had seemed so small in comparison to that. But what was it, and what had happened? She didn't feel like herself, still, as if she had looked at the world and taken a small step to the right, looking at it from a different angle. That focus was still there, quiet, waiting, a little terrifying but maybe a little welcome, too. If it could help with this.
The first rosy dawn-rays seeped in through the window, the light soft-edged and tender, and she closed her eyes again, swallowing softly as guilt tangled its fingers around her heart. Maybe it was foolish to think of it that way. To imagine him awake and hard at work already, perhaps pausing to greet the morning and soak it up, like she'd seen often before everything had gone so wrong. Maybe she should say something, ask for help -- maybe someone else could be trusted with this, to support her when she wasn't feeling so strong. But this was all her fault, wasn't it? This was something she'd taken on herself, something to better herself.
Like Zeke had said -- or at least she thought he had said -- since she was willing to try, it meant she was getting better, right? And giving up now, well, that was unthinkable. She'd already put so much effort into this, hadn't she? And if she could just hold out a little longer, then maybe it would pay off, and they -- she, she reminded herself, maybe she could visit those places Zeke had talked about. The butterfly garden, or the botanical garden, places for flowers to grow and delicate beautiful things. Places where someone warm belonged, where people could be happy and spend time with those they loved. And if she wanted to be warm, well, this was the only way she knew to do it thus far.
Her body ached with heat and emptiness, and she pushed herself up on shaking hands, ignoring their tremble, ignoring the thinness of her wrists and the splay of her white fingers against the soft dark plush. Anger or fear or not, Zurine's stubbornness was stronger than that, and it was time to get up and go on about her day. She'd promised herself something fun, and she damned well was going to enjoy her day to herself.
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