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Post by Yao Wang on Apr 28, 2012 0:10:30 GMT -5
This is so pointless.
He'd been tossed into the quiet room after a fit of rage, instigated by an intense craving for heroin.
He sighs heavily, staring at the needle tracks on his forceps, almost overshadowing by the countless razor cuts that travel up his arms.
They sorta resemble the tracks left behind by a tractor's wheels. Sorta.
Already very fed up with the miniscule accommodations, Yao grumbles and reaches into one of many small, hidden sewn-in pockets and pulls out a single-edged razor blade, tugging his pants down just a bit, and violates his flesh.
Let the orderlies try to find that. He laughs to himself as he swipes the excess blood away with his fingers, licking it off to be rid of the evidence. He's a good deal more calm now, so he leans back against the wall and enjoys the company of the little jellyfish floating in the air. Hallucinations may they be, but they're awfully beautiful.
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Post by Anya Braginskaya on Apr 30, 2012 10:46:13 GMT -5
There was too much noise. There were too many people. All of them were getting on her nerves and she just had to get away. Even outside where were few too many people for her to find comfort in the fresh air. Here, she hoped to find solace. Near breathless with worry, she darted into the room and leaned against the door.
Her entire morning was missing. She'd woken up and gotten cleaned up for the day. She'd gone to breakfast, but after an orderly had fetched her for a one-on-one session with her doctor ... She remembered nothing. That of course, could only mean one thing and that alone worried Anya. It had been her first 'blackout' so to speak while here. It appeared even in the figurative safety of a psychiatric hospital, her other self wouldn't leave her alone.
Placing a hand to her chest she leaned against the wall, hand to her chest as she caught her breath. Heaving a heavy sigh she breathed out and finally took in her surroundings. Violet eyes swept the room and suddenly she jumped, hand at her heart again. "Oh!" She said, finally seeing Yao, realizing she wasn't alone. "I ... Oh, I didn't see you there." She said, forcing down her relative annoyance at his presence in the room. It wasn't as if he'd interrupted her after all. Rather, it was quite the reverse.
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Post by Yao Wang on May 1, 2012 19:05:33 GMT -5
Now here's something I didn't expect.
He looks up at this tall woman with light hair disinterestedly. He's just glad she hadn't caught him with blood on his hands, not that he even knows if she'd report him.
It's pretty obvious she doesn't want him to be there; she had only just started to relax until she saw him. It's not like Yao had any choice but to be there, though. He eyes her carefully.
"There's only supposed to be one person in here at a time, but I don't really give a damn one way or the other. So long as you have no lung problems..." he flashes his lighter and small box of cigarettes "...you can stay. If you hate company or cigarettes, you can go. Either way, I won't say anything about this to anyone."
Explaining things takes too much energy and he's tempted to fall asleep, but he's too much in need of a smoke to indulge in a nap. A flick of the lighter and he's finally fulfilling his nicotine craving.
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Post by Anya Braginskaya on May 1, 2012 21:46:25 GMT -5
Solitude was what Anya craved most right now but she wasn't sure where else she could go where she'd be truly alone ... and where she could keep away from her brother. This room seemed as good a place as any, and besides, the young man before her didn't look as if he would be doing much to disturb the peace.
"I'll stay." She decided after a moment's more consideration and pushed off of the door, sweeping her long, blond hair over her shoulder. Violet eyes sweep over the male and she takes in his appearance. He doesn't appear threatening and she decides that she could take him if it came down to it.
"Can I have one?" She asked. She didn't normally smoke - she only had on rare occasions before coming here - but she did know very well that just might be the calming edge she needed to push back her incredible tension.
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Post by Yao Wang on May 3, 2012 22:04:59 GMT -5
Giving a curt nod, a cigarette makes its way into the tall girl's hand. He lights it for her, then tucks the contraband back into its resting place.
The door only locks from the inside, then...Almost sinister enough to be believable. Briefly wondering if he's just gotten himself locked in with this lady, which would be really hard to explain to the orderlies, he glances up at the door. It's unlocked. It doesn't stay locked if it's opened from the outside unless someone has they key, I'm guessing. Hm. It's probably for the best that he keep this in mind from now on.
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Post by Anya Braginskaya on May 4, 2012 13:33:08 GMT -5
As soon as she had the cigarette between her fingers, Anya lifted it to her lips, taking a long drag. She leaned back, appearing casual. Exhaling slowly, her amethyst eyes watched Yao from the side, hidden by the long curtain of her blond hair. She hadn't yet spent time with him, and so she wasn't sure of what to expect. For now she was wary, though not quite as tense as she'd been upon entering. He appeared docile and pleasant enough for her tastes.
Alleged quiet room or not, the young woman spoke, finally, deciding that she wanted to know more about the young man beside her. The best thing to do, of course, was simply to ask for now. "I'm Anya." She volunteered. "And you are?"
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Post by Yao Wang on May 5, 2012 4:45:53 GMT -5
Giving a nod of the head that's near infinitesimal (as if to indicate the message has been received,) he flicks ashes onto the floor.
"Yao."
He never has quite been able to puzzle out what one should say in an introduction; he'd rather exchange no more information than name, drug of choice, and maybe favorite color. He's since learned that his lack of knowledge on how to respond to social cues increases his chances of getting his sentences wrong or spouting irrelevant, sometimes nonsensical gibberish when he does make an effort. Apparently it's common in people with thought disorders, referred to as "disorganized speech." Really the only thing Yao cares to call it is annoying.
He frustratedly grinds the small segment of cigarette out on the floor. One can hardly say he seems frustrated; the emotion is felt but hardly expressed.
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