Ah, I see you have found my little hideaway. Well don't be shy, do come sit down, we'll have a chat you and I. It will be pleasant no?
The doctor-deer flashes you an unnaturally white smile, although the humour does not reach his eyes.
Will you sit down and join the doctor?
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Like most days within the Forest, this one is sunny and warm, pleasant in all aspects. Far from the rambunctious individuals that romp around the pond, the doctor-deer has established his office of sorts in a sun-dappled patch of bare ground. He likes the emptiness, he is able to see far in all directions. Although his body is relaxed, his face is alert, although what he is watching is difficult to say. He appears to pay little attention to those that pass near him, although if one were to watch him carefully, they may notice the darting of his eyes, or subtle twitches. He notices you whether or not you notice him.
--------------------------
The building is cold, sanitary, with all the friendliness of stainless steel. The corridors are lined with wooden doors, an attempt at warmth, although each is locked from the outside and enforced with a solid bolt. Pressing an ear to one of these doors you may hear any number of things, sobbing, incoherent rambling, muffled screams, the choir of the asylum. Around the corner from these cells are the offices, the private kingdoms of the doctors residing within. Each has been personalized by its ruler, although one stands out in particular. It is nearly as cold as the corridors, although it is decorated generically enough. You realize that unlike the other tiny kingdoms, this one contains no photographs, no mementos of home or family. This is the realm of the doctor you came to see.
Felt like reviving this pleasant fellow. Any RP you wish to have with him can be done here human or deer, or if you would like, we could start a private RP on another blog. All actions of his are in character.
I remember him~ Track
Track
ohmaygodheisbackargh!
^ that just made me laugh so
''|D edit: yes even in me
edit: yes even in me there is a little fangirl locked up. ,o,
SirsirIhisirumhiumumumummm...
\o/ trak.
I have heard so much about
Ahh, what an interesting
Oh my ....The Doctor is back
Tracking this so I can throw
It's nice to see him back
Greetings to all of you. I'm
I have never seen this guy
Thank you. I'm not sure about
Welcome back doctor. I may
sdfksdlajfklsdajfklsdj ....
.....
dsfkljsdaklfjsadklj
Thank you my dear, I look
...Shimmy is it? A dance? You may want to get checked out yourself, that seems to be a most debilitating speech impediment!
^ ROFL
(Just a heads up, anything in
It's a dreary place, that much is sure. Caravaggio takes his time, picks up some letters pushed through the mail slot and deposits them on the desk before shuffling through the more choice papers there. Nothing too interesting, he'd been hoping for juicy evaluations on some of the loons locked up in the asylum. Folders full of letterhead, all very professional.
It's very clean in here, he notes with a shrug. He settles into the chair, stretches his arms up over his head. Books all organized, file cabinet likely just as immaculate. That unreal sort of clean that dictates more of a lack of habitation than a pride in appearance. I hope this fellow is more interesting than his office.
Walk through the doors, turn
This morning however, the doctor pauses as he enters his office. Normally there would be mail on the floor, correspondences from other doctors, inquiries from patients' families. He answers the former, and forwards the latter to the asylum secretary. Suspicious, he proceeds into his office, his pale eyes scanning every detail of the room, noticing if anything else was out of place. The room appeared empty, but the doctor was uneasy. It was far too professional a place for pranks, but his files did contain important patient information, and if someone was looking for those, he would be the first to alert authorities.
To anyone passing by, the doctor would appear motionless, frozen in the middle of his immaculate office, turned away from the door. They would not notice the darting eyes, the flaring nostrils, the tension that runs through his body as his mind tries to solve what he cannot perceive.
He hears the footsteps down
Now, Caravaggio wanted the information in those files, secrets were valuable after all...but none of the patients he was interested in were to be found. The locked file cabinet, now that was a distinct possibility. Get the key from the doctor, get the files from the cabinet. Or...get the info from the Doc. Interesting possibilities abound.
For the moment Caravaggio stayed hidden. Let the Doctor puzzle things out a bit first.
((I've had this character in
---------------------------------------------------------
[Email Received]
Good afternoon Doctor,
I would like to make an appointment for my daughter Jessica, any date and time will do. Is there any paperwork I'll need to sign or fill out? Thank you.
-Ms. G
---------------------------------------------------------
Tera: His ears could detect
His ears could detect no unusual sounds, and there seemed to be nothing to be seen. His mail appeared to be on his desk, perhaps a late janitor moving them as he completed his rounds. The doctor proceeded to his desk, picking up his mail and skimming the addresses before sinking down into his leather-backed chair. As if it was compulsive with his suspicions, the doctor reached into his pocket, withdrawing the keys he kept there, and selected one of them. Rather than checking the big filing cabinets however, he bent down and unlocked the desk drawer, opening it. He lingered, looking inside the drawer, and then shut it quickly, locking it as if whatever lay within may come out and attack. The keys returned to the pocket.
With a faint sigh, he relaxed slightly and returned his attention to his job. He scanned his schedule, a few patients later this afternoon, but his morning was free. He drew a sharp but simple letter-opener from a top desk drawer and proceeded to examine his mail.
---
CM:
Scanning the words, the doctor was intrigued. Families normally visited him only when conditions became too dire for them to cope--nobody wanted to admit their son or daughter needed to visit the madhouse. The gears of his mind working, he composed a reply.
Ms G,
While I would normally leave it to the asylum secretary to handle appointments, your case intrigues me and I would very much like to meet your daughter. If you could please bring Miss Jessica by my office this Friday afternoon at 3, I will ensure that she is the last patient I see and we can take as much time as is needed. There will be some paperwork to sign if she is to stay here, but at the moment I will consider it unnecessary.
I look forward to your visit.
Sincerely,
Dr. ---------- PhD.
With a final scan over his words, the doctor sent the email on it's way.
Heynow. The drawer drew his
The Doc's busying himself with the mail, so Caravaggio takes a moment to carefully stroll around the room. Running his fingers along the spines of the volumes on the bookshelf he picks one at random. He thinks of dropping it to the floor but instead, he smiles mischievously. No need to be cruel to the bookworm.
"The Interpretation of Dreams...Freud. Heavy stuff."
After the heavy door to the
Never hanging up the phone, the woman grabbed her daughter's arm and lead her down the hallway to the correct room. Still covering her ears, the girl observed everything around her with careful, dark eyes. Her mother tapped on the office door with tan knuckles, before peeking in. Twisting the phone away from her mouth, the attractive but incredibly absent-minded woman gave an award-winning smile. "Sorry we're late," she pushed her thin, pale, agitated daughter into the room. "I'm Ms. G, this is Jessica." she said waving a jewel-decorated hand. "I just couldn't pass up a chance for her to see you, we've been excited all week." Speaking only for herself may have been wise, because her daughter certainly didn't look excited. Her words were as meritless as her obsession for materialism and wealth; which was clear in her appearance.
"I can't stay for too long, I have an appointment, but I hope this will do, to explain a few things." she hands him a hand-written note that would explain Jessica's abnormalities briefly.
Refuses to speak, refuses to wear certain types of clothing, doesn't eat much, hates music, will cover her ears so she doesn't have to do what she is told, is violent towards children her own age and myself, hates cars (it took a great deal of effort to get her here).
Of course, that could not be the tip of the iceberg, and it could not be so simple.
"When should I be expected to be back?"
Tera: The doctor was
The doctor was displeased, the mail that arrived for him was nothing important, more hopeful petitions from students hoping to learn his methods, a note from a colleague asking for advice, drivel for the most part. He glanced up briefly in his reading, for a moment he thought he heard footsteps, although no one was passing by his door. A frown creased his brow, and he put down his letters, about to check if someone was in the corridor. At the voice, the doctor froze, eyes wide and body tense, half-risen from his chair. His first thoughts were not of fear, but of annoyance. He was a professional, who would dare play a trick on him! Allowing his control to slip slightly, anger crept into his voice as he replied.
"It is indeed heavy, and while I appreciate that you know the work of Dr. Freud, I do not appreciate this deception. Reveal yourself sir, and I will talk to you face-to-face instead of like a gypsy fraud shouting at spirits!"
---
CM:
Having risen from his desk upon hearing the knocks, the doctor looked at the woman who so boldly entered his domain. He didn't blink, as most would in surprise, but instead stared at her with slightly too-large and too-pale eyes. After a pause, he smiled at her, though the smile did not reach his eyes.
"Welcome, it is a pleasure to meet you in person at last. And of course, it is a pleasure to meet you as well Jessica."
For the first time, he inclined his head downward to the pale girl in front of the woman. He lingered, examining her while holding his smiling mask, then turned back to her mother. He accepted the note from her, briefly scanning it and taking in the problems it suggested. Certainly the pale thing didn't look violent, but he knew from experience that with the mind, the book could most certainly not be read by the cover. Lifting his eyes from her writing, he returned to the woman's designer appearance.
"Normally I would request that the parent accompany the child for the first session, but as you have an appointment yourself...I shouldn't require more than a couple of hours. If you return in two hours, that should be sufficient." Again that false smile. "I'm sure by then Jessica and I will have had plenty of time to talk."
Gesturing to the couch, he indicated that Jessica should take a seat.
"Who says I'm not a spirit?"
The doctor nearly growled at
"I say that you are not a spirit, they exist only in fairy tales and in the minds of those that I treat. The same goes for gypsy curses, nothing but fiction. If you think that I am of the same calibre of mind as those behind bars here, you are sorely mistaken sir. I say again, reveal yourself!"
The doctor fought the urge inside of himself to pace. It was a bad habit, one he had cured in himself ages ago, but like any addiction, the craving came surging back under times of stress.
"I appreciate that Doctor,
Jessica, a girl nearly twelve or thirteen stood before him, with her ears still covered by her hands long after the voice of her mother on the phone had faded behind the solid door. Having yet to make eye contact with the man behind the desk, who seemed to be of less importance to her than the featureless room that surrounded her, she examined his gesture to the couch and stood staring at his hand for a few seconds before approaching the couch and sitting on it, finally releasing the pressure on her ears.
Straight black hair reached the small of her back, to contrast with her pale white skin, which was a far cry from her mother's hearty Italian complexion. Her short height, and fragile form (though not completely abnormal) made her look much younger than she was, and made it somewhat difficult to be sure of her age. Dark, calculating eyes were her most prominent feature.
Now she sat staring and blinking irritatedly at the bright lights above them, which reflected across every flat surface in the office, as if never seeing a light in her life. Her eyes flickered to the light switch by the door, but made no move toward it.
Caravaggio chuckles "Believe
I remember this fellow
/stamps
CM: The doctor was pleased
The doctor was pleased that the child had not refused to take a seat. Standing, she retained some power, but seated, he was in charge. He shut the door gently behind the mother's retreating form, and paused for a moment to watch the girl. He took in her appearance, slight, but not sickly, and appearing intelligent despite her quietness. He allowed himself a slight smile when she removed her hands from her ears, pleased that she had relinquished that behaviour.
His sharp eyes caught her slight twitch toward the lights, her apparent annoyance, and with a smooth gesture that looked practiced, he dimmed the fixtures to half their brightness, and then swept forward and took a seat across from her. He steepled his fingers and observed her for a moment before speaking.
"Good afternoon Jessica. Do you know who I am?"
Tera:
The doctor bristled slightly at the use of 'sir' by the faceless voice, but he pushed the annoyance aside. Perhaps whatever it was might give away it's position if he could keep it talking long enough. He replied to the inquiry, despite the boldness.
"Perhaps what you perceive to be uptight is merely control. Is it so hard to fathom that I simply do not believe in the supernatural? Science has answered all questions of mine in the past, it will answer this one."
Since he wouldn't allow himself to pace, the irritated doctor walked over to his desk and lowered his body into his chair. Absentmindedly he pulled open a top drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, withdrawing one and lighting it with a match. He inhaled deeply; it had been years since he'd had a smoke, but he always kept a fresh pack in his desk. Without a point of reference, he simply watched the smoke spiral upward as he spoke.
"You say you're not the revealing type. Don't mince words, do you mean that you choose not to show yourself, or you're simply incapable?"
She watched as he crossed the
Jessica looked down, and nodded very slightly, which may have been missed by a less-observant person. She paused for awhile, feeling the couch beneath her with her fingers once again. Then she situated herself slightly, to reach into a pocket and pull out what appeared to be a deck of cards. She shuffled the oddly large cards with her dainty fingers, as her wide eyes scanned the surfaces of them carefully. She then spread them out, face down in front of her tapping the surface of each card (as if counting), and then picked one.
She flipped it over calmly, without looking at it herself, and gingerly offered it to him.
The brightly painted, abstract shape of a malicious figure decorated the surface of the card.
Tarot.
The Devil.
"No, not hard to fathom at
He watches the Doctor take the cigarette, follows it to his lips and the slow, tantalizing spiral of the smoke towards the ceiling. He twists and twines his fingers lamenting his own pack of cigarettes, safely stashed away in his jacket pocket. Thankfully the Doc is speaking again and he welcomes the distraction.
"I choose to be incapable....but enough about me, I'm not here for chit-chat."