Gone Officially Insane

Everything's a scandal
The news too hard to handle
The world is so unbearable
like wearing socks with sandals
I'm lover not a fighter
Respectable to women
I ain't Chris Brown
I don't feel the need to hit 'em

Freedom was freeing. Freedom from the magical restraints that had been placed on his bed for so many months. Freedom from most of the ghosts who had taken up permanence around his bed. Freedom from a room full of dead or dull eyes who had long given up looking out the window towards where the rest of the world was waiting.

Of course... Escape was freeing too.

There was something about the thrill of eluding his "captors" - the myriad of healers and nurses who frequented his bedside - that made the air in the corridor of the hospital feel that much clearer to his senses. It was almost like for the first time since... well, a long time, he was seeing things for how they were. The voice was still in his head, it still beat him back and won over control sometimes. But it was getting better. He didn't freak out as much anymore. They didn't feel the need to retrain him as much anymore. And that was their first mistake. Because the minute he had woken from a peaceful nap to find himself free to move, the first thing he had done was don his slippers and dressing gown and leg it out of the ward before anyone noticed.

And now he was still in the corridor. But that was okay. He hadn't strayed too far because he didn't want to get lost, and he was hoping to see someone who had become a familiar face in his time here. Tessa was like a crisp glass of water in the middle of a murky pond; She had almost breathed new life in him... given him a reason to try and get a little better. Mostly because his pride hated the amount of times she had come to 'visit' and he'd been confined magically to his chair beside his bed, or to the bed itself. Just sitting out in the corridor, he had even started raking his hands through his unruly curls to try and get them into some semblance of order to show her that he was doing a little better.

There was little to be done about the stubble running the length of his jaw and adorning his mouth and chin. They wouldn't give him back his wand or let him near a razor. If the healers or nurses didn't do it for him, it didn't get done. But he could understand. When the Other Damion came out, the last thing he'd want to give him was a wand or razor either.

He felt almost 12 again, taking a couple of gobstones out of his dressing gown and starting to set them up on the polished floor, almost giddy at how much he was enjoying having time away from prying eyes. It wouldn't be long now he supposed before someone realised he was gone and started sounding the alarms to find him. But he thought he had enough time for a game of gobstones. And hopefully, to see Tessa and show her that he was trying.

---

508 Words | @tessa |
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @adoxography

Things had quieted in Tessa's world.

It wasn't as if the world was standing still. Although, seemingly time ceased any meaningful existence at the Janus Thickey Ward, Tessa knew that the world outside raged on. A few weeks back, she'd managed to obtain a copy of The Daily Prophet and had held onto it with such fever that the creased pages were starting to show signs of wear and tear. The International Wizarding Confederation had come to England. What it meant, she had no idea...but what it could mean? The possibilities were endless.

She knew they weren't here for her. They were here to fix the mess that had raged through the country. They were here to fix those people that had been in the hospital a few months back...the ones without their magic.

A part of her had almost wished that she was among them - wished that she, too, had lost the part of her that channeled power. But the dark twin still raged on inside of her and sometimes, she could feel the hum of power underneath her skin. It was like tiny beetles that moved, prickling the hair on her arm. Like the woman standing in front of her, wild hair blowing in non-existence wind. Sometimes, the power felt like it was going to tear her in half. Rip her limb from limb and leave nothing but...air where Tessa once stood.

She'd learned to refocus her thoughts when that happened. Think of other things - of Sera, of Healer Higgs, of pirate ships and people that she cared for. She'd learned to think of Damion.Tessa shook her head as she wrapped herself tighter in the thin sweater that she wore.

It was silly, but she almost felt as if she was taking care of him. A ridiculous notion, she recognized, given that she was a mere patient just as he was, but there were days when she felt like she was helping. Or perhaps, they were helping one another.

She released her hands from their folded position across her center and reached out for the bricked walls to either side of her. They were cool - alluding no sign of the outside's true temperature. It could be raining, or snowing, perhaps even sunshine, she thought with a smile.

Perhaps she would walk the courtyard, she thought, with a few more hesitant steps down the corridor. So far, no one had appeared to deter her path. There was no Woman haunting these halls today.

Careful steps led her further and further down the hall, until she reached a fork. One side lead to the outdoors - she could see the light streaming in from the small window near the top of the metal barricade - the other led further into the Ward.

She craved the outside, but more than that, her mind ached for something else. A friend. Perhaps she could convince the Healers to allow Damion to join her? She had, after all, been on her best behavior lately, hadn't she? With one final glance at the door that lead to freedom, Tess turned and wandered down the hallway towards another type of freedom.

And there he was - as if he had been waiting for her. In the center of the corridor, crouched over a few marbles, was Damion.

"This is a surprise," there was excitement in her voice that she didn't attempt to cover up. Tessa didn't believe in lying about her emotions. At least, not to Damion. The Healers that came to check up on her - the ones that asked if she was still seeing The Woman - were a different story. Some days were better than others, but this was one of the first times in months she'd seen him outside of his room. The side of her lips prickled and Tess reached up, touching her fingertips to the edges of her mouth. A smile.

Blow My Fucking Head Off

It's sad to see a 12 year old
acting like a little ho
Takin' naked pictures
while she's livin' in her parents' home
Post 'em up on twitter
It'd make u reconsider
Every time you go online
to find a babysitter

The ghosts that haunted him were of the living as much as they were of the dead. Ghosts of how people he knew used to be, those he had watched die, the people milling around him, the patients from the last time he'd had a stay in Mungo's that he didn't know the names of. They all similar expressions though. Pity. Hatred. Sorrow. Anger. Sadistic glee. Sometimes during the long nights, he'd be woken by a freezing cold hand, and find that it was his mother brushing his curls off of his cold sweating face. Impossible, since he had been by her side when she had taken her last breath fifteen years ago. Then she's look behind him as if seeing something truly terrifying, and she was gone with a whisper of wind, no trace of her to be seen. Those were the times typically where the Other Damion tended to beat him down and take over, and he typically let him, reeling from what he'd seen and felt. Weakness. His biggest flaw of sentimentality. The crushing weight in his chest would begin, the noises in his head would rise in a crescendo from a whisper to screaming, and blast of octarine light would leave him towards the ceiling as if his very own soul was trying to leave.

He couldn't remember who had given him the marbles. They had just turned up one day, in the right hand side pocket of his dressing gown, and he'd just sat back in wonder as he'd peered into the small glass orbs sitting in the palm of his hand. Blown away. Had he stolen them? How had he managed to break his restraints, then, in order to steal them? Unless they were a gift. But then that begged the question of who in this damnable whitewashed place gave a lick of shit about him to give him marbles?! All he knew was that he hadn't told anyone. His little secret. He was scared that they'd try to take them away from him, which no doubt seemed pretty pathetic; A 25 year old man coveting his little handful of marbles, protecting them with such desperate fervour. He wasn't allowed his own possessions. Something to do with him breaking them or threatening someone, when someone tried to give him back his personal effects. But that had been months ago. Around his birthday. At least... he supposed it must have been. He didn't recall his birthday. Didn't know when it was, if it had already passed or had yet to come. The best he could do was differentiate between people now, remember his own name, and some of his past. Raymond had truly done a number on him.

The harsh fluorescent light of the hallway flickered at the other end, the lights directly above him apparently switched off or broken. The distant light caught the gleaming curves of the gobstones as he flicked one, smiling to himself as it clacked! against another one, pleased that he could still remember how to play a childish game such as this. The ghost of the little boy - the one that looked like him, when he was around 9 years old - sat beside him on the floor, peering with childlike wonder over his shoulder, and he knew he probably held the same expression. Guiltily, he looked up the corridor, away from the oncoming Tessa who he hadn't heard, looking for a healer who might have heard the telltale noise of smacking marbles. Seeing no one, he breathed a little easier, and went to choose another marble.

'This is a surprise." Damion's head whipped up with an alarmed look, his hands automatically moving to cover the marbles as if to protect them from being swept away. Then, a moment later, recognition flared and he relaxed. Then he smiled too, a little goofily, as he saw that the girl he'd been thinking about was smiling down at him. Had she come to see him? Why did he care so much? Why did that make all of the tension thus far seem so worth it? Perhaps she was impressed with his escape from the room. Unless she thought that he was allowed out. Then he tensed again. If the healers came to get him now in a state of flapping panic from having lost him, he would be utterly mortified. "Hey there, stranger," he said softly, voice still a little husky from the hell he'd put it through the past six months. He made an attempt to clear his throat to dispel it, but knew it was futile.

He looked back at the marbles, snatching back his hands as if they'd been burned, placing them back in his lap. "Uhm... errr.. I was uhh... I was just um... playing gobstones. I found marbles in my dressing gown..." he felt silly, if not ridiculous, telling her about his find, yet he had wanted for so long to tell someone about them. "Wanna see? They don't look new but... but I really like them. No idea who left them there. Probably mistook my robe for someone else's... I should probably hand them in." Yet he didn't want to. Knew his expression said as much as he began to pick them up, one by one, sighing defeatedly. "It's not the comfiest but... you can join me, if you want. Before the Medical Inquisition find me and take Big Bad Damion away," he grinned, though he was only half joking. He knew how some of the healers looked at him. Terrified. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out that some of them drew lots before approaching him in the morning.

---

945 Words | @tessa |

TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @adoxography

[attr="class","reasonsanti"]

[attr="class","reasonbgsanti"]

[attr="class","reasonbigsanti"]

thunder only

[attr="class","reasonsmallsanti"]happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing.

[attr="class","reasonbodsanti"]She had already fallen to her knees, eyes wide with wonder. Marbles! When was the last time she’d seen marbles? They gave her things to read and things to do here at the hospital, but never once had they offered her a game.

His voice sounded like gravel, but it was comforting in a way. It was the one voice Tess heard in the hospital that did not make the hair on her arm stand on end. It did not evoke the prickle of electricity and power that Dani’s sometimes did. No, Damion’s voice was almost soothing in a way. And she so rarely heard it that it brought her to a different place.

Suddenly, they weren’t on the grimy hospital floor of the Janus Thickey Ward. Tess imagined that they were sitting in a grassy clearing outside. The sun beat down on them, but it wasn’t oppressive, just enough to form a thin glean of sweat on her forehead. Tess swore she could practically feel a gentle breeze whip around them and she wanted to believe that it was real. She wanted this to be her reality.

Maybe she could live in it just a bit longer, she thought, looking back up at Damion. Though the grey walls around them threatened to unhinge her illusion, she chose to look past them. She chose to look at the man across from her and see what was underneath. Sallow skin was replaced by tanned features and his eyes – Merlin, had they always been that bright? A light blush spread like wildfire across her cheeks and Tess hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

“They’re pretty,” Tess said, leaning down to take a closer look at them. She’d never played Gobstones before but figured she wasn’t supposed to move them from their positioning. Perhaps he had already started playing, she wasn’t sure.

Reaching out, she placed her index finger on top of one of them, almost as if she was trying to absorb it, but nothing happened. There was no flicker of magic or electricity. Tessa was much too calm for that. The Dark Twin had buried itself somewhere deep inside of her, almost as if it had lent her permission to sit with Damion. Almost as if this was what it wanted. Was she at peace? Tessa pressed her lips together as she stared down at the loan marble. She didn’t feel at peace…in fact, the strange skip of her heartbeat seemed to be getting faster the more she thought about Damion’s eyes on her from across the corridor.

“You shouldn’t,” she looked up at him, straightening her back and knotting her hands in her lap, mirroring his image. “Return them, I mean. You shouldn’t return them.”

But she didn’t want them to take him away. More than anything in the world, Tess wished she could stop time. Perhaps there was some way she could learn to control it… her magic, that was. She could learn to freeze the world around them, drown it all out so they couldn’t take him away.

But one day, she knew they would.

Damion was progressing through his treatment. She noticed it every time they saw one another. He was fragile, just like her, but eventually, he would come to some sort of resolution. And then what? What would become of…this?

This is nothing, she reminded herself. The blush on her cheeks wouldn’t disappear. Hesitantly, she reached up to tuck a piece of her dark, unruly hair behind her ear. “I…don’t know how to play, actually,” it was embarrassing for her to admit, but she didn’t want to disappoint him by being a poor partner. “I’d like to learn if you’d teach me…” She could hear the sound of hopefulness in her voice and hoped that Damion wouldn’t reject her. After all, she could think of no other way she wanted to spend her afternoon than with him.

[attr="class","reasontagsanti"]@ damion | ### | OUTFIT

[attr="class","credsanti"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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Blow My Fucking Head Off

Sometimes it makes me
Wanna blow my fucking head off
Sometimes it makes me
Wanna go a little mental
We celebrate the idiot
Pretend that we're so into it
Dumb down our intelligence
Just to make us relevant
Sometimes it makes me
Think the world has gone officially insane

For as long as he could remember, he'd never been that talkative. Granted, that space of time was significantly smaller than it should have been but for what it was worth, he didn't think even as a snot-nosed kid that he'd spoken much. Always strange around other people as he always expected them to hate him, never expected himself to be good enough. On the odd occasions where he did speak he tended to overshare or come off as disinterested. If the Other Damion was speaking, then sometimes it was a case of both at once. Yet whenever he saw Tessa... it was almost like an anchor in the tormulent sea he had fallen into. And it wasn't in one of those cliché, cheesy ways either. Just more that they seemed to understand each other, grasp where the other was at, and from that they respected boundaries while also keeping the other out of their head.

His own head was a cramped, volatile place even now. Better than it had been - though really, it couldn't have been much worse initially - with no real optimistic prognosis for a full recovery or even a release. The healers and the nurses made all the right noises when they did their rounds, helped him get showered and dressed etc as sometimes even just the sound of the water hitting the ground could set off one of his 'episodes'. It was humiliating now that he had the capacity to be embarrassed, to understand what was going on. And the entire time, he tried his best to swallow it, keep his head high, to look strong so that Tessa wouldn't think that he was weak. A display of weakness was worse than offending someone more important than you, as Raymond had always said. Better to make more enemies than to ever beg for forgiveness. Begging was for the outcasts and the dying, and since Damion was neither, he had no right to beseech anyone for anything.

The cold of the floor bit through his thin hospital trousers, the wall behind him unforgiving on his spine, yet the little bubble that Tessa seemed to bring around with her shut the rest of the corridor out so he could no longer hear the distant calls of healers, the echoing of closing doors, the sound of the food trolley a few rooms away. His breath hitched and caught in his throat as she leaned towards him, eyes raptly fixed on the game he held in his possession, and so sue him if he didn't take the opportunity to breathe in the smell that was so irrevocably hers and to allow his quick glance over her hair and features to commit more things to memory. She had a twitch in her brow when she was focused on things. Her eyelashes were so long they disted the tops of her cheekbones when she blinked or averted her gaze from him. Her smile was terribly modest and small, unless he caught her off guard, and he took such pride when he managed it because it suddenly lit up her entire face from behind her eyes. In a whitewashed prison like this, it was nice to have someone with a little colour about them. Someone that reminded him that he was still alive.

'They're pretty.' So are you. The voice in his head spoke gently, causing Damion to flinch away in surprise as much as disgust, that the other side of him was now expanding to be conscious when he was. Would Tessa hear it? He recalled that someone had heard his cries before Gerald and Colemet had unleashed their plan on him and he'd wound up here. He glanced at her again, gnawing on his lip punishingly, just to make sure she didn't suspect it. He was scared of spooking her. What if she cried? What if she ran away? What if she called someone to drag him away and he wound up restrained 24/7 all over again, on crisis watch? His heart sped up tenfold, his hands clenching slowly in his lap and slowly unfurling as he tried to fight the rolling nausea slowly sliding into his gut. 'You shouldn't return them.' But whose were they? Who was missing their marbles, in the literal sense? But her voice was calm, resolute, calling to deep within him to calm down. This was Tessa. She wasn't going to turn him in. They were just playing with little glass baubles. No one had been hurt yet. They were fine. Weren't they?

Suddenly her hand lifted, tucking her hair behind her ear, and his eyes watched the movement of her fingers carefully before he lifted his own to the other side almost subconsciously, to mirror the hair on the other side so that wasn't in her way either. Then he dropped his hand, looking abashed and ashamed as if expecting her to recoil in disgust, and looked back at his gobstones with his hands once more tucked tightly into his lap. He didn't miss the flush on her face, but that might have been from anger of him touching her. He hadn't asked. No one wanted him to touch them - they always left, and he had grown up being told he was resented in presence alone. Had I been? Did I? Why did I just suddenly recall that now? Then hope filled him, his hand whipping up again so he was looking at her through a couple of unruly curls with a crooked grin. "Hey, I'm not brilliant at it, but I can take you through the basics," he rasped quietly, gathering up all of the stones again and relaying them out.

Holding up a hand for her to wait, he rooted about in his pocket to find the chalk he'd filched from a passing professor who had been on visitation in the Ward the previous morning. Then he rubbed out his old circles with his dressing gown, drew fresh ones, then offered her a choice of marble to shoot with. Keeping an eye on her to make sure she wasn't getting cold. "The rest go in here," he indicated to the middle circle, spooling them together with cupped hands, then set his own shooting marble outside the outer ring. "The aim is to knock the marble out using you marble. If you miss or your marble doesn't knock anything out but stays in, then it's my turn. If you knock any marbles out, you get them as points, and collect them. That's it in a nutshell - except... if you miss, these will shoot a pretty nasty liquid at you or me." He gave her a sly smile, shot her a playful wink for good measure, "Still game?"

---

1127 Words | @tessa |
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @adoxography

[attr="class","reasonsanti"]

[attr="class","reasonbgsanti"]

[attr="class","reasonbigsanti"]

thunder only

[attr="class","reasonsmallsanti"]happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing.

[attr="class","reasonbodsanti"]Tessa paused, eyes carefully watching his fingers raised in the air, almost as if he was reaching for her. But, in a moment, his hand dropped, fumbling with the marbles in front of them, instead. She had almost wished…

Well, it was silly, really. But a part of Tessa wished that he had been reaching out for her. It was a crush. She’d heard Sera talk about them all the time, but she’d never understood until now. There was a strange sense of longing when he was away, a feeling of happiness when he was near. Tessa wasn’t quite sure how to put her feelings into words, but she knew that she had never experienced anything like it before. Damion was the one person in the world that treated her like a regular human being…not damaged cargo on a ship sailing for hell itself.

But the touch might have been too much. Perhaps it would cause both of them to spontaneously combust…or worse. Tessa wasn’t sure, but sometimes she felt like she could sense a crackle of electricity coming off of Damion, too. Maybe if they touched it would ignite the whole ward…maybe even the whole world.

“I’d like that,” she answered, trying to push away the thought and focus on the game at hand. Gobstones. As many times as her little sister Sera had come to visit, she’d never brought Gobstones. Strange, Tessa thought, smiling to herself. It seemed like such a delightful game. Though she could imagine what her healers had to say about that. “Too much excitement will upset her, cause her to go into one of her fits, Sera. We have to be careful with her; she’s delicate.”

But they didn’t know her.

They knew her as much as anyone who took her temperature and probed her body could. They knew her as much as they could asking her their silly little questions about how she was feeling. They knew her as much as any human being could hope to understand an Obscurial. But her healers would never understand her. Not in the way that it seemed Damion could.

When she looked at him – and she was currently looking, absorbing the words that he spoke, listening intently to the rules of engagement he put forth – she saw someone who could understand her. No, Damion was not just like her. He didn’t harbor a dark twin, but he harbored darkness. When they were together, though, she didn’t see that side of him. Instead, she chose to see the light and she hoped that he made the same choice about her.

They weren’t meant to destroy one another, she reasoned. No, Tessa believed that they were meant to help each other. A prickle of electricity moved through her fingertips as she reached for one of the marbles. “Still game,” she clarified as her fingers touched the smooth glass sphere in front of her. Control, she quickly reminded herself. It would do neither of them any good if she proved the healers right about her temperament. With a flick of her finger, she sent her shooting marble into the ring. Or at least, as close as she could manage…

At the last second, her eyes were drawn to something in the corner – a flash of lace, dark curly hair. The Demon. Of course, she was back. Tessa knew that she couldn’t escape her for long, even with Damion so close. He kept her at bay, but she was always waiting in the wings for her moment.

Amidst her distraction, Tessa’s aim was true, but her strength outweighed that which was necessary. Her marble didn’t skid to a stop inside the circles, instead cruising nearly to the other side of the small corridor and sending a shower of liquid back in her direction as punishment. It smelled awful. Like what she imagined pirates must smell like after years on the open ocean. Wide-eyed, she looked over at Damion, horrified at her now wet and stinking appearance. Her hands shook slightly, almost as if the molecules inside of them were vibrating on their own. Without thinking, Tessa put her hand on top of Damion’s.

She wasn’t sure if she was channeling the energy into him or if the electric palpability of her Obscurus dissipated between them, but something about his hand underneath hers – the warmth and familiarity – calmed her nerves. “I’m…” sorry?. She wasn’t. She wasn’t sure if she should be or not, it was uncharted territory for her. Still, she drew back her hand, holding it close to her chest as if wounded. “Not like that, I suppose,” she managed with a smile. “Your go.”

[attr="class","reasontagsanti"]@ damion | ### | OUTFIT

[attr="class","credsanti"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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Blow My Fucking Head Off

The lovable NRA,
They're totally to blame

The only people to actually have a "give your kid a gun" day

The government's a joke
A fucking sinking boat

But hey, don't complain
You're the one who cast the vote

Kanye West says rock is dead
I guess he's off his meds again

He lost his mind, about the time he got with that Kardashian

What happened to De Niro

Reality stars are heroes

It's the proof that our IQs has finally dropped to zero

The air around his hand was tingling, almost stinging, as if the air had pins and needles and his hand were the cause. He ignored it, ignored her fingers as they brushed over his open palm of proferred marbles and made him swallow. This was scary. Being this close to anyone was, but with Tessa, even more so. He was scared of hurting her, albeit against his will. Terrified that something would happen and she wouldn't want to be around him anymore. She was his only friend in this place, the only one who didn't look at him as if worried he was about to go off on one. She never judged him when his other side showed, though when it happened he generally managed to wrest control long enough to leave.

Whatever had Tessa in this place, she didn't need his added baggage on top of it. Even if he wanted to be there for her's. Hypocrisy at its finest, true, but the sentiment was sound. Bright eyes lifted from his hands to watch her's instead, taking in the graceful fluidity of her flick, watching with a small smile growing on his face as she hit it to hard and he saw her marble careen away. And there was the liquid, and there was her expression. Foul smelling though it might be, his twisted look of dislike quickly melted into amusement as he laughed, flicking the small droplets that had hit him off of his other hand. Opening his mouth to say something witty, he was halted in his tracks when her hand came down on top of his and he was forced once more to look at her... and then their hands once more.

Was this... contentment? It was warm... fuzzy almost... then it was gone, over before he had gotten a chance to truly enjoy it, and he mourned the loss of it. Yet he couldn't really hold it against her- he had snatched his hand back not two minutes before. He should have expected that as an end to its beginning. Even if he didn't like it. "At least you didn't hit me, Tess. Or y'know, lose it. Which is generally the norm for first goers..." he trailed off quietly, clearing his throat, "I lost my first set of marbles like that. My... father... wasn't the most understanding of men, when he found out." He recoiled from the subject, back bumping against the wall as he physically drew back, knotting his hand in his dressing gown before picking up one of his own marbles. How the hell did he know that. He didn't. He didn't even know who his dad was. Did he? He thought he knew, but there were two versions of him, and they didn't marry up. It didn't make sense. What was he- what was he doing? He was putting her in danger, he could feel it as his muscles started to tense, the clamouring in his head rearing up again...

So he shifted, bumping knees with her until their knees didn't part when he relaxed his leg, and he placed his hand back on top of her's. It seemed to be one of those things both of them did at times. For him, it seemed to ground him. Or at least... it staved most of it off. Distracted him so he couldn't panic. Even if the panic never fully went away. "You hand's warm, sorry if mine's freezing," he said distractedly as an offering of explanation, then he flicked his marble with sudden concentration. It knocked out a marble if only just, and he quickly retrieved it and placed it by his side. "Lucky shot, c'mon, you'll get it this time." He shifted yet again so he was facing her less, blocking her side view if only for a moment as he moved away from the wall. 

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645 Words | @tessa | Notes: blep
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @adoxography