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Snippet #2721937

located in Courtyard and Gardens, a part of The Wonderland Institute v2, one of the many universes on RPG.

Courtyard and Gardens

Although not austere like prison comparatively, the Courtyard is not large, as most of the Asylum taken out by a huge garden maintained staff and inmates alike.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal
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Footnotes

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TWO WEEKS. It had been two long, excruciating weeks. To Snow, it was almost hard to tell how long it had been, endless days and nights that blended seamlessly together to make her feel disconnected from reality, the rest of the world. Two weeks. Two days. Two months. She hadnā€™t heard from her father in those two weeks, an event that often helped her keep track of the days. It was unusual for him to not come by, as he always made time to visit her weekly. It inspired a paranoid dread in her, fearing for him, fearing the worst. What if her step-mother had killed him? The deranged woman would, sheā€™d do it to get revenge on Snow. Seeing how she avoided the food given to her as often as she could, Dianaā€™s step-mother could be getting desperate. What if father was dead? She couldnā€™t call anyone, couldnā€™t ask. The staff wouldnā€™t have told her anyway. The consequence of knowing that information would be catastrophic. There was no way to be sure, not unless she saw him with her own eyes. She would have to wait, spend her days full of agonized anticipation for her fatherā€™s visit, burn inside with hunger as she forced herself to eat only the bare minimum to even stay alive. It was like slow death. She looked like it, worried lines in her face, dark circles under her eyes like bruised marble, wide brown eyes like a doeā€™s, startled nearly by everything around her. It was hell.

It made her feel a little bit better to be allowed time outside. When she was a girl, spending time outdoors was a great relief to her. She could hide away from the reach of her step-mother, climb up the tallest trees, hear the birds singing, the sun warming her face like a warm kiss. It was a forgotten bliss to be outside. The gardens of the Institute were a strange comfort, while she still felt confined within the hospitalā€™s walls she could for a time pretend things were not as they truly were. She could revive memories of her childhood where she felt safe and joyful, let those feelings come to life inside her and find a moment as close to peacefulness as she could get. While she was not dangerous, not as severe a threat as the others who lurked within Wonderland, she still was observed by staff as she strolled about in an almost trance-like silence, possessed by every flower, tree, and small creature that went by. She walked the grounds, walked them again, let the sun creep across the sky, listened with childlike, dewy eyes watching the birds that flitted from the treetops and chirped their sweet birdsong. And on her ninth circuit around the gardens she finally felt her thin legs grow sore and thought to stop and rest. It was a habit of hers to push herself to continue on strolling the grounds when she was tired, but now with a keen eye keeping watch, the harmful behavior folded to what her body actually needed. She took to a bench of warm wood and floral designs in the iron work, a bench that reminded her of nice little parks where children played and everything was pleasant and happy. Sitting there, she became aware of how tired she made herself walking for as long as she had. There was a part of her that was glad to feel something other that sorrow and panic. Soreness was an old, familiar feeling, bordering on the negative in memories of being beaten or struck. She didnā€™t want to think about that. Clear the mind. She closed her eyes and just listened to the nature around her, wanting to regain some semblance of what she was before. Find peace. Feel calm, a moment of respite.

If she were sinking into any sort of feeling, it did not last very long. A shout snapped her eyes back open, blinked, looked around and saw another patient not that far away from her. She had to think for a moment to place him. The weeping man was Till Eulenspiegel, a name she had seen scribbled on a clipboard weeks ago (Was it weeks? Days? Months? The uncertainty bothered her.) in passing when one of the staff had passed her door during inspections. She didnā€™t know very much about him, not that she could remember, but the sound of his crying disturbed her. The suffering of the other patients always did greatly upset her. At the passing of the Salem Boy, even though she hadnā€™t known him she had burst into a fit of sobs. To hear this man now drove a pain into her heart, unable to ignore it even as the sound wound a tension into her bones, the common anxiety returning to her. She couldnā€™t just sit there.

ā€œDonā€™t do it, Snow!ā€ She had been just about to get up, but the voice stopped her, almost commanded her into stillness. Confusion drew her eyebrows down, a pucker of pale pink lips, angling her head down as if listening inside herself. She couldnā€™t answer, not with so many people around, but she didnā€™t have to wait long. ā€œItā€™s not safe to talk to these people. Theyā€™re crazy, princess! Theyā€™ll hurt you!ā€ Martin. He always was discouraging when it came to her sympathies. He thought she was too naive, too trusting of other people. Perhaps he was right. She couldnā€™t argue with him, and none of the other little men were trying to stand up to him. They.. didnā€™t agree with him, did they? Were they too worried of upsetting her? ā€œPlease, just stay safe!ā€ It was almost as if he knew she was going to ignore him. Of course she knew her tender heart was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Of course her caring nature was a weakness. She tried to resist giving too much to other people, especially in here, but she couldnā€™t just let someone suffer. She knew what it was like to be in pain and have no one try to help. She stood up, and the voice of her little grumpy man fell into total silence. The sun shone brightly on her back, illuminating her silhouette, a harsh shine on her black hair. His wild crying unnerved her, but she spoke like thin glass,

ā€œE-excuse meā€¦ Are.. you alright?ā€