The Group Home

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Thu Dec 14, 2006 1:30 pm

OOC: 's Okay by me (am both Miyumi and Nicola, for anyone who didn't know..) and, YAY! You read the rules! You're definitely welcome! we're gonna get in trouble, we're gonna get in trouble... Seriously, I want the kids to try to break the rules, and others to try to keep them and keep the discipline.

Nicola looked at the clatter of Miss Violet's dropped basket. She hurried over towards Miyumi, who was looking quite frightened by the adult woman. The girl was always scared of adults, she had noted, but she had never understood Miyumi's fear of a peer. Miyumi shrank away from both and looked about with wide eyes.

Miss Violet, it's okay. Julian's just here to make us pancakes. He ain't touched any of us, 'cept to carry Miyumi in here.

The raven-haired seven-year-old didn't want Julian to get in trouble, he was so nice and fun to be around.

He's watchin' to be sure we don't hurt ourselves either. Please let him stay?

She was not good at begging, but she widened her violet eyes, attempting a pleading look.

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Thu Dec 14, 2006 7:01 pm

"So your name be... Julian, eh?" Miss Violet flustered unsure of how to proceed. She glowered, lowering her pan uncertainly as she gave the stranger a once-over. The children didn't seem to fear the strange boy at all. Did the group home know him from before? Nicola was actually standing up for him. Miss Violet squinted her eyes looking for familiar features, but the boy was so disheveled it was easier to tell a brisket from a sirloin after it had been rolled in bread crumbs.

But these innocent-like wolves in sheep's fleece, were the worst kind, the worst kind of riff-raff and she had a duty to scourge them out of this group home for the sake of the little ones. Who knows what was falling into place in his cracked mind--first pretending to make pancakes, then drugging the food, and then selling off the kids for who knows what!

She kept talking to keep him distracted if he was planning on doing anything rash, "You seem old enough to take care of yourself anyway, so I suggest you get out right now. You're trespassing on private property and... and..." she faltered when she heard a whimper from one of the smaller children. "And... I can call the police!"

Come now, child, Miss Violet thought to herself as she tried to ignore Nicola's pleading features. If the children weren't going to listen to her, Miss Violet needed to take this into her own hands--or pan, for that matter. In a surge of maternal protectiveness she lifted the frying pan over her head once more. "Get out, get out, GET OUT, YOU RUBBISH!"

"Miss Violet," said a low voice that seemed to slice through the tumescent chaos like a flashing of a surgical knife.

At the voice, Miss Violet jerked about-face and almost saluted. She hadn't even heard the strict click of heels from the hallway behind her. Miss Rose stood in the doorway, her thin, spidery hands clasped before her unthreateningly, but her dark, almost funereal clothing and rigid posture emmanated an undeniable authority. "Why are the younger children in the kitchen?" Miss Rose said unhurridly. Her eyes fixed on the mess, the potatoes and carrots scattered across the floor, Miss Violet's unraveled state; this disorder irked her inner sense of efficiency, deeply... "I see you have inadequately--"

Pausing mid-sentence, Miss Rose's thin, black-wired glasses glinted as her eyes lighted on the strange young man named Julian, but not a trace of expression was revealed on her grim pale face. The slash of red lipstick on her lips expressed neither a smile nor a frown and the pause in her speech was indiscernable as she launched her next orders, "Miss Violet, you will supervise the children while they execute their punishment. The children will clean the kitchen, since they were so disposed to break the rules and use it in the first place. Once the task is complete, they will be sent to the isolation rooms for the night."

"But there be only four isolation rooms, miss." Miss Violet mentally went over the children that stood behind her: the twins, a new blonde little girl who had only been there for two days, Nicola, and this Julian character.

"I see only four children, Miss Violet," Miss Rose replied evenly. "You will send this... Julian to me when he is done with the kitchen." She lifted her chin curtly, acknowledging them with one last look before leaving the doorframe. The clacking of her heels echoed through the halls and faded.

"Yes, miss," Miss Violet concurred after Miss Rose had left, flashing a beady, knowing eye at the strange boy. Oh, he was going to get it, Miss Violet thought smugly to herself. "You heard Miss Rose, children! Pick up the potatoes and the carrots, little girl. Here, take the basket. Nicola, scrub the bowls until they shine. And is that egg on the floor? You there! Clean that up properly with antiseptic. And you! Scrub the counters. There is flour everywhere--I'm surprised Miss Rose didn't bust a hame in front of us for wasting food like this, then we'd all be in trouble! And don't any of you, any of you be leavin' 'til I tell you!"

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Thu Dec 14, 2006 7:10 pm

OOC: PERFECT depiction of Miss Rose!

Mary squeezed as far as possible into the corner when she heard the click of Miss Rose's heals in the hallway above the clatter. She shuddered when the woman entered the room, only relaxing slightly when the intimidating woman left. This other woman, she liked her.

The tiny five-year-old was soon cleaning up everything on the floor, muttering to herself in gibberish. She wondered what an iso-isolay-isolayshion room was, but she figured she'd find out soon enough. The way Nicola shuddered, she thought it was something bad, but Miyumi already knew that Nicola not liking something didn't mean she wouldn't like it. Miyumi also knew that she was in trouble, though she hadn't yet figured out why. No one ever bothered to tell her the rules... She scrubbed cheerfully and quickly, wanting to know what this special room was all about.

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Sat Dec 16, 2006 1:46 am

"You certainly be a fast worker, dear," said Miss Violet, leaning over to pat the little blonde girl on the back. Now, what was her name again? She was just so very new and so very unintrusive, it was hard to remember her name--Oh yes, Mary. That was her name: Mary. Many of the children in the group home were often quiet. But here was this little girl, picking up the slack. The only strange thing, Miss Violet noted, was that she seemed inclined to talk to herself--if one could call that talking. It was probably a phase, thought Miss Violet.

The other children, however, at the mention of the isolation rooms seemed to become more withdrawn than usual. Instead of dutifully cleaning up the mess, they idly traced their fingers in the spilled flour, and Miss Violet swore that puddle of water had not been there before as if they seemed to become purposely more clumsy. Looks like dinner will be being a little late at this rate, Miss Violet inwardly sighed, but she let them trudge through the punishment, for she knew the isolation rooms could be far worse.

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Sat Dec 16, 2006 1:48 am

OOC: Glad you liked Miss Rose. I thought I saw Julian prowling the forums this morning. Should one of us PM him?

Meanwhile, Miss Rose's blonde, almost white, hair gently lifted from her slight shoulders and off the length of her prim, straight back as she speedily stepped through the halls. Occasionally, a pair of trim ankles in black stockings would appear from under the ground-skimming hem of her dark, plum-colored velvet dress as they propelled her toward her apartment. Though her pace was almost militant, her hands betrayed a faltering resolve as they wringed each other nervously, a habit she was not inclined to reveal in public, but in the silent and empty stairwell there was no one to see. As she passed an open window, the smell of wet pavement and rain spilled into the stairwell, but Miss Rose was too distracted to stop to close it, for her eyes were fixed on the steps before her.

The hall of the third floor that lead to Miss Rose's apartment was clean and Spartan. Gathering the keys she kept on a long chain around her neck, she found the one that unlocked her apartment door, which was wooden and featureless save for a small cat-door at the bottom. The door opened unto her office, a room that was as Spartan as the hallway. After making sure to lock the door behind her once more, she approached the two tall metal filing cabinets that stood in the corner. Then, from another more finely wrought chain about her neck that she kept tucked under her clothes, she extracted a wide locket in the shape of a Celtic cross. On the same chain dangled the two keys to the filing cabinets. A moment later, Miss Rose's thin spidery hands rifled through the files until they arrived at the S's.

She removed one of the plain, manilla folders and took it to her desk. She felt the stroke of liquid fur wind about her ankles as a cat stepped out from under the desk to weave himself around her legs. "Off with you, Tartan," said Miss Rose without looking at the calico cat, whose markings resembled plaid cloth. Normally Miss Rose would take Tartan into her lap as she entered figures into her black ledger. At the moment, however, she had more important things on her mind.

Laying the manilla folder open, official sheets of paper rustled out of their places. Miss Rose's eyes scanned the type, but most of it had been made illegible by official red stamps spelling out vague acronyms as well as one that simply said "COLLECTED." She turned each page one by one until she came upon an envelope. For a moment, Miss Rose hesitated. She fingered the envelope's open flap, the light of the lamp glimmering off the glossy surface of the document and peeked out. She could feel the stiffness of the document within it. She leaned back into her chair and played with the locket around her neck, letting it thump against her chest at a slower tempo than the organ that beat within.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of considering, thinking, Miss Rose extracted a single photograph. It depicted a boy, whose lips were pulled in an odd smile. Some would say it was a somewhat ugly smile. To Miss Rose it was a familiar smile. It was difficult to certify her beliefs, however, for this photograph also had been marred by yet another official red stamp that simply spelled "CHOSEN."

Julian Strangeways · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Julian Strangeways** on Mon Dec 18, 2006 2:14 pm

OOC: Exams is killing Julian. But he will try to make an appearance shortly. It's been rather slow here. Great story though.

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Tue Dec 19, 2006 1:01 am

OOC: Don't worry. We're all busy with the holidays and stuff!

Nils · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Nils** on Wed Dec 27, 2006 1:13 am

OOC: Hope you all don't mind another character joining.

Miles away from the staggered, rough city skyline, a slick black car cut through the verdant fields of the countryside. Along the dirt path, grass and soil and gravel sprayed every which way as the vehicle wended crazily through the grass as if driven by a madman.

Within the darkly tinted windows, the driver hummed along with the opera that streamed from the stereos, as clearly and crisply as if he were the conductor, an entire orchestra before him, conducting it with the passionate, yet precise turns of his steering wheel. With each cresendo, the car engine rumbled to a roar. When the tempo jumped to a presto, he swerved sharply to match the climax. With the mahongany voice of the tenor, he drove fast and far, almost floating across the flatness of the land.

Appearing along the horizon, as the tenor's warm voice held his note, a small set of low-lying buildings came into his view. At this point, he reached to turn off the opera and roll down the windows. With a rush of wind, the country air knocked his neatly combed hair into unruly strands. He caught sight of two women in white heeding a group of children who were also clad in white. At this distance, they looked like sheep, their faces following the approach of his car with unreadable expressions.

The gentle smell of encroaching rain pleasantly mixed with the aroma of the car's leather interior as he slowly braked, bringing the car to a milder speed to park next to one of the low-lying buildings with a sign marked The Elysian Fields Home.

The doctor had many things to do, but he made time to meet with the children. A little girl or boy who didn't have any hair and dressed in a simple shapeless white tunic ran through the grass toward his car.

"Dr. Birdie!" she shrieked.

"Elysia!" he called. These children had no names, but he humored them. He scooped the frail-looking child into his arms. A shadowed expression flitted across the doctor's face as he noted that she was lighter than the last time he held her.

"I have a question for you, Dr. Birdie," she began, using his nickname used among the younger children.

"And what question is that, Elysia?"

"I was wondering what type of bird you are, Dr. Birdie."

"Why, that's not a question."

"You know what I mean! Then what type of bird are you, Dr. Birdie?"

Strange question, thought the doctor, but he, of all people, should have known the children of the Elysian Fields Home well enough to know that they were articulate to say what they meant. "And not what type of bird I would be?" It delighted him to see them make such distinctions, such progress in their thinking at such a young age already.

She shook her head, focusing her large smoke-gray eyes on his face seriously.

"Hm," he said, making his eyebrows furrow so dramatically that the little girl in his arms broke out in a giggle. "I suppose I am... a magpie."

The little girl wrinkled her nose. "But those are nasty, mean birds."

"And they also steal things. Shiny things."

"That's worse!" she laughed gaily as the doctor pecked her on the cheek. "But why are you a magpie, Mr. Birdie?"

They had reached the entrance to the building. He set the little girl named Elysia onto the ground, but she refused to undo her clasp about his neck. "Because, Ellie, I also steal things. Now go, run along before I steal something from you!"

The girl gasped playfully and asked, "And what would you steal from me, Mr. Magpie-Bird?"

"I would steal... the twinkle in your eye!" he shouted suddenly, tickling the child, who leapt away nimbly, shrieking and giggling as she sped off around the corner. He waited until he heard the patter of her feet fade away before he made his way toward the office.

He shed his tweed jacket and donned a long, immaculate white coat. To Elysia and the other children, he may have been known as "Dr. Birdie." Only the younger children, however, used this name. To the others and the ones who knew better, he was called Dr. Albert Vogelsang.

Nils · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Nils** on Wed Dec 27, 2006 1:14 am

There was a shy knock on his door. At first, Dr. Vogelsang, in his distraction of checking his messages and conducting the next steps of his research, he heard nothing. It was just him, humming an opera under his breath, the whir of his computer, and the beginnings of the light patter of rain on his window.

At a more forceful knock, Dr. Vogelsang looked up from his computer to find one of the women in white standing at his doorway. Her outfit was simple; she wore a dress that resembled a sheath of cloth that was long-sleeved and reached to her feet. Her hair was tied back and hidden underneath a starched white cap, so that the overall effect made her look like some sort of nun or nurse. And indeed, she was a nurse of sorts at the Elysium Fields Home, and while she spoke with the placidity of a nun, Dr. Vogelsang could not help but notice that she was wringing her hands.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Vogelsang," she started.

"Is something the matter?"

The nurse hesitated long enough for a dozen scenarios to run through Vogelsang's mind, each one potentially damaging to his program. But it could not have been so serious, he compensated. Could it? He waited for the nurse, an even expression on his face, until finally she spoke. "One of them... one of the wards... the children... have gone. Number 1013-JS."

His lips were pursed into a straight line. Disbelief, then anxiety, then anger boiled within, but he did not let it show on his face. He picked up the file the nurse lay on his desk and his eyes scanned it with an almost apathetic expression.

"Bring me the ones who knew him best," he said to the waiting nurse.

Vogelsang stepped out of his office and looked out onto the fields of grass, darkened by the turbulent sky. His first thought was, How? There was practically nothing all around. To get to the city on foot would take days. The only vehicles that traveled from Elysium Fields Home to the city were their private ones, and only the staff had the keys. Besides, he scoffed although with a tinge of irony--who would want to leave this paradise after all these children had experienced? The pain? The suffering Yes, why, indeed. Vogelsang paced the front porch. The patter of rain fell on the railing. Once he collected his thoughts, he decided to go back inside.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Wed Dec 27, 2006 11:17 pm

OOC: I have no problems with it.

Mary quickly finished her tasks, and looked to the nice lady who took care of the kitchen. She gulped a bit, then got the courage to approach.

Ma'am? What am I to do now?

In her mind, she looked with scorn at the other children who were idling instead of doing their tasks. If they dreaded what was coming, and nothing would change it, why don't they just clean up quickly and face what's coming? To her mind, better to get it done and over with than to put it off. She waited patiently for the lady's answer.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Sun Jan 14, 2007 10:20 am

Nicola found herself loitering as much as possible, not wanting to go into the isolation rooms. Then she saw Mary working diligently. That girl must be insane, she thought. Then she realized that Mary probably wanted to go into isolation. After all, the kid seemed to cherish alone-time. Then Nicola realized something else, as Mary reported to the cook. Dallying here wouldn't lessen the time in the isolation rooms even one minute. She sighed.

Might as well get this over with, she mumbled, as she set to her work with more vigor. Soon, she had also finished, and went to the cook.

Ma'am? Don't bother with me, you can supervise the others. The doors can't open from the inside anyway. I'll take Mary here and put her in hers. She turned to the little one. Come on, she's got enough to do. I'll show you what to do next. She held out her hand, to engulf the smaller one of Mary.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Sun Jan 14, 2007 10:33 am

Mary placed her hand in the older girl's and was led down a hallway and up some stairs. The older girl let go of her hand, and she was gently pushed towards a room. She went in the room, and the door was closed behind her. The door opened inward, and there was no handle on this side. There was a smaller door cut into the bottom to allow for a meal tray to be pushed through. The only things in the room were a toilet, sink, and bed.

Mary sat down on the floor, and watched the door for awhile. She started humming to herself, having no idea what was going on. When she got bored, she crawled over the bed, and hid under it, pretending to be a bear with cubs. Her mind created a forest in the room, with a river over by the toilet, from a waterfall which was the sink (not running).

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Fri Jan 26, 2007 9:50 am

"CHOSEN." The word brought many faces to her mind. Young faces, barely past puberty, too innocent to know they were even... marked. A sandy-haired boy, the three skinny ones she had sent away years ago who had hopped into the car would take them away so joyfully, and now, most clearly a boy with a crooked smile.

But she tried to keep the memory of one face from resurfacing--one of a young blonde-haired and blue-eyed girl. When she was a child, it was like looking into a mirror--their likenesses were disarming. The shape of her face matched hers, the build of her body matched hers, her nose matched hers, the playful gleam in her eye, her smile matched hers. Now, in a quick succession of events, her past was catching up with her. She closed her eyes and let the darkness of the room envelop her, like a priest's confessional.

"Siobhan, I'm too sleepy to go with you." The little girl yawned so widely glimmers of tears welled up in her blue eyes. The sun played with the highlights in her hair as it trickled through the window in beams.

"Oh, no, you're not. You just had a nap this afternoon." She pulled her shoes onto her feet and began tying the laces, but her sister obstinately flopped back onto the divan. "You're just being lazy!" But receiving no reply from her, she faced the girl sprawled comfortably across the sofa, her chest already rising and falling steadily.

She grumbled under her breath at her sister's motionless form while she threw on a jacket. "Deirdre. Come with me." She held out a tiny but thin hand toward her twin sister. "Dierdre."

BE-DE-DE-DEEP. BE-DE-DE-DEEP.

Tearing through her half-wakefulness, the digital bleating of the phone made her skip a breath. Slowly Miss Rose calmed, eying the green glow of the buttons. It rang once, twice, three more times, before the click of the answering machine and her thin recorded voice answered, "You have reached the desk of Siobhan Rose, the director of the Light and Hope Group Home. Please leave your message and contact information so that you may be served promptly. Thank you."

Over the soft staticky sound of the machine as it began to record, Miss Rose could make out a faint crackling as someone breathed into the phone. "Siobhan." It was a man's voice. Miss Rose wet her lips nervously as she recognized it, despite its flat reediness as it filtered through the machine. "Siobhan, I know you are there." Miss Rose made no move to retrieve the phone. Instead she rose from her chair, neverminding the scattered files on her desk, and made for the door. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the his sigh, made metallic and flat by the answering machine. "We need to talk." Then there was the concluding click of a phone call ended and silence. She locked the door.

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Fri Jan 26, 2007 1:13 pm

Miss Rose's heart thumped madly as the man's voice continued to buzz in her ears. She knew what the phone call meant. She knew all too well in the events that had unfurled recently. It was supposed to be a clean operation, she thought. And now others were starting to intervene, and still others, innocent ones, would be caught in the undertow.

A moment later, Miss Rose stood in the doorway of the kitchen, apprehensive, her posture more rigid than ever. She caught sight of Julian over Miss Violet's bulk. He was, thankfully, turned away; she felt something within her would crack if his face confirmed the photograph she held in her hands just moments ago. A sense of urgency made her head pound.

"Miss Violet."

"Oh! Miss Rose, you've scared me again!" Miss Violet fanned a pudgy hand about her face theatrically.

"Julian was to be sent to my office as soon as the task was done." Then Miss Rose narrowed her eyes. "Where are the girls?"

"I've let them run off. But don't you worry, miss. After I'm done making dinner for tonight, they will have to clean up all over a'gin. That should be enough punishment before they go to the isolation roo--"

"Where did the blonde one go?"

Miss Violet blinked at Miss Rose, startled by her demand, and said slowly as if it were a trap,"Why... why she went with the Nicola girl... she being like such a big sister..."

"Where, Miss Violet, did she go," repeated Miss Rose in a chilly, hushed tone. She could feel the tingle of urgency across her scalp.

One for sorrow... two for joy... three for a girl... four for a boy...

Miss Violet gaped at her in perplexion. Normally Miss Rose was distant, never caring for the children. Never once had Miss Violet seen her converse with the young ones. Never had she heard Miss Rose utter their names. Never had she seen Miss Rose touch or kiss or hug them. In the back of her mind, Miss Violet had always thought that Miss Rose treated the children like how an inspector with gloved hands, a clipboard, and critical eye would treat some sort of livestock. She opened and closed her mouth, almost startled speechless. "To the isolation rooms, Miss Rose. Nicola said she would take her to the isolation room..."

Miss Rose's glasses flashed and was already down the hall, with Miss Violet fluttering behind her. "Which one," demanded Miss Rose over her shoulder. Her heavy cross locket thumped against her chest with each step like a tell-tale heart. She clutched at it to keep it still.

There was no time now that he was involved, now that they were involved. How could she have been so careless? Passing several hallways, she caught sight of the raven-haired girl Nicola. Without a word, Miss Rose stalked past her, and flung open the door to the isolation room. "Deidre--," she breathed. But caught herself. No, it was Mary. Her name was Mary. "Mary! Mary..." she said, the tension drained the concern from her voice and made it seem sharp. Once she saw Mary in the dim light, she turned about face.

In a swift swoop she slapped Nicola across the face.

"Don't you ever..." but she bit back her words. She knew she had lashed out from personal demons. It was wrong of her. But there was no time for apologies.

Five for silver... six for gold... seven for a secret never to be told...

She turned back to the little girl Mary. "Mary, come with me." She held out her hand. "Mary."

Nils · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Nils** on Tue Jan 30, 2007 12:54 am

Albert Vogelsang went past his office, toward an unmarked elevator door. It was ordinary enough, except the main building was a single story; there was only one direction it could go, and that was down. The elevator was brightly lit, white, sanitary, sterile. He placed his hand onto the pad where the buttons might have been located. A bar of light briefly scanned his fingers and as confirmation, he felt the faint jump in his stomach as the elevator soundlessly took him deep underground. After about 20 seconds of descent, the door opened unto a plain hall. At the end of the hall was another door, before which he bowed down so a scanner could scan his eye, and it also confirmed by letting him enter with a hiss of air. He spent the time in this chamber, snapping on gloves and putting his feet and head into scrubs. Then he went in.

Several faces turned about to look at him. "Dr. Vogelsang," greeted a man. He hurridly made his way toward Vogelsang, while the others looked away, back to the computers, the test tubes, the chemicals, needles, things floating in liquid. Under this circumstance, it all looked surreal to him. Vogelsang was still reeling, ready to berate the nearest for his incompetence, for letting something so obvious slip under their observation. He smiled charmingly as the man neared.

"Did... did... do you, I mean," the man who approached him stuttered, "Have they told you yet?"

"Yes," Vogelsang replied, stiffly, through the smile stilled plastered across his face.

"It wasn't too difficult to locate him, I assure you."

"Good. That's what I want to hear. So... the nearest urban area he could disappear in takes several days on foot; a week if he stopped to sleep. The only vehicles that travel to and from here are our own. Only the staff have the keys to the trucks. The elevators need our fingerprints. This is a building built to contain. The monitors and tracking signal are woven into the clothes, so he stripped down into his boxers. He was careful, but we weren't. Alas, we are scientists; I cannot blame you for being an incompetent guard." Vogelsang smile through gritted teeth as he took the file from his colleague, before going on a spiel about how the ward may have gotten off the premises.

"Yes... yes, Dr. Vogelsang." The young doctor seemed to duck while Vogelsang went on berating him. He allowed his superior a moment to flip through the escapee's file to confirm his accurate conjectures.

"And from your respectful silence, you are concurring that he was under your radar for... four days?"

"It seems the other wards were covering for him. But... but once we found out, it was simple to locate him."

"Light and Hope Group Home."

The man nodded.

"Excuse me. I need to make a call, and I don't get signal down here."

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Wed Jan 31, 2007 3:38 am

Mary looked up to see the woman slap the older girl across the face. Her face was pure confusion, but the lady turned back and held out a hand. Mary knew what that meant. She skipped up to the lady quickly and put her tiny hand into the lady's rather large one. Blue eyes looked up at her trustingly. It took her a moment, but she remembered the woman's name.

Miz Rose, where am I going now?

Her voice held no fear, nor hesitation. All it held was a curiosity that knew it would be satisfied eventually, but would prefer to learn the answer now.

Moonwolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Moonwolf** on Thu Feb 01, 2007 8:24 am

Alex Rico... The Sixteen Year Old yawned as he leaned against the bed post and blinked. In his hands the book was titled, "Ichiban Flirting: 2"
The youth, obviously having no money to buy the book, probably 'borrowed' it in the sense of the sneakier way and sneakily putting it back. If he was feeling nice.

Alex flipped the page and narrowed his eyes, squinting at a part.
"Ah... And Juno turned around and blushed at the scene..."
Of course, he didn't expect to be interupted by anyone in a small unoccupied room where he liked to dominate.

He pushed his shades which he got as a present from a real friend in school, and yelled.
"Keep it down out there!"

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Sat Feb 03, 2007 2:37 pm

Miss Rose closed her fingers around Mary's small, trusting hand. The child's face turned skyward to ask where Miss Rose was going to take her. For a moment Miss Rose took a good look at the girl, an action she had not dared before. She bent down to Mary's level, to meet the eyes she thought she had lost so long ago. Her locket swung from her neck like a pendulum, slow, as if the moment dilated for hours. She resisted the urge to tuck a strand of unwashed hair behind the child's ear to get a better look at her face, to examine the disarming similarities to that face that once had existed only in her memories. But here it was, once more incarnate. For the past two days, she had let Mary play in the grass, let her go on with her daydreams, let her play with the other children, as if she were unknown and ineffectual to her. Only in the isolation of her office did Miss Rose let her mind ponder the existence of the child and wonder at the implications.

"Miss Rose..." breathed Miss Violet interrupting her from her reverie, her face aghast. She had rushed over to hold Nicola.

Miss Rose rose to her full height and looked down at Miss Violet. "I have business to attend to." She began to make her way down the hallway, her hand still around Mary's and said distractedly to Miss Violet, "Go on with dinner, the punishment, whatever... Mary needs to sleep. She... we... have to travel tomorrow morning."

She made her way past the other children and staff who had appeared. Her gaze flashed over Julian standing among them, but she said nothing.

Nils · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Nils** on Sun Feb 04, 2007 1:22 am

"Siobhan."

After so many years, now that he had a reason to contact her, he didn't know what to say. A surge of past events rushed over him, almost suffocating him. He would have done anything for her; and, he realized as his lips traced her name like a blind man learning braille, he still would. He felt something heavy grow in his chest. He was almost thankful she did not pick up. But at the same time, this confirmed that she was hiding something. A moment passed, her answering machine recording only dead air. He sighed.

"We need to talk..." Snapping his cellphone shut, Dr. Vogelsang ended his phonecall. He rose to pace the room, to make plans. How to corner her at her own devices. If she wasn't going to pick up, he would have to see her face to face, before it was too late, before she was really gone, still unrepentant.

There was a knock at his door. Standing before him was a woman in white, one of the nurses, and an adolescent. It was hard to tell what gender, for his or her hair had been shaved off. They were all like that here. It kept things clean.

"Dr. Vogelsang. 2015-DY claims to have been in contact with 1013-JS four days ago. He... he..." Vogelsang noticed that she was squeezing the boy's shoulder. "He has confessed to conspiring with him."

The doctor leaned down to examine the boy, who would not meet his eyes. His skin was smooth and healthy except for twin scars on each temple from the treatments.

"They call you Daniel, don't they?"

A frown deepened the shadows on the boy's face.

"I have no time for this. Take him away. I will deal with him when I return."

When they had left, Vogelsang resumed packing his things, among them syringes, bottles of liquid, and a gun.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Sun Feb 04, 2007 9:42 pm

Mary looked around curiously as they walked, but did not try to question any more. She used the free hand that wasn't in Miss Rose's to pull all her hair back, wishing she had a tie for it. Occasionally as they walked, Mary would skip a bit, but never for long because of how hard it was to keep pace when she did that. She hoped it wouldn't take long for them to get where they were going.

The Group Home

a topic in Realistic Roleplay, a part of the RPG forum.

Albert "Birdie" Vogelsang

Albert "Birdie" Vogelsang

Albert "Birdie" Vogelsang

Albert "Birdie" Vogelsang

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