- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Genres
- Sci-Fi, Modern, Horror, & Romance
Gabriel S.K. Alenes (doctor) | Uncle Legens Legentis |
Eden Goch (patient) | @beautie |
Gary Copeland (patient) | @King |
Alexandria Frank (patient) | @Lulunopia |
Timothy Kowalski (patient) | @Nater Taters |
Hiro Akimoto (patient) | @Crimson smile |
Wren Lydian (patient) | @arcadian.gael |
Lia Jordan (patient) | @Nicole Birdy |
Kaesha Ana-Marie Volkova (patient) | @Crackshot |

OOC
"A storm is approaching, haven't you heard?"
"Nonsense. The weather is supposed to be clear all week."
The nurse curled her lips upward in a twisted grin. She liked to get on the doctor's nerves, playfully nudging him as would a child on the playground. It was true that the broadcasts all foretold a healthy sky and bright sun. However, the wind that constantly blew over the mountain told a different story.
Yes, a storm was coming. The nurse's mother was a gypsy; she knew plenty of odd things.
Gabriel was busy that morning, updating patient files as they came into his office. Altogether there was 45 admitted to the institute, 32 in the main wards and 13 in the lower levels, reserved for the more violent patients around. It was an honest shame that they had to be restrained for their own safety.
"Dr. Alenes, do you believe in ghosts?"
Gabriel sighed in frustration. "What is with these absurd questions?"
"Sometimes I wonder if the people we let in here are possessed. C'mon, I know you think the same thing." The nurse's pleasant demeanor was unorthodox. Few desired to speak with the man with so little formality.
"They're not possessed," Gabriel leered. "They're sick. We're scientists, not priests, nor miracle workers. We cannot help them if they do not help themselves first."
The office which both figures stood in was large, bright, and had a painting or award or diploma of some kind on all the walls. A big therapy couch was set out in the very middle. The desk was made of some unknown dark wood, and a rising tower of paper had grown onto it like a parasite.
Parasitism was the defining feature of the Lehane Sanitarium. The patients were afflicted with the most terrifying of parasites. Madness itself chewed on their precious grey matter and spat it back out at reality. Containment of these individuals was far more important than truly curing them.
They were better off not knowing the real duration of their stay.
Yes, a storm was coming. The nurse's mother was a gypsy; she knew plenty of odd things.
Gabriel was busy that morning, updating patient files as they came into his office. Altogether there was 45 admitted to the institute, 32 in the main wards and 13 in the lower levels, reserved for the more violent patients around. It was an honest shame that they had to be restrained for their own safety.
"Dr. Alenes, do you believe in ghosts?"
Gabriel sighed in frustration. "What is with these absurd questions?"
"Sometimes I wonder if the people we let in here are possessed. C'mon, I know you think the same thing." The nurse's pleasant demeanor was unorthodox. Few desired to speak with the man with so little formality.
"They're not possessed," Gabriel leered. "They're sick. We're scientists, not priests, nor miracle workers. We cannot help them if they do not help themselves first."
The office which both figures stood in was large, bright, and had a painting or award or diploma of some kind on all the walls. A big therapy couch was set out in the very middle. The desk was made of some unknown dark wood, and a rising tower of paper had grown onto it like a parasite.
Parasitism was the defining feature of the Lehane Sanitarium. The patients were afflicted with the most terrifying of parasites. Madness itself chewed on their precious grey matter and spat it back out at reality. Containment of these individuals was far more important than truly curing them.
They were better off not knowing the real duration of their stay.
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