bakerstreet | Asylum Meme

Meme, Interrupted

"People ask, How did you get in there? What they really want to know is if they are likely to end up in there as well. I can't answer the real question. All I can tell them is, It's easy."

Well, you've really done it now. You're in a mental institution. Maybe it's a modern facility with a therapy garden, compassionate staff members, and a warm environment meant to help nurse people back to health, or maybe it's a glorified dungeon where the government shoves people they don't want to deal with and patients are abused by staff. Regardless of what it is, you're there, and it doesn't look like they're planning on letting you out any time soon.

Maybe you're actually not supposed to be there and you're trying to arrange for your release. Maybe you actually are meant to be there and you're struggling with your illness. Maybe you're not a patient at all and you're just there to visit or earn your paycheck. It's up to you.

Rules:

1. Post with your character's name, canon, and your preferences on the subject bar, and set up the situation.
2. Tag other people. Are you a visitor? A staff member? A fellow patient? A hallucination? It's your choice.
3. Have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She laughs, but the sound isn't nearly as warm as her earlier ones.]

No more than usual.

[She tips her head a little to brush against his fingertips, welcoming their coldness on her flushed skin.]

He's easily offended.

Not really manly of him to take it out on a girl.

[She seems to like it, so he keeps his hand there, near her head, trying to help in whatever way he can.]

But then, I guess we can't expect a lot from him.

He might take that as a challenge.

[And in a hollow sort of joking way,]

Maybe the next time you see me, I'll be doing Dark magic.

[He shakes his head, looking at her for a moment.]

Not you. You couldn't ever. You're too good.

You don't know that. I didn't leave the diary when I should've.

[So this is my fault.]

[He shakes his head, insistently.]

Whatever happened with that diary, it wasn't you. You have a ...

[A pause, and he frowns, thoughtful.]

...like a glow. Kind of thing. Around you. It's not a Dark thing.

It knew me, Cedric.

[Her voice is quiet, firm.]

Poured myself into it and when it poured me back out, I wasn't alone.

That doesn't mean you're dark. It means you've got darkness inside of you, but you're stronger than it. I know you are, because you're sitting here talking to me. He isn't.

That a dare, Diggory?

[And it's neither here or there, what drives that soft remark. She's silent for a stretch then sighs and shifts to lie on her bed, curled onto her side, agreeing dully.]

You're right, of course. Just being silly, aren't I.

No. You're not being silly. But I do believe you're stronger than he is. That's all.

[He regards her for a moment, silent and sad.]

Want me to stay with you until you're asleep?

[Stronger. At least one of them thinks so. On days like this, it's hard for her to find what made her Gryffindor all those years ago.]

I won't sleep.

[That's a lie, she can already feel the drugs tugging more insistently at her now that she's lying down, but she doesn't like sleeping; it's easier for him to get at her there when her defenses are down. But she'll fight the urge for as long as she can.]

But I'd like you to stay.

Okay.

[He stands, drifting vaguely towards the head of her bed, and then settles on the floor by her head, watching her face.]

I'm not going anywhere.

Thank you.

[She studies him for a quiet moment, then asks,]

Tell me about Devon. Your favourite things about it.

My favorite things about Devon?

[He tilts his head back, brow furrowing, thinking.]

I loved the hills, and all the open space. My dad used to take me sledding during the winter, and when I got older and got into Quidditch, I could practice for ages and not be spotted.

[She smiles quietly, eyes drifting closed as he talks.]

Had the orchard for that. We'd pick apples for mum's pies.

That's right. I remember Dad used to get the apples from you in the fall. We didn't make pies, though; more cider.

... my brothers would help me climb since I was so small.

[And maybe if they keep talking about this, then she can dream of The Burrow for once—as it was, bright and warm and full of family. Not burning, screaming. No Tom. Not today.]

Wish you came over.

[Even softer, now, trailing a little at the end as she starts to drift.]

Wish I'd known you were there.

[He wishes he'd known a lot more about the world when he was alive, honestly. Now he knows so much more, but he'll never be able to experience it.]

I would have brought you homemade cider.

'm always there. Right here. [She draws in a slow breath, smiling still.] Would've liked that.

[And she would have. Her brothers might have been relentless because it's Cedric Diggory, but Ginny wouldn't have cared less either way. She wouldn't have then and she certainly doesn't now, and not just because he's her only friend in this wretched place. Her hand carefully extends from where it's been tucked under her chin and reaches blindly for him, fingers curling through what would be his shirt like she wants to hold him right here. And she does. But the pull of the medication is stronger than her will to keep talking, now, and her grip goes slack in him a few long moments later.]

[Though her fingers go through him, no more anchoring him to her than a bird can anchor a tree, he understands and honors her meaning. She asked him to stay, and being with her, even if it is here, is better than sinking back into the endless grey.

Though her grip is slack, he wraps his hand around hers, and if he closes his eyes almost all the way and pretends, it looks like they're holding hands again.]

Asylum Meme

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