My sanity is on edge - CLOSED

Her heart jumped at the calm, even tone that floated through the door. A prickly feeling arose on her arms, twisting within her stomach with the anxiety - what if he didn't believe her? What if Jesse was called in and she had to face him? What if he classified this as some sort of offence and she was kicked out of the Institute? A shiver went through the girl as they pushed the door open, hand still linked with her friend's, and stepped into the homely office. The room was comfortable, but Ember didn't pay attention to any of the assets. Her eyes immediately laid on the psychiatrist sitting behind his desk, a look of presumed expectation on his face. Though he seemed a bit... surprised to see her there, Sammy not so much. He had been before. Ohh, had he been there. November never much paid him visits - occasionally at the beginning of her stay, but she wasn't a troublemaker and therefore didn't have much reason to seek out the telepath.

She blinked, looking to the corners of the room quickly before taking a few steps into the room, her hand subconsciously tightening around her companion's. Her other hand bunched into a tight fist inside the pocket of the large jacket. Another shiver racketed through her petite body. The remnants of the migraine caused the brunette to suddenly blink her eyes harshly and sit heavily on one of the chairs across from the school official. "Uhm..." Her voice shook, "I-I... uh, this is hard to explain." Her voice sounded slightly exasperated - getting through this story would be hard. She looked up at Sammy with round eyes, offering him the twitch of a smile before looking back at Doctor Neville. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tilted her head down, as if the story that was about to unfold caused her pain.

It did, in a sense.

"Y-yesterday... At about.. uh... 2:30... ish, I uhm... took a nap o-on the lawn." Her voice crackled as she spoke, the uneven tone was something accompanied by her ability. "Bu-but... I started to have... nightmares... H-horrible ones! N-not normal... I-I woke up... and... jumped through time." Ember winced, opening her eyes to look at the man across from her, earnest fear in her eyes. She let out a long breath, "Wh-when I came to... Jesse A-Adams was there... H-he made me dream... dream those terrible things... P-people dying..." She shook her head, sniffling momentarily. Quickly, she swiped the too-long sleeve of the jacket over her eyes, making sure they stayed appropriately dry. "Uhm... I-I haven't seen him... since then.... I get... migraines after t-time jumps." Looking up suddenly, "Mr. Neville, I-I wouldn't convict another st-student of something l-like this. It's the tr-truth, I swear! H-he... did something... to my dreams." She trailed off, unsure of what to say next, glancing at Sammy with an unsure look in her eyes.

After the two teenagers entered his office, Sean gestured for both of them to sit down and make themselves comfortable. It was immediately apparent to the psychiatrist that both of them were on edge and that November was distraught as well. Samuel was trying to comfort her, in that perhaps overly macho clumsy way of his. Say what one might about the boy in other respects, he was a devoted friend.

Once the two were settled, and before Sean could invite them to explain the situation, November rushed out a jumble of words. The older man leaned forward to listen, giving her his full attention. Unfortunately, he didn’t like what he had to hear, in any respect, and his expression reflected that, his lips drew into a frown. He was displeased with all of it: that she had been harmed, that Jesse was up to his old tricks again – not that he had thought the boy had reformed, but that he was at least intelligent enough or controlled enough to keep from doing so when under watch already – and that this had occurred yesterday without anyone telling him sooner. He could have helped yesterday, could have eased some of her pain if he had been alerted immediately, but he also understood her reluctance otherwise. Power migraines were difficult to cope with, as was the mental trauma of a psychic attack. Add to that November’s usually timid nature and the reputation of her friends for troublemaking and he couldn’t fault her in the slightest for waiting. Thankfully she had waited only a single day.

Then came her reassurances that she was telling the truth, which he didn’t need and it was mildly distressing that she thought he would accuse of her making false claims. He would not think that of her, would not think that of essentially any student because this was a serious charge, far more substantive than “Billy pulled my hair.” Of course, telepathy allowed him to verify any such charges without drawing attention to himself, but that was unnecessary here. It had to be Jesse; only Jesse and Alice had powers capable of such effects, and Jesse’s were more developed, he had the necessary disposition, and he had been there beside her. When he found that boy...to that effect, he briefly reached out, scanning the Institute for Jesse’s mind. Good, he was still here. Sean would be sure to tend to him later.

Now, however, he had to reassure November, and he spoke patiently, gently, “I know you wouldn’t, and I believe you. I’m merely distressed that this happened to you in the first place and that I wasn’t able to help you sooner.” He could not make himself smile at the moment, but his eyes were kind. “Are you all right now? No headaches or other ill effects?”

Before she could respond, Samuel had interjected with his enthusiastic and predictable, if not helpful, promise for revenge. Although Sean understood the protective urge, he would not let that come to pass under his watch, and he told him sternly, “No, you will not.” He exhaled a single time through his nose, and his voice was calm. “We can’t have any other acts of violence, and this was an act of violence. No vigilantism, no revenge. Let me handle it.”

There was something bizarre about this professor - Ember hadn't ever really spoken to him much before. A few "hellos" in the hallway and the occasional mishap and punishment. But mostly, he was just a name floating around in her head for when things went wrong. She knew he was a telepath - that had been a fun experience figuring that one out. Even in the slightly blurred vision of her fluttering eyelids, still photosensitive as most migraine-prone people are, she noticed the strangeness of his facial expressions. The smile, though reassuring, was forced. There was a certain... tiredness in his eyes, like he had been overworked and bothered for far too long and just needed a break. Disappointment lingered in the irises, not in them, well, maybe in Sammy, but more so in something else. A slight, nearly unnoticeable tilting of her head, rapid blinking to force her eyes to focus, ignoring the pressure on the back of the sight vessels. The twitch of her lip that accompanied her effort to analyze a situation... But then she stopped, and sat back in the seat, scratching at her jaw awkwardly.

He was an Institute official. He had years of experience with both regular humans and meta-humans. Dr. Neville was probably tired of people like her attempting to figure him out - she's just another teenager. Silently, she accepted the pain medication, knowing that it would more than likely help out with the headache. She had, of course, plenty in her dorm. She just hadn't bothered to dig through the obscene amounts of clutter to find it that morning. A small laugh fell from her lips again as Sammy whined that it was unfair he couldn't input his own, personal form of justice. She sighed knowingly, with the light twitch of a smile on her lips. He was a good... no, great friend. She just knew he was thinking up a way to get back at him as they continued to speak.

Glancing back up at Mr. Neville as he answered her question, she nodded. November startled, stuttering momentarily, "Uhm. Ah, an apology... won't be necessary..." She offered awkwardly, eyes going to Sammy, then back to the psychiatrist. Holding her hands up in a retreating sort of way, she shrugged, "All that doesn't matter much to me... I just... wanna make sure he doesn't do this to someone else." The time turner offered him a small smile, scrunching her face at a particularly dreadful spike of the headache. Standing, she scooted toward the door, her eyes still on Sean. "I... believe that's all. Th-thank you, Mr. Neville... Thanks a lot," It was sincere, sealed with the trademark grin that the brunette had. She looked toward Sammy, as if to warn him not to say anything else before they left.