A Moment of Thanks - Closed
Jul 25, 2010 22:09:23 GMT -5
Post by November Adams on Jul 25, 2010 22:09:23 GMT -5
There were certain times in the world where the young time manipulator found it imperative to thank someone for kind actions. Whether it was a particularly touching Christmas card, or a friendly gift given at random, she was very inclined to return thanks in creative ways. And thanks her gift, the ability that landed her in this bizarre Institute with strange children and even stranger professors, allowed her to give her gifts in a very secretive way. She enjoyed that.
Sean Neville had helped her more than he had realized in the duration of their visit a few days ago. The traumatizing experience of having one's mind invaded and plagued with the most horrifying images it could come up with wasn't exactly an easy experience to jump back from. But he had comforted her, even with his forced smile, she could tell that he felt genuinely bad for what had happened to her. November knew that Jesse was going to reprimanded for his actions, that was evident in their discussion, which gave a small feeling of comfort to the teenager. Mainly because she knew she wasn't the only one that slept on school grounds, and there was a large chance that these students were left completely vulnerable to whatever attack came in the conscious world.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she had a firm grip on the plate covered by saran wrap, revealing the tasty treats she had finished making in the kitchens only a bit ago. Assorted cookies, brownies, event a bit of fudge. November was skilled in the kitchen, and luckily enough the lunch ladies were open enough for her to come in an use the ovens and all. Because of her shy nature, Ember didn't really know how to thank the psychiatrist face-to-face. She was quite sure that he would just deny it, telling her that he was only doing her job. She really wouldn't stand for that. The brunette drew in a deep breath slowly, back pressed against the brick wall of the office building. The strong smell of flowers and grass that spring brought infested her senses, and the sudden heaviness of complete and total silence hit. Opening her eyes, she looked around quickly - the grass had stopped billowing in the wind, frozen at an angle; butterflies had ceased to flap their wings from flower to flower. Nodding sharply, she ducked inside the building, and scooted by the secretary, frozen in mid-sentence on the phone, a pen unmoving from where it had previously been dwiddling in her hand.
The loud slapping of her shoes didn't echo down the still hallway as it would have normally, but Ember had grown quite accustomed to the strangeness of all this. Still, she looked around suspiciously, feeling as if someone might jump out at her at any moment. Finally coming to the nearly familiar door with the psychiatrist's name printed on the outside to clearly show that it was, in fact, his office, she pushed it open and hopped inside the room. She stared blankly at the telepath, his hands unmoving on the table where he had previously been shuffling papers, she assumed. Pursing her lips, November tiptoed for no particular reason, over to the table and set the tray of tasty sweets down on top of a stack of papers. Reaching in the pocket of her worn jeans, she pulled out the purple sticky note which she had scrawled on quickly before leaving her dorm. Pressing the note down on top of the saran wrap, she smiled a little and backed away.
Walking down the hall with a satisfied smile on her face, she turned out of the building, closing the door behind her, and time resumed. The wind blew, the secretary fiddled with a pen while monotonously listening to the person speak on the other end of the phone, and Mr. Neville would take notice to the plate of desserts now on his desk that were not there only seconds before.
A purple sticky note sat on the plate, with the messy writing of a teenager across it. A single word.
"Thanks."
Sean Neville had helped her more than he had realized in the duration of their visit a few days ago. The traumatizing experience of having one's mind invaded and plagued with the most horrifying images it could come up with wasn't exactly an easy experience to jump back from. But he had comforted her, even with his forced smile, she could tell that he felt genuinely bad for what had happened to her. November knew that Jesse was going to reprimanded for his actions, that was evident in their discussion, which gave a small feeling of comfort to the teenager. Mainly because she knew she wasn't the only one that slept on school grounds, and there was a large chance that these students were left completely vulnerable to whatever attack came in the conscious world.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she had a firm grip on the plate covered by saran wrap, revealing the tasty treats she had finished making in the kitchens only a bit ago. Assorted cookies, brownies, event a bit of fudge. November was skilled in the kitchen, and luckily enough the lunch ladies were open enough for her to come in an use the ovens and all. Because of her shy nature, Ember didn't really know how to thank the psychiatrist face-to-face. She was quite sure that he would just deny it, telling her that he was only doing her job. She really wouldn't stand for that. The brunette drew in a deep breath slowly, back pressed against the brick wall of the office building. The strong smell of flowers and grass that spring brought infested her senses, and the sudden heaviness of complete and total silence hit. Opening her eyes, she looked around quickly - the grass had stopped billowing in the wind, frozen at an angle; butterflies had ceased to flap their wings from flower to flower. Nodding sharply, she ducked inside the building, and scooted by the secretary, frozen in mid-sentence on the phone, a pen unmoving from where it had previously been dwiddling in her hand.
The loud slapping of her shoes didn't echo down the still hallway as it would have normally, but Ember had grown quite accustomed to the strangeness of all this. Still, she looked around suspiciously, feeling as if someone might jump out at her at any moment. Finally coming to the nearly familiar door with the psychiatrist's name printed on the outside to clearly show that it was, in fact, his office, she pushed it open and hopped inside the room. She stared blankly at the telepath, his hands unmoving on the table where he had previously been shuffling papers, she assumed. Pursing her lips, November tiptoed for no particular reason, over to the table and set the tray of tasty sweets down on top of a stack of papers. Reaching in the pocket of her worn jeans, she pulled out the purple sticky note which she had scrawled on quickly before leaving her dorm. Pressing the note down on top of the saran wrap, she smiled a little and backed away.
Walking down the hall with a satisfied smile on her face, she turned out of the building, closing the door behind her, and time resumed. The wind blew, the secretary fiddled with a pen while monotonously listening to the person speak on the other end of the phone, and Mr. Neville would take notice to the plate of desserts now on his desk that were not there only seconds before.
A purple sticky note sat on the plate, with the messy writing of a teenager across it. A single word.
"Thanks."
