The Door is Open [For Rima]

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse’s office was small and quiet for the most part, not unlike Doctor Neville’s office. It had its desk, its chairs, and a large fainting couch for students to lay on if they so chose. What made the office so comfortable to Clarisse were not these staple furnishings, but the moody touches she added to the place. Fresh cut flowers perched in a dainty vase on top of her desk, and low, grinding blues music rolled lazily out of hidden speakers in the corner of the room. A little side-table sat near the window, which had a shelf that was low to the floor. On this shelf, safely out of sight to any arachnophobes, was Clarisse’s dearest, darling pet ChiChi, a tarantula. Atop the small table lived a creeping vine plant thriving in the window and sneaking to the other, more clinical side of the room. Technically Clarisse needed this half of her office as well.

A small privacy curtain kept this area closed off. There was another small couch, more like a flat futon than anything, for examining students should they need it. Charts hung from the wall, and a small counter area housed tongue depressors, bandages, generic medicines and all other manner of things one might find in the office of a normal school nurse.

To Clarisse, her job was really nothing more. She was just a school nurse with a research grant! Clarisse adored her job, though it pained her to see the students come in and out of her office in all manner of array and disarray. Though she had only been full time for a year or so, eight years spent hovering inside Hammel’s gates had made her accustomed to all manner of side effects. Sometimes the students needed the bandages and medicine on the counter, and sometimes they just needed a dark room.

Sometimes they just needed someone to talk to. To the best of her ability, Clarisse would always be there. Her door was always open.

As of now, the door was simply cracked to keep her jazzy music in her office, but the chatter of the passing students out. She sat at her desk, a rolling office chair turned sideways so that there was plenty of room for her to cross her legs. One of her diminutive feet bounced, sheathed in a smart black pump, as she hummed along to the tune coming from the speakers. The royal purple nails of her left hand tapped gently against the stained wood of the desk as the delicate fingers of her right twirled a pen near her ear. She wasn’t bored, per se, but she was certainly growing weary of re-reading some articles she pulled for the billionth time.

There were days Clarisse felt that she had missed something in her studies, and there were days where she felt she’d read every scrap of information on meta-human biology. Today’s day was most like the latter. Things were repeated, as often happened in newly born research fields. All Clarisse could hope for was a bright and sunny afternoon in which to lunch on the lawn, sans paperwork to push into her brain.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima had been in her dorm. She still was fairly new, and the entire idea of a ‘power’ was still mind-boggling. Everything these people --these official people who were genuinely trying to help her—was the exact opposite of what she had been told at the human hospitals. These peoples’ methods were different as well. Here she hadn’t been forced into Therapy, she hadn’t gone through countless Cat Scans, nor any MRIs. It was an improvement, a great improvement.

Her mind was already fragile. It had been ever since that window had blown. She had been angry yes, but the Nanny… Jennie was her name?... had shoved her right over the edge. Rima knew she was loosing it. She need help now.

Part of her, the voices, kept their quiet words running through her head. Crazy… Insane… Dangerous… Fatal… Among many, many other things.

Today in particular, Rima was sicker then usual. She had been stressed out yesterday, and the minute she started to go to bed, she was absolutely certain that she’d be crippled with a migraine the next day. Her thoughts were proving correct now.

As Rima had woken up, even the slightest sound in the hallway outside her room was excruciating. The sunlight streaming golden through her window? Agony. The simplifying of her dorm had been done to try to bring some grain of relief: removing any ‘stress colors’, sealing off all windows but one, and taking out anything that could possibly injure herself in the event of an incident. But nothing had been helping lately.

As with migraine episodes, of course sensitivity to light and sound came, but in the case of this 14 year old Telepathic girl, it was worse. She had no control over what she could do with these powers yet. Things would break, fly, fall, and repeat. It was endless, and torture for her.

Her original thought had been to hole up all day and skip classes, but the migraine had crept even worse somehow. After rolling like a rag-doll out of bed, she had had her last straw. Everything in the room jostled and lifted off of its surface if it wasn’t bolted down for a split second as she caught herself. Numbly and rather painfully, she dressed herself. Rima was now wearing black jeans and grey a tank top, with a button up black ¾ sleeve over it. The ¾ was unbuttoned, which was a blatant difference in contrast to her usual put-together look. Being 14 and all, she had always had a sense of style, but it seemed sophisticated, no matter how dark she acted.

Reality was blurring and Ri had started seeing double with even the simplest tasks. Buttoning a shirt would probably knock her out. Throwing the fedora on out of habit, and to hide the mane of slightly tangled hair (again, that probably would’ve taken her out), she staggered toward the office.

A couple minutes more she knocked on the door of Clarisse’s office. She was younger, and Rima had heard good things about her from other students. Ri let out a groan as a wave of pain flooded her senses, nearly causing her to collapse. Inside the office, the vase of flowers trembled, then floated several inches into the air. “Can I come in?” Rima asked groggily, resting her head on the outside door jam. The slightest coolness of the dark mahogany wood felt better then even the open air.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse head snapped up when the vase so much as stirred. It wobbled a bit, before lifting off of her desk completely. She quickly y reached out and stabilized it, pulling it out of the air and into the crook of her arm. Soon after, a knock came at her door. Figuring that the two incidents were likely connected, Clarisse opened the door with the vase still cradled in her arm like an infant child. She blinked down at the girl leaning against her door frame and stepped outside of her office to place the vase on the ground outside.

“Please do.” Clarisse said quietly, taking Rima gently by the arm and guiding her to the couch near her desk. She recognized Rima’s fatigue, but couldn’t exactly say what was wrong with her just yet. She spoke quietly and gently, to avoid scaring her or agitating whatever was wrong further.

“What is your name, dear?” Clarisse asked, helping Rima lay down on her back. When the girl was safely reclined on the couch, Clarisse busied herself moving other heavy or fragile objects out of her office. She was fairly fast at it, as if she were rehearsed. Really, she was. There were enough telekinetic and similarly powered students at Hammel that sometimes the glass that Clarisse had in her office was dangerous. Students in the hall rarely touched her things, and she was too trusting to believe that anyone would make off with her stuff.

She had already gathered that the young girl’s power was mind based, but since she had moved glass, it was possible that she was geokinetic (glass was made of sand after all). The likelihood was that Rima was telekinetic and was experiencing a migraine, as many Hammel students did before they got proper control over their powers. Clarisse wouldn’t jump to that conclusion, however, until Rima herself told Clarisse what was wrong. “And what is hurting you?”

[Rima Donavon]

Rima rubbed her eyes, perhaps a bit harder then she should have. Pain exploded in violent waves right behind her eyes, and like evil fingers, curled around her entire skull. It felt worse then placing one’s skull under a jackhammer. The office was slightly dimmed, compared to the brightly windowed hallways. She gurgled out a groan from behind dry lips and cupped her forehead in her hand, slightly messy hair cascading in black waves across her naturally pale skin, of course which now had acquired a worn, sickly flush to it.

“Rima Donavon…” She ground out, words sounding forced. The office was simple, she noticed as she picked out blurred smudges in her periphrasis. From what she could see (which wasn’t much) it didn’t scream ‘Therapy’ or ‘Nut house.’ She took this as a good sign. The couch under her was steady and firm, comforting. Speaking of comforting, so was the woman’s voice: soft, delicate, like silk, attentive, but not pushy. The exact opposite of some of the, as Rima herself called them, crack-pots her father had sent her to see.

Her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth and she tried feebly to wet her parched lips for a moment, face still hidden by her arms and hair. “And my head… Headache I think.” Faintly, a strangled note would be able to be picked up in her voice. Reality was blurred already. Rima let a hand drop to her knees and took a half glanced around the room, then set her fedora on the cushion next to her. A floaty feel surrounded her for a moment, and before she realized it the couch had levitated a bit. Rima groaned as a cascade hit her mentally. “Sorry.” The couch settled back.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Anything punctuated by ‘I think’ was not a good sign. It signaled a loss of the student’s hold on reality. While this generally happened with mind-based powers, Clarisse always hoped she could offer her services long before it happened. Busying herself making Rima as comfortable as possible, she nodded, pulling the curtains shut over the window. The curtains were made to block out ninety-five percent of the light, so the already warmly dimmed office became as dark as dusk.

“Okay, Rima. My name is Dr. Prideaux…you may call me Clarisse.” She said, continuing to speak quietly. “Just relax…I know that your head must hurt very---“ Clarisse gulped as the couch began to lift off the floor. Exhaling silently, she finished her instructions. “Very much, so I want you to clear your mind.” She said gently, soothingly. “Listen to my voice, and think very still, very relaxing thoughts.”

Clarisse nodded slowly as the couch settled back onto the floor. "Its okay, you don't need to apologize. You haven't done a thing wrong." She pointed out. At least Rima was aware of what was happening still, that was a good sign. She patted the girl comfortingly on the arm before drawing away to a nearby filing cabinet. “Breath slowly,” She instructed, her words a slow trickle to encourage steady, easy breathing “and clear your mind. In….and….out. Very good.” Clarisse encouraged sweetly, smiling in a maternal way over at Rima as she drew the girl’s file from the cabinet and peeked inside, at least to get a better idea of how to take care of her.

[Rima Donavon]

Those thick curtains were like heaven for her eyes. Doing as directed, she closed her eyes, controlling her ragged breathing over the course of a few minutes. It was hard. But Clarisse’s voice was soothing, and it was like music, soft and gentle against her ears.

Rima cleared her mind, focusing on a blank, white paper, similar to those which she usually drew on. Nothing, and nobody on it. But at the mention of calming thoughts, something came to mind, and Ri desperately wished it hadn’t. Her Mother. The kind, gentle woman had been one of the select few who knew how to ease her Daughter’s aches and sadness. Others made it worst, such as the Therapists and her Father, despite his attempts at helping. In her mind’s eye, a picture formed crystal clear, as though she were looking at it in a still pool.

Victoria was leaning back against the large oaken headboard, proper up on a large stack of pillows. Her dark auburn hair was a stark contrast to her porcelain pale skin. The breast cancer had been eating away at her, and this vision had been from some of her last months. A smile lit her features, meeting her warm green eyes. ‘Shh, babe, shh.’ Rima had had a particularly awful day at school, having been cast down by her friend’s after they had learned of her Mother’s illness. Her mother was clasping her shoulders, pulling her close. Arms, so much like willow branches, closed around her. ‘Everything’s alright now. I got’cha.’

The warming voice had filled her up, and eventually stopped the tears. But now, the mere thought of her Mother was doing the exact opposite. A few stray tears trailed out of her closed eyelids, clotting her eyelashes together. She covered her face by flipping her hair into the way, but knew that Clarisse would’ve already been able to catch them.

That old resolve she had, keeping her emotions bundled up in ice, was shattered once again.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse clucked a bit and reached into a drawer on her desk, pulling out a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “Hush, Rima.” Clarisse soothed, gently laying her hand on Rima’s arm before she dabbed the girl’s tears away. “Everything’s all right. I will take care of you.” She assured, nearly echoing her mother’s words without knowing it.
She understood how overwhelming being a meta-human could be. The world was often hostile and misunderstood much of what being human meant, meta or otherwise. Rima’s file spoke of previous therapy with non-meta doctors. Something like that could cause serious damage. Even Clarisse was having to undergo some reteaching due to improper training at the hands of the French government.

Yes indeed. Overwhelming was a good word.

“Remember to breath, Rima.” Clarisse heartened, hoping to get Rima to a place where they could discuss some treatment. She really didn’t want to just medicate the poor child in this state. “In…and…out. With clear, steady thoughts. You’re doing wonderfully.” She complimented, pushing Rima’s hair out of her eyes.

Tears? She’d seen worse. One a boy came in carrying his own toes in his hands. Anatomical separation was something that no one could top.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima blinked her eyes open, revealing the unique grey-blue, blue-grey iris of each eye. The whites of those same eyes were red rimmed. Something like pain, and not physical from the migraine, hit home in her eyes, but she quickly made a febble attempt to hide the look.

As Clarisse spoke, those words reached into her core and melted any more ice that had kept emotions silent for the past years. All the pain of her Mother’s loss, the traumatizing experience under the Therapists’ hands, those glares and looks she had received from her Father for being deemed insane.

Something was surprising the dark-haired girl though: While by now, the voices would’ve normally started to speak again, loud and clear, taunting and terrorizing her from the inside out.

Breathe. Clarisse’s voice was so calming, so much like her Mother’s tones. She nearly let out more tears because of it. It was by a sheer wave of migraine pain that kept more tears from spilling. Rima continued to do what was asked, receiving comforting and gentle encouragement from Clarisse, which was something that Rima had not received from anybody in about 6 years. Therapists had been hallow, false caring, Nannies, even worse, and her own father the same.

She let out a ragged breath, but let some of the tenseness leave her shoulders.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Reaching out and patting Rima’s hand gently, Clarisse nodded slowly. “Very good. You’re doing wonderfully. I’m sure you already know this, because you’re feeling it, but you are experiencing a migraine…most likely from your brains reaction to your telekinesis.” Clarisse explained slowly and softly. Most of the words would probably just glance off of Rima, her head was probably splitting (Clarisse figured that was why she was crying), but she wanted some to sink in. “That is perfectly normal. And it will pass.” She assured her, closing Rima’s hand gently around her handkerchief in case she teen needed it.

“Migraines are worsened by tension, so do your best to relax. You may lay down on this couch, or on the hospital bed over there.” Clarisse said, nodding her head to the other side of the office. “If it doesn’t start to fade in an hour or so, please tell me. We may have to get you some medication.” Clarisse brushed away more of Rima’s hair from her face and smiled sweetly. “Until then, relax…close your eyes…and try to keep your mind clear. It will help your brain slow down and the migraine to go away.”

[Rima Donavon]

Rima gave a jerky nod, thankful in a way that Clarisse didn’t know the reason behind her tears. Inwardly, she did want to tell somebody, but the tears would come back in full force if she tried, and she knew it. Her hand tightened around the small, cloth handkerchief in her palm. After several minutes, Rima reclined back and curled up on the couch she was on. Miraculously, and probably due to her blurred lines of reality and nonreality, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Things were black, with occasional flashes, but soon the red flashes disappeared.

About 2 hours later, she woke up, clothes slightly crumpled, handkerchief still nestled in her grip like iron. The red-rims to her eyes had worn off, as had the red around her eye. Rima had the typical look for somebody who had just woken up from a nap. Ri yawned, rubbing her eyes in an adorable way which had started as a habit when she had been a very small child. Running a hand through her hair, and simultaneously leaning over to retrieve her fedora, a small, round, glass object fell free of her breast pocket. It rolled across the floor and clicked to a stop at Clarisse’s desk.

The object was a marble, about and inch tall, which was crystal clear, with the acception of the bright, iridescent blue swirl running through the center. It was one of the last things Rima had to remember her Mother by.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse watched Rima closely until her breathing became soft and even. When the hint of a snore edged into the girl’s exhaling, Clarisse smiled and turned back to her desk to fill out the paperwork concerning Rima’s visit. Most of it she could assume, but there were some things she had to leave blank until the girl awoke. After a few minutes, when it appeared that Rima would be out for more than just a wink or two, Clarisse gently laid a blanket over her sleeping form and returned to work.

The motherly gesture was one that truly marked Clarisse as far as doctors went. She had a soft spot for all the children at Hammel, but she really couldn’t stand it to see them cry. Even the teenagers, usually unwilling to show their weakness, occasionally broke down just as Rima had. Pain sucked. Somehow crying made it better. Clarisse new that, and accepted it.

When she heard Rima stir behind her, she looked over her shoulder from a sitting position at her desk. “Are you feeling better, Rima?” She asked softly, careful not to disturb the girl’s peace if her head was still hurting. She blinked as the marble clacked to the floor and rolled to her desk. Looking down at it, she was filled with curiosity at what it was, though she didn’t bother to ask. She simply swiveled in her chair and snatched it up, walking over to Rima and placing it back in her hands.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima rubbed her eyes once more, blinking to focus them. Her gaze was clear and bright once more, no longer clouded with pain and exhaustion. It felt great, she realized. That field around her, which had been a torrent of pain, had disintegrated into what seemed like content calm, similar to an untouched pool of water. Seeming to notice Clarisse for the first time, Ri shifted to face her better. That’s also when she noticed the blanket. That was something that her Mother had done as well, and nearly made her add the word ‘Mom’ to the sentence she spoke. “Yeah, M- Clarisse.”

As the marble was set into her palm, she pinched it between her thumb and forefingers, turning it around and examining the small piece of glass. “T- Thank you.” She stuttered. Rima seemed protective over the small object, and had good reason to be so: it was one of the last mementos her Mother had passed to her before she had died.

Clenching it in her fist, she propped herself up a bit more comfortably with her opposite hand, her left hand. As it went, the small glimpse of silvery white, the jagged scar, began the slightest bit visible. The fact was, it had been inflicted on herself by herself on accident, after a particularly bad headache when the large pane of glass in her old home’s living room had shattered. (Oops.)

[Clarisse Prideaux]

She smiled and nodded. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I was worried about you for a while there. I was afraid you weren’t going to come back.” Clarisse joked gently, laughing for a moment. “Do you have migraines of that intensity very often?” she inquired, tilting her head gently.

Her eyes caught sight of the scar on Rima’s arm, but she didn’t ask. It was pearly white and smooth, not gnarled and purple like newer scars would be. Clearly that was a part of Rima’s past. If anyone knew about wanting to keep the past in the past, it was Clarisse. If Rima wanted to open up about that, she could, but for now Clarisse was focused on better treatment and prevention for the young meta-human. If the behavior of the couch when Rima had first entered was any indication, Rima couldn’t control her telekinesis during times of these headaches.

“I’m asking so that I can let you know what can be done next time to help you feel better faster, or even prevent the migraine in the first place.” She explained. In Clarisse’s experience it was best to let students know exactly what was going on. Some (like Rima from the looks of her file) had had very unpleasant experiences with doctors.

[Rima Donavon]

She gave a light laugh, a musical sound, in unison to her as she laughed. It was one of those things in life that were funny, but also weren’t at the same time.

Rima looked at her, and nodded slowly, fully listening and carefully comprehending the information Clarisse was saying, storing it away for later. Now that she could think clearly, as her blurred mind had found earlier, she did think that Clarisse seemed trustworthy.

She had also noticed the woman’s gaze hinder on her scar. Something like the faintest, shy flush creapt into her cheeks, and she shifted her hand into a different position to block it from view. It was a past memory, and while she didn’t know Clarisse had just thought the same, Ri did want to keep it just where it was: in the past. Although, it also not being on her body in the first place might have been better.

Rima cleared her throat, and put on a smile. It was rare now-a-days for the 14 year old girl to smile. Everything was so stressful, foreign, and new. “Well,” She started, voice coming out as her normal silk sounding voice instead of the painful, crackling sound of earlier. “Usually they only get that bad when I try to train with things but put to much force into it, or if I do something like fall and catch myself.” By catch herself, she clearly meant make herself levitate before she hit the ground. Rima blinked around the still darkened office before brining her attention back to the woman.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Ah, yes. Clarisse could tell already that Rima felt much better. It was apparent in the way she sat, the way she held her head, and especially the way that she spoke. The pain in her mannerisms had ebbed away to reveal the true girl behind it all. Clarisse was really pleased to meet the real Rima Donovan.

Reaching behind her and scribbling a few notes on a note pad, Clarisse nodded. “Okay. That is what I expected to hear.” She encouraged, finishing her quick notes and tucking them into Rima’s file before she turned her full attention back to the girl. It was rude to write and try to talk to a student at the same time, and often it made them feel uncomfortable. Clarisse was no therapist, but she certainly wanted the students to be able to come to her for comfort if they needed it.

“Your file indicates that you are a rather new students, and I can assure you that intense migraines like the one that your experienced are a common side effect for nearly all powers. In the case of abilities like yours, the migraines are caused by over-exertion, like what you used as examples--- using too much force, or stopping something larger than you are used to.” She pointed out, gesturing fluidly as she spoke. Clarisse nodded towards the window. “During migraines you will become very sensitive to sight and sound, so the best way to make them go away is to do just what you did today. Lay down in a dark room and rest. If you need to or would like to come here, that is fine too.” Clarisse offered, smiling warmly over at her.

“Did you feel anything strange just before the migraine hit? For example, did things seem….off? Tunnel vision, warped vision…anything like that?” She inquired, hoping to teach Rima a bit about preventing these headaches in the first place.