Verill Anton Mathias
Nov 14, 2011 2:10:45 GMT -5
Post by Verill Mathias on Nov 14, 2011 2:10:45 GMT -5
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The easy S T U F F . . .
Name: Verill Anton Mathias
Nickname: None so far.
Age: Seventeen years old
Member Group: Student
Power(s): Retrocognition
Play By: Mitch Baker
Let it F L O W . . .
Notes of Dr. Fredrick Carlson, Psychoanalytical Therapist.
First session with a Mr. Verill Mathias, fifteen years of age, looks to be about 5'9" in height, lean in physique. Appears well-kept; formally dressed, good posture. Possibly to make a good first impression. Session should prove promising. Audio recording soon to follow; will be simultaneously taking notes.
"Hello, Verill. Would it be alright to call you that?"
"If I get to call you Fred, then of course."
Verill seems positively receptive. May be able to make fast progress.
"Wonderful! Alright Verill, I know being here is hard, but all we have to do is talk. So let's start easy. Tell me about yourself."
"I'm a people person. I like listening, rather than talking. But I'm still able to carry on a conversation. I'd like to assume that I'm amiable to be around. I'm also calm and composed, and pretty smart if I do say so myself. Able to handle any situation on the drop of a dime. I like a peaceful, quiet environment, and having everything under control. Who doesn't?"
His parents were quick to say the same about him. Very mature for his age. However, they were inclined to mention that he has a bad habit of lying, and there are some accounts of him trying to control his peers. Possible this may stem from his upbringing, but I won't rule out more severe causes.
"Very good. Why don't you tell me a little about your life?"
"Where to begin... I've led a pretty quiet life in the suburbs, I suppose. My parents, Will and Katherine, are fantastic. They spoil me - probably because I was the first-born. I love my little sisters, Rebecca and Theresa. I think sometimes I can be a little overprotective of them. Big brother instinct, and all..."
Rebecca, age twelve, and Theresa, age ten, have been reported by the parents to be depressed and stand-offish to Verill. Will question this at a later date.
"Sounds like a perfect modern family. I hear you're doing very well in school. Do you have any particular field you're interested in going into?"
"Not to sound like I'm kissing up, but I'm thinking about getting into the school of psychology. I love picking at people's brains. I'm being transferred to a new school. I have no problems with that; it'll better help me in my studies. I think I'll attend the university there when I graduate. "
"Impressive. You don't see very many people your age with such a planned-out future. I'd be honored to have you join in my field. Now, how about more about you. Like, what things do you like and dislike?"
He suddenly leans towards me and seems to pluck something off my sleeve, palm momentarily brushing against my hand. With whatever it was accomplished, he resumes his seat.
"Sorry, you had a crumb on your sleeve. I'm almost OCD about that sort of thing."
"Ah, I had a quick breakfast this morning, thank you. As you were?"
"Okay... I like talking to people; getting to know them. I've had quite a few friends over the years. I'm sure I'll make a lot of new ones at my new school. I love chess, checkers, and card games. I think it's better to keep your brain active. My favorite color's red, my favorite food's fried ice cream, and I like sitting outside after it's rained. I love cats, too. What I dislike.. I really don't like the word 'dude'. It irritates me. I'm not into pop or rap or any of that business. I prefer classical music. I don't like being touched, either... And cheating. I simply hate a lack of commitment in a relationship. It's supposed to be filled with trust, support, loyalty. You understand that, don't you, Fred?"
Strong morals. If only I could... Patient is rubbing his temples, seems uncomfortable.
"Ah.. erm, yes. Of course. Are you alright, Verill?"
"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. It's just a migrane. I get these from time to time, nothing to worry about. I'd like to share something with you, Fred. I know it's unprecedented for a first session, but I feel I can put trust in you. You seem like a loyal type. I've told my parents, but they either refuse to believe it or just don't want to deal with it. One time, when I was five, my mother's brother, he... touched me. It was only once, but something like that... it can stick with a person. I think that might have to do with why I'm not comfortable with physical contact."
Verill's parents have spoken to me about this before. He made this claim a few years ago, and quick action was taken. However, the parents have shown me that an extensive investigation was taken in the affair: interviews, alabis, trials, even attempts at DNA evidence were taken. However, no such evidence was found, and Verill's recounting of the supposed tragedy was extremely vague, at best. It didn't help matters that he only just recently recounted the event - around the time he has been having several other memory problems, such as recounting past occurences that his parents assure me have never happened, or simply forgetting important events altogether. Law enforcements concluded that it simply did not happen. While I am inclined to believe that, I cannot rule out some possibilities: The act took place with a lack of proof to show for it, Verill fabricated the story for attention, or he had a vivid dream and - at such a young age - was later convinced it was real. I would guess towards the third option, due to his memory trouble. Several sessions will have to be concentrated on this affair. For the time being, I will have to carry on as if I believe him. Though, I really wish he would stop using those words...
"That's terrible! But I'm very happy you told me about this. I promise you that we will get through this."
"I'm happy to hear that. I knew I could trust you. You're a trustworthy person. I'm sure your wife feels the same way. You are married, aren't you, Fred?"
"Ah.. yes, I'm happily married... So while we're making such progress, I'd like to bring up a concern your parents mentioned. They say you've been acting destructive. Things involving fires, animals, and bullying. Would that be because of such a traumatic event?"
A bit unprofessional on my behalf. But I have to make him stop talking about my wife!
"I would say so. Family has a great influence on our actions, don't they? Like, say, if my mother was always seeing other men, I would probably be just as promiscuous. Even if I was married. But luckily, my mother isn't such a whore-"
"SHUT UP!"
"..."
"..."
...
"I-I'm sorry, Verill. I don't know what came over me-"
"Please, Fred, call me Mr. Mathias. And I think we're done here - permanently. You see, I have another dislike. I hate therapy sessions. I've been to several. I'm sure you're wondering, 'Then why didn't I receive any transcripts?' It's because I told them not to. They do as I say, just like you will. No more sessions. You're going to tell my parents that I'm perfectly alright, you're going to get rid of any documents on me, and then you're going to forget I was ever even here. If you don't, your wife might have to know about your little rendevous with that Wanda Boulevard girl. How old was she again, sixteen? Well then, maybe the police would just have to be told about that, too!"
"H-How did.. you-"
"I'm a people person, Fred. Some would say I have a talent for reading into people's pasts. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a new school to prepare for."
He leaves. That little blackmailing sociopath just gets up, and leaves. I sit here, stunned. Wondering how he could have possibly known about that. I was so careful! But... nobody else can know. I have no other choice...
The notes of Dr. Fredrick Carlson, Psychoanalytical Therapist, were burned, along with every document recording Verill Mathias' session.
Verill would return to his home to inform his parents that Dr. Carlson believed he was completely fine, and if they had any objections to it they could take it up with him. The good doctor would, of course, tell them the same. He had to, lest the boy's threats show true. It was an interesting thing, this gift of his. He always had a talent for manipulating others, but being able to look into their pasts made it all the easier. Everyone has secrets they would hate to be brought to light. The boy would follow his routine of taking an ice pack out of the freezer and administering it to his head while he rested. If only that ability didn't have drawbacks. Prolongued migranes were the most immediate problem. But, was he really forgetting things; filling in the blanks with false memories? He hoped to high heaven that wasn't true. No, they were lying - his parents, that bastard uncle, the police. There was no way he would be so bad as to fool even himself.
Behind the M A S K . . .
Name: "Beret" will do nicely, I think.
Age: OLLLLLD 20 years old.
RP Experience: 8 - 9 years-ish?
How did you find us?: I herpaderped my way over to RPG-Directory and saw this site in the list of Fantasy Schools.
Show your S K I L L S . . .
Within the confines of the shadows and brush he skulked. Little more than a shade, he masterfully avoided what security may be guarding the perimeters of the mansion. It was not as if this was the first time he had done so. Occasionally the light from a window would reflect off his eyes as they would a beast's, but then those eyes were moving again and soon the glowing disappeared. The shadow drifted as close he could to where the brothers were having their loving discussion. So close was he, he could reach out and brush against the house. But for now he was content with only listening for curiosity's sake.[/blockquote]
Soon they were bidding an end to their talk. The demon disappeared back into the darkness. He knew where Yves would show up next. How careless that human was, exposing himself to the night. Alone. Defenseless. Fragile. He was lucky he was so interesting, otherwise the demon might have given into his baser desires long ago. At the beckoning he would answer without delay. Within clearer sight he was showing to be protecting himself from the elements with a black mink coat wrapped tightly around his slender frame. A pair of jeans and shoes of the same coloring accompanied it. The ever-present coy smile stretched farther up than ever.
"Oh, those hunches of yours are getting better and better~. I think my presence is working out for the better for you, don't you think?"
That innocent smile did not reach those eyes. They were cruel, predatory; they could have torn Yves apart through gaze alone it seemed. Felix continued his approach, quickly closing in the space between them until he was reaching out an arm, fingers playing with the side of the entrance behind the man.
"You saved me the time of throwing rocks to get your attention. Speaking of which, how is that maid?"
He was, of course, referring to the unfortunate maid who, while going outside to generously offer the gardener some lemonade, was struck by a flying pebble. The result was a fractured skull and, as far as Felix knew, she was put into a coma.
