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St. Helga's

21 October 2015, 08:31 PM   #1
Joined: 29 Sep 2015
Posts: 111
Last edited by ‹ㅑJïNxㅜㅇNㅕ›, 11 November 2016
₮he Victorian lunatic asylums of this city were magnificent, from the purely architectural point of view. Municipal pride, manifested by artistic embellishment without utilitarian purpose, shone out from them. They were built on generous grounds in what were then rural areas, outside the city bounds, on the theory that rustic peace had a healing effect upon fractured minds—and also that remoteness would protect the sane of the city from distressing contact with the insane. The city expanded and soon engulfed the asylums, but the grounds remained, often the only islands of green in a sea of soot and red brick. These grounds, right up until the asylums closed, were tended with a care that spoke of love and devotion. For all who worked in them, the asylums provided a genuine sense of community. Indeed, by the time of their closure, they were the only real communities for miles around, the surrounding society having been smashed into atoms. They held annual cricket matches and other sporting contests on their spacious lawns, and hosted summer and Christmas balls. The staff were often second- or third-generation employees, and the institution was central to their lives. The patients benefited from the stability; the asylum was a little world in which they could behave as strangely as they pleased without anyone caring too much. They were free of the mockery and disdain with which people elsewhere would greet their strange demeanor, gestures, and ideas: for in the asylum, the strange was normal. Within its bounds, there was no stigma. But of course, there was a very dark side as well. Physical conditions, especially for those patients so chronically ill that the wards were in effect their homes, were appalling. There was no privacy, with beds sometimes packed so closely together that no one could walk between them. The smell of urine so deeply impregnated the furnishings and floors of the dayrooms that it seemed ineradicable (not that anyone tried to eradicate it). The stodgy food and physical inactivity meant that chronic constipation was universal; and most patients looked as if they had filtered their food through their slips and stockings. Aimless wandering in the corridors was the principal recreation for many patients, who rarely saw a doctor, therapeutic impotence being more or less taken for granted. Most of the staff were kindly and well-meaning, but, as in any situation in which some human beings have unsupervised care of and power over others, opportunities for sadism abounded. Usually these were minor: they often saw nurses denying bread and water to patients, telling them to come back in a few minutes, for no other reason than the pleasure of exerting power over a fellow being. But from time to time, far worse cruelty would surface, always hushed up in the name of institutional morale. This was easily done, since very few outside the asylum concerned themselves with what went on inside. ----------------------------- St. Helga's Cures: Leeching: The application of a living leech to the skin in order to initiate blood flow or deplete blood from a localized area of the body. Bloodletting: The withdrawal of blood from a patient to cure or prevent illness and disease. Leucotomy/Lobotomy: The surgical interruption of nerve tracts to and from the frontal lobe of the brain. Solitary Confinement: The isolation of a patient in a separate cell. Ice Baths: The placement of a patient in a tub full of ice or ice-cold water in order to draw out their ailments. St. Helga's Attire: Shift: A shift would be made of linen and would serve as both nightgown and slip. A woman might only own two or three. She would wear her shift night and day, often for weeks or more at a time especially in winter, without laundering. Underpants did not exist yet so a woman would wear absolutely nothing under her shift! Stockings: Everyone wore socks called "stockings" that came up over the knee. They were commonly hand-knitted of wool or linen. Elastic had not been invented yet, so stockings were held up with garters. These garters could be made of ribbon, knitted or leather strips and might tie or buckle on above or below the knee. ' Electro-Shock Therapy: A newtoy that invokes tremors as it penetrates the girl's head with lightning. Therapy. But it works. Believed to pierce the hysterical brain matter where it hurts. And it's now common practice. You may create any room on this list that you'd like, however, keep in mind we are rping as though this is a female-oriented asylum. No male patients permitted.
Evangeline Asmosia. 15. Orphaned. Hereditary Predisposition. Eidetic Memory.

24 November 2016, 05:28 PM   #2
Joined: 21 Nov 2016
Posts: 2
Vibrant green dampened sleek, black leather and soft earth gently shied from the pressure of the man's cane as he steadied himself. It had been lightly sprinkling that day, grey clouds hung low in the sky, and everything seemed to have been moving slower as the result of the Earth's desolate mood. Yet in the gardens, colors danced and birds sang, a welcome change from the depressing city. Judah breathed in deeply, the clean, fresh air a stark contrast to the chapel in the city that the Father had previously spent his time occupied in. Though it had been hard to part with the members of the clergy he had grown accustomed to, the promise of Cardinal was too precious to deny. It won't be long, Father, the deacon had promised as Judah's eyes scanned the letter delivered straight to his office. The Church simply desires confirmation of the home's allegiance to Him and His cause, the man had said into Judah's ear; he had been reading over the priest's shoulder. Though unaware of the tightening in the other man's stomach, the deacon had noticed the trembling in Judah's fingers as he held the letter. However, he hadn't commented on the strange behavior and Judah was thankful. Home, Judah thought drily as he looked over the asylum's exterior. I'd accuse inveiglement if I didn't know better. It was rather lovely, though. He admitted to admiring the architecture and began to wonder how builders went about creating such an elegant Goliath. He must have looked a fool, leaning on his cane in the damp grass, head tilted ever so slightly up and to the right as he admired the building standing proudly in front of him. My own personal Behemoth, he decided with an amused smirk before beginning the trek across the great lawn and towards the asylum. He arrived at the front gates, a light sheen of rain shining on his pale face and the shoulders of his coat. He gave a great smile at the approaching staff member. His escort for the day.

26 November 2016, 10:06 AM    #3
The Founder
Joined: 20 Jun 2016
Posts: 116
Last edited by ‹ㅑJïNxㅜㅇNㅕ›, 26 November 2016
Dr. Haste only had two drinks. Just two. One for the nerves, While the other, was for good measure. It wouldn't hurt to have a little fire in you gut, as you lie through your teeth. Er- no. As Haste gentle tucked lies between lies, sprinkled with truth. Sprinkle, sprinkle... Wait- no- He'd simply restrain his tongue to answer, and change subjects. That would be more polite. More respectful. As well as Less bitter. Because,oh how Haste, was tremendously bitter. Oh, how he called, and cried, and pleaded within the cathedral halls years ago. But there was no blessed hand to rapture him. No angel to lift his curse. His sin. Yet, Now, when the church comes to his call, he shall indulge them? He shall yield? He shall spoil and entertain? By all means, they were all devils. Hypocrites. And The Good Doctor, was certainly among the worst of them. Today~ The worse devil, shall meet a fellow hypocrite. ♞ "Good afternoon." Dr. Haste seemed to appear out of thin air; these grand halls, and heavy doors created the illusion of invisibility sometimes. Or perhaps... the Good Doctor did mean to sneak up on the other? Who knows. The Doctor briskly walked towards a man in all black attire, and possessing a iron cane in his hand. The Nurse- The good Father's escort quickly nodded her head, then formally excused herself. Elliot smiled charmingly, "This is a wonderful pleasure; to have you, Father Dousen. The Vatican had informed me weeks prior of your arrival. And i'm delighted, you made it here in good stead." Elliot's voice was calm, and professional. His eloquent english accent, was smooth and balanced with an underlying ambition for the future. This positivity made him seem friendly and warm. devils could be warm. Now time for the introductions. "I'm Elliot Dennis Haste the III. I'm the Head Doctor at St. Helgas. I'm in charge of the facility. I keep records, initiate psychology, rehabilitation, and all the treatments for the patients." Elliot offered his hand to shake. "Let's get you dried off, and situated, yes?" There had been a heavy down pour only hours ago, and the good Father was drizzled from the dissipating showers. It would be dreadful if the Father came down with a chill or fever by the rain side. Dreadful.
The Good Head Doctor Doctor Elliot Austin Haste. 42. {Head Doctor} Rehabilitation and Psychology. Anthony Blair Hughes. 15. {Apprentice} Colonial Peasant. Orphan Helena 'Cherry' 14. Local Daughter of the London Abbey house

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