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Gardens


19 June 2016, 05:45 PM   #1
Joined: 29 Sep 2015
Posts: 99
Last edited by ‹ㅑJïNxㅜㅇNㅕ›, 12 November 2016
A stark contrast to the grimy interior of St. Helga's, the garden serves as a relaxing getaway for patients and overworked doctors. It has been paid for by the gratuitous Dr. Haste and features a small koi pond, a rose garden, and several benches on which you may sit.
Evangline Asmosia-Haste. Fifteen. Orphan. Eidetic Memory. Female Hysteria.

20 June 2016, 11:19 PM   #2
Joined: 30 May 2016
Posts: 37
Last edited by ‹YouCanCallMeHannahNow›, 22 June 2016
Ooc: yes he's named Jacob after Harland. Come on she's Eleanor of course she named a kid
after him.

Lady Isabella Hawthorne strolled through the gardens with her five children. It was
a lovely day and the sun sat high in thebsky. It was a welcome change for the blonde who
had spent the last decade of her life in dreary England. Her eldest child Jacob, a boy of
almost eleven and the spitting image of his mother, trailed just behind her though he
seemed more interested in the book he was reading than the beauty of the garden. Her
daughter Anna, who had turned nine shortly before the family left England, was more
impressed with the garden than her brothers. She held a bouquet of assorted flowers in her
hands that she was trying to fashion into a crown. Her five year old twins Matthew and
Liddy where busy chasing each other on a nearby patch of grass and her young William,
barely two, clung to her right leg. Her husband was meeting with several of his business
partners today to see about an expedition to some foreign land and rather than sit at home
all day she took her children on a day trip to the asylum. Apparently that was the popular
activity these days. 
"Ah, here we are." Isabella announced as they happened upon their destination. A separate
part of the garden that was covered as far as the eyes could see in crimson roses. At the
entrance to the rose garden there was a large plaque, one of several in the asylum
dedicated to patients who had passed on. This one read: in loving memory of Eleanor Rose.
1813-1830. May her spirit have peace where her mortal body could not. 

Isabella sighed. She had been a different person the last time she walked these gardens. A
very different person indeed.
Isabella Frandsen. Twenty-eight. 
They used to shout my name now they whisper it

Dr. Victor Frandsen. Forty-six. Experimental psychology. 
If I had a heart, I could love you

Violet De'Amastus. Sixteen. Pyromaniac. 
I'm meaner than my demons

21 June 2016, 10:02 PM   #3
Joined: 29 Sep 2015
Posts: 99
Ah, what a pleasant day it was proving to be. After the chilled, storm-filled winter that'd left many to succumb to illness or the cold, Dr. Harland was quite thankful for the sudden arrival of Spring, some weeks early. The hot sun shone down and warmed the exterior of the asylum, flowers were beginning to peek out from within their frosty holes in the ground, and even the residents seemed cheerier - so to speak. Dr. Harland, now nearing his thirty-seventh birthday, was strolling through the garden with his very-pregnant wife (and a former patient of his) Justine. When it had come out that the pair were engaged in a relationship, Harland had nearly lost his job - but thanks to a friend of a friend, he had been granted permission to continue working there so long as his beloved was transported to another facility. She was, and the two wrote letters to one another until her release, and they were soon after married and with child. Who, speaking of, was no longer at Jacob's side. He pauses to look this way and that, a brow raised, though he did not seem too terribly concerned. Their daughter knew the asylum grounds quite well, and - ah, there. A small flash of violet amongst the rose wall that separated the garden from the small, over-filling cemetery. Harland excuses himself from his wife and goes after her, calling out, " Sarah Elizabeth! Silly girl, where have you gone? " A giggle sounds off from behind the rose wall as Harland nears and pokes his head around the corner -- only to see another family surrounding one of the older graves. He perks a brow at the sight, and straightens up, beckoning his daughter to come and stand at his side. Harland clears his throat while resting a hand on Sarah Elizabeth's shoulder. "Ahem. Is there something I could help you find?"
Evangline Asmosia-Haste. Fifteen. Orphan. Eidetic Memory. Female Hysteria.

22 June 2016, 07:10 AM    #4
Joined: 30 May 2016
Posts: 37
She freezes at the sound of his voice. Isabella Hawthorne is known for her grace
and composure. But wild Eleanor Rose wants to melt in the good doctor's presence. Slowly
she turns to face him. She's much older now than the last time they spoke. Her once wild
blonde hair that the nurses spent hours combing sticks and tangles out of is now pinned
back with an elaborate clip. All traces of dirt have been wiped away leaving only
porecalian skin. If it were not for those strange blue eyes of hers no one would even
consider the possibility that Isabella and Eleanor were the same person. 
"Thank you," she says as her children gather around to see the man who's spoken. "But I'm
quite familiar with these gardens."
Isabella Frandsen. Twenty-eight. 
They used to shout my name now they whisper it

Dr. Victor Frandsen. Forty-six. Experimental psychology. 
If I had a heart, I could love you

Violet De'Amastus. Sixteen. Pyromaniac. 
I'm meaner than my demons


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