What's On Your Mind?

Everton decides to schedule a therapy session for Cierne after the death of Sezyn and Laina's disheartening diagnosis. Cierne goes and spends the afternoon playing cat and mouse with the therapist and their questions.

20th of Zi'da 720

Most shops, parlors, workshops, and other businesses are found here, as well as the homes of those wealthy who are not of royal title. Guilds bleed the citizens dry of coin through taxes and fees. Trade is limited in Quacia, and supplies can be expensive.
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Cierne
Approved Character
Posts: 118
Joined: Wed Aug 26, 2020 12:58 pm
Race: Naerikk
Profession: Bartender
Renown: 40
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What's On Your Mind?

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20th of Zi'da, Arc 720

It had been exactly two trials since Cierne had learned about the death of Sezyn and Laina’s inability to walk. The sickness that had swept through Everton’s unofficial home for wayward troubled youths hadn’t gone without leaving its putrid mark on several of the inhabitants of the house.

The day after she had heard this news, she had completely destroyed her tent. She had thrown objects left and right, a fitful rage ensconcing itself between other pessimistic emotions that resided within the Naer.

Her journal was now twice as light, papers having been ripped clean from its binding. Her pencil was now broken in half. Blankets had been tossed across the tent and her pillow now had a nasty cut in the middle from when she had severed through it with her camping knife. Her anger had been so great she had even bent the spoon Everton had given her after one of their training sessions, an action she now regretted for it had been a good memory and one she wished she could recall.

One of her shirts was missing a sleeve from when she had ripped it from its sutures near the shoulder. The obsidian ring Everton had given her as an initiation gift was now missing somewhere in the tent. She had spent hours desperately trying to find it, but hadn’t yet checked all corners.

Her tent was still an utter mess even now as she sat in the middle of it with her head held in her hands. However, she couldn’t retain this position for much longer. Her mentor had asked her to see a therapist about the events that had taken place those two trials ago.

When she had first heard him say those words she had been furious. A therapist! Someone you complain and whine to about all your troubles? The Naer certainly had many of those but in no way would she open her trap to spill out her thoughts and… feelings. Even thinking about it brought a chill up her spine. It was weak. And she was no weakling.

Alas, she had conceded and told Everton she would go and see this therapist, though she wouldn’t behave like he hoped she would. He had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes with what was most likely contempt. She could feel it radiate off his skin like a wildfire. But she would still go. He had to accept that.

So she picked herself up, not caring enough to clean her place before leaving, and slipped out of her tent with haste. The sooner she got there, the sooner she would “talk” and the sooner the whole thing would be over with. Or so she thought.

She arrived late to the location that had been given to her by Everton. It was an act of defiance on Cierne’s part. She hoped it would anger the therapist, her tardiness, but the door opened as though it was known she would be there at that very point in time.

The therapist was an elderly lady, probably pushing seventy arcs. She had dull grey eyes that were hooded by wrinkly eyelids. She had a large smile on her face that held a mixture of joy and a nasty sorrow that the Naer couldn’t help but interpret as pity.

She thrust herself through the door, bumping into the lady as she did before finding a seat in a chair stationed against the farthest wall from where the therapist’s desk stood.

“Welcome,” she heard the lady say, clearing unfazed by Cierne’s lack of etiquette in her rush past her.

The lady closed the door and took a seat at the small desk, just as Cierne had predicted. She just sat there for a few moments, looking at Cierne with an emotionless expression that quickly grated on Cierne’s nerves.

The Naer didn’t say anything, but she also didn’t roll her eyes as she had thought about doing. She merely peered over her shoulder at a painting that was hanging on the wall to her left. What the painting was was not worth mentioning, and so Cierne turned her attention back to the therapist.

“My name is Lucinda Crow, but you can just call me Lucy if you’d like.”

Cierne still said nothing, though she did cross her arms and let out a small grunt.

“Everton has told me that you have experienced a loss at home. I am very sorry to hear about that.”

Finally, Cierne managed to speak. “You don’t know shit,” she sneered, her voice laced with a lingual poison that sounded foreign even to her.

“You’re right, I don’t, but that’s why you’re here isn’t it? So that you can tell me, so that I can help,” Lucy said. It was a surprise to Cierne how she had responded. She wasn’t expecting her to react in such a way. She had wanted her to get angry, to oppose Cierne, to cause a ruckus even, but instead she had agreed with her and had inadvertently persuaded the Naer to continue.

She wouldn’t. She would not let this lady make her talk. But Cierne felt compelled to put this lady in her place.

“And how are you going to help, huh?” Cierne spat. “Can you bring back Sezyn? Can you make Laina walk again? I don’t think so. Even the immortals can’t do that.” Cierne didn’t know whether the immortals could or couldn’t do these things, but she wouldn’t allow herself to lose her confidence.

“No, I suppose I can’t bring anyone back from the dead nor can I help someone regain their ability to walk. But what I can do is help you with how you’re feeling,” she said softly, pushing her glasses
(which were far too large for her small face) further up her nose. “But thank you for opening up to me about those who have been on your mind lately.”

Damn it, this lady was good. She had made Cierne spill the secrets of what had been weighing on her mind. She had absentmindedly given her the names of the children who had suffered at the hands of an illness.

She uncrossed her arms only to cross them again and slowly brought one leg up over the other. She tried to muster her most intimidating stare. She didn’t want this therapist to see her breaking inside.

“Have you seen Laina lately?” Lucy asked suddenly, propping her elbows up on her desk. She let her head rest in her hands, but remained attentive to her patient. She wanted to create a casual, comforting appearance so that the conversation they had wouldn’t be too serious or intimidating.

“No,” Cierne growled.

Lucy titled her head slightly in her hands. “Why not?”

This question made Cierne think. Why hadn’t she seen Laina yet? The sickness had gone, so it wasn’t like she would catch it if she visited. Everton had told her as much. Most people probably would have been wrought with anticipation to want to see a family member after hearing they had lost their ability to walk. Cierne had felt anticipatory, but she hadn’t gone to visit yet. Was it because she was still moping and going through the motions? Was it because she was afraid to see Laina in her current state?

“I’m not sure,” Cierne said almost inaudibly. Her mind had started to churn, rotating a complete 360 degrees and thoughts pelted against the back of her skull.

“I’m sure you do,” Lucy said softly.

Cierne shot her head up at Lucy’s quick remark no matter how gentle she had said it. Should she dare tell her what she had just been thinking?

She did dare. She caved in.

“I’m afraid,” she admitted, letting her head hang down almost as quickly as it had shot up.

Lucy hummed quietly to herself, or was it a murmur of understanding? How could she possibly understand?

“I’m sure Laina is scared too. I’m sure she wants to see you as much as you want to see her.”

She made a valid point.

“But what if she doesn’t want to see me? I don’t know about anyone else, but I would feel embarrassed or even angry if someone saw me so… debilitated.” She felt terrible for even saying the word, but how else could she explain Laina’s condition?

“You never know until you go,” Lucy responded thoughtfully, making a bridge with her fingers and placing an index finger to her chin.

“I feel like I could have done something to stop all this. I feel like I could have prevented Sezyn’s death,” Cierne announced, changing the subject. She would take Lucy’s advice about seeing Laina and visit her soon, but her heart was screaming at her to bring to light another topic: the feelings of guilt that consumed her mind.

Lucy stood abruptly and walked to the front of her desk. There, she casually sat on the edge of it and crossed her legs at the ankles. Cierne hadn’t noticed how white the woman’s hair was until just then.

“That is hindsight, and an illogical version of it at that. You couldn’t have stopped the sickness from taking Sezyn’s life. Everton told me he fetched a doctor’s aid and even they couldn’t do anything to prevent it. Sometimes things are beyond our control, sometimes things just happen. You place too much weight on your shoulders, Cierne. It is not your responsibility to ward off all diseases from your siblings. You can only be there for them when they come. Tell me, did you visit him when he was ailing?”

Cierne nodded her head but remained silent.

“Then he knows you were there for him when it counted. He knows you cared for him and he still loves you for it even if he is no longer physically here.”

Cierne felt a thick tear fall from the tip of her nose. She clasped her hands together and let them rest in her lap. She needed to keep them from forming fists born from both anger and depression.

Lucy noticed this and dared walk toward her.

“Do not bottle up your emotions, my dear. That only adds to the heartache. Let what you feel free. It’s okay to cry a little now and then, especially in response to events like this.” She placed a gentle, tender hand on the girl’s shoulder and waited.

Cierne took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled. She wiped at her teary eyes and glanced up at Lucy.

“Do you really mean what you say?” The Naer asked, not withholding the stutter that plagued her voice.

“I do.”

Cierne stood and uncharacteristically reached out to hug Lucy. It was a tight hug, a hug that lasted a long time, but a hug she needed nevertheless. Even with a stranger, the embrace was comforting and it was very well deserved.

“I really am sorry, dear,” Lucy said quietly into Cierne’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Cierne replied, shutting her eyes tight. “Me too.”

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word count: 1898
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