MARCH UPDATE

POSTED ON May 13, 2020 4:05:37 GMT

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She's been given a mandatory order to attend a minimum of five therapy sessions, and she was the least bit happy about it. The last thing she wanted to do was relive the horrors of that day. She dreamed in vivid colour enough as it was. And the pain in her leg was still a daily, unpleasant reminder of what had happened. Surely therapy was just rubbing salt in the wound.[break][break]

And yet, she had been told that if she didn't attend these sessions she would be unable to return to work as a ranger. Until further notice she was on sick leave or mental leave or whatever sort of leave they could come up with to justify preventing her from getting back to what she wanted to do. What she felt she should be doing instead of confessing all of her sins in front of some stranger.[break][break]

One might tell her that she had it wrong, that she wasn't going to a church to pray or confess her sins, she was just here to take some of the weight off her shoulders. Regardless, Stormy was a proud beast and had made that abundantly clear in her contempt for the League's concern. [break][break]

Or maybe they were just trying to cover their own asses.[break][break]

The driver side door of the taxi opens and Stormy groans in exasperation, her mind already racing with anger. The driver opens her side door - as if she were incapable of doing it herself - before offering his hand. He's clearly seeing the crutch and the bandaged leg. He's only being kind. But all Stormy sees is his pity and she despises it.[break][break]

"I'm fine, I can open my own damn doors and I can escort myself to therapy - thank you."[break][break]

She snaps her hand away and hobbles out, bouncing painfully on one leg as she fights to not stumble and fall in her rage. The driver apologizes profusely, muttering 'of course, I'm course, I was only trying to--'[break][break]

"Trying to help, I know, I know. God, everyone just wants to help all the time, and I'm so sick of it. Just leave me alone, would ya?"[break][break]

Stormy fights with her crutch a moment as it gets stuck in a wedge on the sidewalk. She catches her breath, face red with embarrassment and pain as she climbs the steps, and makes her way inside.[break][break]

Upon entering she immediately picks up on the homey vibe. It's simple and casual and smells like an old person's home, like someone trying really hard to make it feel like a 'safe space'. Or maybe she's just being overanalytical and dramatic. Probably that.[break][break]

It takes her a moment to even realize that the door had opened so easily because someone else had opened it for her. Upon noticing his hand on the door handle she blushes angrily, snapping her hand back as if she's touched a hot surface.[break][break]

"I can open doors myself, you know. I don't need help."

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POSTED ON May 13, 2020 18:45:00 GMT

Stormy Silph likes this

it's the act of gasping for air that wakes him up. his mind is blank but he can feel the deafening thumps in his chest. a subtle stream of pink mist flows past him and the sight of it is enough to calm him. he takes a breath and looks to the munna next to him. "same one?" the pink-pokemon nods and lets out an anxious cry. "i owe you one. again." he exhales into his pillow and shifts until he finds some level of comfort. sleep takes him once more.

he spends most of his afternoon reading through the case file to familiarize himself with the incident. it's a sensitive one, and it's one he's been briefed to handle with more care than usual. the sound of an engine rumbling pulls him away to the door.

"yes i know. it's nice to meet you, miss silph. please, this way."

it's a short walk from the hallway to his office which is a small room with furniture that matches the rest of the house. "sorry my office is a bit of a mess right now. i haven't had much time to clean." he beckons her to the chair or sofa and he takes a seat in another chair near her. next to her is a small table with a glass of water prepared. he moves the case file onto an adjacent table for now.

"so, how's your leg?"

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POSTED ON May 13, 2020 21:40:20 GMT

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For a while, Stormy hesitates in the doorway to really take in her surroundings. She's surprised to find that it's literally a home - his home. She's entering his home to talk about her mental health issues. Wonderful.[break][break]

The woman swallows, visibly uncomfortable despite the comforting presence of his place. She eventually follows him, awkwardly juggling her crutch, fingers wrapping around the foam handle tightly, her fist nearly shaking with how tightly she grips. She exhales slowly, making her best effort to not knock or jostle anything with her stiff gait.[break][break]

Upon entering his office, her attention disappears in the decoration of the room, lingering on whatever mess he had. He comments on it and it gives her an opening to jab at him because her defense mechanism is to insult, to put the attention on anyone but herself.[break][break]

"Talk about an excuse to not say 'hey, I'm super lazy.'"[break][break]

She nudges a chair leg with the rubber end of her crutch awkwardly, as if a small part of her is guilty for even saying that. She does not, however, apologize, and instead turns the other cheek. [break][break]

The man gestures for her to sit and she does so, awkwardly. The chair is too soft, too comfy, and she melts into it like a pouting child, doing her best to pretend she were uncomfortable. Stormy leans the crutch next to her. It lays over her good leg and one hand lays on top of it possessively. Her gaze flicks to him when he asks a question and she scowls.[break][break]

"Just. Peachy."

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POSTED ON May 14, 2020 9:11:33 GMT

her words slice through the thin air with the intention to hurt, but they fall just short. his demeanor stays constant as does the tone of his voice when he replies. "i suppose if we're being honest then yes, i've been too lazy to clean." he shifts in his chair in an attempt to find some level of comfort even though he knows he won't.

for moments, he just watches her. he takes in everything from her posture to the way she holds the crutch. again, her words do little to affect him. "good." he offers her a small smile as he leans into his seat.

"you can call me doctor vitale, matteo, matt, or even matty, i don't really mind. most prefer matteo." he clears his throat before continuing. "i mostly work with people who have experienced some form of traumatic event. in your case that event would be your most recent mission." a pause. "i only have one question for you right now: do you know why you're here?"

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POSTED ON May 14, 2020 16:22:33 GMT

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Stormy's effort to be mean falls limp, gasping for air as she sinks further into the couch. All of a sudden her fire is snuffed out and she deflates, unsure what to say because it's clear that this man isn't going to take any of her shit.[break][break]

Which is almost certainly the reason the League had chosen him over any other professional in his field. Stormy sighs.[break][break]

Her cheeks redden as he watches her, she can feel his eyes following her movements, the anxious tapping of her fingers, the squeeze to her crutch that leaves an imprint of her fingers in the foam. It's therapeutic for her, an outlet, to continuously squeeze and release the soft handle.[break][break]

Eventually, the man introduces himself and Stormy glances at him through slightly narrowed eyes. She's on edge, purposely being difficult for the sake of making it abundantly clear she doesn't want to be here. Her jaw tightens and she licks the inside of her teeth before swallowing.[break][break]

'-with people who have experienced some form of traumatic event.'[break][break]

She sucks in a breath that's shakier than she anticipated.[break][break]

He asks her a question and she suddenly finds it difficult to find something snarky to say because her hands are trembling, dread settles in the pit of her stomach, maybe even grief. [break][break]

"Because I'm suspended from work until I get this shit over with."[break][break]

Even still, she manages to redirect, to avoid settling on the events of the past.

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POSTED ON May 14, 2020 17:28:07 GMT

the trembling of her hands do not go unnoticed but he makes notion to address it. he simply registers it and listens to her answer. it is an answer he expects.

"i understand. you'd rather be back at work than sat here talking to me. i really do understand. but i can't clear you for active duty until i have a better idea of how you're doing."

he exhales a soft breath and leans forward ever so slightly. reassurance comes in the form of words. "i know it must be difficult to see the value of doing this right now but i promise you'll only come out of it more prepared." his expression softens when he speaks.

"bear with me just for today, miss silph. baby steps."

Stormy Silph

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POSTED ON May 14, 2020 20:26:01 GMT

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"Yes, I really would. If we could just - y'know - hurry this up? That'd be great."[break][break]

But they don't hurry because there's no sense in hurrying. This is a process that will take time because you don't just move on from trauma at the drop of a hat. You don't just forget.[break][break]

He leans forward and she leans back, staring at him with a burning sense of distrust and disgust. From her perspective, the man did not look put together enough to deal with someone who is falling apart. He looked tired and she felt no kinship with the man.[break][break]

"I don't think you do understand. All you care about is the fat paycheck the League's given you to deal with me."[break][break]

He insists she'll come out of this more prepared but all she can feel is negativity and dread. Stress makes her scalp feel hot and itchy but she refrains from scratching. [break][break]

"You're taught to speak softly and to use big words to try and make it seem like you know what you're talking about. I don't give a fuck about any of that. Just get to the point. And don't baby-talk me, either. I'm not stupid."

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POSTED ON May 15, 2020 4:13:50 GMT

Stormy Silph likes this

there's distrust between them that's expected. he knows what it feels like to be on the other side of the room, to talk to someone who says they're there to help. but it's difficult to put your trust in a stranger, that much he knows. the most he can do is reassure her. "on the contrary, i do care about you and your well-being, as i do about all my patients."

he heeds her words with a nod.

"okay. the point of these sessions is to help you process the event, while also investigating how you feel about it, and ultimately, how it'll affect you in the future. not processing it in a healthy manner may result in future problems; problems that might affect how you live your life." he takes a moment. "should these problems occur then there is a strong chance you might not be able to return to work, and i would hate to see that happen."

reaching over, he picks up the file from earlier and places it on his lap. it has the official league stamp on it which should be enough to tell her that it's a report on her most recent mission. he leans back again.

"if you're ready to start, then i'd like to talk about what happened during your mission."

Stormy Silph

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POSTED ON May 15, 2020 4:43:28 GMT

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Stormy swallows and its painful, the lump in her throat this time. Deep down she knows she needs this, she needs to talk about what happened, what she did, who she lost. But it hurts and shes scared because if she talks about it, she might not be able to put herself back together again. The pieces might fall out of her reach and she won't be able to reach them.[break][break]

While he speaks she's been staring at her hands, examining them, her expression a mix of panic and stress.[break][break]

She sighs, her hands folding into one another as she pushes them into her lap. She finally looks up to meet his gaze and she seems tired, defeated.[break][break]

"Me too."[break][break]

He reaches for the file and she feels herself involuntarily sucking in a shaky breath, like shes afraid of what might be written inside. He knew everything, surely, and that intimidated her. Perhaps he knew more about herself than she did. Stormy glances at him as if trying to see through him, see her own secrets written behind the softness in his eyes.[break][break]

Stormy reaches for the glass of water, taking a generous sip.[break][break]

"Alright. What do you want to know that you don't already have written in that little black book?"[break][break]

She flinches because she's caught herself being callous again. She averts her gaze quickly, the rosiness remains present in her cheeks as she fights to control her temper, the anxiety that threatens to pull her under.[break][break]

"I'm.. sorry. I didn't mean that."

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POSTED ON May 15, 2020 5:07:38 GMT

she meets his gaze and he recognizes the tiredness in her eyes because it reflects in his, too. he offers her another smile and a nod when she speaks. progress, baby steps; that's all they need. the file remains placed on his lap. he doesn't open it but instead he rests his hands over them; resting in a comfortable position.

"it's okay." deflecting is her way of coping, as evident by their brief interaction, so he understands. "for the record my book's brown, and i don't have it on me during sessions. i feel as though it takes away from this." he gestures at the air between them and attempts to alleviate the tension with a soft chuckle.

"i'd like to hear about the mission from your point of view. could you please take me through it? from the start, if possible."

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POSTED ON May 15, 2020 5:52:29 GMT

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Despite the smile that tilts the corners of his lips, she doesn't return the gesture. They aren't friends, and she isn't particularly friendly right now.[break][break]

Stormy glances at the file in his lap, relieved that he doesn't open it, before glancing back to her clenched fist-pile. She closes her eyes while he speaks, focusing on not worrying about the pit in her stomach even further. [break][break]

He cracks a joke, however, and she glances up at him. It strikes her as odd given how flat he seemed to have been before. It helps.[break][break]

"Are you going to add me to it then? A new addition to the list of 'raging bitch' patients you've met? Because you totally should."[break][break]

Another shaky breath before he eases into the process and she nods, working to relax her shoulders and start from the beginning. She licks her lips, worrying at the already-tender spot on the inside of her cheek. With an exaggerated and probably aggravated sigh, she gives in.[break][break]

"Okay.. okay. Okay. The League was organizing a team - Dahlia had been kidnapped but they'd received a tip off of her location. It was super sketchy and.. and we should have thought about it more but we didn't. I didn't. I just volunteered because I thought I should, so I did. I was with my partner in the field - Ranger Anderson.[break][break]

We.. we were - all five, I think? We were all on board, together, approaching the location. Some guys showed up dressed in Rocket outfits, or maybe we just thought they were because we were on edge. They attacked us on sight so we defended ourself - we were in hostile territory, we were on edge. This was a sensitive situation.[break][break]

It didn't occur to us, or at least not me, that they were intoxicated or otherwise inebriated or whatever the fuckin' word is. They attacked me and I defended myself, we all did. They sent Pokemon after us and it was intense. One of their Sandslash got too close and slashed my leg."[break][break]

She gestures to her leg in frustration.[break][break]

"It-it got out of hand, but I don't know how it wouldn't have. I was angry, I was hurt, I was scared. I ordered my Skarmory to protect me, to stop the men from reaching for the rest of their pokeballs. It.. she.. she went too far, but I didn't start the fire. It wasn't me."

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POSTED ON May 16, 2020 18:12:33 GMT

"i honestly don't have a list. but if i did, you wouldn't be on it, miss silph."

and so the process begins. his back digs deeper into the seat while he listens to her speak. she recounts the mission from the start, says it felt sketchy, and it's a sentiment he agrees with. he stays quiet throughout and only nods in intervals to make sure she knows he's still listening. his eyes never stray for too long. she's his main focus.

"from what i understand, you were only defending yourself and the other league members. it's like you said: they attacked first." he breathes a sigh and shifts in his seat ever so slightly. "but we both know that isn't how the media is spinning it." he finally opens the file and sifts through the stack before extending a printed news article over to her. on it it says: "a win for the league; but at what cost?".

"how does that make you feel?"

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POSTED ON May 17, 2020 17:59:54 GMT

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Stormy swallows awkwardly at his comment, fingers idly drumming against the metal of the crutch. She stares off into space when she begins talking, her voice shakes and she can't bring herself to meet his gaze. She can feel the burn of his eyes on her whenever he observes her. It makes her skin crawl.[break][break]

Eventually she comes to a pause and he comments, breaking the awkward silence that had only lasted mere moments. It felt weird to pour her story out like this, knowing full well he already knew everything she had told him. Her mouth feels dry with anxiety and she reaches for the glass of water again.[break][break]

She flinches as he mentions the media, as he pulls out and passes her the news article. It feels heavy in her hands despite it being a mere piece of paper, and she feels the colour drain from her face.[break][break]

"Like we were used, like this was a set up and we walked right into a trap. Like we did exactly what they expected us to do and they knew what they were doing and we didn't."[break][break]

Fighting the urge to crumple the paper in her hands and throw it away, she sets it down on the coffee table in front of her and she turns away from it. It makes her sick.

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POSTED ON May 17, 2020 18:29:29 GMT

he sees her hesitation with the news article. it drains the color from her face as she explains how she feels about it. he nods again before speaking.

"the league knows it was self-defense. i know it was self-defense. but that doesn't matter. what matters is what you believe it was."

the article is abandoned to the coffee table. he decides to leave it there by design. its positioned in a way that makes it so she simply cannot avoid it. it's always there, lingering, which ties into his next question.

"do you feel guilt?"

Stormy Silph

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