08-20-2021, 12:02 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-20-2021, 12:04 AM by Meera Alam.)
The patient jerked awake shortly after Meera called out to her. There was a part of Meera that had been a touch crestfallen. It would have been much more enjoyable to forcibly wake her patient. Oh, she would not have cut into the patient; there was still a need for subtlety within these walls. Then again, the patient had been suicidal if not all together lucid. No. Cutting would not do in this case. Were the Light of God behind Meera, she might have tried her new weave on this one. Alas…
“It is a pleasure to meet you Mara,” Meera’s voice continued its siren song of honey and sugar, “My name is Doctor Meera Alam. You may call me Meera.”
Although the patient had not been looking in Meera’s direction, she fell into the motions of her mask – patting at her hair, smoothing her unruffled dress, tilting her head slightly as she gazed upon the patient. A mother’s love and energy were called for within the Guardian – most of the time.
Costumes played a great role in Meera’s mask. She did not dress flamboyantly but took a care when selecting the details of her ensemble. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun that was held in place with two long, lacquered hair pins and a matching comb. Her dress was from a local designer – a no name University student – it was a simple and elegant cut made from a fine white wool. The shoes were a tasteful kitten heel in white patent leather. A perfume of lavender and roses wafted from her limbs as she moved her wheelchair closer to the patient.
“You seem to be sleepy my dear, could I interest you in a cup of tea? Why, it always perks me right up,” Meera all but sang as she wore the pleasant smile of her mask. She held up her left hand, index finger pointed towards the sky, and the orderly leapt to fetch the tea from her office.
Of course, the patient was sleepy, according to the file it was the patient’s favorite activity. Strange that she had not been diagnosed with narcolepsy. The patient showed many of the signs: excessive daytime sleepiness, hallucinations, a loss of muscle tone. The medications they had loaded her up with could be playing a role, true, but not the morning medications. Meera had never been a fan of pharmaceuticals, it always felt like cheating.
Why sedate a patient when you could bend them to your will with a little time and care? She would have to fix that little detail after the therapy session concluded.
Had the patient been on anti-psychotics? Probable, but it mattered little to The Lady of Pain.
“It is a pleasure to meet you Mara,” Meera’s voice continued its siren song of honey and sugar, “My name is Doctor Meera Alam. You may call me Meera.”
Although the patient had not been looking in Meera’s direction, she fell into the motions of her mask – patting at her hair, smoothing her unruffled dress, tilting her head slightly as she gazed upon the patient. A mother’s love and energy were called for within the Guardian – most of the time.
Costumes played a great role in Meera’s mask. She did not dress flamboyantly but took a care when selecting the details of her ensemble. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun that was held in place with two long, lacquered hair pins and a matching comb. Her dress was from a local designer – a no name University student – it was a simple and elegant cut made from a fine white wool. The shoes were a tasteful kitten heel in white patent leather. A perfume of lavender and roses wafted from her limbs as she moved her wheelchair closer to the patient.
“You seem to be sleepy my dear, could I interest you in a cup of tea? Why, it always perks me right up,” Meera all but sang as she wore the pleasant smile of her mask. She held up her left hand, index finger pointed towards the sky, and the orderly leapt to fetch the tea from her office.
Of course, the patient was sleepy, according to the file it was the patient’s favorite activity. Strange that she had not been diagnosed with narcolepsy. The patient showed many of the signs: excessive daytime sleepiness, hallucinations, a loss of muscle tone. The medications they had loaded her up with could be playing a role, true, but not the morning medications. Meera had never been a fan of pharmaceuticals, it always felt like cheating.
Why sedate a patient when you could bend them to your will with a little time and care? She would have to fix that little detail after the therapy session concluded.
Had the patient been on anti-psychotics? Probable, but it mattered little to The Lady of Pain.
"She had tortured hundreds, maybe thousands, in the name of understanding and reason. Torture made sense. You truly saw what a person was made of, in more ways than one, when you began to slice into them. That was a phrase she'd used on numerous occasions. It usually made her smile."
- The Wheel of Time, The Gathering Storm, Chapter 22, Robert Jordan