At The Gatehouse

[*TheFrozenWind]

"Well, some claim you were possessed. I will agree. No? Seeing as how you were possessed, something had to possess you. Why not a demon? Well. Let's say that demon was removed, and bound inside a vessel. That vessel is now proof that you were possessed, and are now free."

[*Grisome]

The realization had finally dawned on him, courtesy of the other man's bluntness. A blank stare was offered up to Khasef. "So I'm not being 'treated'. Not really, anyway? Just... what, then? Damaged further?" He shook his head, refusing this. "No, you can't do that. There's something I need to do still." He wasn't quick to clarify what it was he needed to do. Mostly because it would do little to back up his claims of sanity.

[*Theorum Of Neutrality]

"Visitin' a friend gone barmy." He rubs his chin, and looks to Raif. "Dunno, Raif. Whatcha do from 'ere is up ta ya ta figure out, ya know? I can't hold ya hand. Ya wouldnae learn nothin'." He looks to the human through the bars. "Tell a Bleaker 'bou' ya new... Revelation. Things'll move from there."

He nods a little, and looks to Aerjoona. "Oi. Wanna hand? Gotta be hell cleanin' all this by yaself."

[*Fell Star]

Aerjoona tossed Amir a pair of spare gloves, then fingered the distance to Raifael's cell. "Grab da' one's piss bucket, an' we keen' heed' on down to da' wash room." He smiled a thanks, then glanced out at the patient.

"Frien' o' yours, huh? Weel', mebbe you geet' lucky an' dees' one'll get smart an' get sprung. Who knows." Though by the sound of his voice, he wasn't optimistic.

As the cart wheeled back into the ward, the ceiling opened up into a tube-like corridor that stretched upwards for three stories and spanned several blocks deep. The sobs and psychobabble of its permanent residents echoed across the expanse, dreadful and dreary.

[*Grisome]

His attention traveled from Amir to the cleaning crew of one, and he wanted to kill him. Although he was used to these sudden impulse urges by now, it was strange. He didn't even know the man, had no reason to want to kill him. Shaking his head, abruptly amused by the idea of 'murder withdrawal', he informed Amir before the two could depart, "I don't think that's the route I'm going to take. If I become one of these people, I probably won't be able to return to the Harmonium." Apparently, he was positive he'd be taken back otherwise.

[*TheFrozenWind]

After a time, Khasef returns. And takes to patiently watching Raif through the slot in the door.

[*Grisome]

Sleep had been an appealing idea courtesy of the drugs trying to coax him into it... and now that he had the strange blanket Animus had gotten him, it seemed like the most logical solution.
The only thing fending it off was a fear of waking up strapped down so an icy table with two or three organs missing. It was probably an irrational concern -- surely they didn't do drastic and unnecessary procedures like that... but he still couldn't shake the feeling.
Thus, when Khasef returned, he was still clinging to consciousness, and stared right on back at the slot.

[*TheFrozenWind]

Khasef shambles past the door, years later. He pays no heed to the soft scuffing of rag-clad feet on the stone floor within. It seems, with time, and apathetic routine, Khasef has since forgotten this room. Shambling as he does, through the cold hallways of the Gatehouse.

[*TheFrozenWind]

In a moment of stark remembrance, Khasef stands before the door. He does not open the slot, knowing that whomever within, is just another poor berk filling space. He sets a worn calloused hand against the wood, and remembers the man he once knew. Without a word, Khasef leaves the door behind. After years of seclusion within the Gatehouse, he ventures out once more.