A Visit To The Gatehouse

[*Spiegel1]

Sondaal Ayakra shows up at the Gatehouse saying she wants to work in the soup kitchen.

[*Nimiane]

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[align=center]"The tragedy is not that we are alone, but that we cannot be.
At times I would give anything in the world to no longer be connected by anything to this universe of men."
Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959[/align]

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Leaves of amber and vermilion scattered through the foyer, dancing upon the tiled floor at behest of heavy strides. The dull ring of chain, metal and leather in motion cast echo that heralded the arrival of the huntress en route from courtyard. A verdant gaze, weary, weaved over the simple architecture of the building's interior with the disconnected expression of a thin-lipped smile. Adjusting the holstered sheaths of blades upon leather bandoleer, Odette approached the counter and splayed scarred digits of left hand upon the notched wooden surface, clearing her throat to catch the attention of the clerk.

"I'd like to make an appointment with Factor 'Neath, if he can be located." the blonde woman spoke, emerald hues lingering on the features of the Bleaker without need to shy away. A calmth had settled over her person, save for the restless tick that had settled upon the rightmost corner of bronzed lips. It was enough to mildly contort the weave of crimson scarring that carved through the contours of freckled countenance. "An' submit m'self for psychological evaluation. Inclusive of treatment, should there be need."[/font]

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[*Hydra]

A middle-aged woman with grayed hairs known as Ash was lingering close to the counter.

"- Duno where Amir is..." She then called him out loud and before she heard any answer she continued "I'll leave a paper for him should he be around." The veteran observed the younger woman for a moment. "You're a fighter right ? If yes then maybe I can help... especially with these things... yeah maybe, up to you lass."

[*Nimiane]

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The woman turned slightly from the counter to regard the nearby bleaker, russet lashes squinting slightly for the appearance with lacking familiarity. Further moments were spent in silence as emerald hues weaved from top to toe in a silently appraising manner. Palm sliding from the top of the counter, the pad of a scarred thumb flicked against nose's freckled tip with a clear of throat and the uncharacteristic aversion of gaze.

"I appreciate th'offer, Lass." mumbled the blonde, lifting verdant gaze toward the older woman after several passing beats. The corners of bronzed lips curled upward in a neutral manner, borne more out of social habit than genuine expression. Thumbing in general direction, she admitted; "I'd rather wait t'see if someone can get a'hold of Amir first though. If it's all th'same to you... ain't one t'really spill m'guts to a stranger, despite it bein' yer job."

Again her gaze drifted, and, with the momentary lapse in attention, so too did digits curl at her side.

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[*Theorum Of Neutrality]

Resting in a small cloud of herbaceous smoke on a small bench in the Mad Bleaker's Ward, Amir shifts through notes with a faint frown.

"Well, shite. Bettah get me hypnosis kit..."

[*Nimiane]

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Amir set down his supplies upon the nearest stacked crate, the action alone enough to coax small cloud of dust outward in the dim light. Upon opening the case, the elf withdrew torus attached to a string, and set it aside.
"An' if this doesn't work..." came earthen-toned query, parting bronze lips as Odette made her way past cobwebs and the steady drip of unpatched ceiling to claim weathered barrel. "What then?"

"We'll see, eh?" replied the Bleaker, turning his gaze from instruments to the woman herself. "Hypnosis is an altered state of mind. You'll be opened up ta suggestion. Hypnosis cannae force ya to do anything that's outside of ya ability or is against ya interests, however." In the intimate space of the small room, musty and cluttered, slow nod was given to explanation; several locks falling free from pins to tumble about broad shoulders. "Still, it puts ya in a sensitive state." - he continued - "So, let me say right now that I'll ask questions that are only related to what we talked about, and that any information ya share with me is strictly confidential and between you and me. No exceptions."

"Dunnae have a lot of options left at this point," Odette murmured in response, smoothing clammy palms upon the tight leather of taupe pants. Pausing briefly, she considered the words offered and nodded her agreement. If there was one person that knew unfortunate history and yet still held her trust, it was Amir. "It cannae hurt."

The elf proceeded to step directly into the mercenary's field of vision to make poignant eye contact. There was no trepidation to be found in met gaze, however, merely the weary countenance of a mortal whom had reached their limit several times over. "The way this works is that ya need ta relax. Ain't no one but you and me here. We're away from pryin' eyes and ears. You can take a breath..." Odette shifted upon the barrel in an effort to get comfortable; her body willing, or, in the least, not motivated enough to put up subconscious fight. Amir's voice proceeded to take on a low, melodious tone. Soft; accentuating the pleasant smokiness his voice held. "Focus on me. Focus on my voice. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on ya breath, focus on my voice, focus on me."

Odette did as she was bid, brows furrowed as she gazed upon the familiar, pale features of the Factor. Naturally, there was some resilience in forcing switch from one state to another, but, for all the characteristic fire in her eyes, it remained snuffed by exhaustion and prostration uncontested. Slowly, she breathed. Concentrating. Focusing. "The world is outside the door. This is safe. Ya can relax. Breathe, focus on me. Focus on my voice. Relax. Close ya eyes..." He spoke with maintained eye-contact; pretty lavender eyes holding a softness to them that lacked a typical intensity. If anything, Odette ached for escape; even should it be through such a means that would normally have her rigid and unyielding. Her breathing continued to slow, and with it, long lashes hid the emerald hues of her gaze from connected amethyst. She exhaled, steadily.

He put his hand on Odette's shoulder - in her current state, it's a sudden change, like a sudden jolt, a sudden shift - like the moment between wakefulness and sleep. "Sleep."

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[align=right]"...I want ya ta focus on the last time ya felt content." --[/size][/align][/font]

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[[ This was handled IG, thanks to all those involved! ]]