EVENT: ROOM CHECK + ACTIVITY CHECK.
Who: ALL NATIONS! + Nurses.
What: Random Security Check.
When: Around 6AM.
Where: All occupied rooms, all Wings.
Warning: TBA.
( Rise and Shine~ )
What: Random Security Check.
When: Around 6AM.
Where: All occupied rooms, all Wings.
Warning: TBA.
( Rise and Shine~ )
"O Saule," he muttered after swallowing a bit of chewed up bread, "mana mīlestība..." Oh Saule, my love... He was trying hard to think of a poem or a story or something that he could write about that old sun goddess, just to give him a little taste of his home, but words were not his friend in this place. There was inspiration, yes, but it was all the wrong kind of inspiration. With a slight frown he picked up his glass of milk, which he had perched dangerously upon the window sill, and took a thoughtful sip, eyes still fixed upon the beauty of a world that he found unable to touch while jailed within this ridiculous prison.
He replaced his glass upon the sill and returned to nibbling on his slice of bread when a soft knock came to his ears, nearly startling him enough for him to drop his food. He let in a gasp--he wasn't dressed for company!--and stood up, staring at the door. A jiggle at the handle, finding it locked. Curiosity finding itself within his mind, he took a cautious step around his bed, eyes still fixed on the door. A jingle of metal sounded and his heart stopped. It had to be a nurse or a doctor or someone like that. The handle moved, clicking as it opened, and he soon found that his assumption was indeed correct--it was most definitely a nurse.
"G-Good morning...?" he asked awkwardly, his voice raw from having only been up a short while. He stared down at his breakfast, that he was gripping with probably too much force, and attempted a nervous smile. He really hoped that he hadn't done anything wrong.
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"Good morning, Mr. Galante. I am here to do a room check," she said calmly. This patient she noticed was certainly the shy sort and she hoped he would make a rapid recovery. He seemed eager to please and she hoped that once he shed the affliction concerning his identity that he would be much better for it upon a full recovery.
"I hope you don't mind but I would like to do a quick sweep of your room, to be certain that you are not trying to undermine your own recovery. It is purely procedure, I promise. You are more than welcome to finish your breakfast while I do this, it won't take very long, I'm sure."
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He watched her for a brief moment before letting his voice ring out again, still somewhat scratchy, "Do you... need me to help you with anything? To move anything out of your way...?" Blue-purple eyes looked about the room, documenting the items he saw, searching his mind to see if there was anything that the nurse could possibly question. There was a pile of his clothes from the day before sitting on the floor by his desk, clean clothes for today sat upon his desk chair, his snacks that he had pilfered from the kitchen littered various level surfaces (some apples, bread, a pitcher of water, and the breakfast items he had gathered earlier, among other things), the glass of milk on his window sill, and pieces of paper with Latvian and English scribbles on them strewn about his desktop as fragments of what could have been poems.
He licked his lips, finding them sticky with honey and covered in bread crumbs, a small thought occurring to him. A couple steps returned him to the window where he grasped his glass of milk--he could clearly see the sun rising up to defeat the battered night--gazing blankly into the white liquid. "A-And, you can call me 'Raivis' if you want," his heart sank a little at that name, but he looked to the nurse, giving her a nervous smile. "It's strange letting you call me 'mister,' s-so 'Raivis' is just fine..." He hoped that such words were something she was wanting to hear. Yes, he was still Latvia, but if he could just make them think that he believed himself to be this false person that they had created for him, then maybe he could return to his home. He took a sip of milk to hide his shame; he just had to make sure that he did not lose his identity as "Latvia" while playing the role of "Raivis."
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"Thank you for offering but I don't need any help. You are very sweet for thinking of it though," she added. She also noticed the food throughout the room, making a note to mention it to the doctors. Hoarding was not something terribly uncommon coming from someone like this patient; from his file it was clear he had a somewhat difficult background and indeed, if he thought himself to truly be the embodiment of Latvia than his character was even more unsurprising. Lisa, however, held the hope that there was much more to this young man than he originally projected and she just knew through positive reinforcement and the help of the doctors that he could return to the world a healthy and self-assured individual.
Moving from the dresser to the desk she looked over to him briefly. "Do you like to write?" she asked, having noted the scraps of paper, gathering them all neatly into a pile and setting aside as she looked through the desk.
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His heart jumped a little when Lisa began moving his papers, afraid that she would actually read them, but was relieved when he noted that she was just moving them out of her way (and thankful that they weren't in any particular order, anyway). He nodded, shifting himself a little on his bed, "Yes, I do, though... I'm not very good at it." He let out a small, sheepish laugh, taking another little sip of milk, "At home, I like look out over fields of daisies, watching them sway in the breeze, or listen to music on the radio in the morning as I watch the sun rise up over trees and houses, and let a feeling of calm wash over me and help me to write, even if the finished product isn't very good," he sighed softly, "There just seems to be a lack of inspiration here..." He stared at the last bit of milk in his glass silently, thoughts of home filling his mind.
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"Well, maybe we can look at that as an incentive to get well as soon as possible. Poetry is a very nice outlet I think and perhaps with thoughts of home and help from the doctors we can set you on your way as soon as possible!"
Moving away from the closet she fixed him with a positive look. "What do you think about that?" she said before heading to the bathroom, keeping an ear open in case he spoke further as she checked the cabinets therein.
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Eyes blinked upward, their gaze fixing on the device on his desk, its soft, mechanical sounds whirring and breathing in the near-silence of morning. "L-Lisa," he asked slowly, "I've been wondering... what exactly is this typewriter-box-device-thing called?" He laughed lightly at his own ignorance, a little embarrassed but genuinely curious. For lack of anything better to call the device, he'd been dubbing it "grāmata velns" (devil book) or "devil box," due to its tendency to not do the things he had wanted it to do or mysteriously change his settings when not in use. It seemed like a machine with so much potential, despite its obvious defects.
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She smiled, giving a short laugh. "It's a very new technology. It's called a computer. Through it you are able to write and record your thoughts and feelings, and as I think you've already found out you can speak to other patients. We wanted to encourage interaction and expression, that is why each room has one," she said. She left out the part where it was a useful way to monitor each patient without them being too aware of it.
"Have you learned how to work it fully?" she asked, walking over to the side of the bed at last, smoothing her hands over the top of the mattress and then lifting each corner briefly, checking under the pillow and the springs.
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"What other things can it do? Beyond just the text and audio and moving pictures, I mean?" He looked at it, pressing a button to make the screen light up, the desktop showing itself clearly. "Can you... make it so it sends messages to only one person instead of to everyone? Or even just write something so that it's private? Can it play music, like a radio or a record player does? I-I mean, since it can make sounds, it must be able to do something like that, right?" He laughed at himself, realizing that he must be asking far too many questions. "I'm... sorry to bother you like this," he lowered his gaze to hide an embarrassed little blush.
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"Asking harmless questions is hardly a bother, don't worry about that. It is capable of many things and you are quite right in assuming it can play music. The selection is limited of course and since we adhere to a policy of isolation the radio is not enabled.
"Also, if you need to you can send private messages to other patients and you can also use it as a type of electronic journal that only you can see. Sometimes it is nicer to keep ones thoughts to oneself, don't you think?"
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He had nearly settled on the thought that this nurse was truly a nice person. She seemed to not mind his questions, and even though he could sort of tell that she had finished searching his room, she was still here, answering his meaningless questions. And if she really didn't mind him asking questions, then maybe... "A-Ah, but... there is something I-I..." He chewed his lip, trying to find the right wording. "Um, I was wondering... i-if you know what it is that we're all here for," he swallowed hard. "O-Or rather, d-do you know what illness it is that we have...?" His hands shivered a little as he moved them, setting them into his lap, holding them together tightly, nervously. "I... I mean, I don't even know h-how I got here, so... i-it would be nice to know at least the... name of the illness, I-I guess...?" Childishly, his teeth returned to his bottom lip, nibbling it as though he were a rabbit eating a lettuce leaf. This was probably one of the few chances he could ever get at asking the questions that had been burning in his mind, but he couldn't just demand an answer, nor did he want her to think that he was trying to not "get well," as she had put it. "I-If that makes sense, I mean, b-but it probably doesn't, so..." His sight shifted away from Lisa to stare blankly at the computer screen, sunrise making strange shadows on the wall behind the screen, obscuring the contents of the monitor in the sunlight's warm glow. "I must be... keeping you from your work... I'm sorry..."
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"Some of you have more problems than others and some of you show more acceptance to getting better and moving on with your life. As far as naming your illness, we are not completely sure what it is called ourselves. On the one hand it is very much like a sort of identity crises but since you think you are countries-" She cut herself off abruptly, taking a breath and offering a rue smile. "Well, we just don't know how to completely explain it. That's why we are relying on your cooperation, so that we may identify as quickly as possible and hopefully get you back on track to a normal life. Do you like that idea?"
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He found himself chewing at his lip again and stopped, lifting his lids and looking at the nurse with a distant gaze. "How... did I end up here, in this place...?" His frown lessened as he let out a trembling breath, "W-Was it the doctors who brought me--us--here...?"
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"Raivis...you checked yourself into our care. Don't-don't you remember? I recall you were particularly eager to see yourself well again, you said you just wanted to be happy," she said, her words somewhat tentative, as if she were hoping that her saying it would jump-start the memory of his arrival.
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He blinked at her to clear that confusion from his face and slowly shook his head again. He could not accept that he would just willingly subject himself to this kind of torture. Perhaps it was far too ambitious for him to pretend being this Raivis-person? He was Latvia, after all. A subdued sadness flickered behind his blue-purple eyes and he wondered softly to himself, "What kind of happiness would a lie be, anyway...?" Slowly, his gaze tore away from the nurse and focused back on his lap where trembling hands fidgeted. It was true that he couldn't remember his arrival, other than waking up disoriented and afraid in his room, sobbing in the darkness, but that was little to claiming that he had an ill-defined mental disorder. And if he was truly just a normal human, with a normal human life, then would he not have a family and friends who would be worried for him on the outside? Lisa was only giving him more questions with every answer she gave.
Shivering fingers knitted together in his lap to end their fidgeting and a slow, shuddered breath was exhaled. There was no point in dragging this out any longer if he was just going to end up needing to ask more and more questions; besides, he had to have been wasting her time and keeping her from more important things, like her work. He frowned, glancing at the computer screen to note the time before looking to his papers of unfinished writing. How he longed for a nice, engaging novel to read. Quickly, a thought burst itself into his mind as yet another question formed, and one that could certainly not confuse him any further. Cautiously, his eyes flitted back to Lisa, his shaking breaths slowly calming. "I-I have another question, i-if you don't mind," his voice trembled only slightly as he asked, "D-Do you know of where I can find some books to read...? N-Not anything really difficult or textbook-like or anything like that, b-but something like, maybe, a fairytale book or a romance novel... j-just something light...?" His usual nervous laughter, soft and gentle, sang through the stiff air of his room; it was a relief to change the subject, though their previous exchange had left quite a burden of questions in his heart.
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