Asylum Log VII; [Video] November 15th. Evening.

[psyd_seward]

[Good evening, Siren's Port! A man, appearing in his late 20's, or perhaps early 30's is seen onscreen, with coiffed dark hair and perfectly groomed moustache. This would be a one Doctor John Seward, resident psychiatrist.

Here, he is seated within his study, preoccupying himself among his many papers of the routine follow-ups for the local

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[Action!]

[master_helsing]

[The professor had just walked in when John had finished his dissertation, having listened to it on his pocket-relay while he manned the carriage home. He too had felt the infectious need to be giving, much more-so than he would on a normal day, and took it upon himself to place a carefully woven wreath of beautiful hand-picked garlic bulbs at the door-step of one of the more prominent members of the Sanguinarian Society. Van Helsing wagered he was doing them a grand favor.

With a chipper smile and a leap in his gait, he strolled into the parlor to greet his companion, lifting up his arms in praise.]

What wonders, Friend John! The spirit of benevolence has enveloped the isle as a warm embrace!

[With that he made those words manifest and hoisted his friend into a one-armed squeeze, patting his shoulder as he pointed out the windows towards the front court-yard.]

All about I see men und women offering up their wares to one another. The poor give to the rich, the rich to the pauper. There is the scent of altruism in the air, Friend John, und I find no offense in its odour.

[Action!]

[psyd_seward]

[A grand favour indeed to the general public by setting up a barrier, if indeed the kind of vampire which referred to themselves as "Sanguinarians" were susceptible.

The doctor was just finishing up when the older Dutchman found and greeted him in that heartily warm way of his, a smile unable to keep from surfacing upon his lips. Abraham looked like a boy who'd just received a long-awaited gift on Christmas morning.]

Yes, it is rather remarkable, isn't it? I rather think-A-ah!

[A sound of surprise as the sheer strength of the other is able to lift him up off the ground a little, his feet dangling for a moment until he's righted upon the floor where he should be once again.

His gaze almost comically followed the sweet of the other's arm, staring out to the scenic landscape as he tried to envision these...grander notions of philanthropy.]

It's...How it should be.

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[master_helsing]

Hoho, but will it last?

[Oh how he wished it would. The world as they knew it now was full of loathing for one's neighbor. Covetousness for his fellow-mans wife. Vengeance for thine enemy. No longer did society instill a sense of social morality. If anything, to hold a high sense of morale was looked down upon, as if it were unfashionable. Why not conform with the times? It was the way of the world now!

Van Helsing refused.]

For them, I see hardly the glimmer of hope, but I do hope. I do pray, Friend John, that they reflect on their actions today and feel the goodness it bring. See how it fill their heart with gaiety more-so than a gift given to themselves. Nay, to give is a gift unto the self!

[Peering down at Seward's Net Vice, he lofted those quizzical brows of his.]

So! What fortunate soul is to be fed by us? Have none come forward?

[Action!]

[psyd_seward]

[As did he. But that would be asking for far more than this contemporary era was willing to grant. A somewhat somber look is given to his mentor when he's asked such a question, and he shook his head, knowing full well the answer in his mind.

He himself was confronted with the sorts of lunacy this place produced on a near daily basis-from the depressed to the immoral individual-madnesses here were of an almost entirely different kind.]

Yes...I wish it were so. I myself feel as though I may lose sight of what the world was like back home. We've both been here nearly a year, and I do not find myself drawing closer to their love of delusionary comforts.

[He'd been taking the chloral more oft as of late, due to insomnia and nightmares. But he'd rather not discuss such things when there was much responsibility riding on his shoulders...And he knew the only kind of cure for these things was work, work, work!]

A...family. From Sector 9.The father of three children, but he recently became ill....I've been treating him at the asylum.

[Their plight touched him, and he could not help but want to assist if but a little.]