Mute on a Stretcher; This isn't Wonderland anymore. (Backdated)

[psyd_seward]

Who: Dr. Seward and Alice Liddell
When: Backdated to the 18th, the day after this conversation.
Where: St. Theresa's Asylum, private office
Summary: To Dr. Seward's surprise, Alice has requested an appointment with him.
Warnings: Not sure yet. Possibly power-triggers but there shouldn't be anything more than victorian mannerisms to be seen here. Will

Comments

[cruelwonder]

She had promised herself that she would never set foot in another asylum again for as long as she lived. It was only under the pretense that things would be inherently different this time that kept her going, kept her from turning around and going right back home. She didn't need to do this. But as she walked, she could see the mushrooms and the flowers, the dice and the dominoes. She knew that things were still not quite right about her. She had embraced it, certainly; this trip was not to get rid of Wonderland.

No. It was to cope with the other things that lay heavily on her heart and mind.

She had lost her family. She had been left alone by her nanny. She had been living with a man who had been using children-- Yes, there were things she needed to cope with. She needed an outlet that wasn't violence, madness, and rage. She had killed someone and she couldn't do it again. She couldn't let that happen to her again. Perhaps Seward could help, and while she knew little about him, she also didn't believe it likely. It wasn't because

[psyd_seward]

The man known as John Seward eased himself from his desk with all the grace of a gentleman and stood as he heard her soft footfalls reach the door

[cruelwonder]

For just a moment, she could swear he looked like Agnus Bumby. He was tall like him, a man of good stature and pale skin. His hairstyle, too, was reminiscent of the man she once knew back in London. And for that moment that she had to check, to remind herself that it wasn't him, she truly believed her heart skipped a beat in fright

[psyd_seward]

Alike, but not the same. Seward was quite a bit younger, somewhat more cultured in the ways of modern society since living in the City here, among other things. The resemblance was, to an extent, probably uncanny. And had they met they possibly could have been mistaken as relatives in the sense that Doctor Seward could have passed for his son, or nephew.

"Not at all."

He took in her appearance with less of a scrutiny than one might expect of a psychiatrist, though his gaze did linger when he saw her face flicker with what he was almost certain had been fear. Was it past memories of the asylum that haunted her so? He couldn't be sure.

Seward had taken measures to keep the space around them was fairly open, with the window open to allow for a faint breeze, and the lighting kept at a comfortable brightness. It did not have the same feel as his former office at Skye Medical, but it had its own charm to it. More personalised than that of the former, perhaps. A little less confining, too