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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Jun 30, 2012 13:57:20 GMT
"And the first step towards being insane? Denial. Maybe come to accept it and this transition will be much easier for you, my dear" he waved off her insecurity with a flick of his wrist. He couldn't help but chuckle at the comedy of it. He'd thought she'd be much more composed about, well, life. And here she was another nutter thrust into his venerable care.
He poured himself more tea, adding sugar and cream and stirring softly. He enjoyed a biscuit as he watched her and leaned back against his chair in an unintentionally inviting position. He was quite comfortable as such and let out a nearly inaudible sigh. "Do not make your stay here uncomfortable for me or this little tea party will be cut short. Do you understand?"
With that, he stood up and stretched his limber limbs, helping her from her chair "Now you can leave and I shall escort you back to your cell, or you can calm down and share another cup of tea with me" he said solemnly.
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Post by Winifred Miller on Jun 30, 2012 20:20:04 GMT
"I'm sorry, sir," she said. Winifred decided it was for the best to just play obedient, and not to mention it again. 'Speak only when spoken to,' she told herself. She wanted to prolong going back to that cell as long as possible.
"I'd love another cup of tea, if you'd be so kind as to let me stay with you a bit longer. I promise, I'll behave. It won't happen again," she said in a near whisper, an innocent look in her eyes.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Jun 30, 2012 23:39:20 GMT
"Good girl" he said with approval as he refilled her cup and smiled a bit curtly. He took a deep breath to still his wavering moods and tried his best to fight his personality change that threatened to come full force. He needn't be having too many lest he fighten his guest away.
In reality, she was not that bad of a companion. He was certainly glad for some new company. After a while of nibbling at biscuits and sipping his tea, he grew full and weary. Yet something in him burned to play his music, and so he offered. "Do you mind, my dear, if I pull out my violin? I find myself urging desperately to play, and so I think I must."
With that, and without an answer from her, he took off for his small music room at the back of his office, returning with a once-shattered and newly reformed violin, striking the rosined bow across the strings with great relish to hear its fifth intervals in order to tune it propely.
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Post by Winifred Miller on Jul 1, 2012 1:54:29 GMT
Winnie watched the man tune his violin, admiring it, and by some degree, how nicely the doctor looked with it. She remembered when she was little, trying to learn. She never did, though. She was pretty rubbish at it. The piano, however, she was wonderful at. She wondered when she'd be able to play again - if she actually did get out of here.
"It's beautiful. When did you learn to play?" she asked, breaking the silence. She figured this question shouldn't upset him, and she didn't like silence. It was, however, hard for her to be her usually talkative self when she has to be careful about what to say. This, however, she figured wouldn't cause any problem and she was genuinely curious. She did like learning about people.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Jul 1, 2012 19:21:04 GMT
Doctor Bramsfield said absolutely nothing, merely fiddled away to warm up his fingers before propping a foot upon the settee near him. He lapsed into a lilting Celtic song, the same he'd played for many a guest, and yet somehow this was different. She wasn't as entranced as others had been by his playing, and he quite liked that. She was more interested than captivated, and that pleased him.
He played away to his heart's content, and when he was finished with his song, he struck up another. He couldn't stop, and soon his fingers cramped up. It wasn't until he could play no more that he stopped and flexed his fingers. "There," said he, "I don't believe I'm suffering my cravings any longer." he cracked a slight smile and shrugged.
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Post by Winifred Miller on Jul 2, 2012 1:23:36 GMT
Winnie smiled at him. "You play beautifully. It's interesting - you didn't really stop between songs. It sort of looked like you couldn't stop playing..." she observed, eyes exploring his face.
"I was never any good at violin," she said to break the silence, and to extend how long she had a purpose being outside of the cell. 'If he gets too bored with me, he may bring me back to the cell,' she thought to herself.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Jul 6, 2012 1:13:19 GMT
"Oh?" He said idly, wondering where in the world a mad girl would have learned to play the harpsichord. He shrugged and turned to her "And how long have you been playing music?" He asked and scooted a bit closer. Musicians, kinsfolk to himself, were his favourite kind of people.
He fiddled with a stray, curled piece of his hair and awaited her answer patiently, sipping his tea and eating a biscuit slowly. He closed his eyes and indulged in the moment for a while, always loving his own self medication--tea. He was onto his third cup now, and he only mixed his cup straighter and straighter, with less milk and sugar with each passing cup.
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Post by Winifred Miller on Jul 8, 2012 2:22:31 GMT
"Since I was seven. My mum taught me how to play," she said, her heart breaking. She wondered, again, about her mother. When was she going to see her again? Did her mum miss her right now, or does she have no clue that anything is even wrong? She stared into the distance for few moments, tears falling down her face without knowing it, then snapped herself out of it. She looked back up at Doctor Bramsfield.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I... I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't cry easily." She forced a smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes - her eyes were still filled with heartache and longing to go home.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Jul 8, 2012 14:12:36 GMT
"Well I..." he said abruptly. If there was one thing Doctor Bramsfield was not equipped to deal with, it was crying girls. He understood the human emotion, the sadness that made her cry now, and yet he could not for the life of him find a way to qualm these emotions once they began to flow. He never truly could. And now he was stuck with a simpering mess.
"What...what is it I could do?" He said, a bit urgently, "Do you need a handkerchief, perhaps?" He urged, rising from his chair and nearly spilling his teacup, thankful that it was empty. He bustled about like a doting mother searching for a handkerchief that wasn't soaked in chloroform or had been wrapped about his personal supply of Laudanum.
Then it hit him,
"Laudanum! Surely you'd like a pill to calm you down. Works every time. Always cools off the messiest of patients in a heartbeat when they cannot be handled. I don't see why it wouldn't qualm your crying" he said, withdrawing a small, wrapped pouch of the pills that he kept on him at nearly all times and offering her one.
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Post by Winifred Miller on Jul 8, 2012 19:21:15 GMT
Winnie took the pill from him and examined it in her hand. It had a strong scent, but she didn't recall ever smelling it before. She didn't know that much about modern medicine, but she had heard the name of this one before. 'Just take it. He's a doctor. He knows what he's doing,' she told herself. She popped the pill into her mouth and washed it down a small sip of tea, the bitterness made just a bit more tolerable.
"Thank you, Doctor," she said with a small smile, her nerves already calming. She wiped away the last of her tears and relaxed back into her chair.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Jul 9, 2012 14:50:09 GMT
Doctor Bramsfield watched the woman soon grow tired, and he smirked a little. What a surefire way to calm a girl down. She'd taken quite the heavy dose, and it was a surprise that she was able to stay alert as she was. He metaphorically applauded her for that.
"So. Erm." He said, feeling the air in the room grow a bit stale, "I'm not...sure there's much more to speak on, is there?" He said quietly, clearing his throat and sitting back down in his high-back chair, getting comfortable. "You could amuse me... or return to your cell." He said, giving her the option to take either.
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