Paperthin Hymn

You mean CAST AWAY? Dude, he was there for like, three years or something fucking ridiculous and he almost died like a million times. But oh my god I love that movie. WILSOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnn!!!

Yeah! Yeah that one! I don't remember the ending but he probably got away, right? If he could do it, so can we, right? I'm pretty sure he was probably crazier than anyone here. 

Probably when the storm’s over, love. I dunno, really. You might want to ask a doctor or someone with some semblance of authority.

Unless they're some kind of weather-person, I'd like to keep my distance away from the doctors if at all possible. [Which, of course, she knows it's not possible but it made her feel better to say it was. Shrugging her shoulders lightly, she frowned.] I didn't even know it could storm this bad. I'm pretty sure we'll all spontaneously adapt to have night vision by the time this blows over, eh?

Yeah except like, we’d be on a friggen’ island and like, what the deuce would we do then? Cause like, can’t go to the mainland, the boats aren’t like, doing their boating thing in this weather. So we’d just be like, wandering around in empty fields and getting yet. I mean, I don’t know how far the town is but I have a feeling it’s filled with creeps.

Hey, I know how to swim. Besides, I watched a movie once about someone stranded on an island and I'm pretty sure he just made a raft. And rafts don't look too awfully hard to construct!

It’s still a friggin’ shit storm out there. Like seriously it’s like, apocolypse now or something. I’m more afraid of being struck my lightening or something. 

I didn't know it was physically possible for it to storm for this long. I'd like to know if a tree is gonna fall over and hit this place or something. That would be a riot. It might also make national headlines if a bunch of mentally ill kids got loose on the streets.

Pleasure, Kat. [He grins gently. She seems guarded, somewhat stoic and serious. But really, what were first impressions worth in a place like this? Not much.]

You just... get used to it? Like.. sudden outbursts and shit? That happens? [A million questions come pouring out of Kat's mouth as soon as he answers, her curiosity easily getting the best of the outspoken girl. Plus, it could kind of have something to do with her and her typical 'outbursts'. Was there others here just like her?]

Hey there,you  ran into me, didn’t ya? Or was I walking backwards, eh?

Is insulting people on reflex an impulse problem? Are you here for an impulse problem or what? I've heard of that happening and it doesn't sound fun.  [Kat doesn't realize she's probably being outright rude-- but that never occurs to her anyways.]

[Kat herself was wandering around aimlessly, looking for things to do, people to talk to-- the usual. It was dim and it stormy, so there wasn't much to do. Noticing a shadow approaching her, it wasn't long before she heard a strange voice-- to which she responded with a quick and sarcastic:] Because the lights aren't on?

[Pyromaniac. The word brought a slew of old memories rushing forward once again. From friendship to quick kisses to the way her blonde hair seemed to always sit perfectly. He swallowed them back down and decided to wallow in his thoughts later when he was alone. 

[Kat could tell something she said changed the boy's mood. Maybe he was a pyromaniac and she was just insensitive. Oh well.]

Doubt it about the paint. And crying probably depends on who hears it. I mean, some people are bound to be nice, others are bound to, well, not care.

Here, I've got an idea. Story time. You tell me what you got sent here if I tell you why I was? I'm curious.

I don’t do nice, little girl. Try the first level. 

Youch, it seems I've gotten a taste of my very first asylum-grade "mean girl", huh? 

I hope so. It’ll keep another person out of these hallways for a few days.

Now that's just cruel! Do you know how pesky those sore throats are? Besides... I'm sure someone's gotta have some nice company around here, right? 

[Emilia laughs.] Good luck getting that. I’ve been here a few days, I think, and I still have nothing but myself. Though if you get anything, I totally approve of things that sparkle and pop.

Or maybe they'll at least let me paint my room something more exciting. Like yellow. Yellow's such a happy color. Do you think they'd be more inclined to give me what I want if I cry? 

I get the nervous thing. It comes with being new. A lot of the people here pretend they’re so great and confident but I’m sure they were nervous their first day too. Even the, uh, killers. [Colton tipped his head to the side slightly] This time? Month or so, I think. It’s my second time here. I stopped keeping track my first time here. You’ll find it makes things worse when you know exactly how long you’ve been here right down to the minute. 

I'm more nervous that I don't know where the fire exits are around here. How can one feel safe when they wouldn't even know what to do in the event of some pyromaniac's "accidental" slip of the match? [Kat's voice is thick with sarcasm-- her typical way of speaking-- now that she'd gotten over a bit of the anxiety.]

[Emilia followed the girl slightly, just to the entrance of her room.] Pretty much. Don’t expect much. You can chill here or you can choose not to. I like the second option. Room’s a bit too “factory copy” for me. Rec room’s more fun. Or the hallway, if you like.

It reminds me of a bad version of summer camp. [Kat frowned, throwing her bag on the floor.] I think I'll opt out of hanging out in my room for a while. Until they get me some tinsel or something to hang around to give it a little.. pop, you know?

Now that the lights are out and there’s a big scary storm headed this way, I think we should take the opportunity to sit around and tell horror stories. First one to get visibly scared has to stand in the storm for ten minutes. It’ll be a little… Belvedere bonding.

Didn't your mom ever tell you not to play in the rain? Someone could catch a nasty cold like that. 

[Okay, so not the warmest of responses, but he tries to give her the benefit of the doubt.] Just… four doors, about. Like, forty paces? [He offers her a weak grin, falling into step beside her and making to show her the way.]

Name's Kat. [She juts her hand out as a form of greeting, not really sure how to go about introducing herself. A smile crept across her face as she thought of introductions in an asylum. It could be a standard-- name, age, disorder, reason for admittance. She thought they should hand out nametags that told you how dangerous everyone was. Like hers would read: Kat Kennedy, I.E.D., with the word 'caution, level 2' plastered in big letters above it. It was a funny thought, but it made her curious. Was this guy dangerous too, being up here on level two? Had he hurt people too? But she didn't ask.]