Follow-Up Appointment [For Harrowheart, Viatorus, Steve]

[workthroughit]

The office is just where it's always been, and thankfully, there's no mind tricks that hide it from view this time. There between the glassware shop and the pharmacy is a sturdy polished door with an embossed brass nameplate bolted to the wall next to it: DR. ALAN J. HILL, MD, MPH.

Stepping inside leads to a nicely-furnished waiting room; handsome dark wooden furniture, comfy red upholstered sofas, a decent selection of Nexus magazines laid out for those looking to kill some time before their appointment. (Titles include CHOWDOWN, the leading reviews of Nexus restaurants and bars, SERVOS, a periodical for the robotic denizens of the Nexus, and WHOOPS!, a guide and advice publication focusing on LOLs, curses and similiar.) Soothing classical music is piped in by a speaker resting up on top of a bookshelf. There's no receptionist or desk designated for such. The door to the doctor's office is closed.

But after a certain point, the door opens and one of the poor mixed-up boys is called in. Looks like we're going about this one by one.

The office space is a warmly lit by streaming sunlight through a window opposite of the door. Despite the office being ground level in the Nexus, the window is clearly looking down from second floor vantage, overlooking a park and busy thoroughfare. The weather is sunny with a bit of cloud cover with no sign of snow. It looks to be a nice spring day, honestly. Out of place and strange with the cold and wintery look of the Nexus as of late.

Floor to ceiling bookshelves, an old fashioned victrola softly playing Bach, stained wood filing cabinets, a three-sectioned painting of a distinctly religious (rather demonic) nature, the familiar desk that often shows up along with the doctor in the Nexus. The banker's light, the metronome, the nameplate. The doctor himself is seated there, hands folded on the desk and wearing a smile.

After a gesture towards the open chair opposite of him, he asks, "So! Where shall we begin?"

Comments

HARROWHEART

[workthroughit]

[westfallcorndog]

None of this is close to anything Harrowheart has experienced in his life or otherwise. The music is of a style totally foreign to him and it sets him on edge, worries him with its sweeping, drawn-out sounds that to an Earth ear might otherwise be calming. In Viatorus's body he sits in the waiting room, hands clenching the armrests of his chair until the skin on his knuckles strains. His leg won't stop bouncing. Now and then he looks to his friends, but only when he's sure they aren't looking at him, and always quick enough to look away before any eye contact is made.

And then he's called in.

The unfamiliarity of the situation really only grows. He's never been inside an office. Really, never. Nothing in his experiences ever necessitated it. The demonic painting is the least out-of-place thing for him, and though he considers it for quite a long time he doesn't seem surprised to see it. Little details like the metronome, the light, those are the stranger sorts of devices that make him feel uneasy. Somehow, being in this room feels like... Punishment. Doctor Hill looks like a father there behind his desk, dressed as he is, back straight. He's smiling, though? And it seems an honest smile, if Harrowheart had to judge it. It's still a poor consolation after the events of the last two days, and the anxiety he feels isn't easily banished.

Harrowheart shuts the door behind him quietly after one last mournful look to his friends in the waiting room. He creeps across the room in the quiet steps that Viatorus's body is more capable of than his own. When he arrives at the chair he hesitates, but the doctor asked him to sit, and so he does.

"I don't know... What you mean by that?" He draws his lips into a thin line only to keep from frowning. "Where do we begin? I... I thought you were going to change us back? So..."

Someone's clearly unfamiliar with what psychologists do. But Doctor Hill, in his infinite wisdom, ought to know that.

[workthroughit]

"Oh, certainly, certainly. That will happen in due time. But first, I would wish to know where your thoughts lie. What you've learned, what new struggles you've faced, what small triumphs you've found. I admit I'm most excited to hear your experiences out of all three, Harrowheart. Going from being a member of the undead to a living, breathing man once again? It must have been quite a time for you! For good OR ill, I hope to hear it soon."

Dr. Hill has a notepad and fountain pen at the ready, tapping his thumb against the end of the latter, still smiling.

[westfallcorndog]

"What I've learned?"

He can't remember the last time someone asked him that. Honestly, he can't remember the last time when he had to learn anything. He fidgets uncomfortably, rubs his hands together, runs them through his surprisingly long hair.

"I... I learned..."

His voice in Viatorus's body is so gentle. The tongue wants to make softer, British sounds, but his mind knows words in his own accent, and now and then they clash, though at other times they sound completely natural together. He and Dr. Hill are two friends with soft accents.

"That..."

Wow! It's exceedingly hard to admit something like this! Who ever would have guessed that therapy isn't easy? He clears his throat and knits his brow and tries so hard to start again with confidence, but he just can't drum up the courage to look Dr. Hill in his smiling face.

"I've been mean to people. I've been a bad person. And I thought that was because I was undead. I thought it was because of my body, but... I think... I think I used that as an excuse. I think it's not my body. I think maybe I'm a mean person. On the inside."

[workthroughit]

"Well, to be fair, you've been put in a compromising, stressful situation. You've been separated from your weapons for a good amount of time, for instance, and I've gathered that those are meaningful to you. In ways beyond just being your favourite tools of war."

The doctor jots a few notes and then sets aside the notepad so he can lean his elbows on his desk, hands folding together. "What makes you believe you're inherently cruel, Harrowheart?"

[westfallcorndog]

Now the introspection really starts in earnest. There are a few moments where Harrow tips his head and opens his mouth as if he's sure he's got the answer, but he stops himself after his first breath and returns to analyzing the situation. He'd felt so confident when he said it earlier, so why is it so difficult to explain himself?

"Because..." he finally tries, his body still, his eyes fixated on the painting behind the doctor. "Because I... I'm a thug."

He clears his throat. Once he's said that, his thoughts come out more clearly.

"Because when someone insults me, I wanna hurt 'em. Because when I meet certain people, I wanna make 'em scared of me. I feel better when people are scared of me. I wanna be the strongest, scariest thing when someone acts special or tougher than me. I thought that was just 'cause I was undead, but..."

Again he runs his hands through his hair, and he shrugs.

"We tried to switch our bodies and it didn't work. I got mean with Viatorus's family member. He called me a 'construct,' and I threatened to hurt him, and then... Then it was a big fight, and..."

He purses his lips again and falls silent.

[workthroughit]

"Well. What do you suppose these attempts at being the scariest being in the room stem from? I would hazard a guess it's some manner of insecurity, but insecure in what?" Rather than openly speculate, Dr. Hill just lays out the questions, further food for thought for Harrowheart to chew on.

"To be fair, being called something like a construct, implying you were made with no thoughts of your own, or were made only to serve? That's quite rude. Hurtful, even. Do you think anger wasn't the right response to such insults? Or did you go too far, Harrowheart."

[westfallcorndog]

Insecurity? That's awfully rude, isn't it? He lowers his brows and gives Dr. Hill the first look of the session, and what a look it is. But the doctor keeps on talking, and as the conversation progresses his expression naturally softens. His eyes shift left and right as he considers what's being said.

"Steve was mad on my behalf. I think he got it," he says slowly, "But I think most people... Don't want me to be mad when I'm insulted. They don't get why stuff hurts. People're allowed to say whatever they want to me, and I'm not allowed to get mad, 'cause then I'm outta line. And I hear it so much that sometimes I feel like... Maybe I am wrong? And it shouldn't bother me? And I oughta be used to it? But if I bottle it up, I just get madder and madder 'til the next person who comes along, I just... I explode, y'know? I explode, and then I'm really outta line, and then I got no room to complain or explain, 'cause I'm the bad guy, and that makes life easier on everyone."

His nostrils flare with a snort and he feels himself getting hot under the collar. He undoes some of the buttons of his tuxedo and loosens the cloth away from his neck so that he can fan away some of the claustrophobic sweatiness of this outfit.

"No matter what I do, I'm always the fuck-up and the bad guy. Maybe it would be easier if I was just a construct. No thoughts, no feelin's, no consciousness. But..."

He swallows hard and shakes his head. There is no 'but.'

[workthroughit]

In response to that dark look, Dr. Hill only gives a tilt of the head and a bright smile in return. If Harrowheart's desire is to make people afraid of him, he's picked the wrong target for this kind of behaviour. The worst target, honestly.

As explanation is plucked back up, the doctor squints his eyes, listening and considering as the poor bodyswapped worgen lays it out. "Anger is a natural reaction to things. Sometimes a healthy one, as there are plenty of situations where that's the reasonable response. But to bottle it up, to feel like every event of it has to be kept in check...That's not good for you, Harrowheart, nor for the people around you. It needs to come out in a constructive way and it needs to be managed properly when it's not.

"Perhaps you'd benefit from anger management sessions? I'd be happy to offer them. Your desire to be a simple creation with a singular purpose and feeling nothing sounds like a desire to distance yourself from the complexities of emotion, or to no longer deal with the hardships of having anger problems. And you have my concern and sympathy."

VIATORUS

[workthroughit]

[heirtothearcane]

Offices are the most normal thing to Viatorus. Waiting rooms, on the other hand, are not. It's rare that a Durant has to wait for anyone. Except another Durant. He tries to read WHOOPS! but it doesn't take long for his head to start hurting and he quickly sets it back down.

Honestly, he's relieved when he finally gets called through. After prying Isidor off his arm and convincing her to stay in the waiting room, he steps into the familiar office and shuffles over to the seat. He sits in the chair with a small huff and a disapproving look for the doctor across from him. He has thought long and hard about what he would say to the doctor the next time they met.

"In future, there should be a consent form and application for things like this."

[workthroughit]

Unfortunately, with there being three people and a need to maintain confidentiality, a waiting room was necessary this time around. No going right to the office like last time, Viatorus!

The admonishment is not what Dr. Hill is expecting and the surprise is plain on his face before it gives way to a laugh. "Hah! Ahh, Mr. Durant, always the one to be concerned with formalities. I admit I may have been caught up the nature of the Nexus and how it tends to spring things on people. And sometimes a little spontaneity is good for you! And how many would have passed on this experience if given the chance? Would you have?"

[heirtothearcane]

Viatorus holds his reproachful expression for as long as he can. Though he turns a little sulky at the doctor's question. "Well. Yes. I wouldn't have volunteered."

"B-But there's a good reason!" He stammers into defending himself before he gets flustered. A hand cuts through the air in a strong, decisive motion and then pulls back to fidget with his other hand. "It was dangerous, and... and people could have gotten hurt. Steve is... the only one equipped to take care of this body. A-And Harrowheart..." The mixed feelings on the death knight give him pause. Then he blinks and regains his train of thought. "Harrowheart is the only one able to control the power he has. I... I'm the only one who understands the dangers of slipping up on little things."

In summary, he declares a certain, "We should all have stayed firmly in our own bodies."

[workthroughit]

"Perhaps." The doctor pulls a considering face and part of a shrug. "But everything you've just said sounds suspiciously to me like you've learned something about these other two. The frailties and everyday struggles of Mr. Rogers and his illnesses. The raw power Harrowheart possesses and has to tame. Things I don't think anyone could have the proper understanding or appreciation of if this hadn't happened."

[heirtothearcane]

"I would rather have guessed," he promptly says before he can stop himself. He takes a moment to swallow down the guilt at how rude his statement it and then gathers his thoughts. "I don't think I needed to... to feel it. To experience it. Death. And illness."

A minute passes and he frowns, eyes flickering back and forth across the wood of the doctor's desk. "What am I meant to say to them? How am I meant to talk to them now? Knowing things that are so intimate, so personal. Knowing that I wouldn't want to be either of them." Frustration raises his voice a notch. "And not knowing anything that could help them."

[workthroughit]

"Well, we're back to the start of this all, aren't we? Empathy. We can never properly claim that we understand another's struggle until we've walked a mile in their shoes. You've realized that both of these men deal daily with very serious issues. Issues completely removed from your own.

"Do you think they feel the same way? I'd imagine that being in your shoes was jarring for them as well. Seeing the things you have to do daily that are simply part and parcel of being you that are matters they'd sooner not deal with. Things you might take for granted. Better the devil you know, eh?"

Dr. Hill chuckles and leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. Between the moment he started talking and this moment, a cup of tea has appeared on the desk in front of Viatorus. Someone recalls how readily he accepted and appreciated it last time.

"I don't think not wanting to be them is particularly rude, Mr. Durant. It's just acknowledgement of how profound their distinct issues are. And perhaps how strong they are for dealing with them on the daily, hm?"

[heirtothearcane]

"I never doubted that they were strong." Perhaps. Maybe. The questions and prompts get a little frown from him. Initially he ignores the cup of tea, but with thoughts soon filling his head, he soon takes it up in his hands. Something familiar to work with. Something comforting.

"We weren't sure you were going to turn us back," he starts up, deflecting further reflection. Delaying it, at least. "Or when you would. It could have been months. We didn't know."

Taking a sip of tea, he continues, "We all ended up at my family manor. Not where I wanted to be. Certainly not where I wanted them to be. It would have been nice to know how needless it all was. Meeting my family might have been more traumatic for them than swapping bodies."

STEVE

[workthroughit]

[juststeverogers]

No answers.

It grinds at Steve while he's sitting in in the waiting room. He still doesn't know what exactly happened back at the Durant home. Nor does he feel completely alright now. There's anger over what the doctor has put them all through and it feeds that Wrongness inside his head.

The last thing he wants is to make this worse though, so he sits and waits.

When his name is called finally Steve grits his teeth and heads inside the office. Takes the seat. And tries not to glare.

"You called?" Okay only mostly nailed it.

[workthroughit]

"I did! You seem a little tense, Mr. Rogers. Why is that? Does it have anything to do with you not being in the same body I left you in?" Someone's noticed the switch on the switch, apparently. Somehow. How is he able to ID the trio when they are indeed not how he last saw them?

[juststeverogers]

"I don't think you want to ask me that."

Steve tries to sound stern and disapproving but it comes out more as a threat and he has to bury the heels of his palms into his face as he struggles to keep calm.

"Something happened at the last swap. I don't feel right. I don't feel like me. There's something else here."

It scares him. And the doctors friendly demeanor in light of everything is only making this harder.

[workthroughit]

"Have you talked with the owners of those axes you have on you? That might be the answer to your unease. Also, the simple fact you're in what is effectively a dead body. Not an easy existence, I'd imagine."

[juststeverogers]

"There hadn't been time for that. Everyone panicked. I thought Harrow was going to die all over again. "

Tired. Steve is tired, but this body doesn't need rest. It's so jarring and strange. He's not breathing. Habit makes him suck in a useless breath.

"I feel like I'm having an asthma attack every time I catch myself not breathing. " Steve's admission comes quietly, because yes Harrow's body is unsettling for him even without the influence of the rune blades.

[workthroughit]

"Asthma is a familiar situation for you; do you think you're using that to rationalize the complete lack of needing to breathe like this? Strange to think you'd take something so unpleasant to familiarize yourself with Harrowheart's body. Do you find his body in general to be...unpleasant?"

[juststeverogers]

"Maybe? I don't know."

There's a feeling of being toyed with, one that makes Steve grit his teeth again. But this time he just sighs and the tension quickly dissipates. Steve's too tired to put up much more of a fight.

"Unpleasant? More than Viatorus's, yes." Steve's eyes slip shut a moment. "At least I sort of understood that body. It was taller than my own but still thin. Stronger than my own but still familiar. Harrows body is just so different. Things don't feel right, and he's so big. I feel too big." Oh Steve. That's a problem you'd have eventually even if you stayed home.