Post by Ophelia Fuilteach on May 17, 2013 10:10:36 GMT
Ophelia had taken to writing a journal so she could keep track of her thoughts. Sometimes, what she wrote made little to no sense. Other times, often written in different handwriting to her own, the words were chilling and cruel. On the rare occasion that she was lucid, her words were overwhelmingly sad. The writing helped her identify a pattern to her madness. At times when she was particularly tired, stressed or over emotional, Sickness emerged. If she slept properly, kept herself sated for blood, and maintained a calm demeanour, she was better able to keep control of her mind.
Music was her constant companion. Sometimes, she played just to keep herself from thinking about what had happened, and other times, the mellow tone of her cello kept her loneliness at bay. Visitors were rare. Even visits from her father were seldom. Visiting times at the hospital were usually restricted to daylight hours, and well... vampires weren't known for their sunny demeanour, or their sunbathing. Of course, he could always bribe his way in, or simply intimidate whoever was foolish enough to refuse him entry, but he was too well mannered to even attempt such a thing.
She hoped she'd have a visitor soon. Somebody... anybody. She was getting desperate for company.
Music was her constant companion. Sometimes, she played just to keep herself from thinking about what had happened, and other times, the mellow tone of her cello kept her loneliness at bay. Visitors were rare. Even visits from her father were seldom. Visiting times at the hospital were usually restricted to daylight hours, and well... vampires weren't known for their sunny demeanour, or their sunbathing. Of course, he could always bribe his way in, or simply intimidate whoever was foolish enough to refuse him entry, but he was too well mannered to even attempt such a thing.
She hoped she'd have a visitor soon. Somebody... anybody. She was getting desperate for company.
