RP:A Disorder Most Stressful

Summary - Brennia seeks an appointment with Dr. Atwood as she wishes to discuss her nightmares and the fact that she seems unable to wield her bardic powers. Noah believes that Brennia suffers from a type of post-traumatic stress disorder as a result from the time she was held captive by the goblins. Hopefully, with some more therapy sessions and coping techniques, the Avian will see great improvement.

Location - Dr. Noah Atwood’s office in Cenril.

West Beloy Street

Brennia noticed a posting for a 'shrink' during one of her visits to spend time with the Isran Collective and Zahrani here in Cenril. After a correspondence with his office, they set up a time for her to see the therapist today in about ten minutes. The avian did not fly here today even though her large black as night wings shift nervously and she hesitates outside of the office's entrance. Her father was a powerful black avian and he always viewed mental health problems as weakness because he 'didn't get to be the ruler of an island by talking about his feelings', but even back then she knew that was just generations of toxicity passed down to him. With a deep breath to calm her nerves, she straightens out her oversized sweater that ends in the middle of her black legging covered legs and finally walks within the office of Dr Atwood. Solid teal irises take in the waiting room before checking in at the receptionist's desk and then she takes a seat to wait her turn to see the therapist. Using anything to distract her, she picks up the Fisherman's Almanac even though she knows only talks of the plague and deaths fill the pages. The horoscope of 'The Octopus' does make her grin ever so slightly because it feels quite relatable.

(1-2) The waiting room is rather cozy, in an effort to calm the patients. There’s a comforting hearth blazing in the corner, moreso for the ambience than the heat. It’s hot enough in Cenril during this time of the year, with summer just around the corner. Ten sturdy wooden chairs have been set up in a circular fashion with an oval table in the center, and a vase of fresh multicolored flowers as the centerpiece. The receptionist wears a nametag ‘Linda’ and she explains to Brennia that she’s only filling in the position, until the real receptionist feels better and returns to work. A few pieces of parchment are passed to the avian so that she can fill in the usual details, such as her name, address, occupation, and any psychological symptoms that may be helpful. Thankfully, Brennia has enough time to fill all of this out but she’s not kept waiting too long, as the door cracks open and Dr. Atwood steps into view, “Brennia? Come on inside.”

(2-2) Noah steals a glance at the receptionist to make sure she’s doing her job as he doesn’t trust just anyone in that position. He’s hoping that Gram will resume her duties soon as he takes his practice seriously and enjoys having the old woman around. Hazel eyes shift to the black winged woman that rises and makes her way over, and he finds himself somewhat surprised. He had gone nearly two hundred years without ever hearing of their race, and in just a week, he encountered two Avian’s! He mulls over the thought that Soraya’s wings are white while Brennia’s are black, and he wonders if it’s of any significance. Are Avian’s only male? Noah will research the matter at a later time, but for now he politely holds the door ajar until Brennia steps through. They walk past a washroom, a small employee lounge, and a locked door that likely contains medical items that need to be kept under lock and key. The office is at the end of the hall and Noah points to a rocking chair, a burgundy sofa that can sit three, or a pair of wooden chairs like those in the waiting room. The door closes so they have complete privacy and he strides over to his desk, where he takes a seat. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m Dr. Noah Atwood, but you can call me Noah, if you prefer. Before we begin, I want to reassure you that this is a safe space. Anything you tell me is in strict confidence! With that being said, I hope you feel comfortable in giving me complete honesty so that I can correctly diagnose you or treat you, if needed.” He rests his fingertips together so that he’s forming a small pyramid, before his chin, “The progression of healing is in -your- hands. Not mine. I simply teach you the tools to use, listen to you, and offer you advice. I do not sugarcoat my words. So, if you’re seeking someone to pat you on the shoulder or hand you a box of tissues, I’m not really your guy. I hope you will also be blunt when necessary and not care what my opinion is of a situation. Trust me, I’ve heard and seen a -lot- in my time as a psychiatrist so no topics are off limits. Your feelings are valid and both your time and my time are valuable, so let’s begin…” Noah eyes the forms that Brennia has completed before he raises his head and their eyes meet, “What made you want to see a psychiatrist?”

[1 of 2] Brennia works silently on the forms she is to complete. 'Name: Brennia Cadenza de Vere', but then she hesitates because she wonders if she should include 'Countess'. It has been so long since she has been to Island Vere, a home to only avians, but it is a part of her history even though she hasn't visited home in the last ten years. For now she lets that detail become lost to the ages. 'Address: DeVere College of Bardic Arts in Schezerade' and 'Isran Collective colony in Cenril' as the secondary address. 'Occupation: Professor, cosmetics creator' is all that needs to be included and she hesitates because that list used to be quite lengthy, but her health as of late doesn't give her the capacity to be spread so thin. ‘Symptoms' is one that stumps her because the deepest and truest ailment looks so silly on paper, so she just leaves it at, 'night terrors, inability to sleep and loss of bardic powers.' Even writing those few things down looks so silly next to each other and she lets out a soft sigh to herself because what if someone read all this!? Everyone would look at her differently. Her gaze drifts over to the exit of the office just when her overly long tapered ears hear her name being called.

[2 of 2] She stands with her forms in hand and a soft smile on her lips that pokes dimples in her cheeks as a slightly raspy alto timbre answers, "yes, that's me." Her wings fold and shift closer to her slender frame as if trying to make herself smaller in the suddenly suffocating space of the office. As she walks past him, he might pick up on her natural scent which happens to be whatever his favorite is because most avians possess this unusual trait. Brennia is also covered in a unique tattoo pattern done in black ink that contrasts nicely against her bronze skin, but due to what she is currently wearing, he can only see it on her neck, back of her hands and framing her face. She looks tired with bags under her eyes and the sclera of her eyes slightly bloodshot as she isn't wearing Vinabre Cosmetics cover-up today. Bre figures she won't be hiding anything while she is here. Once inside the room, he offers a seat and she nods once before taking a seat in the middle of the couch, but she doesn't want to appear closed off by her body language, so she only crosses her foot behind her other ankle and rests her hands on her lap for now as she tries to relax herself. The avian cannot help the feeling of being suddenly naked in a metaphorical sense because someone like this analyzes every little bit of their clients. She gives him her undivided attention during his introduction and he somewhat puts her at ease before they begin. "I understand," then she swallows hard when their eyes meet so she may answer his question, "well… I have had a challenging last four years and I seem to have lost the ability to use bard magic. I can sing and play instruments, but I have lost the ability to use the ones with spells." With a small shrug of her slender shoulders, "maybe there is a psychological reason why I cannot."

(1-2) Noah cannot understand where the fragrance is coming from and it’s causing him to take an unwanted trip down memory lane. He hasn’t smelled his mother’s clothing detergent since he was fifteen, before life as he knew it, came to an abrupt end. Perhaps ‘end’ is a bit dramatic, so we’ll go with his life -changed- significantly at the ripe age of fifteen. Every Saturday morning his mother would go into the backyard and sit on a chair before a washboard and vigorously scrub each stitch of laundry until it was void of any stains or germs. Next, she would hang the household’s garments on a rope line that ran from the oak tree all the way to a peg near the backdoor. Noah remembers how he would wildly run around the yard with his little sister, chasing the family’s beloved spaniel. The smell of freshly washed linens would strike his nostrils and he would inhale until his lungs had their delicious fill. Mother would add a bit of patchouli oil to the soapy water and he imagines that Heaven smells just like that! Noah finds his gaze searching Brennia’s face and it’s at the tip of his tongue to ask her where she has found such a perfect perfume, but it’s unprofessional so he keeps this to himself.

(2-2) As the woman speaks about having lost her ability to perform bardic magic, Noah is busy studying her body language. He knows she’s telling the truth because she doesn’t seem to have any problem maintaining eye contact, and when she does look away it’s not down or to the right. It’s refreshing that she’s being so honest on their first meeting despite the fact that he can see she is nervous, as she seems not to know where to rest her feet and she chooses the safest place to sit in the room. At the center of the couch which exudes comfort and is the most popular choice. “Do you think your powers are gone, or do you think you are subconsciously putting up a barrier so that the spells don’t take effect?” A hand gestures at the forms that Brennia filled out prior to this meeting, “I see that you aren’t getting much sleep and when you do sleep that you are having nightmares… What are these nightmares about?” A sympathetic sheen is in his eyes as he levels his gaze on the fair avian’s face, wondering what the cause behind this problem may be.

[1 of 2] Brennia never really pays any mind to whatever scent she gives off and even forgets that is a thing, so she has no idea her fragrance has triggered such a memory for her therapist. Maybe the avian should start investing in perfumes! Her wings sort of slump pathetically behind her, "I really hope they are not gone." Her fingers lace together as her thumbs fidget ever so slightly, "so I am hoping it is just my subconscious, Doctor Atwood." She chooses his professional title out of respect because calling him Noah seems a little odd in this setting. With a deep breath, her wings shift uncomfortably as she considers where to begin in her answer to the question. "My nightmares are… uh," the topic is obviously a tougher one as her hands smooth along the soft fabric of her black leggings because her palms suddenly feel sweaty, but maybe she is also feeling the small welts left by whips on her outer thighs and her gaze is temporarily fixed on her legs. "They are filled with chittering goblins and the sounds of their whips," her gaze lifts to his face again as she starts the explanation, "about four years ago. A friend and I were tricked into working on a slave farm."

[2 of 2] "They were smart enough to keep dosing their workers with sleeping draughts and potions that made us all mindless. Even though I do not have any vivid memories from the year we were stuck there, I get these odd flashbacks or a stench that gets stuck in my nose that reminds me of what we went through." She folds her hands back together on her lap, "the worst are the night terrors because that is when it feels much more real and most times I just avoid sleep so I don't have to relive it. It is easy to talk about it because it just seems like it all happened to someone else, as if I merely witnessed what happened, but the nightmares make it real and I cannot escape." Letting out a shaky sigh, she mentions, "to make matters worse, whatever potions and draughts they used burned a hole in my intestines, so there is nothing I can take for a good night's sleep." Brennia glances to the forms on the desk, "maybe I should have included on the form I cannot take any potions, salves, or draughts. Also the fact that I had two surgeries trying to fix the problem which failed and the third one finally took, but I still cannot take anything, eat too much, or drink alcohol." Brennia does seem thin even though her sweaters cover it up well, but Noah would never know she was actually curvy at one point and quite healthy looking. She patiently waits for any more questions this new information may have brought up.

(1-2) Noah senses Brennia’s discomfort as she continues to run her palms across her thighs, and her focus seems to be on her leggings, though she openly expresses her fears and the horror that she endured four years ago. The doctor doesn’t interrupt her speech but he does keep a watchful eye on her posture and the expressions her facial features make. As she concludes the bit about her lingering health issues, Noah scribbles a few notes in a leather bound book and nods to show that he’s still paying attention. “One moment. Please.” A piece of parchment is procured from a folder on his desk and he checks a few boxes, narrowing his gaze on the form, before he scribbles down a presumed diagnosis at the top. “I believe that you have a classic case of a trauma related stress disorder and that’s what’s interfering in your daily life. You have terrible nightmares that cause you to relive the abuse, every single night.” He lifts his chin so that he can look directly at his patient, “I believe that I can help you to learn some coping mechanisms and I think the more therapy sessions that we have, the better off you will be. If you do not talk about your past, if you do not address fully what happened and realize that -you- were really there, then you cannot erase the fear that lingers in your subconscious.”

(2-2) The man drops his quill upon the desk and seals his inkwell so that it doesn’t dry out. “I will not recommend any sort of sleeping aids or oral medications. I don’t think they will work in this scenario, anyway.” Noah pauses to collect his thoughts and figures out the best treatment plan for the woman, as he can see she’s in obvious emotional distress. “Sleep also plays a factor on your physical health. A body constantly on the move cannot rest, and therefore, you cannot heal. Maybe in time, the damage to your stomach will mend, as well. I believe your bardic powers should return, but unfortunately, I cannot give you an accurate timeline.” Everyone healed at their own pace and it depends on how receptive the person is to therapy. “Do you have any objections to being hypnotized? What about therapy in a group setting? I believe both of those areas will be beneficial and of course we will continue with this one on one therapy. Next time, we will go further in depth, if you are comfortable with returning. I also think it’s important that you learn how to cope with your stress disorder during the day, sometimes you aren’t even aware of the things you’re doing or feeling as they lay beneath the mind! So, in coping with things like anger and fear, you can have a restful night’s sleep.” He waits for Brennia to ask any questions or comment on the things he’s said, before he will discuss things further.

[1 of 2] Brennia assumed there might be relief when there was finally a name she could place on what has been ailing her, but there is no relief to be had. When he mentions 'the abuse', it settles in places she thought has been closed off because she just thought of that time as a 'happening'. There are scars, but she doesn't remember the pain. Her body has never bounced back, but she never notices because she keeps mirrors in her peripheral vision. The avian's brow knits together in concern for herself and sadness as her gaze is fixed at the base of his desk, but then she swallows hard to keep the tears from creeping up along her waterline. This is one of those times she wishes she never got pulled from her death while it takes everything within her not to look far off and daydream about being at eternal rest. That is probably far too dark and too soon to share in her first session and she takes a deep breath while nodding once, "right. Coping mechanisms," she agrees while still trying to anchor herself in the moment. "I was really there," she repeats softly just before a thought comes to her. Would it be so silly to visit where this farm used to operate? Maybe it could connect her to what happened in a more concrete way.

[2 of 2] Brennia nods once in agreement again of his decision not to prescribe any medications. She is realistic about what might happen with her magic and isn't placing all of her eggs in this basket… even though there aren't other baskets, but she has to try something. "Those methods sound innovative, why not," she slightly shrugs one shoulder up. The avian -has- recently put her trust in a fortune teller, so she is pretty open minded. "I think I am comfortable returning, Dr. Atwood," she admits even though in the back of her mind, she hopes she isn't putting her trust in the wrong people. There is a humored little grin on her lips as she repeats, "a restful night's sleep? I haven't had one of those in ages. Last time was with my girlfriend, but I am pretty sure it is because I feel so safe with her," there is a slight perking up of her wings as she speaks of her love. "What sort of coping mechanisms will you have me do, Doctor?"

(1-2) Noah doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that the woman before him isn’t in the best mindset. He can see the tears rising in her solid teal eyes and he feels sympathetic towards Brennia, despite the fact that they’ve just met and he’s not supposed to get too invested in his patients. He sincerely wants to help her to get better and overcome the trauma. It will take time but he’s sure that he can get her close to where she was before the sickness of the mind crept in. “I’m relieved that you are willing to come back and continue with these sessions. Today was just an introduction, but we should meet once a week, and I will give you little exercises to do between visits.” Noah glances away, “I should warn you that some sessions will leave you feeling saddened and drained, while others will greatly lift your mood and fill you with hope. It’s all a part of the healing process and the more you open up with yourself and with me, the more beneficial this therapy will be.”

(2-2) Rising from his seat, Noah walks over to a small bookshelf and he trails his gaze over each of the spines, before selecting a thin tome. “This book talks about stress disorders, so that you will be able to identify when you’re having a panic attack. If you learn to recognize your triggers and deal with them in a healthy way, it shouldn’t affect you as badly when you are asleep.” He brings the book over to Brennia and hands it off, before he returns to his desk and unlocks a drawer, “As for some coping exercises, I have a few tools that you can use… One of them being this!” From the desk he procures a rubber ball filled with uncooked rice, which is gently tossed into the air and meant for Brennia to catch. “When you are feeling angry, I want you to squeeze the heck out of that ball. When you are feeling anxious, I want you to take ten deep breaths and inhale this small vial of lavender oil.” The vial is placed on the edge of his desk. “Now, when you are feeling -very- angry or scared or an emotion you can’t describe, I want you to think of your surroundings! Think of five things that you can see, four things that you can touch, three things that you can hear, two things that you can smell, and one thing that you can taste. It should direct your focus elsewhere, and then you can resort to the other exercises.” Noah scribbles a recipe for ‘sleepytime tea’ on a scrap of paper and offers that to Brennia, as well, “You can find the ingredients at most markets and clinics, all of them should be easy on your stomach. Drink a big mug of this tea an hour before bedtime.” He smiles warmly at the avian, “I think that’s it for today but I’m proud of you for seeking help. If your girlfriend brings you comfort, I think that’s wonderful, and that you should continue leaning on her shoulder when you feel unsafe. It was lovely to meet you and I hope to see you next week, same time and place?”

Brennia accepts the warning with a simple head nod because she already expected this journey wasn't going to be easy. "I understand," she offers softly while watching the man walk over to his bookshelf. "I see," she muses while accepting the book and is looking at the book for far too long when a ball is hurled at her face, but luckily it isn't too hard and it falls to her lap on top of the book. Her cheeks and ears turn a shade of red in embarrassment from missing the toss, but she will live… unfortunately. She palms the ball and gives it a few squeezes while continuing to listen to the doctor, but flinches her hand up to catch the vial of lavender oil he mentions until she notices he simply placed it down this time. With a breath of relief even though she is blushing all over again, she stands and to approach the desk to take the oil as well. The avian continues to stand before his desk while watching his lips because he is rounding off a list of directions, but she is pretty good with things like this and will be able to remember them. Luckily he writes down the recipe for an all natural tea to help her sleep and after accepting the scrap of paper she stows these items away in the hidden pouch between her back and wings instead of juggling them for the rest of the day. "Will do," she says while her wings tuck in closer to her narrow frame as if trying to be smaller again. Must not take up space with those horribly large wings. When he says he is proud of her, there is a sheepish little grin on her lips before she answers, "yes, lovely to make your acquaintance as well. Sounds good to me." On her way out, she pays the receptionist for her visit with the doctor and leaves Linda a little chocolate chip muffin that she purchased from the Ginger Snapped Bakery and Sweets Shop.