(Dark Wings) Fading...

[Cayce]

Feb 2015

(Dark Wings) The Beginning and the End

Mar 2015

(Dark Wings) Twilight Adventure

Mar 2015

(Dark Wings) Midnight Showing

Jun 2015

(Dark Wings) Portent Portraits

Aug 2015

(Dark Wings) The Shadow Sweeps Low

Oct 2015

(Dark Wings) Post-Concert Depression

Oct 2015

(Dark Wings) Discovery & Experimentation

Dec 2015

(Dark Wings) La Mort des Artistes

Jan 2016

(Dark Wings) Fading...

Heritage Oaks. A placid, reassuring name. One that promised shelter beneath gently rustling boughs, guarding from any onslaught of rain or the punishing glare of the sun, and tall, strong trunks promised stability. Yet, most importantly, such qualities of shelter, safety, and stability were being lent not just by any ephemeral source, but was rather founded in the guiding arms of society and its traditions and history.

Yes, a very nice name. Very nice and safe. Quite appropriate for building, nay, an institution that wished to be nice, nice and also safe.

Though, unknown to most, Heritage Oaks was not bound to remain nice and safe for much longer. Within it's benignly modern brick and glass walls, a danger lurked. One that cared not for the gently rustling boughs, nor for the strength found within the masses of intertwined fibers that made up towering trunks, nor the security of any society's traditions and history. For what lurked inside the Mental Hospital was an affliction from beyond this realm. From beyond the Lie, and the Supernal. It was a manifestation that did not promise mere consumption. It promised complete undoing. It was a hunger that multiplied, a void which pulsed and writhed, amplified as it obliterated, swelling the more it eroded what was called reality.

All Realities.<br><br>For the moment, however, it was confined. Sequestered within the confines of three minds. Minds which may yet recover, were the Manifestation of the Abyss to be banished. Minds which, if nothing could be done, could at least serve as the final quarantine for a virus which no Mage could afford to see spread.

Thankfully, it did not appear that the Reality so threatened by this insidious bug was keen to hinder those that might help preserve it. The front desk of Heritage Oaks was quick to whisk the Temoins du Sud out of the waiting area and brought them straight to the doctor overseeing the Gutenberg Artists. A Doctor Alice Dahmer. No relation. Well dressed, tall, and clearly delighted to be speaking with "friends" of her patients. Though, for the moment, Dr. Dahmer and the mages were speaking in her office. A room that could not help but look institutional and lifeless next to the designer attire beneath the white coat signifying her position.

[Crowley]

Crowley had been quiet all the way to Heritage Oaks. Another institution. Another set of friends. How long had it been since he had last trod similar paths to visit Austin? Small consolation that Heritage Oaks had a more pleasant aesthetic than the place Crowley's old bass player was incarcerated. Was he still weeping in the corner?

The Acanthus didn't much like Alice Dahmer either. Maybe the scars of his Awakening were still fresh; maybe she seemed artificial with her designer clothes hidden by the white of her vestments; maybe it was the asylum's placid banality grating on his nerves. How many other touched visionaries were trapped in cells cunningly hidden beneath the building's gentle and rustic calm?

Still, he was being spoken to. Crowley affixed a smile to his malleable face and offered his hand.

"Saul Springfield. I was hoping to see how my friends are doing? They were in a mess... And I feel bad. I can't imagine what it must loose your creative edge like that."

Each Artist had a gift. Each Artist had had that gift cruelly perverted or shorn from them by the Abyss's caress.

Cast at Sanctum

  

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2016-01-23 00:33:12		Crowley to cast Sybils Sight rolls 7 to GNO + Fate + HS (10 Again)		1, 6, 2, 7, 9, 4, 9		2 successes
2016-01-23 00:32:47		Crowley to cast Fortunes Protection rolls 7 to GNO + Fate + HS (10 Again)		2, 4, 3, 8, 3, 2, 6		1 success

[Truce]

Equipment: Smart Phone, Crystal, Magical Tool

Truce, on the other hand, is quite pleased with meeting another member of the Sacramento mental health community.

"Paul Fears. I'm a student at the Professional School of Psychology and interning at Crestwood. I wonder if you would be able to share your observations on the state of our friends?" It's almost as if he is sharing a resume, but he wants this Doctor Alice Dahmer to be frank in her evaluation. He's interested in the Sleeper diagnosis, or if they too regarded the patients as psychological anomalies.

[linkrulesx10]

  Cast at Sanctum and in Car

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2016-01-26 06:25:24		Prime Sight (Cloaked, Mana Cost of 2) rolls 5 to Prime + Gno + HS - 2 Advanced Duration (10 Again)		9, 8, 1, 1, 5		2 successes
2016-01-26 06:24:19		Life armour (Cloaked, Mana paid by Hallow) rolls 6 to Life + Gno + HS - 2 advanced duration (10 Again)		3, 5, 7, 6, 10, 7, 8		2 successes
2016-01-26 06:24:03		Spirit Sight (Cloaked, cast in car) rolls 4 to Spirit + Gno (10 Again)		3, 10, 5, 10, 3, 3		2 successes

Flidais Follows quietly, psychology was the realm of Truce, besides doesn't too make cooks spoil the meal? Instead she stayed quiet and turned her attention to the world around, looking for any traces of abyss that was obvious, she wasn't yet at the stage of scrutinising things though.

[Cayce]

"Of course, of course," Dahmer said, nodding with feigned understanding. The woman seemed far too jovial for a matter as grave as this.

Well manicured nails shone in the light as the doctor ruffled through several files before finally landing upon one.

"I think it's very important for people to truly understand what their loved ones are going through. Empathy is incredibly important for the healing process. Though, I must admit, that process is somewhat limited for our...your friends. Here, allow me to show you," the Doctor explained, heedless of how ominous her words might sound.

The file was quickly flipped open and several pictures were removed and placed upon the table. They were renderings of brains, from several angles, and depths, no doubt constructed in the heart of an imaging machine's computer chip. Whirls of red, yellow, and blue mapped out the flesh holding the artist's minds, though most conspicuous, even for the untrained, were patches of distinct black, applied so heavily they almost seemed to tear through the paper.

"What you can see, here, are some images we took when your friends were first admitted. The one on the left is Isabella," she explained, a french tip tapping the center of a black, ink lesion

"Now, typically these images help us identify which parts of the brain are receiving activity, and in what amounts, to put it in a nutshell, but here we've uncovered something else. The issue isn't with signals or hormones in the brain. The issue is the brain itself. As in, it's been damaged. In a manner that's almost similar to dementia, though not quite. You see, your friends are suffering from an odd form of Aphasia. Essentially, the deterioration of the part of the brain that allows us to process language. However, unlike a typical Aphasia brought on by a form of dementia, which would show deterioration in several other parts of the brain, this one is very specifically centered on the speech center.

"Grim news, I know," the doctor said, offering a sympathetic face, "but there is a nugget of good news. The deterioration seems to have stabilized. Particularly for Bachman." A fingernail once more tapped an image, this one on the far right. "Something which leads me to believe their must be some sort of compound that your friends were exposed to that caused this damage. I'd be careful to avoid to their home, if I were you. Likely, that's where such a compound would be."

[Truce]

"Hmm," says Truce, following along with a similar morbid curiosity. It is interesting to see the detectable symptoms manifest though the Truth still remained hidden to Sleeper devices. He considers telling Doctor Dahmer about the Gutenberg residence with a red herring for the possibilities of chemicals in the paints and plaster that may have produced such a compound. But he had already fed the Lie enough, and she may not buy into a half-thought out theory. Sleepers would create their own explanations even without his meddling.

"Aphasia? Incurable, but treatable, correct? Do you think we might be able to speak with Leeba? If she's stabilized...is she able to communicate coherently?"

[Cayce]

"Yes, that would be correct," Dahmer confirmed. "And yes, you can certainly speak with her, though I do hope you understand that there will be difficulty speaking with her. With patience and compassion, however, I'm sure you'll be able to communicate. I've found that having her illustrate her thoughts helps to clarify things if you ever find a conversation growing too muddled."

[Crowley]

Crowley sighed and nodded.

"Yeah... That would be great, thanks."

Privately the Acanthus began to wonder how effective playing Pictionary would be in conveying the truths needed to suppress the Abyss.

Feeling out of his depth, he turns to the others for their thoughts.

[Truce]

Truce grimaces at the thought of the ward encouraging Leeba's method of illustration for communication. It is exactly what he fears, more Abyssal contamination.

"Hopefully that won't be necessary," says Truce, hoping his patience and sense of compassion would help him to interpret Leeba without the need for pictures. He already has a unique perspective on the affliction she is likely experiencing.

"But thank you. I understand that there might be difficulty. May we see her now then?" He tries not to seem too eager.

[Cayce]

"Of course. I'll have an orderly escort you now," Dahmer replied, picking up her office phone and quickly dialing a number, french tips clacking against the keys of the phone. She spoke briefly into the headpiece, relaying that the visitors were ready to see Bachman now and then let the receiver fall back into its cradle.

A few minutes later, a man in a spotless, though wrinkled white uniform opened the door to the office and escorted the Magi out with a placid smile. Then he led them on, further into the institution, past heavy doors only parted with the silent call of an RFID card and down corridors that stretched identically into the distance. Their steps echoed through the sterile halls, only occasionally interrupted by a sudden, though faint bellow, or cry. Yet, finally, they reached Bachman's room, and with another swipe of their card the orderly opened the door, pointed out the the call button in the hallway, and then left to pursue whatever duties called them.

Meanwhile, through the yawning doorway, a small cell greeted their eyes. A single bed, a water closet, a blank wall, the door. Such comprises the luxurious accommodations for Bachman. Though the artist seems to hardly realize this, her attention devoted entirely the the sketch pad sitting upon her lap. A ragged pencil blurring across the pages, the fragment of yet another dream appearing upon paper.