Anger Management Support Group

[Lawrence Taft]

Put the words 'anger' and 'management' together and you get what any man in civilized society has done every day since the dawn of man. Keeping anger in check is the reason society exists as it does. It prevents minor slights from turning into large-scale conflicts.

Except for when it doesn't.

The other portion of the phrase is what sealed the deal for the Shadow. Support group. A place where, in relative anonymity, Taft could bounce his thoughts around a room and - if nothing else - be entertained by others' reactions. So the Spider dressed himself in his finest casuals and takes the bait. Most groups he's familiar with aren't led by someone with a medical doctorate, but this doesn't detract from his experience. Not entirely. It simply shakes up his expectations a bit.

Dark eyes land on 'Dr. Queen' just in time for the introductions. Which takes the guesswork out. Then they scan the room and find a handful of familiar faces. One of them belonging to a fellow Kindred. Who, thankfully, radiates no Beast for the Spider to contend with. Just as well. And, unless anyone identifies him, Taft decides against any familiarity with the assembled. Kindred or otherwise.

The first to speak is such a face he's sure he's seen before. She speaks of impotent rage in the face of an uncaring world. Did that influence her choice of hair color? Most definitely, he decides.

Eyes land next on an intense stranger who identifies herself as 'Freya'. A bit archaic for a name, but he'd chew over that some other time. He simply nods in his best imitation of sincerity. With his body giving its best imitation of natural responses. The interest isn't faked, though.

The recently arrived Shadow speaks next. Taft fights his urge to grin, settling for a small skewing of the corner of his mouth. The man simply cannot be referring to a night job. No: he speaks of the Danse. How frustrating it must be for the man who, himself, doesn't offend other Kindred. While he, himself, feels the surge of the Beast within every time he sees one of his kind. What other reason could Theo have for needing to 'stay cool and in control'?


When there's an opening, he clears his throat - another thing people who still breathe do - and makes his own introduction. "Good evening. My name is Lawrence. My situation is similar, in some ways, to the one Emily" he gestures with an upturned palm in the blue-haired girl's direction, "described. Namely dealing with subordinates. In my profession, communication is vital. It is what keeps the cogs moving. When this communication breaks down... when there is no excuse for it but complacency? I have... difficulty controlling myself."

He smiles a small smile. It might be read as self-deprecating. Though in reality, he is simply remembering the last 'failure to communicate'. And the consequences he'd instructed a certain subordinate to perpetuate. Upon himself. It had been glorious. The lessons had been learned.

[Circe]

The door opened with a blast of dry heat blowing in before the dusky skinned blonde in the business suit reeled in her Mantle. Best not to upset the normans. The Summer Fairest saw no problems with her anger. She controlled anger it didn't control her as far as the Summer was concerned. She liked the idea of promoting her "healthy" method to mortals. If the shrink said no, well free Glamour tonight.

"Ciao everybody," Circe greeted the mortals with a smile as she walked in, "This is the room for us that had rage issues, right? Ya still have room for another? Oooh cheese and coffee!" She was staggeringly chipper and happy in tone. Circe was practically skipping over to the food. That the room was teeming with Glamour sources attuned with her court certainly helped her mood.

"Any of ya want somethin' while I'm here? I can go last."

[Bacchus]

The flask was closed and returned to his hoodie pocket as he took his still-partly-coffee cup and sat next to doctor Queen. A polite chuckle escaped as Emily began sat next to him and began what he assumed was flirting. Bacchus was bad at flirting, and he didn't fully register what Emily was trying to achieve. As introductions began he switched his attention to Winter.

"Something you want to say?" He said as he drank his 'coffee'. "I didn't get your name pal."

"Like I said, I'm Leo. I recently moved here from Denver, and I've been having trouble trying to talk to members of my new um, community." Bacchus wasn't a liar, and it shined through that he really couldn't find a better word for Concilium. He already knew it wasn't especially relevant, no matter how much he wanted it to be. "We recently had a meeting, and I felt like my ideas weren't just being disagreed with but straight up ignored. I tried to speak up and ask questions, but I can't think of a single one that my neighbors actually bothered to answer. It really ticked me off. Like why bother trying to play by their rules if your not even sure they notice you?"

He shook his head and drank some more. A sigh escaped as he watched a few more people trickle in. An eyebrow quirked at how Lawrence was able to hear so far back in a conversation he wasn't present for, but he decided not to say anything. As the exotic Italian entered he shook his head and raised his totally-has-room-for-more-alcohol cup.

"I'm good thanks."

[Winter]

"Something I said, if anything", he turned to the man, "drunkyards have lot of ancillary issues", he pulled his upper body forward, as if trying to share something confidential, "And we're are not pals"

"Perhaps not drinking in public could prompt them to respect your input more", he added with a sardonic twist.

[Valentina Queen]

"Sure, I'll take a coffee, thanks," Dr. Queen said, smiling at the new comer Circe . Though, if she was looking for a contest of who could be the most cheery in an inappropriate environment, she was out of luck. This was Dr. Queen time, and Dr. Queen was professional AF.

"And thank you, Emily, for starting us off," Dr. Queen continued (being professional AF), though her smile grew wider. It was so amazing to have a member of her pack here, helping her out, and, hopefully, receiving some help as well! Emily Makerith

"I think you and Leo have something in common with what you've shared. Leo, you were saying that you felt ignored, unvalued, and above all, that is was done purposefully. Emily, you, on the other hand, felt that you were being ignored because of your size, age, and gender. This feeling of being ignored and overlooked causes us pain. Bacchus

"Just like you, Theo ," Dr. Queen continued, looking to the handsome business man. "You're receptive to these aggressive broadcasts that others are putting out, and this feel like an attack, doesn't it? It feels as though their anger is being leveled like a gun, or a knife, right at you, and this causes it's own sort of pain."

"Or you, Lawrence Taft . When this communication breaks down, this difficulty you expressed with controlling yourself is a reflection of your frustration with being able to exert control over your environment. Sure, that might not be your intellectual desire, but emotionally, I suspect that this complacency that others are showing emphasizes just how little control we really have over what happens around us, and that can be painful."

"Now, let me ask you a question, Lucien," Dr. Queen declared, transferring her gaze to the taciturn older man. "If I were to walk over there with a needle and jab you in the hand with it, and it hurt, would that make you weak? Or say it was a knife?"

She paused to let him respond, but only briefly before continuing. "The point I'm trying to make is that pain is not weakness. It's a natural response. And, when someone is jabbing us with a needle, it's natural to get fucking pissed off, isn't it? So, let's dig deeper. I'd like each of you to share something that causes you pain. Not just a small amount, a lot of pain. Ok? I'll share last."

[Emily Makerith]

Emily's smile for Winter is a little forced. "Uh-huh!" She nods. It told me you break a lot for your mileage any probably have road rage. Not that I can say anything, since mine are worse than yours.

Something about the bald guy seems familiar, but Emily really can't place it. Have we met? Were you a client? Were you the guys at the deli...? Her train of thought is derailed as she chokes on her coffee when Circe walks in. Oh no... Circe never seems angry, only feisty... In fact right now she's a happy as I am after a really good night. Huh. Aaaaaah. I got it. She gives Circe a little inverse nod.

The Ithaeur can taste the liquor in Bacchus' coffee as her eyes flick between Bacchus and the enticing cup, and swallows dryly. "Yeah, rules suck..." she says absently. "Say, do you two... know each other?" She asks cautiously, picking up on the tension between "Leo" and "Lucien".

No shit Doc! Thanks! Emily noticeably chokes down on the first though that springs to mind and turns it into a forced nod, instantly feeling a little guilty remembering she's here to support Val. She buries the reaction by taking a slow bite of her donut and giving "Leo" one of her looks, a small smile with a wink.

But it's the pain sharing Val concludes with that makes Emily tense up. She tries to shrug it off and look nonchalant. "Eh. I dunno. Nothing really, I guess." It's an utter lie but it's clear she wants to avoid this.

  plz not the feelz. I no kno u guyz

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2018-09-02 08:40:53		Emily rolls 2 to Everything's fine.... Manip1+Subterfuge1 (10 Again)		3, 2		failure

[Freya]

In the doctor's follow-up from their initial comments, Freya's words had been ignored. In the Mask, the woman's lips would pressed together, a glint of disappointment on her face. Circe and any others who could see her Mien, however, would see the feathers of the bird-thing that was Freya ruffle in irritation. This swiftly faded though, as she realized she hadn't said anything the Doctor could have responded to. She had to be more open.

Lawrence and Circe recieved a smile from the Hunterheart, but little else. Freya was steeling herself to confront some really hard shit, after all. She wasn't exactly pleased, but... she was ready.

Then the Den Mother's eyes looked between Lucien and Leo, noting their animosity with slight shock.

These two really seem to hate each other.

However, the blue haired punk earned another gaze from Freya, though this one bereft of irritation. Instead, she gaze seemed almost to plead for her to share. Freya sure as hell didn't want to go first, but... then Emily got dodgy.

A sigh.

Put on your big girl pants, Freya.

Freya thought on the Doctor's question only for a moment. She knew the answer immediately. The source of her pain was clear enough to her. She had been reminded of it daily as she descended into savagery during her time with the Matron. Daily, her care for the Brood called to what had been stolen from her.

What caused Freya her pain?

"Loss." The answer was simple. Certain. Freya' voice was quieter now, tainted with the sorrow "I... lost my son." Her voice cracked as the words ended. Her bottom lip quivered, but then Freya took a deep breath forcing herself to compose. She held it together, but the pain on her face was clear, even as her welling eyes deposited a single tear on her face.

Let the boys fight if they want to. You're here for you...

[Circe]

The Italian beauty laughed as she preps her own nibble pile and two coffees. She then bounces right over to th good doctor, "Ere ya go," and notices her name. That gets her to giggle, "Queen of Doctors."

And then goes to find a seat after having to carry one less coffee. She is walking past Emily and about to make a very trollish joke about how the guys could know each other when Freya spoke. She let out a long sight, "Beh, fottimi. È andato tutto al buio." And shakes her head as she plops down beside Emily, "That is absolute worst shit girl. Having what ya care about takin' from ya is the worst. Fuck whatever took 'em from ya. Pretty sure anything I come up with when its my turn is gonna sound petty."

Arcadia was not a petty reason to be angry. It was just something the Fairest couldn't talk about without getting a rubber room. Unless she phrased it right.